Tuesday, December 16, 2003





Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Ryan Dobosh. It occurred to me earlier that you may not know that, so I've decided to be the bigger person and tell you my name first. Ryan Dobosh.
Ryan Dobosh.
Ryan Dobosh.
There, that should take care of Google.
Now welcome, to what is sure to be the second most read entry in the entire history of my blog, being inferior only to the now classic "Victory Speech" (see previous entry, I'll just wait here).

For you see, I have stumbled upon something so controversial and raw that this very blog may be removed from existence once I publish it in an effort to silence my voice, or my typing, whichever They deem to be more dangerous to Them. But there is no fear in my heart, my friends, for I know that what I'm doing is right, even if, God help us, it's not funny.
There is a small piece of information that a certain group doesn't want to get out. And I'm not talking about the Federal Government, although they ARE dicks, I'm talking about a body of evil so insidious that it can only be referred to as The Lone Star State.
That's right.
Texas.

There's something that Texas doesn't want you to know. Something They're terrified you'll find out.

They can't remember the Alamo.

They've tried and tried but no one can seem to recall what happened, when it happened, why it happened, or even where the actual Alamo is located. Everyone employed in the Alamo gift shop has been temporarily reassigned to the El Paso D.M.V. until this crisis passes.

The reason for this monumental failure of recollection has been attributed to the dramatic overabundance of "Don't Mess With Texas" bumper stickers throughout the region. It has been surmised that because the residents of Texas were so preoccupied with the prospect of being "messed with", they completely failed to remember their previous state motto, which ironically enough actually contains the word "remember". Stupid Texas.

I would normally be all too happy to assist them with their problem, after the prerequisite laughter abated of course, but there is a slight problem;

I can't remember The Alamo either.

I know it had something to do with Daniel Boone. Or was it Davy Crockett? I honestly don't know. Which one killed himself a bear when he was only three? Wait, maybe The Alamo was where Billy The Kid used to hang out, you know, down the road from The O.K. Corral where The Lone Ranger worked. It just seems sad to me that something as momentous as this battle apparently was could be lost to the sands of time and apathy, especially when all the people of that time decided that it was definitely worth writing down.

Too bad all they wrote down was "remember the alamo".
That kind of note never works, I have about five thousand scraps of paper that say things like "Girlfriend Remote Control", or "dogs+some sort of clothing?", or "My friend Noah".
These things mean nothing to me, but if I'd have taken the time to take good notes, I could've been shot down so many more times at meetings, rather than letting Mark have all the fun.

Oh! Snap!

Well, that's our motto here at the ol' Ryduffy:

"End it with a jab at Mark."

Oh, and please remember not to mess with Texas, kids. They've been in better moods.

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