If, despite all the therapy and post-traumatic stress medication, you still remember a post that I wrote in January, you’ll no doubt remember that I pronounced Olathe, Kansas the murder capital of the United States. This shocking fact is 100% true and well documented, which is doubly surprising considering the fact that I made it up. Still, that wasn’t going to prevent me from trying to make a buck or two, and so I offered the Olathe Bureau of Tourism a deal: Pay me a lot of money, and I’ll stop fucking up your tourism by saying things like, “7 out of every 10 hotel beds in Olathe, Kansas are infested with HIV-positive bedbugs.”
Now, I’ve got a lot going on in my life: Writing this blog, abusing over-the-counter cold medication, uhhhh… I saw a couple of movies since then… Anyway, the point is, I can’t be expected to remember every single extortion attempt that I make in the course of a year. I’m way too disorganized for that. I tried to get a day planner to keep track of it all, and even had one picked out, but Office Max wouldn’t give me one for free, so I had to threaten to let a herd of oxen into their store at night, then forgot to follow up on it because I didn’t have the day planner. Catch-22. Fuck.
The result of this situation is that I totally forgot about Olathe, Kansas until just now when I realized that the official Dogs on Drugs Contingency Fund was running perilously low, and I faced a sort of government shutdown of my own: I was going to have to resort to drinking domestic beer. Fuck that.
Milwaukee’s Best, nation’s worst.
So Olathe, Kansas: You’ve had plenty of time to come up with the money, seeing how Kansas City is always up for receiving a quick hand job behind the dumpster at Denny’s, and there really is no excuse for you to have not met my demands by now. But, assuming that you’re a little forgetful from all the goddamn meth fumes in the air over there, here are my demands again:
- Deliver unto me a suitcase full of unmarked, non-consecutive twenty dollar bills. And not one of those small fucking suitcases kids use to wheel their books and shit home from school. A big, airport-worthy suitcase. A general rule of thumb: If Punky Brewster and Webster couldn’t have sex in it, it is too small.
- In return for this tax-free “consultant’s fee” (wink wink), I will refrain from publishing the Official Dogs on Drugs Olathe, Kansas Fact Book, which I publish here in its entirety.
The Official Dogs on Drugs Olathe, Kansas Fact Book
- Olathe, Kansas was founded in 1857 by a family of incestuous prostitutes who charged each other for rim jobs. This inbred heritage is readily apparent when you look at the average Olathe, Kansas citizen: 4′ 2″ tall, thin, lanky hair, sporting a rat-like tail, and for whom exposure to bright sunlight and book-learnin’ is especially painful.
- The official Olathe, Kansas disease is Scabies. Tourists are infected with Scabies simply by gazing upon the town, even through a powerful telescope.
- When asked if they had ever had sex with a piece of farm equipment, 87% of Olathe residents answered, “a-yup!”
- If you rearrange the letters in “Olathe, Kansas”, you can form the words “Hose Task: Anal”. This is not a coincidence.
- Olathe’s most famous citizen is Willie Ames, who starred in Charles in Charge as Scott Baio’s butt-plug.
- According to Olathe scientists, the average IQ of an Olathe resident is “potato”.
- Olathe’s educational system is based on the Socratic method of education, which consists of sitting around in togas all day long, then really sticking it to little boys.
- Fun Olathe fact: If you stacked up all the teeth lost by Olathe tweakers, the resulting tower would reach the planet Saturn.
- In Olathe, Kansas, it is illegal to shoot a rabbit from a motorboat. [This is actually true – Greg] This represents the sanest Olathe city ordinance. The craziest? City ordinance 195-13-1 makes it illegal to have carnal knowledge of the number 6 under penalty of catapult.
- Ronald Reagan once campaigned in Olathe, Kansas and afterwards, remarked to a campaign aide, “What the fuck was that? Did you see those people? Holy shit! Is that town located over an old Superfund toxic waste dump or something? Holy Mother of God, I swear, a few of those toothless fucks had gills. Honest-to-God gills! Screw nuking the Russians, I say we nuke Olathe, Kansas on general principles alone. If I had a choice between visiting Olathe, Kansas or being buried alive in a barrel of snakes, I’d ask, ‘What kind of snakes?’ If you ever catch me in Olathe, Kansas again, you will know that I have royally fucked up in a major, fundamental way. Jesus, I need a drink!”
- This is a little known Olathe, Kansas secret: January 22nd is Kill Heath Ledger Day.
Rather than let these 100% true, just discovered, made up facts make their way into the gaping maw of the Google Search Leviathan, I think it’d be wise to start filling up that suitcase full of twenties, don’t you Olathe?
Disclaimer: Upon arising from his his crypt and feeding on the flesh of the living, the Dogs on Drugs legal counsel has instructed me to say the following: “You have got to be some sort of extra-chromosomed dimwit to think any of this shit is true. Or you live in Olathe. So for the record, do not ever listen to a word this drunken sot of a “blogger’ says. He is high out of his mind on White-out 23 hours a day, and when you put him in front of a keyboard, he lets out this low, demonic cackle, and starts typing the most horrendous shit imaginable. Jesus, did he really write that the entire Olathe educational system is based on pedophilia? Yeah, I know that the ancient Greeks did that shit. You expect it from the ancient Greeks. They wore togas because sheep can hear zippers. But to write that about a city in Kansas is just un-fucking called for. West Virginia, maybe, but Kansas? Those people are salt-of-the-earth. You know what? I’m doubling my retainer. I went to law school for this shit? Fuck no. Fuck. No.”
Goddamit, Olath! Send the money already so Greg doesn’t have to drink American beer (which I expect would cause a rift in the space-time continuum and fling us into an alternate reality where peanuts, yams, and Kenny Loggins rule the planet – nothing good comes of that). I’m sure your sister city of Ocotlan, Mexico has some residual drug/murder/kidnapping revenue to lend if necessary. You could maybe put up your state butt plug as collateral.
You hear that, Olathe? Listen to what the crazy Canadian says, even if she’s a Canucks fan, and doesn’t bow down to the superiority of the Mighty Blackhawks.
Win or lose, hockey is bound to cause a riot in this city. I’m planning to push some legislation through in which we export rioters to Olathe unless they pay up.
Fair enough. And to really give them an incentive, we’ll send people from Detroit there for Devil’s Night. Because, yeah, burning your own city down once a year makes perfect fucking sense.
Nice. So long as rioters keep using smart phones and social media to incriminate themselves, I’m all for it. At some point, we’ll be able to identify and export every one of those fuckers to Olathe. And then perhaps we could throw the entire population on a shuttle to the far reaches of space – or straight into the sun.
I don’t even know how to pronounce the name of this town, but any place that forbids murdering Thumper from a boat cannot be all bad.
They only make it illegal to kill rabbits from motorboats because they want to have sex with Thumper. Olathe is pure evil.
I lurk every day but rarely comment, but “under penalty of catapult” required that I write and tell you, like you undoubtedly hear multiple times daily from those with whom you cross paths, that you’re awesome. 🙂
That line nagged at me all night long. I was positive I’d read it somewhere before. Turns out I’d heard it before. On the Simpsons:
“Spirituous beverages are hereby prohibited in Springfield under penalty of catapult.”
Fuck.
Can I still be awesome?
i spent a weekend in Olathe about 10 years ago for a friend’s funeral. I think you nailed it.
Unsurprisingly, a funeral is considered fun in Olathe. What do you expect from a town that hold weekly pubic lice rodeos?
God dammit, Kenny Loggins!
It gets worse.