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Ben Hassenger has finished his reign of Central New York, and will be arriving home in Lansing for the immediate “good” in two weeks.
“I have had experiences that the poor serfs of the Midwest have vividly dreamed of their entire life. I have met distinguished Fortune 500 executives and basked in their life of luxury; I have wowed the notablest of notables the world over, from Barack Obama to my late friend and guru, Yves Saint Laurent; I have tasted the sweet flesh of strippers and snorted meth-amphetamines off of their tits. Yet, like money and prestige and snorting meth-amphetamines off of stripper tits, everything must end, and I am overjoyed in my announcing that I will once again be a resident of Lansing, Michigan on June 27 of this year.
“Ray Arnold once said, as he flicked the switch that would restore the electricity to a dead Jurassic Park, '“Hold on to your butts'. Well Lansing, hold your butts. Take those sneakers off the telephone line... what once was dead is now alive again.”
But in order to understand why the return is so important, one must understand the reasons for leaving.
In 2006, Ben was living in Kalamazoo Michigan, working at a humble steakhouse and drinking twenty-six hours of the day. He was driving up to Lansing at least once a week and, one day, while maneuvering the potholes at the 69-S/94-W junction, he had a revelation: this was a life that was by no means bad, but there was something greater out there.
“I meant absolutely no disrespect to this beautiful area, but I felt a calling, a beckoning from the East. Hell or Highwater once told me to look to the west, but who really pays attention to socialists anyway? The only Marx worth a damn was Harpo, in my book. Remember that time Lucy dressed up as him to impress Carolyn Appleby, only to have the real Harpo show up and perform that classic fake mirror gag? I think I have that episode on video somewhere... where was I”
Ben settled in Syracuse in August. He found a ritzy job cooking at a nice restaurant, cooking for the traveling likes of Aretha Franklin, Dave Brubeck, Ben Stein, some Baldwin, even one of those chach dudes from MTV's Wildn' Out. Little did he know that in only a matter of time, he would discover something he never knew he would discover: true love.
“Gwyneth Paltrow walked into the restaurant one night and sat down,” Ben recalls with an undercurrent of fondness in his voice. “She asked to speak to one of the chefs, and in drawing the shortest straw, I was elected to go out and represent the kitchen. Gwyneth asked what was on the menu that would keep her true to her macrobiotic diet, and I believe I responded with 'What the fuck are you talking about?' We both looked at each other, jaws agape... I think I drooled in her cleavage. That's when we knew it was true love.”
After a whirlwind romance, Benneth (as dubbed by the media) were married at the beginning of 2007. They celebrated at the G8 conference and had two beautiful children, Apple Banana Tomato Hassenger and Moses Abraham Phillipe Roscoe Wheatus Hassenger. Just as quickly as they came together, though, they fell apart in chaos.
“Everything just started unraveling. We started bickering over what charities to donate our millions to... and I mean, you care for who you care for, but UNICEF? Are you UNIREFUCKINGTARDED? I was willing to even give up some of my very generous NAMBLA contribution for her, but the damage had already been done.
“I think the final straw was when she asked me what I thought of her original outfit for the Iron Man premiere. It was this incredibly awkward green and brown jacket with large shoulder pads, and I suggested she might want to change her name to Fred Gwynneth Paltrow. She threw the vase at me and filed for divorce later that evening. It's just as well, it turns out that she was cheating on me with a rock star, some dude from the band Cold, I think. How can you compete with nu-metal? Honestly?
Ben begins to tear up at this point.
“I guess the story is always the same... you travel somewhere looking for that greener grass, and things are better for a while, but in the end the ground was uprooted and condominiums were built in their place. The homes that used to hold the activists now hold topless women with hairy armpits - not hairy in making a stance, but in pure laziness. You walk the corner to the rubble that used to be a library, it's just linin' to the mind cemetery now.
“Michigan is where I was born, where I was raised, the place that taught to be a man, to be kind, to be loving, to be an amazing individual. I owe everything in my life to that beautiful state, and it's time to repay it. Soon I'll be able to sit down with my extended family at Sunday dinners again, I'll be able to go to the Tiger games with my dad again, I'll be able to keep my girlfriend unsatisfied with my miniscule penis again... it's these types of things that keep you going in life. Beauty, family, Swedish penis pumps, no man could ask for more.
“And, I guess if nothing works out like I assume it's going to, I can always go down to Cheetah's and find a new stripper. Lansing's got an untapped plethora of beauty in this wonderful city... hey, do you know where I could score some meth-amphetamines?”
Hold on to your butts, indeed.
