Supple:
Our social groups are regularly affected by the exportation of our finest. Each year, more are sent off to find riches and glory galore. Analyzing it all, you'd think Omaha's total bad-assidness level takes a hit each time we send away our Jeffs, Jasons, Joels, and Jeffs. After hundreds of years and thousands of J's, J's, J's, and J's sent away, Omaha lives on. How so?
Perhaps look to who's filling the spots of these boys in the census. Each day, hundreds of children are born. I can vouch for this, as KMTV reports on it like it's the freaking apocalypse. Just this morning, on their "Just Born Baby Blurbs!" section, they introduced a newborn, Zane. Zane, they reported, likes to eat carrots, sit with his mommy, and look at colors. Bobby likes raisins. Terry loves to roll in the grass.
Sucks to these kids being the replacements of J, J, J, and J, says I. Those men were barbed-wire-badasses, living in direct opposition to social law. The Robocops and Axle Foleys of our time.
It is undeniable that these men were made of pure titanium. Jeff McCollister, for example, sports a nickname inspired by a food whose primary mascot is a Giant Orange Dinosaur. Joel waxed his own armpits, and wasn't even crying when the after-pictures were taken. Jeff Sisson is a constant inspiration for wig-makers across the world. Jason's name comes up in conversation to shame anybody who thinks they've got weird masturbation stories. None of these men would ever associate themselves with cuddly grass or delicious vegetables. Rightfully.
One wonders, then, how does Omaha continue to exist with a shred of glamour? Apparently, the year-to-year regulars, like myself, are slowly evolving these hard-ass traits. This is absolutely freaking not true, as I can prove.
First off, in description of my life, I would like to congratulate myself on making it straight through September without a single WT post. A multitasker at heart, I didn't stop there. Let it be known that I failed to achieve a variety of things since we last spoke.
For example, women. September lacked wandyteeth. September lacked women. Coincidence? Probably. But I'm posting just in case there's some odd correlation between the two, or at least in hopes that some correlation could be made between my 'girls-boned' count and my wandyteeth habits. Which would be sweet. If I got lonely enough, I could type up a quick article, post it here, and essentially type my way into some girls pants. J, J, J, and J probably had this skill. Thus, my failure.
Also, society. Once upon a time, I was the guy at every party with something hilarious sticking in my nose wearing some woman's wedding dress. Now, I spend almost every night watching CSI with my mother. Turns out, CSI sucks. They've some obsession with names, giving a weird name obscurity/level of hardassedness ratio. Ted is always the guy who's cleaning up the after the loss of bowel control of corpses, while Horatio gets to go undercover as a male prostitute in Afghanistan's Taliban barracks. Each season gets incrementally worse. Next Season, CSI: Louisville, with lead detective Boseefus, will be more like a Superhero adventure genre than a Crime Investigation show.
Which is beside the point of my pathetic nature.
Ahem. Academics. I used to be a guy who goes to school to learn about facts that they teach in school so you can know things they want you to know. I now spend every day ranking the Freshmen in order of skanky hotness, and complaining about Mr. Cain's speech disability. Or diction-deficiency. Or ability to look likes Genie from "Aladdin."
It's disappointing but true. Omaha, once the world's capital of manufacturing hardasses, is deteriorating. We once stood glorious, the Halle Berry of the USA. We've since de-evolved down into apes. Following the analogy, we're now the Queen Latifa of modern civilization. God Save Our Souls.