As most of you have already forgotten, March 2nd is St. Botty's Day. As is customary, one of us is chosen by Russian Roulette - using live hamsters instead of bullets - to read "The Legend of St. Botty". This year, the chore, er, duty, ...um, responsibility? Privilege! Honor! Pleasure! falls upon me. So, sit back, relax, get wasted and enjoy this year's reading of:

Bartholemew (or "Botty", as he was known) Nosescratcher (1466 - 1509) was a tailor who lived in the European village of Salmonella. It was a quiet little village that would have gone completely unnoticed if I hadn't mentioned it just now.

Salmonella had fallen upon hard times during the fifteenth century. It wasn't mentioned in any history books or on any maps, which is pretty depressing for such a little village. I mean, it was bad enough to be named after a disease, fer cryin' out loud, but this seemed pretty close (but no cigar) to nearly almost but not quite what could've been about only a smidgen of a tad away from being slightly short of approximately and roughly the last straw, if it wasn't for the fact that the village fathers seemed so ambivalent.

Disgusted with being part of a non-entity village, many businesses simply dried up and blew away on a cool autumn breeze, which meant that the only profession that survived was, well, the World's Oldest, nudge, nudge, wink, wink, oh 'strewth! As the Fallen Women became more numerous, they became bolder, making their, um, wares quite obvious to the passers-by. Some would later come down with a nasty case of frostbite in the most intimate of places on their persons, but that really has nothing to do with this story.

The more proper ladies of Salmonella were understandably quite upset by this turn of events, and in time their frustrations would come to a head and burst forth like a pinched pimple onto the face...er, streets of Salmonella - not a pretty sight, let me tell you! Oh, right, I just did.

Soon the Battle Royale (not to be confused with the movie "Casino Royale", which was quite funny, actually. You see, David Niven...hmm? Oh, sorry.) between the Proper Ladies and the Not-So-Proper (but still prosperous) Ladies of the Evening commenced and even took place in the streets of Salmonella right under the window of Bartholemew (or "Botty", as he was known) Nosescratcher (you see, he actually does fit into the story, eventually)! At first, the sight of seeing women brawling in the streets, tearing each others' clothing to shreds was pretty exciting, but eventually the novelty wore off, and so, out of boredom or disgust (nobody knows - or cares - which) he was forced to do the only thing a man in his position could do - he mooned them.
Instantly the battle stopped! It was indeed a miracle, as the throng could only stare upon the golden beacon shining down upon the streets. Some fainted. Some cried. Some prayed. Still others tried to set up concession stands, crying, "Getcher whatever-it-is-they-sold-in-the-Middle-Ages here!" - the first time any business (other than prostitution) prospered in Salmonella.

From then on, the good citizens of Salmonella would celebrate St. Botty's Day every March 2nd until the village eventually went bankrupt and disappeared forever from the face of the earth two years later, completely forgotten.

Everyone has their favorite way of celebrating St. Botty's Day. Personally, I like to watch the annual St. Botty's Day parade, live from where they THINK Salmonella might have existed, although most countries would - for obvious reasons - never admit it. After carving the bum-shaped Spam cake, I would go back to bed.

Later, of course, I would tune in for the Botty Bowl (not to be confused with a toilet bowl - despite the rumours). However, I don't remember who's playing this year. Does anyone know?

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