When I started this humble blog in 2009 I had two goals in mind:  To give an outlet to my voice and to prevent Megyn Kelly from escaping from my place, where I had her tied to the bed.  Unfortunately, I was successful in only one of my objectives.  Sure, I could fill the void left by Megyn’s escape with Miller Genuine Draft, pizza, potato chips and porn but that wasn’t enough. Which is why my blog took on greater importance to me.

It was  slow-going at first.  Twenty, maybe 50 visits a day the first couple months.  Granted, the majority of those visits were from Homeland Security and my parole officer checking for violations but I was developing a following.

2009 (or as I like to call it – The Year of Megyn Kelly) visits by month to Manhattan Infidel:

2010 (or as I like to call it  – The Year Without Megyn Kelly) visits by month to Manhattan Infidel:

As you can see, there was quite a jump in readership in December 2010, thanks in small part to my vastly popular but discontinued series (by court order), “Pictures of Manhattan Infidel in his underwear eating potato chips.”  I don’t know why I was ordered to stop showing those pictures.  They were all tastefully done (well, except for the photo of me doing jumping jacks while wearing a Tu Tu.)  But I digress.

The point is, now that my readership is up I  have great plans for Manhattan Infidel which I shall now reveal to you, my loyal readers.

2011:

I shall petition Congress (it is my constitutional right) to redress a grievance.  Specifically, I want 2011 to be named “The Year of the Manhattan Infidel.”  I also will address a joint session of Congress to tell of my desire for world peace and why Megyn Kelly should be returned to my bedroom (restraining order be damned.)

2012:

I shall place a satellite in orbit that will block all TV and phone transmissions.  Only Manhattan Infidel transmissions will be allowed.  Those who bow to my will shall be known as “Friends of Manhattan Infidel.”  In return for being my friend you will get free Miller Genuine Draft.  Those who are not my friends will be relocated to a “Manhattan Infidel Indoctrination Camp” on the outskirts of Harrisburg Pennsylvania.  There will be no MGD at the camp.  There will be no pictures of Megyn Kelly at the camp.  Life will be brutal.  Harsh.  Ruthless.  You will live without hope. Despair shall be the order of the day.  It will be like life during the Carter Administration.

2013:

Earth shall be renamed “The Home of Manhattan Infidel.”   Every citizen of the planet of Manhattan Infidel will swear allegiance to me.  Microchips shall be implanted in everyone’s brain so that I can monitor your thoughts and your loyalty to me.   Wednesday shall be eliminated.  Those found to be insufficiently loyal to me will be forced to use the LIRR during a snow storm.

2014:

After declaring myself “The Divine Right Monarch of Manhattan Infidel”  I shall use my powers of invisibility to spy on people (Note: since this is the Federal Government’s job right now I may have to add an amendment to the Constitution.) Washington D.C. shall be renamed “Meat City USA.”  Hamburgers shall be renamed “Paul.”  Instead of having a hamburger with cheese you shall have a Paul with cheese.  Less syllables you see?  The name change is in your best interest.

And so readers, those are my plans for Manhattan Infidel.  Most of you who are reading this right now will no doubt like my plans and wish to be ruled by me.

Some may find my plans megalomaniac.

To my critics I say I am no Michael Bloomberg.

To Megyn Kelly I say call me.  Please.  All is forgiven.  I have free MGD for  you.

That is all dear readers.

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I’d like to take this opportunity to introduce a new feature to Manhattan Infidel, a feature that I hope will be an annual one:  The Manhattan Infidel “Pete Best Award for Epic Futility in the Face of Epic Futility.”  Once a year, or more if circumstances warrant, this prize will be given to the person or persons who best exemplify the qualities of uselessness, futility and incompetence.

And the nominees are:

1. Namesake and lifetime achievement award winner Pete Best.   The drummer for the Beatles before they made any money, after his unceremonious dumping Pete’s life quickly became a sad tale of futility. Upon being fired by the Beatles Pete got a job at an unemployment office in Liverpool, helping other people without jobs find work. Ironically he was later fired from this job and replaced by Ringo Starr, who apparently was much better at finding work for people.  All that’s left for Mr. Best is to start a blog and pester his friends to read it, perhaps posting his latest blog entry on his Facebook page in a pathetic attempt to compensate for his lonely, loveless existence.  What?  I wasn’t talking about myself!
2. New York City Mayor Michael Bloomberg.  King Michael I, Mayor Dickweed, El Presidente, His Holiness Bloomie I and Skippy the Billionaire Scumbag (how’s that for political discourse?) are just some of the nicknames given to our power mad and President wannabe Mayor. Best know for banning soft drinks from schools, eliminating a much needed lane of traffic on Manhattan streets, shilling for a victory mosque near Ground Zero and monitoring his subjects salt intake, this hectoring nanny  showed his true colors when he couldn’t even have the streets plowed during a blizzard, instead jetting off to an unknown location and blaming New Yorkers for going out in the snow.
3. 2010 New York Yankee Designated Hitter Nick Johnson. After winning the World Series in 2009, thanks in large part to Hideki Matsui and Johnny Damon, the Yankees neglected to re-sign either one. Instead oft-injured Nick Johnson was introduced as the 2010 DH.  “He has a high on-base percentage” reasoned GM Brian Cashman.  So what did Nick do?  Proceed to bat .167 and register 12 hits in 24 games before suffering a season-ending injury while trying to shingle his roof during an electrical storm.

