Smooth Criminal

Although Neil Armstrong is generally credited as being the first man to set foot on the moon, upon their first moonwalk the Apollo 11 astronauts were astounded to find the words "MCDOUGAL WAS HERE" scratched into the vertical wall of a crater a few yards from their landing site. Subsequent moonwalks revealed dozens of such messages scattered widely across the lunar surface. All were variations of that same theme, including, but not limited to, "MCDOUGAL RULES", "MCDOUGAL 4 PREZIDENT" and "SMOKE DRUGS!"

NASA spent millions covering up this discovery, even going so far as to film some of the "moonwalk" segments in the Arizona desert, which is relatively free of McDougal graffiti. The carvings measure approximately two feet high and 3/4 of an inch deep. The longest of them, which reads "MCDOUGAL FUCKED YOUR MOTHER", is nearly 32 feet in length. Scientific analysis was unable to determine the age of the carvings, however, after painstaking study of the toolmarks within the carvings, NASA believes they were hewn into the rock using a fireplace poker or some similar item.

McDougal Fast Facts

• McDougal's had the bird flu 311 times. The last time he caught it was in 1683. When he recovered, he slaughtered the entire dodo species. He hasn't had as much as a cold since.
• McDougal has flat feet with 1" discs on the bottom. They allow him, when barefoot, to climb walls like a spider. Sadly, due to an embarrassing nail fungus, McDougal has not taken his socks of since 1986.
• McDougal can will hair to grow on anything. He killed Sirhan Sirhan by causing him to grow hair on his heart, lungs, trachea, and eyeballs.
• McDougal's first home was made of egg whites. It provided excellent shelter and was a source of protein for an entire village in the Ozarks.
• McDougal taught Jesus and Abraham Lincoln how to walk on water. Lincoln was not the kind of man to show off.
• McDougal is a robot who runs on 132 AAA batteries, which have to be replaced every four hours.
• McDougal lives in a 6,000 square foot ice castle in Ecuador.
• McDougal has a collection of unicorns that graze freely on his secret compound in Nigeria. Wait, not unicorns ... eunuchs.
• McDougal once ate a log cabin on a dare. When his army buddies weren't impressed, he shat out an arc and forced it to rain for 40 days and 40 nights and flooding the Earth. He then sailed his arc to the moon and started a new race of genetically modified superheroes.
• McDougal has won 13 spelling bees.
• There is no Hebrew word for McDougal.
  

June 22

2 million dollars.

2 fucking million dollars.

Most of you don't know McDougal spent a soul crushing 6 years working in the cubicles of a Midwestern telecom company staring blankly at a screen and shuffling windows so his boss couldn't see his porn and chat windows. I know I know, it didn't make sense to us either at the time until it was all over and we thought, God Fucking Damn, McDougal is the smartest son of a bitch that ever lived.

It began when he read Bridges of Madison County. He cried and cried for days, then ate the intestines of a living waitress at an Outback Steakhouse. Dipped them in the orange sauce that comes with a Bloomin' Onion. Then performed a pretty amazing surgery right there on the table, took about half of his own intestines (don't forget we each have like 3 miles in us or whatever) and replaced hers with his. It was kind of a gross M.C. Escher-esque deal, because her intestines were in his being digested and ... well, you can imagine how trippy it was at the time. Anyway, he stitched her up and asked her out right then and there, still reeling from the Bridges love story. She of course said yes, they fucked, and got married 14 months later.

McDougal a married man, what a fucking shock that was to all of us! Gone were the nights of orgies in bowling alleys, hunting squid with limes and trowels, performing a capella with the Boston Pops stoned on opium soaked in owl's blood. instead we found ourselves having pot lucks with new friends from the tennis club, knitting sweaters for rape victims, playing castanets with Steve Buschemi. At the time it happened so slowly as to be imperceptible, we spouted cliches about getting older, we tapped our feet to "The Boys are Back in Town" and had wistful thoughts of Bruce Springsteen sitting on the edge of the reservoir strumming a 6 string and whispering about the passing of youth. Next thing you know McDougal doesn't call me back for weeks, I get married to a set of hot twins who won't let me do it doggy style with either of them ever, and gray hairs start arriving in my beard like unwelcome whores in your mother's church.

