The Day of the Dog
July 14th
All this nine to fiving; all this bill paying and yessirring; all this
standing in line for the higher ups, manning your gray cube 8 by 5 by
52 by lifetime, filling out purchase requests and robotically asking
coworkers about their weekends even though you have less than half a
neuron of interest in the subject. All of this my friends, is
just a means to an end; for the Day of the Dog is coming. Nay, it is
upon us.
This holiest of high holy days in the MoY tradition shall be
celebrated this Tuesday at Fernwood manor with the annual screening of
Con Air.
We have all experienced injustices in our life, we have all had our
most prized possessions held just out of reach by unforgiving and
corrupt authorities, we have all endured the hostile takeover of a
prisoner transport aircraft by the most sinister collection of
criminal masterminds ever assembled. All of us can unite on these
transcendent mortal constants. We can and must unite on this day and
channel the consequential rage into unfathomable success through the
visage of Sir Cameron Poe, the unofficial patron saint of Man of the
Year (canonization pending - because that tough bastard is no doubt
still alive and kicking - Con Air 2?! - fingers crossed).
For it is written that working fifty hours a week in some office for
fifty years at the end of which they tell you to piss off; ending up
in some retirement village hoping to die before suffering the
indignity of trying to make it to the toilet on time is insane. And on
the Day of the Dog, it is our right as productive members of society
and income disposing consumers to release the dwindling remnants of a
truly independent man from the depths of our beings and onto the
streets. I ask each and every one of you to call upon that inner
caveman and grab your life by the mammoth tusk on this day. My birthday is not July 14th, my daddy is not coming home on July 14th, but I do want to see on this July 14th, for the first time ever, a collective ascension to universal oneness, as we pay tribute to the most accurate portrayal of what it is to be a man ever committed to celluloid
Festivities will begin promptly at whenever the hell you get there
because you're a man and don't need everyone all up in your business,
with the ceremonial exchanging of bunnies. We'll then move quickly to
Mai Tais and yahtzee. After that grab a seat and let Mr Poe show you
that God does exist. Our esteemed webmaster may be the host for the
party, but it's your goddamn barbecue men. And believe me, it tastes
good.
Matt Di Gino
Sergeant at Arms
MoY 2009