Ben Hassenger has finished his reign of Central New York, and will be arriving home in Lansing for the immediate “good” in two weeks.
“I have had experiences that the poor serfs of the Midwest have vividly dreamed of their entire life. I have met distinguished Fortune 500 executives and basked in their life of luxury; I have wowed the notablest of notables the world over, from Barack Obama to my late friend and guru, Yves Saint Laurent; I have tasted the sweet flesh of strippers and snorted meth-amphetamines off of their tits. Yet, like money and prestige and snorting meth-amphetamines off of stripper tits, everything must end, and I am overjoyed in my announcing that I will once again be a resident of Lansing, Michigan on June 27 of this year.
“Ray Arnold once said, as he flicked the switch that would restore the electricity to a dead Jurassic Park, '“Hold on to your butts'. Well Lansing, hold your butts. Take those sneakers off the telephone line... what once was dead is now alive again.”
But in order to understand why the return is so important, one must understand the reasons for leaving.
In 2006, Ben was living in Kalamazoo Michigan, working at a humble steakhouse and drinking twenty-six hours of the day. He was driving up to Lansing at least once a week and, one day, while maneuvering the potholes at the 69-S/94-W junction, he had a revelation: this was a life that was by no means bad, but there was something greater out there.
“I meant absolutely no disrespect to this beautiful area, but I felt a calling, a beckoning from the East. Hell or Highwater once told me to look to the west, but who really pays attention to socialists anyway? The only Marx worth a damn was Harpo, in my book. Remember that time Lucy dressed up as him to impress Carolyn Appleby, only to have the real Harpo show up and perform that classic fake mirror gag? I think I have that episode on video somewhere... where was I”
Ben settled in Syracuse in August. He found a ritzy job cooking at a nice restaurant, cooking for the traveling likes of Aretha Franklin, Dave Brubeck, Ben Stein, some Baldwin, even one of those chach dudes from MTV's Wildn' Out. Little did he know that in only a matter of time, he would discover something he never knew he would discover: true love.
“Gwyneth Paltrow walked into the restaurant one night and sat down,” Ben recalls with an undercurrent of fondness in his voice. “She asked to speak to one of the chefs, and in drawing the shortest straw, I was elected to go out and represent the kitchen. Gwyneth asked what was on the menu that would keep her true to her macrobiotic diet, and I believe I responded with 'What the fuck are you talking about?' We both looked at each other, jaws agape... I think I drooled in her cleavage. That's when we knew it was true love.”
After a whirlwind romance, Benneth (as dubbed by the media) were married at the beginning of 2007. They celebrated at the G8 conference and had two beautiful children, Apple Banana Tomato Hassenger and Moses Abraham Phillipe Roscoe Wheatus Hassenger. Just as quickly as they came together, though, they fell apart in chaos.
“Everything just started unraveling. We started bickering over what charities to donate our millions to... and I mean, you care for who you care for, but UNICEF? Are you UNIREFUCKINGTARDED? I was willing to even give up some of my very generous NAMBLA contribution for her, but the damage had already been done.
“I think the final straw was when she asked me what I thought of her original outfit for the Iron Man premiere. It was this incredibly awkward green and brown jacket with large shoulder pads, and I suggested she might want to change her name to Fred Gwynneth Paltrow. She threw the vase at me and filed for divorce later that evening. It's just as well, it turns out that she was cheating on me with a rock star, some dude from the band Cold, I think. How can you compete with nu-metal? Honestly?
Ben begins to tear up at this point.
“I guess the story is always the same... you travel somewhere looking for that greener grass, and things are better for a while, but in the end the ground was uprooted and condominiums were built in their place. The homes that used to hold the activists now hold topless women with hairy armpits - not hairy in making a stance, but in pure laziness. You walk the corner to the rubble that used to be a library, it's just linin' to the mind cemetery now.
“Michigan is where I was born, where I was raised, the place that taught to be a man, to be kind, to be loving, to be an amazing individual. I owe everything in my life to that beautiful state, and it's time to repay it. Soon I'll be able to sit down with my extended family at Sunday dinners again, I'll be able to go to the Tiger games with my dad again, I'll be able to keep my girlfriend unsatisfied with my miniscule penis again... it's these types of things that keep you going in life. Beauty, family, Swedish penis pumps, no man could ask for more.
“And, I guess if nothing works out like I assume it's going to, I can always go down to Cheetah's and find a new stripper. Lansing's got an untapped plethora of beauty in this wonderful city... hey, do you know where I could score some meth-amphetamines?”
Hold on to your butts, indeed.