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Mr. Wrong

Prospero Año Ham-Jack

Mel Guapo

By Joe MacLeod | Posted 12/30/2009

Hey everybody, Happy Fucking New Year, OK? Have a great big 2010 on me, seriously and for reals, I am all about the Positivity this time around the Sun, and I would enjoy to be one of the first who wishes you a big, wet, sloppy Happy Brand New Two Thousand Ten And No Cents. "No Cents," get it? That was a joke about the soon to be Ancient Practice of check writing, which I had to do the other day to pay another stupid fucking parking ticket, because sure, you can pay a parking ticket on the Internet, but not like, at the Last Minute (or sometime after that), you know? So that your car doesn't have to go to jail?

Anyway, I hardly ever write Ye Olde Cheques anymore, and now it's getting to where when I whip out the checkbook, I kinda forget how to sound out all the words for "This Many of Dollars and That Many of Cents" with my pen, you know? "Fourty-Seven Dollars and No Cents." Bleh. Stupid fucking parking tickets, man. Please allow me to be one of the first to wish you No Stupid Fucking Parking Tickets in the shiny New Year of Two Zero One Zero. I sure hope I don't have to write any more checks for stupid-ass parking tickets in the exciting new Twenty-Ten, which I totally just now noticed can be spelled out in words and/or numbers with a Twenty Dollar Bill and a Ten Dollar Bill, did you know that? How cool is that, eh? It's also pretty goddamn fucking cool to have a Twenty and a Ten to use to illustrate my point, but look man, I'm telling you, this Twenty-Ten thing, it's like, a Serious Portent or something, and since it involves Money, I am gonna totally Believe all over it, and I invite you to do the same Prospero Año Nuevo-wise, ¿Si? Why not, right? I mean, Positive, man, keep it as totally fucking Positive as you can, especially with the Dollars and Cents, don't turn around and look at any of that Two-Thousand-and-Nine mess, arrgh, or the Two-Thousand-and-Eight, or the Two-Thousand-and-Sevensixfivefourthreetwoonezero for that matter, I mean, sure, there was probably some Good Stuff in there sometimes, but mostly it's pretty bleeeaargh, so let's move forward, eh? Bleaghhh, really, bleaarff.

So, Happy New Year! Arroooo!!! I'm generally a big fan of the Roman Numerals, like pour example and for instance, this year 2010, Hindu-Arabic style, is also expressed as MMX in the Numerals Romana, and while that is totally educational for Our Nation's Youth and stuff, spelling it out in U.S. Currency is way more fun this time around in the latest Very Special Episode of the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Ten, also expressed in Archaic Money Slang as Double Sawbuck-Sawbuck, or in Engraved Portraits as Hamilton-Jackson, for Andrew Jackson and Alexander Hamilton, the Dead Presidentials or whatever depicted on their respective denominations of legal tender for all debts, public and private, if you will. And I will, baby, and please to Tender me Legally this year, OK? Yeah! Hey, if you have a "New Year's Baby" where you get on the teevee News for having the "First" Baby of the Year, and it is a masculine child, you should probably name your progeny "Hamilton Jackson," umkay? Just saying. I think you should also name your "New Year's Baby" the name "Hamilton Jackson" if it is a feminine child. I don't discriminate in any direction on this Felicitous Portent shit, man! I want to spread it around for the good of all Economies both Public and Private, and I'm telling you this as the first Evangelist of my New Religion of Believing in Positive Crap Especially Where Money Is Concerned! Happy New Year! Yeeeeeee-Haw! Happy "Ham-Jack" to You and Yours. Also: ham.

Furthermore, in addition to wishing for you a Happy New Year this year, I am telling you that I am wishing for you a New Year free from The Pestilence, got it? The H1N1 flu and the Other so-called "regular" influenza, are still Out There, waiting, and look, you can go and do whatever you want as far as rolling the dice on some flu-shot prophylaxis, but god-fucking-dammit, go wash those fucking hands right now, seriously. Besides not breathing air, that's the one fucking thing you can do to keep the nasty sick away, and more importantly to keep that shit out of My World, see? Not to be selfish or anything, but you gotta look out for Numero Uno, even in what I predict will be The Year of Money, and that's not just for me, it's for You, too, but you gotta Stay Positive and wash your hands. I would ask all of you to right now join those hands together as a group and start praying on my New Religion, but you all gotta go wash up first. I'm not kidding with this shit, really, I have avoided all the various forms of the Creeping Death so far, and I will be Hamjacked if I allow somebody to take me out of this Exciting New Year of the Twenty-Tenspot for some Communicable Diseases that can't be spelled out in money unless I'm writing a fucking check for the goddamn Health Plan Deductible, got it?

I also gotta write a check still for my Taxes, I bet. Blearrgh. Happy Fucking New Year.

theawl.com, twitter.com/mrwrongcolumn, mrwrong.tumblr.com

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