Death by Salad Bar

Normally, I'm a pretty agreeable fellow. I'm pretty laid back and it takes quite a lot to get me angry. That is, unless you're stupid. But other than that, I really don't get mad often.

Today, however, proved to be an exception to the rule.

There are a few foods in this world that, no matter how full you are, you always have room for: licorice, ice cream and jello. (Nick might have a slightly longer list that may even include anything left on anyone else's plate within a three-table radius). But for me, it's really only those three. These items, not coincidentally, are often served as desserts. That being said, after feasting at the all-you-can-eat cafeteria here at school, I wanted some dessert. I was decently full ("That buffet is pretty robust") but still wanted something to top off the meal.

I hate black licorice, and I don't eat ice cream often, so my natural inclination points me in the direction of jello. I love everything about jello. I love jello jigglers. I love jello/fruit salads. I love jello molds. I love jello shots. I love their catchy commercials, and I sure as hell love Bill Cosby. Jello, to me, has no down side...or so I thought.

I got up to the salad bar and went right for the jello. Today was a great day. Red Jello! Actually, it was a great day until I witnessed the massacre that happened in the jello container. It was a mess. There was not one item offered at the salad bar that wasn't in the jello bowl. It was a melting pot of crap. Yellow hard-boiled egg yolks, purple egg chunks (beets maybe?), broccoli branches, lettuce pieces, crunchy stick things, croutons and black olives all equally infected this otherwise pristine container of red jello. It was a meeting of the salad bar item minds, with horrific results.

I didn't dare touch it. The pure and direct disrespect of all the other salad-bar goers remains one of the most heinous things I have ever seen. I don't ask for much, but I do ask that you RESPECT THE JELLO. Because, as the saying goes..."J-E-L-L-O, it's alive"...that is, until you kill it.

I Got Your Waldo Right Here.

Dearest Tim,

While the tone was decidedly negative, I appreciate you taking the time to write those letters. I do not want to give you the satisfaction of a irrational, emotionally-charged response. So I won't. Instead, I will take the high road (a road I frequent in my everyday life, and a road it seems you have yet to find) and point out a few things that might make you appreciate a celebrity like myself for who I am instead of degrading and attempting to change everything about me. Your ad hominem attacks serve no purpose. It seems to me that you may be displacing your anger, but that's for you to figure out. For now I offer this response:

First of all, in you're second letter you mentioned that you assumed I wanted an apology. Wrong. I deserve an apology. I am the subject of countless books, pleasing children around the world. Waldo knows no language. I'm like music. I'm in more countries than McDonald's. I am everywhere.

I am everywhere, and nowhere at the same time. That's the beauty. There are still pages in my books that I cannot be found (and rest assured - I'm there, just hidden). I am figuratively nowhere and literally everywhere. Wrap your head around that.

As for my wardrobe you so unnecessarily attacked, please completely evaluate yourself before judging others. If I'm not mistaken, your favorite zip-up hoodie happens to be striped, does it not? The same hoodie you got for Christmas this past December and wore the rest of the day. Ya, didn't think I'd do my homework did ya? I'm everywhere. Don't forget it.

Besides, there are great people in American history that have worn the same outfit everyday. Doug Funnie sound familar? He owns the green sweater vest. My red stripes and blue pants are my trademark. You should wear the same thing one day and see how many people call you by my name. I'll set the over-under at 36.

What is it the kids say these days? Don't hate the player...hate the game? Ya, that. It seems to me you may be jealous of my fame, and are simply taking that jealously and turning it into blind rage against me personally. It's ok. I understand. There can't be too many books with your goofy grin on the cover. It must be tough. No one is taking time out of their day to continually look for you ? That's got to be hard. I can't even imagine what that's like.

Oh, and you're supposed to be this big music fan? Some fan you are. An Outkast reference? Really? What is this - 2003? Get current my man. I'd like to say you're better than that, but I'm not sure.

