Through McMuffin and Venison hurls, came the congregation once again. Huddled masses from all points that thee compass , er, ah...points. Gathered to celebrate the Edge's crossing from wiry, Kmart model to full-fledged, wiry man-boy.

HE was with us again. Risen from HIS Minneapolis tomb. Pushing back the stone and shining cherub light onto HIS followers. Whom will HE touch this year with his hollow toe? Whom will HE lay HIS burning lips of love and wonderment upon thy winner's brow? Actually they were laid upon the same Quanto hiding mutherfucker as the last 2 years! 

Even with massive transcaping and the rendering of thou nether regions, wampumbitchez were still nowhere to be found. Only a wet rat love blanket and fuzzy calls of a loon. 

By the patch of chimp and Le tour de Poutine, remember for next year:WWCD?