Once Upon A Time…
I have a confession to make: None of this is true. Nearly
every news story you have ever read in Twitter Guy has been fabricated. There
is no such thing as ‘Halloween’, Abraham Lincoln did not invent the push-up
bra, and Thomas Mulcair is not the King of the Lumberjacks. Yet. I promise that
until I am assassinated six weeks from now for my part in the revolution, I
will never lie to you again, starting immediately after this sentence.
That’s a filthy lie.
To celebrate the one year-ish relaunchiversary of the
Journal, I thought it would be fun to peek into the sealed archives and find
out what the Twitter Guy column was like before I took over- back in the good
old days.
Something About A Man
Out of Uniform
This first excerpt is from a 1967 issue of the Lethbridge
Journal, which from 1962-1971 was published by a hippie commune ten minutes
south of town. During this era, the Journal frequently included references to
the Earth Mother and offered advice on dealing with squares, tie-dying everything
from shirts to dogs, and a special recipe for brownies. In this issue, Twitter
Guy Charlie Dunsberry is concerned about draft dodgers:
Regional Scienticians say that an overwhelming majority of the
so-called ‘Draft Dodgers’ are men, many of whom are young and educated. Experts
believe that allowing them to stay will reverse the trend of ‘brain drain’ in
Canadian academia, but warn there will be unintended consequences. “Dig this,”
said Sexpert Rick Smooth, “Thousands of hot dudes on the run from a war they
don’t agree with? Hippie chicks love that stuff man, they’re gonna go nuts.
Summer ’67 could be a major bummer.”
Coal Beans
This next excerpt has been sourced to an early edition of
the Journal from sometime in the late 1800s, although much of the original copy
was destroyed in 1991 when a leaky pipe in the basement of city hall destroyed
a room full of historical newspaper clippings. The plumber that installed the
pipe was later whipped for his crime.
It came to pass that Mrs. Beaufeldt rose to serve the coffee, whereupon
each of her guests had a sip and immediately took ill. Mrs. Winchester declared
it “a most vile concoction” and Col. McCaffrey said he imagined that it could
be used to interrogate criminals who were not disposed to talking. In her old
age, it seems, Annabella Beaufeldt had mistaken her supply of coal for coffee
beans and served the result to her dinner party. It was no surprise, confided
the guests, as Mrs. Beaufeldt had imbibed a considerable quantity of wine with
dinner. Many who attended later died in horrible pain.
Mark Campbot
The final excerpt of our journey through history is from the
iPad-exclusive 3D edition of the Lethbridge Journal from the year 45 A.J.
(After Jobs). Obviously we have reduced the text to 2D and translated it into
English, but the grim vision of the future it presents is hilarious
nonetheless:
The City of Lethbridge is warning citizens to stay indoors and take
cover under nearby school desks, as local supervillain Mark Campbell is at it
again. A former newscaster and weatherman, Campbell later became a billionaire
scientist driven mad by the death of his attractive assistant. Concerned with
his failing health, he eventually installed his brain inside a cold-fusion
robot of his own design and began terrorizing citizens with his patented good
humour and deadly lasers. When he’s not busy oppressing the townsfolk, he can
be found in his Death Palace located where the West Side used to be.
ARIES (March 21-April 19)
Prince Harry really is just like you or I- what other public
figure gets absolutely flavour-blasted in Vegas and runs around in the nude a
couple weeks before deploying to Afghanistan to fly helicopters into battle?
Well I guess he’s not totally like us, I’d imagine flying around in a warzone
yelling “HIGH VALUE TARGET” is worlds away from whatever it is you’re
pretending to do at work this week.
TAURUS (April 20-May 20)
Don’t you find it disheartening that formerly intelligent TV
networks like TLC, Discovery, History, and National Geographic have been
reduced to shilling awful reality shows about selling garbage and wedding
dresses? No? Well nevermind then, enjoy your weekend-long marathons of Canadian
Pickers and Little People, Big World.
