O O Ø O O O O
The Rolls
Pint Day DCC is upon us. As might be imagined, with nearly 14 years of tradition behind it, Pint Day has attracted its share of loyal patrons—Acolytes, if you will. Being an anniversary of sorts, a certain amount of self-indulgent navel-gazing is to be expected. Today, therefore, is dedicated to our Acolytes.
Now sadly, we don’t yet have any formal process for the raising of a patron to an Acolyte. No burning of ballots. No waving of wands. Not even a ceremonial pickle. We do, however, have the pode, and this week’s bicentennial edition therefore is dedicated to introducing you, our loyal readers, to they, our loyal Acolytes.
Now, for some reason, the Acolytes all seem to have acquired Pint Day names. Unlike the papal tradition, however, these names are given, not chosen. And once granted, they are revoked only upon death, or beatification.
Bear in mind, these are not all our regulars. They are merely the ones with the more ridiculous monikers. I give you: the Rolls.
Martika— In many venues, being able to come up with the name of a pop-princess one-hit wonder from the 80s is a noteworthy achievement. On a road trip with da boyz, it’s a moniker waiting to happen. Martika is our voice of reason. He is also our collector of comics. If you’re wondering what to download, Martika can tell you. He is also on his way to becoming a strict baco-vegetarian.
Watermonkey—If you make a brazen statement at a Pint Day, you have to be prepared to back it up—especially in the era of wireless Internet. Watermonkey was the inspiration for the phrase “Monkey Up” (meaning “Show me the Monkey,” or “Prove it, fuck.”). He is also the front-man for the Pint Day Devil’s Advocate tag-team. He is also the repository for all things hair—musical or otherwise.
Agoraphobicneophyte—”Neo,” for short. One thing you should never, ever do at a Pint Day is break from tradition. Change is like sharing, and sharing is for communists and poor people. You don’t change tables. If you absolutely must, you certainly don’t sit at the back of the bar, furthest away from the door, the food, and the other patrons. Neo is the other of our Devil’s Advocate tag-team. Unlike the rest of us, however, he seems to have other outlets for his rage. To advance in his craft, Neo must learn to internalize the rage. Only then does it come bursting out in fine podium form.
Dinendash—”Dash,” for short (though he for some reasons prefers “Tris.”) Dash suffered the ignobility of forgetting to pay a tab on an otherwise slow news week. Sure, we’ve all done it (sorry Jen), but that doesn’t mean we ever need to let it go. It turns out that at Pint Day, we’re incredibly bitchy that way. Dash is our resident Jedi, and though his mind trick is lacking, his thesis-writing skillz are improving.
The Girlz—No list of Acolytes would be complete without the girlz. However, either by accident of design (they rarely say anything stupid), or timing (they don’t always come out to Pint Day), the girlz have not yet acquired any Pint Day names (apart from “Smelly,” that is). What can we say? The Girlz make our Pint Days prettier.
Thus, having dispensed with the formal duties, let us now busy ourselves with the important business of celebrating Pint Day Seven Hundred. And hence, I will leave you with the traditional Pint Day toast:
Cheers, Fuck!
Kjell Wooding
April 19, 2005
OOØOOOODCC
April 19th, 2005 at 5:55 pm
I see the title, and all I can think of is an old roomate who wore spandex and really, REALLY shouldn’t have. That, or the stale bread they serve at conferences that soon become inter-tablistic missiles in the right (or wrong) company.
Cheers, fuck! I’ll be toasting the pode with some Negra Modelo this eve.
April 19th, 2005 at 8:41 pm
Not to mention “bloopover.”
Oh damn. I mentioned it.