As the Founder and Head of this Militia, I Would Like to Establish Some Ground Rules
This is going to be the absolute greatest militia the state of Oregon has ever seen, and I for one am excited that you all have decided to join.
As the founder and head of this militia, I would like to establish some ground rules.
Firstly, I would like to make it absolutely clear that any and all references to my daughter’s harelip will not be tolerated. I want to get this out of the way in case anyone was thinking of making it a point of reference or, as Tom and some fellow pranksters from my previous militia thought would be a comical idea, incorporating it into the iconography of our official militia flag. This was partly responsible for my leaving that group and coming here to establish this, my very own militia, and you can be damn sure that our official flag will use Tom’s wife’s lazy eye as part of our flag’s iconography.
Secondly, and I cannot stress this enough, I want everyone to sign the birthday cards for our fellow members. A militia is a team, gentlemen, and that means recognizing our members and showing them that we care. That is why I will insist that everyone sign everyone else’s birthday card, regardless of any disagreements you may have had in the past and who may or may not have slept with whose underage daughter.
Also, we must all contribute to the party planning committee. This means that when we request items for a potluck, not everyone can sign up to bring a dessert. Don’t think that I don’t know that a potluck “dessert” means you’re just going to buy some store-bought cookies on your way home from work. Because I’ll say it again: I’m tired of potlucks that consist only of Ring Dings and Pinwheels. I understand that most of you don’t cook, but surely you can find time to ask your wife or your sister to whip us up some Hamburger Helper. And if we need to keep some Shake-n-Bake in the pantry for emergencies, then that is exactly what we will do.
Furthermore, our official Twitter and Facebook pages need to contain more than just pictures of people doing keg-stands and topless women vomiting by the recycling bins. Let’s not forget that this militia has an agenda, too, gentlemen. We have a tough job of keeping our families safe from foreigners, negroes, and gays, and in particular foreign negro gays, so while I’m in no way suggesting that we don’t post pictures of keg-stands and over-served topless chicks—only that we should not lose sight of these goals amidst a sea of overturned red Solo cups.
And this brings me to my last point: please separate your recyclables. I don’t care about your opinion on the veracity of global warming—those bins are designed to help leave a cleaner planet for our children, regardless of whether or not that future will be a post-apocalyptic liberal wasteland filled with angry tansexuals and enough gluten-free wheat bread to make Chuck Liddell question his sexuality.
So once again, welcome to this, the greatest militia the state of Oregon will ever see. Feel free now to grab a Ring Ding or a Pinwheel and a beer from the pony keg out back.
Yours,