And the 2011 winner of the Pete Best Award for Epic Futility in the Face of Epic Futility goes to….drumroll please:  Nick Johnson.   Mr. Johnson was unable to accept the award in person, having injured himself in a freak accident involving Rosie O’Donnell, steak sauce, a leg of lamb, several tourists from Norway and Worf, Security Chief for the Starship Enterprise.

Mr.  Johnson was supposed to make a statement from his hospital bed but unfortunately the hospital he was at was hit by a meteor and destroyed.  All that remained was his left earlobe which was rushed to a neighboring hospital and placed in a medically-induced coma.  Doctors are unsure as to whether the earlobe will survive.

And so there you have it, the first annual award.  And Pete Best, if you are reading this:  No, there is no cash prize.

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For centuries centaurs, creatures that are part human, part horse have fascinated western culture.  Many myths, songs, books and movies have featured them.  But what is it really like to be a centaur?

Fortunately, courtesy of the Centaur Normalization Act of 2006, there are now many centaurs in the United States.  The results of the latest census indicate that centaurs are the fastest growing immigrant group, beating out Mexicans, the Polish and people named Frank from Bulgaria who sell the complete Omar Khayyam set door to door.  I was lucky enough to sit down with a group of centaurs in their local hangout, a bar on the east side of Manhattan called “The Horse’s Ass.”

I began the conversation by asking them about some of the daily challenges of  life as a centaur.  “Joe”, a centaur originally from County Kilkenny, Ireland who hopes to “get a degree in microbiology and mount JLO” talked about the difficulty of air travel.

You just try booking a flight.  Who wants to sit next to a centaur on a cramped airplane? Especially if we have window seats. Trying to get past the person on the aisle seat to go to the bathroom is a nightmare. The last time I flew I sat next to an investment banker and he got drunk and started yelling, “Can I please get a seat that’s not next to a screaming baby or a centaur?”  And just try getting into those tiny bathrooms on a plane.  I have to keep the door open with my hooves dangling out into the aisle.  Kids walk by and say “Look mommy the horsie is going doo-doo.”  It’s humiliating.  That’s why I only travel by boat now.

Another centaur talked about how expensive it can be being one of them.

You’ve heard the phrase “clothes horse”?  That’s because a lot of us care about our appearance.  But good luck getting a suit that fits.  I went to a big and tall shop and they directed me to a Halloween novelty store.  Do I look like I want to dress like a pirate?  So we have to get our clothes custom made, which is expensive.

Eventually the conversation got around to the question on everyone’s lips:  Is it easy for a centaur to mate?  Do they have many women?  The centaurs gathered around me and the conversation became spirited.  Said one, “Oh come on!  The logistics are horrible. I’m human on top and have large horse legs on the bottom.  My arms aren’t large enough to get in the clutches so to speak.”

The centaurs all murmured in sympathy.

“That’s why now we pretty much just hang out at the Jersey Shore trying to pick up drunk women” was one comment.

At the mention of the Jersey Shore several centaurs shouted “Snooki!”

“Yeah, we’ve all had her.”

“She’s got centaur fever!”

I wrapped up the conversation by asking them if there was anything else they wanted to share with my readers.

“Well, we sweat a lot during the Summer” said one.

“My sack itches but I can’t reach it.  It’s driving me crazy” mentioned another.

I thanked them for their time.  And so readers, the next time you are sitting next to a centaur on a plane, try and be patient with them and show a little sympathy.  It’s not an easy life.

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Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain’s famous novel and American masterpiece is coming out in a new, modern, censored edition.  The “N” word has been replaced by “slave“, “Injun” has been replaced by “Native American” and “White Man” has been replaced by “Oppressor Pig from Northern Europe.”

Albert Gribben, editor of the new edition says that he is not attempting to neuter the classic book but to update it and make it more relevant to modern readers.

In addition to the new words, other changes have been made to the novel. Chief among them Huck and Jim are now lovers and Huck’s age has been changed to 18.

I felt that this was a chance to make an important statement about the inherent racism and homophobia in America so making the two lovers seemed an obvious choice.  And naturally while there is nothing inherently wrong with an adult male making love to a young boy I changed his age so that intolerant religious fanatics in Red State America would not object.

Also new in this edition are several specially written scenes where Huck and Jim spend entire nights awake, lighting candles, taking bubble baths and talking about their feelings.

The old model of the silent, macho, action-orientated hero, AKA, John Wayne, is so 1950s.  It’s time for a new paradigm.  A sensitive paradigm.  The white man often has trouble expressing his inner sensitivity.  I hope my specially written sections will be a guide for the new modern, sensitive male.  And they give each other back rubs too! I’m feeling a sensitive overflow of emotions bubbling to the surface that I want to express just thinking about it.

The novel will now have a new, climatic ending.  After traveling downriver on the Mississippi, Huck and Jim will enter a Marine Corp recruiting station in an attempt to sign up and serve their country, only to be rejected by forces of intolerance.

“You mean you won’t let us serve our country because of our healthy physical expression of our man love?” asks a bewildered Huck.

Jim then rips off his shirt, revealing his manly African physique and cries out, “A curse upon the European man.  A curse upon America!”

The two will then set out to the West coast, financing their trip by becoming pole dancers before settling in San Francisco where they will open a coffee bar.

When reached for comment, Mark Twain said, “I’ve been dead for 100 years and this still pisses me off.” 

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