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Mr. Wrong

Best Complaint

Complaining about things is a legitimate form of communication, OK? Pour example, when I peck on my keyboard the Declarative Statement “my column only runs once every four weeks,” that’s not only me bitching, carping, squawking, whining, mewling, simpering, whimpering, crying, bleating, blarting, yawping, grunting, howling, screaming, screaming, fucking screeeeeeeeeaming MY COLUMN ONLY RUNS EVERY FOUR WEEKS, it’s also me letting you, the Gentle Reader, know the frequency of my column in an informative and entertaining fashion.

columnist of the mr. wrong column: What’s the frequency, Reader?

gentle reader: Why, according to a recently Published Report, it’s once every four weeks! What the fuck?

columnister who was cut from every other week to once every three weeks: Now, now, Gentle Reader, it is the Wisdom of The Editors to expose you to the increasingly negatory comments of the “Mr. Wrong,” er, “column,” on a more limited basis. Pay no attention to the man with his boot on the neck of the typist.

gentle reader: Well, OK, but we sure hope this isn’t getting you down, the whole lack of a supply of oxygenated blood to the head and neck, on account of the pressure on your carotid artery from that shiny, shiny boot.

columnizer who was cut from every other week to once every three weeks and then to once every four fucking weeks for fuck’s sake: Nah, the whole boot-on-my-neck thing is just an invention of my brain, which is always well supplied with blood, if not brain cells. My brain is downright turgid, man, ruddy, like one of those vampires after a deep neck-bite feed on that Home Box show I don’t get to watch on account of I had to Economize and get rid of the Cable. If there were a Carotid Artery of the Wallet, that’s really where there’s a . . . whole . . . blacking . . . out . . . losing . . . consciousness . . . kinda thing going on, but it doesn’t get me down, man. I remain a Positive Person who Looks Forward to Things, like the big Best of Baltimore paper that City Paper, Baltimore’s Best Alternative Paper That Is Printed on Paper and Internet is fixing to drop on the City That Loves Things That Are the Best, on Wednesday, Sept. 22, in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Ten, Anno Domini.

Yeah! Best of Baltimore, baby, I am totally psyched about that particular episode of the paper because it really is the Best, seriously, go find one that is bigger or more educational or entertaining to read and I will refund you the purchase price of 1 (one) City Paper Best of Baltimore and seriously, now that we are in the run-up, if you will, to this year’s Best of Baltimore paper, errbody starts caring about things that are the Best, like the Best Local Hardware Store or the Best Solo Music Artist or the Best Politician or the Best Happy Hour or the Best Cup of Coffee or the Best Outdoor Dining or the Best CSA (whatever that is) and filling out the Best of Baltimore Readers Poll in order to vote for all of these things that are the Best, which you can do Internetically at citypaper.com/bob/poll (and there might even be one in this paper on page 3), and even though the Sept. 22, 2010 Anno Domini Nostri Jesu Christi publishing date of this year’s Best of Baltimore edition pushes my next column to five weeks from now, man, which means my next cash money ka-ching for pooping out a Mr. Wrong “column” doesn’t happen for another week past the four-week mark, I’m still a fucking Team Player man, still totally jacked for the Best of fucking Baltimore, that’s how goddamn fucking psyched I am about Best of Baltimore, and to underscore and improve that claim, I am gonna run a contest out of my own column for Best of Baltimore party tickets, which is a party you can’t easily get tickets for unless you are a Valued Advertiser or you win a Best of, I think, and it’s mostly about drinking alcohol and a lot of people standing around going blah blah blah is John Waters here and did you see that person wearing those clothes and where is my drink and where is the food I thought there was food and so-and-so is pissed because they didn’t win the Best Whatever and seriously I thought I had a drink right here did somebody take my drink what do you mean I drank my drink well can I have another drink where are the drinks, so if you’re not into that, you should probably go to a different party, but anyway, if you want to try and win two tickets to this year’s Best of Baltimore party, you gotta be 21 years or older because this is a terrible party for people who are not 21 years or older because it’s illegal to be younger than 21 years and older at the party, and then e-mail me at wrongcolumn@gmail.com or better yet send me a creative postcard via U.S. Mail to MR. WRONG IS THE BEST, 812 Park Avenue, Baltimore, MD 21201 and I will pick two sets of winners, one for e-mail and one for mail-mail. Deadline is Friday, Sept. 17. Good luck, Gentle Reader, you are The Best.

theawl.com, mrwrong.tumblr.com

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