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Christmas Shopping Hurts Baby Jesus
Finally, A Club For Us Rich People

Christmas Shopping Hurts Baby Jesus

In response to Terry Endres' editorial ("Shopping mania dishonors Christianity", Dec 1), I couldn't agree more!  Every time I hear a cash register ring, or a little child laugh with glee in December, I shudder to think of Baby Jesus' bleeding ears!

I have taken your advice, Mr. Endres', wholeheartedly.  I have taken my 40 in. LCD flat panel widescreen television and laid it out at my curb at 225 Spring Valley Rd., West Chester, OH 45069.  It's the devil's tool!

I have taken my child's toys and burned them in a fire.  He will learn the iniquities of materialism by the light of the semi-legal bonfire in my front yard.

I had no idea retail stores were not trying to sell me Christ! All this time, I thought Pottery Barn was a nativity reference! Thank you for setting me straight!

I will no longer confuse consuming dry goods with Christian good cheer.  And I won't let anyone else do this either.  Buying is sinning!  My blow torch stands ready.

David Jones, West Chester

Editor's Note:  Ms. Cake has not been taking her medication lately.  Her views do not necessarily express those of either Harold or the Dealer, neither of whom are either BIG or strong.  And, of course, she is too stupid to realize that nobody will read her rambling discourse until WEDNESDAY, which follows TUESDAY.  Damn, it's hard to find good help! 

For me to get to the Dealer offices in downtown Cincinnati I have to pass over the beautiful and majestic Roebling Bridge.  This distinct icon of the Cincinnati skyline was a precursor for it’s much beloved and more famous sibling, the Brooklyn Bridge.

Every morning I revel in the beautiful view and my breath is taken completely away, only not by the view.  I gasp and hold my breath as long as possible because of the numerous piles of shit that are sporadically dropped along the walkway.

Inside

I Love You Paula Faris
Football Fan Needs A Life

I Love You Paula Faris

It was with great sadness that I read about Paula Faris' impending departure ("Faris to anchor in Chicago", Sept 27).  Now, it is too late to express what I have kept inside for so long: Paula, I love you.

You're the sole reason I tuned into Channel 9 at 11 pm on weekends. Your glowing personality and stylish outfits more than compensate for the torture that is John Matarese. I could even withstand Popo at times when you were in the same segment.

I wish you would stay, but I understand that the Windy City calls. If you find yourself back in the Queen City, look me up.

John Sizemore, Downtown

A Blaine Chowder Commentary

(Chowder's ramblings do not necessarily reflect the overall beliefs of any of the Dealer staff, he was drunk when he wrote it) (And he is a Republican).

Former President and Supreme Court Justice, William Howard Taft, is currently being turned over (via a crane) in his grave thanks in part to the actions of Ohio’s latest moronic son, Gov. Bob Taft.

At least the tons of fun former President had some game. Gov. Bobby’s handicap could only be counted by Stephen Hawking and a really big calculator. And President Tons never got caught in a scandal where money, that hardworking Ohioans needed, was used to buy a fucking coin collection.

Cincinnati Enquirer columnist and local dickhead, Peter Bronson, decided a woman’s grief over her son killed during a useless war, wasn’t enough.

Bronson wrote a journalistically anorexic column that accused the media of being in bed with war protestors by not telling the entire story of Cindy Sheehan - accusing her of flip flopping on her emotions.

"Part of my duty as a columnist at the Enquirer is to suck the balls of the GOP. If it means stomping the ovaries of a grieving mother, so be it", said Bronson from his neatly kept cubicle at the Enquirer. "I took her comments out of context, because George Bush has done more for this world than Jesus."

I don't care if it's 900 yards to UDF for a hot fudge shake or 900 miles to Disneyworld - I'm taking the Chevy Avalanche.  No-brainer.

What do I like about driving?  Well, for starters, I'm in control.  Air travel for long trips?  Sorry, I like to keep to my schedule - not yours.  With driving, I can come and go as I please.  And when I decide I want to go, brother, I got 3 tons of steel behind me in case anyone tries anything funny.  Walking and biking for short trips?  Please.  I'm a professional.  I like to arrive at my destination looking my best.  No sweaty forehead or grimy collar for me.

So as you can clearly see, driving gives me the utmost freedom to travel exactly how I want.

Letter To Maggie Downs

"Chaste Down(s)"

Dear Ms. Downs,

I recently read your article regarding Jessica Cutler. You noted your respect of Cutler’s honesty and I wanted you to know that I respect your honesty as well. In fact, I think it’s great. Your sultry confession that, "There’s no difference," between you and Cutler, really spoke to me. It spoke to me in a deep, husky, dirty voice. Kind of like a Kathleen Turner, only on cigars... and barbiturates... after a three day bender... and with inoperable throat cancer. 

I will add, however, that many of the restaurants that you've recommended via email could not be found in the phone book, nor had any longtime resident friends of mine heard of.  "Your Mother," "Eat Shit and Die," and "Deez Nuts," to name a few, all sound like interesting, albeit offbeat dining spots, but I'm having trouble locating them.  In the future, please include a street address in your suggestion - thanks!

This week I paid a visit to Taste of Cincinnati: a wonderful, 26-year old tradition that invites local restaurants from all over the Queen City to set up tiny booths and sell little tastings of their best creations - all at 2 for $10 prices!

You call yourself a Star Wars fan, but you don't even have the respect for the Jedi code to do a little research as to what an acceptable light saber color is? Let me a give a you hint. It ain't white.

What a fucking loser. Obviously he hasn't read any of the Star Wars books, which clearly explain that the force only reflects light in a monochromatic manner.

And that was just the begining of the many pathetic attempts I saw of losers trying to dress like Star Wars characters and in the process end up looking like complete idiots.