So how about you stop taking time out of your life to senselessly attack mine? Now, at least, you know how it might feel. I may look like a friendly, stripe-wearing, French-seeming, non combative vagrant, but I assure you; I can bite back. You just woke a sleeping giant. You have no idea what you mess with. This is nothing.

I eat pieces of crap like you for breakfast (yes, I eat pieces of crap for breakfast...you're so predictable).

So don't mess with the best, or you'll end up as meaningless extra on my pages like the rest.

Savy?

Your friend (and friend to millions around the world):
Waldo

p.s. I am fluent in English, French, Portugese, Mandarin, Japanese and the native tounge of the Democratic Republic of Congo. Any questions?

An Open Letter to the College Students of America

It’s a dark time at the University of Dayton.

Ghetto basements are locked. Stray bullets are fired into random homes. An evil Nazi dictator is our vice president for student development.

Many UD students have begun taking matters into their own hands. Flyer News, for instance, has received dozens of letters to the editor shedding light on these weighty issues. Multiple public forums have been held allowing students to debate and discuss plausible solutions that would not only make our campus community safer, but could even improve the quality of life in poverty stricken neighborhoods all over America.

I am writing to you, young adults of this nation, your heads filled with dreams of what the world could one day become, because I also have a solution. A credible idea that, if implemented correctly, could change the way this university, and potentially the world, operates.

Pay close attention. Flaming bags of dog poop.

Consider this: Food prices have skyrocketed this year at UD’s dining halls. Students are being taken for everything they’re worth. Why not track down the head of dining services (Kenneth J. Cosgrove, 346 Dorothy Lane Road, Oakwood, OH, 45469), grab a nice durable paper bag—recycled, preferably (We can’t change the future without any trees!)—scope out several nice dog droppings (Keep in mind that dried canine poop burns longer and elicits a much more potent fragrance. I recommend storing a handful or two in a shoe box under your bed to age properly in case of emergencies.), and engulf it in flames directly on the gentlemen or madam’s porch.

Before ringing the doorbell, it is absolutely essential that one leaves a note explaining one’s motives. Change cannot occur if the wrongdoer is not aware of his or her injustices. For this example, something along the lines of “Hey man, that’s seriously not cool about the food. You’re mean and you don’t do your job so good. I hate you,” would be absolutely perfect for a situation of such magnitude.

Do not be alarmed when a carton of milk only costs a nickel the next morning. Change will be swift, and terror will spread to evildoers.

In sum, many of you know that I coined the phrase “Some people see things as they are and say why. I dream of things that never were and say why not?” The same is true of what this proposition hopes to accomplish. Remember these words when your school’s semester exam study days are stolen from you, or when you read about starving children in Africa, or when your girlfriend dumps you because you just so happen to like the way her underwear shapes your junk.

Always remember: Freedom is just a flaming poop bag away.

Waldo: ughh...

Dearest Waldo,

In the words of Outkast: "I'm sorry Miss Jackson (insert Waldo), I am for real", I don't know what happened the other day but I want you to know that I may of overreacted..

This is not an apology.. thats exactly what you want, so if that's what you're looking for your not gonna get it.. but this is just a note to say "hey douchebag, I may of overreacted and I feel somewhat (and when I say somewhat I mean barely) bad about the whole situation."

I think it's best if we just give it up all together.. you know maybe try a new profession.. I can't keep tabs on you all the time - you need to relax for awhile, maybe go on a vacation? but seriously man, you have GOT to give up the whole traveling hitch hiker vibe.. times are changing - shit like that just doesn't happen anymore. Kids don't give two shits about finding the guy in brightly striped clothing, they would rather watch the Backyardigans, and frankly so would I. (Your back yard friends the backyardigans)

So take this as a peaceful request to take a flugging break (yeah I said flugging, pretty serious.), just stop for awhile. Maybe try golf? I have a friend that hated golf for the first 20 years of his life, gave it a try, loves it now. You seriously need to find a hobby, so start there.

Savy?

Hasta luego (How about that? Maybe try learning a new language and going the hell away?)