In a list of the drunkest cities in America, Wisconsin had seven in the top ten and five more in the top 20. I mean, we really kicked some serious ass… Maybe a little too much ass. Some might say excessive use of alcohol is a bad thing.
The organization that posted the report was a
familiar foe of mine: 24/7
Wall St. Months ago, their “Spit Venom at Nick Olig” brand of journalism
accused Fond du Lac of laziness. Now my city has made their binge-drinking list
at number seven.
In the wake of a second indictment, I was angry. My ego had
been wounded again. I wanted to write another smart-alecky rebuttal, but I got
sidetracked by double-bubble bargains at various bars for about eight days in a
row. After which, I wondered if perhaps 24/7
Wall St. was spitting venom directly into my soul not out of spite but as a
wakeup call. Maybe their intentions weren’t all that wicked.
Risking
taunts of “sissy” from the locals, I abstained from alcohol for a week. Plus, I
got some exercise. It was nice. Maybe not “Hammered on Pabst playing Zelda” nice, but a healthier lifestyle did
have its charms.
That’s
when I resolved to get cleaned up, and more importantly, to give my life to a
Higher Power—a perfect, omniscient, almighty entity.
And
by that, of course, I’m referring to 24/7
Wall St.
This
website is so omnipotent They can create extra hours in the day and more days
in the week in order to spend time on studies outside of the realm of global
finance. Here’s a conundrum: Could 24/7
Wall St. make so many hours and days They Themselves could not fill up with
first-rate reporting? I honestly don’t know, but 24/7 Wall St. does. They know everything.
In
pursuit of redemption, my journey toward becoming a devout 24/7 Wall Streeter required
a dozen steps:
1.) I
realized that I was powerless to dismiss Them as finger-wagging, smug elitists
who sometimes made mistakes.
2.) I
reasoned that I could only regain a sane outlook on life if I believed
everything 24/7 Wall St. told me.
3.) With
that unwavering belief, I submitted my will to the care of 24/7 Wall St. with the understanding of that old adage, “If I can’t
be a beater, better be a joiner.”
4.) I
took a personal inventory and assessed my follies, the most glaring of which
was accusing a certain media outlet of shoddy research. They weren’t wrong for
misquoting the population of Fond du Lac at 101,577 even though the signs say it’s
43,021. Turns out the signs, Wikipedia, the Census Bureau, and everyone who
lives in Fond du Lac (including me) were all wrong.
5.) Admitting
those follies not only to myself but also to 24/7 Wall St. and another person came next. I was super busy on
this particular afternoon, but I did post a very contrite “My bad” on Their
Facebook page. And I defy anyone who claims that a worker at a Jimmy John’s
drive-thru doesn’t count as a person.
6.) Now
I was ready for 24/7 Wall St. to
correct my defects. If I played my cards right, I had high hopes that someday They’d
use Their infinite power to give me abs like Ryan
Gosling’s in Crazy, Stupid, Love.
7.) I
humbly asked my 24/Sevenly Father to remove my shortcomings. Sounds pretty daunting
to get rid of all of them, but
remember, They can create all the time
it takes to do this!
8.) Writing
a list of the people I had done wrong by slandering Them was key. That’s why I
posted this link on social media for all my friends to see. (It had nothing to
do with the desperate writer angle. But I will revive that angle next week.)
9.) Making
amends to those people seemed like a wise follow-up. When this idea came to me,
however, it was really late at night and Jimmy John’s was closed. I didn’t have
a marker on me at the drive-thru window to write “Praise 24/7 Wall St.!” So
hopefully they were cool with the graffiti.
10.)
Continuing to take a personal inventory
and admitting my mistakes was the next step. I know this is basically a
reiteration of a previous step, but let’s face it, the Ten Commandments had a
few reruns too. Besides, even numbers are just better. They make division less
messy. Indeed, as 24/7 has shown us,
even comes before odd.
11.)
Improving my conscious contact with 24/7 Wall St. was the penultimate goal. I
devoted every waking moment to my 24/Sevenly Savior by browsing Them on my
iPhone. Even though I hit-and-ran a corn stand as I scrolled through articles,
consumed more data than I could afford in a quest to get what “buy low, sell
high” means, and got kicked out of church for cheering an absolute showstopper
called “Ford F-Series Claims 40% of May Pickup Sales,” I feel it was all worthwhile
to gain a better understanding of the Stork Market.
12.) Finally, I had to share my message of awakening
with friends. Since for some reason there was a cop blocking the graffitied window
at the Jimmy John’s drive-thru, I decided to call my friend Jake in South Milwaukee.
I told him about my enlightenment. He sighed and said, “If we’re to believe everything
the media shows us, doesn’t that also mean that stockbrokers have been known to
take Quaaludes and toss little people wrapped in Velcro at targets like they
did in The Wolf of Wall Street?” “But
Jake,” I murmured, “That was just a movie.” “A movie based on a true story,
bitch,” he replied. “If you’re looking for something to worship, you can do better than a gang of
decadent dwarf-throwers.”
What he said made so
much sense I became reborn as a skeptic of 24/7
Wall St. I wrote this article fueled by a tall boy of Pabst.
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