Then June 22nd came along.

I woke up, drunk as usual and called in sick to work. I was president of something or other, some phone company or captain of a fleet of ships maybe. Anyway, I called in and was laying there wondering who was going to be on Dr. Phil, when I just had this feeling, you know? I thought, fuck, what is McDougal doing right this second. I decided not to call and warn him, I just piled into my 2009 Ferrari and drove the 600 miles to Bowling Green. I roared up to his office building and took the elevator to every floor until I saw him. Hunched over, pale and pasty from the flourescent tubes that were his only solar nurishment, and obviously hiding a huge erection in his pants. I quietly walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder and did my best boss imitation. "McDougal, what is that you have on your screen there" and he turned around and killed me.

Killed me fucking dead as shit, right there. He smashed my face in with a keyboard, I was dead within 10 seconds. He realized pretty quick who I was and what he had inadvertently done, and he immediately yelled "Saddam Hussein!" and everyone came and gutted me and hung me up on a pole and yelled at media cameras and it was broadcast around the world. He got a 2 million dollar reward for killing me, and took that and travelled the world for 4 years with the sole mission of laying a woman of every nationality and ethnicity before setting foot back into Bowling Green.

This of course explains his deal today, as he did not fully realize the overwhelming number of nationalities and ethnicities in the world before setting out. At some point he felt bad for me and brought me back to life; he did something with aloe vera and a pumpkin. Anyway, that was somewhere around Tibet, and we're still on his mission today. I look back on June 22nd and wonder what my life would be like if I hadn't have gotten out of bed, showered, had both of my wives biblically, and driven to find McDougal. Then I snort paprika off the neck of whatever llama or whale I'm riding and look up and the moon and smile, thankful for McDougal and his endless supply of cash.

M.E.A.T. Party Platform

While neither McDougal nor Walken will comment on the rumored '08 M.E.A.T. Party presidential bid in 2008, Party Founder has shared the ten basic tenets of MEAT:

1. As President of the United States, McDougal shall decree that Christopher Walken will always play Vice President as the guy from True Romance.
2. President McDougal shall decree that New Orleans will be built bigger and better than ever -- on the MOON.
3. President McDougal will never go more than 14 hours without punching poor people in the face and/or taking something of value from them and dashing it to bits, then laughing like a maniacal villain from a James Bond movie.
4. Vice President Walken will only break character as the True Romance guy to say "more cowbell!" when the going gets tough. Actually he will go in and out of those two characters, which will be even more entertaining because it will surprise you when he switches.
5. The McDougal Administration will declare March 3, 4, and 5 "National Half-Week Where We Find New Potential First Ladies", and will cruise Buckhead, The Castro District, and the French Quart... oh wait, no, not the French Quarter.
6. For too long, our nation has struggled with too many meat options. This manner of confusion lessens a man's morale and mental resolve. Let us limit our meat choices. Bacon should be adopted as the national meat of choice.
7. Spider monkeys are ruining our world. No one does anything about spider monkeys. The prisons should be emptied, and the criminals appointed national exterminators or other high-ranking Federal positions (FEMA Director, Secretary of Meat, Pimiento Cheese Inspector General, etc.). I mean, come on, are they spiders or are they monkeys ... or do they live in that magic realm between?
8. I kind of like that show where Tommy Lee goes to college.
9. Implementation of the Fair Tax.
10. All former Presidents with a last name ending in H and starting with either B or X must be placed in a jello mold with at least three orifices (of their own choosing) sticking out. This mold will be placed in the center of the Mall of America on a gold leaflet pedestal, where all citizens of the world will be allowed to throw small objects at the orifices in freedom. No one shall trammel upon the rights of the people, and the Presidents shall be kept alive with intravenous fluids and SCUBA gear for no less than four years.

Total Eclipse of the Heart

Back in 1988, I was in an Ultimate Frisbee tournament with McDougal.