GEMINI (May 21-June 20)
A local concert will provide the ideal stage for you to
present your new band to the adoring public. They said that a white guy
couldn’t rap over stolen Led Zeppelin riffs, but they also said we couldn’t put
sentient dogs on the moon or create powdered eggs- and thanks to science when
those dogs get back they are gonna be pissed
about breakfast.
CANCER (June 21-July 22)
According to the alignment of the constellations, formed by
thousands of burning balls of space gas billions of miles apart, Tuesday will
be a good day for you. They also spell out “Don’t wear plaid to the funeral” in
capital letters, but I don’t know if that’s for you or last week’s Capricorn.
LEO (July 23-Aug 22)
You will be rewarded for trying new recipes and ingredients
in the kitchen. The following is a list of exceptions that will not reward you
for using them to cook: Thalidomide, engine oil of any viscosity higher than
5W-20, old cabbages, your neighbour’s son, this newspaper, next week’s
newspaper, and powdered eggs.
VIRGO (Aug 23-Sept 22)
Depending entirely on how old you are right now, there’s a
fairly solid chance than in your lifetime all of the Beatles and most of Iron
Maiden will die. I say ‘most’, because like all successful metal bands at least
one founding member has to make a pact with Satan to live forever. The only
exception is Dave Mustaine of Megadeth, who got saved and thinks Obama staged
the Aurora massacre to force gun control on ‘Merica.
LIBRA (Sept 23-Oct 22)
Fill in the Blank Horoscopes! // Today you are going to
______ and fall off of a ______, but as long as you’re wearing your ______
you’ll land safely on your ______. Crack open a cold ______ to celebrate your
brush with ______ and ______ your ______ with your mom and two ______s.
Pervert.
SCORPIO (Oct 23-Nov 21)
Scorpios are wildly successful, uncomfortably beautiful, and
good at sports. You will win the lottery and be smothered under a sea of
undulating naked people before saving Obama from a deadly disease with your
laser eyes and genius intelligence. Thanks for creating a cure for cancer, by
the way! (There, I wrote it just like you wanted, now put the gun down and let
one of the hostages go.)
SAGITTARIUS (Nov 22-Dec 21)
I think I’m going to get this out of the way now, since your
actual horoscope this week is some hokum about destiny and saving the lives of
millions: the City of Lethbridge has asked me to remind you, Steve, to make
sure you shovel your walk this winter. Mrs. Edmunds down the block almost broke
her leg last year and it would really ruin your holiday cheer to be liable for
damages because that money was earmarked for the defamation suit.
CAPRICORN (Dec 22-Jan 19)
As of this writing, the NHL Lockout is looking like it’s
going to happen no matter how many stern emails we send to Gary Bettman
accusing him of walking around with a wad of $20s stuffed in his butt. It seems
to me we have a lot of options to get through the next eight months or so, but
your best bet is going to be picking up NHL ’13 and a keg of strong beer. Chug
your mug every time you get depressed that video games aren’t as good as the
real thing.
AQUARIUS (Jan 20-Feb 18)
My father used to walk around the house during Back To
School singing ‘It’s the most wonderful time of the year’, and I think the
people that own the popular nightclubs around town probably do too. For a group
of people who aspire to be more than veterans of future manufacturing
accidents, students sure have to drink a lot to cope with their lives. As an
aside, be sure to get your Student Loans from organized crime, because they’re
a lot nicer about it than Edulinx when you get behind on repayment.
PISCES (Feb 19-Mar 20)
You can wish all you want, your teddy bear isn’t going to
come to life and smoke pot with you like in the movie. When your dog gets back
from space, he might.
BIRTHDAY
I know what you’re wishing for when you blow out the candles
on your cake, and if it isn’t “Please let the Zombie Apocalypse happen
tomorrow” then I’ll eat my keyboard.
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