Well it’s finally here, and what a great day it is. The victor of the “win a meaningless sexual encounter with Nick Moose” contest will at long last be announced! First and foremost though, since this is either my last column of the semester or my second-to-last — my memory is impaired by how inebriated I am right now — I’d like to get the thank you’s out of the way for the people who made Nick Moose so darn view-able this season.

To my 16 readers:

Thank you for proving me right. When I started this column, everyone was like “No one’s gonna read this shit!” and I was like, “Nuh uh!” You all, however, have exceeded my wildest expectations. I mean who could have predicted there would be 16 people in Kent who could read!?

To the Daily Kent Stater:

Thanks for taking a chance on a column that wasn’t about the conservative conspiracy to crush the life out of everyone’s puppy or the liberal conspiracy to crush the life out of everyone’s puppy.

To my mom:

Thank you for accidentally stepping on my head when I was a small child. As per your request, I promise I won’t mention masturbation in this column anymore.

To the concept of masturbation:

Thank you for giving me strength, for making me smile when I have 20 minutes or so in between classes, and most of all for giving me orgasms when girls won’t — which is often.

To punk rock:

Thank you for rotting my brain into a little bitty pile of mush.

To substance abuse:

Thank you for teaming up with punk rock.

To Squidley Diddley:

Thank you for being an octopus that has seven arms and wears a hat and is incorrectly identified as a squid. You are easily the most zoologically inaccurate cartoon animal ever conceived and would be the greatest Hanna Barbara character ever, if not for Frankenstein Junior, Grape Ape or Snorky from the Banana Splits.

And most of all, to Miss Lindsay Lohan:

Thank you for being the greatest actress/singer combo-pack ever, for making the music video where you dance around in that cage and for breaking up with Wilmer Valderama. You have helped make it appear like I’ve had things to write about when, of course, I did not.

Oh, yeah. Here’s the letter identifying the lucky lady who gets to sleep with me:

Dear Mr. Moose,

My friend Karen is one of the countless teenage girls who make the weekly pilgrimage to the Kent State campus to view your view. Her favorite things in the whole entire world are ring tones, cheerleading and your column. All, however, is not well with Karen. Recently, she’s been diagnosed with “Unalterable Attractiveness Disorder.” Her doctors say no amount of plastic surgery could ever render her any less incredibly hot, and the boys at school will not leave her alone. I know you must be busy with all the joy you’re always bringing the world’s cheerleaders, but it would mean the world to Karen to have a meaningless sexual encounter with you.

— Christy

I’ve never been one to ignore the lilting pleas of a damsel in distress.

 

Nick Moose is a senior endless-masturbation-reference major and a low-comedy columnist for the Daily Kent Stater. Send him a letter telling him how un-funny he is at [email protected].