Hey guys, Scott here, with my annual holiday wish that all those so inclined got their buzz on yesterday, and achieved Maximum Mellow. Me? I was the subject of yet another alien visitation, when Mike & Ike suddenly decided to drop by Earth and remind me I owed them five bucks and seven minutes alone with my Salad Spinner™. Fortunately, this pan-dimensional, pan-sexual, pan-bearded pair of otherworldly imps--unlike some other extraterrestrials I could name (lookin' at you and your strap-on, E.T.)--they chose not to probe my anus, for reasons that were typical of the two:
IKE: Now don't take this personal, Scott. 'tain't personal, we like ya jus' fine.
MIKE: It's merely that we can tell, even from a distance, that you have an usually boring anus.
So it's a Good News/Bad News thing. But on the bright side, they landed in the middle of a Midwestern poetry slam, and closed out the evening with a tight 10. Please enjoy...The Return of Mike & Ike:
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