I Wrote Every Article That Made You Laugh

You read that right. Cat’s out of the bag. Every single article that you have ever read that the Every Three Weekly has published, regardless of medium or time of publication, was written by me…as long as it made you laugh. All the unfunny ones were written by someone else. The real reason we don’t have bylines is to keep me humble. Humility is one of my best features – right behind my devilish good looks, razor-sharp wit, and killer intellect.

Additionally, my lawyers have advised me to say that any article that you were offended by was likely signed off by me but not written directly by me, thus making all grievances null and void. (Unless, of course, you found the article both funny and offensive, in which case the first trumps the latter which means that I did, in fact, write that article).

When the paper was put on life support during COVID and the editors were desperate enough to hire fresh blood that they took a chance on some goofy schmuck’s shitty application, they had no idea the ego boost they were giving that weird kid locked away in a single in Couzens who was trying (and failing) really hard to grow his hair out. And now, 3.5 years later, as I sit here typing up every single article for this issue of the paper that will make you laugh, I look around and find myself at the top of the mountain. Not because I was the best, but simply because of the mere fact I was the only bozo who stuck around long enough to see it to the end.

I imagine this is what the last Dodo must have felt like before it was brutally murdered and slow-roasted over a campfire… Mmmm Dodo meat. Anyway. It’s weird to think about what leaves with me when the other editors put me out to pasture in May. Shmanthony McFoosball. Jormungandr. Goofs and Mistakes. All these hilarious things that I alone made up. All those moments will be lost like tears in the rain – which is a line that I thought up just now.

I hate to get sappy because, like a good ex-Catholic, I bottle my emotions in me until I die of a heart attack at 50; but more than I hate to get sappy, I love to be the center of attention. Thank you for letting me indulge myself in this fake world for a little while. I’ll never forget the memories and friends I made at the Every Three Weekly, and I’ll never forget being the one solely responsible for making tens of people chuckle when they pick up a copy of the paper before immediately throwing it in their dorm trash can. I may have stolen some valor in my time here, but the paper stole my heart. I’ll be waiting for you all in hell, which I believe is the Margaritaville at Navy Pier. Love you guys.

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