I don't like to brag, but when it comes to Ultimate Frisbee, I'm no slouch. And, well, you guys know about McDougal, right? What? You don't know about McDougal's years on the UF tour?

Well, this isn't really the time to get into all that. Suffice it to say, the man can flat out Frizz. Seriously, check the record books. They look like the credits to a Hollywood movie about McDougal and starring McDougal as McDougal ... And as everyone else!

Anyway, I'm good, and McDougal, he's just out of this world. So we were pretty much set to win from the moment we walked onto the court. But there is one thing about playin' with McDougal -- you got to watch your back because everyone's gonna be gunnin' for you from the get-go.

In my case, it came in the form of a vicious attack from what I first thought was a rabid polar bear. Turns out it was just some drunk Venezuealan dude in a rabid polar bear costume. Regardless, the guy sucker punched me in the stomach as soon as I got off the shuttle, and I ended up shitting blood for six days.

For those of you who've only seen Ultimate Frisbee on cable television and magazines, you may not realize what a cutthroat, dangerous sport it is. Let me tell you, Ultimate Frisbee is as crooked as McDougal's third wife's prosthetic leg. That's because it's run by the Chinese mafia.

So this tourney in '88 ... I was a little nervous because it was to be played under Lunar Rules, because it was on the moon. I'd played under California rules, Pennsylvania rules (the de facto US Standard, for those of you UF newbees), and even international rules from when I was in Korea.

But Lunar rules are far more complex because of the whole gravity issue.

Like, for example, in most rulebooks lightchucking (also known as spigot hurling) is perfectly legal. But on the moon -- FORGET IT! Someone could lose a foot in those conditions. So I thought the Lunar rules were a bit of a handicap, but at least they hit everyone the same way.

So we make it through the semi-finals in the 88 championships, and the PCP starts to wear off.

I'm pretty sure my game completely went to shit in the championship match, because I was fading in and out of consciousness and lucidity.

At one point, I had this crazy dream that I wasn't even on the moon, I wasn't really sure what Ultimate Frisbee was, and I was really collapsed under a urinal at a Flying J near Galveston. And one time, I had this vision that McDougal was my dad and we were actually a couple of pot bellied pigs who lived alone on a deserted island made out of Oprah Winfrey's beautiful mocha teets.

McDougal said that happens to everyone at some point in their career. Then we huffed some more varnish and I can't remember for sure, but I think we ended up winning the tourney.

Ultimate Frisbee's a really fun game.

Starbuck's Coffee

McDougal started a band with my cousin and six dancing bears in the mid 80s.

Two of the bears played guitar, one played drums, and the other three just danced around and ate people.

I think my cousin played bass or something, and McDougal played the harp.

The band was called the Crockpots. They did six live shows and recorded an EP called "I'm Gonna Crush Your Lungs, Ahmad Rashad."

McDougal lost it at their final show up in Canada.

It was during his PCP phase, and I guess he was pretty tweaked out by the time they were done with the tour.

During the Crockpots' third encore, he stood up in the middle of "These Legs Are Diamond Flagships and I Own the Moon and Most of the Stars" (a 43-minute jazz exploration of the mesozoic era as witnessed by a talking fig tree) and hurled his harp into the crowd, which at that point consisted of 13 Canadian sailors and a freemason from Tempe, Arizona.

The harp hit the freemason and crushed his lungs.

The police didn't recognize the irony when they tried to arrest him. But later when my cousin explained it to them, they thought it was pretty funny. Then they shook McDougal's hand and thanked him for saving them from the marrauding bears. Then they deported the whole band. Put 'em on a bus, and escorted them across the border.

As soon as the bus was back in the states, McDougal said, "Lonny, I'm sorry." Then he stripped off his clothes, jumped out of the bus, and ran butt naked into the woods.

When my cousin got back to Jackson two days later, McDougal was already there. He and two of the bears had stolen a Cessna 182 and flown straight in.

McDougal and thos bears were all high as Canadian sailors and had eaten the entire contents of my cousin's refrigerator, pantry, and trash cans.

My cousin legally changed his name the next day, and moved to Portland.

He later started a specialty coffee shop that's done pretty well.