Outrage: Phawker Phucked By Metro

File this under Mountain Range Made Out Of Mole Hill. As previously reported, the Metro named us Celeb of the Week. There was a ticker tape parade. Lotsa confetti. Oversized key to the city. Everybody dancing to “Louie Louie.” The whole nine yards. (Lil’ known fact, the Metro Celeb of the Week gets to smoke WHEREVER he/she fuckin’ feels like it. Like it’s America again, or something. But this only applies for the duration of the week of your celebdom, after that it’s back to the curb with the rest of the shivering punters.

As per usual, we abused this special privilege, choosing to do all of our smoking for the week inmummerz.jpg John Street‘s office, paybacks bein’ a bitch an all.) The Metro asked us to send in a picture of ourselves to go with our snappy answers to stupid questions. Which we did. We even told our mom, because moms seem to understand print glory better than Internet glory. She’s still hung up on that It’s Not Real Until It’s In Print paradigm. And we’re like ‘Get with the 21st Century, Ma.” So anyway, she’s got all of her friends out there picking up copies.

And then we finally got our hands on this much-ballyhooed Major Award and Achievement edition of the Metro, fully expecting to see our ugly mug and what do we see next to our name but some beer-bellied Mummer, rockin’ an Eagles jersey and a white ZZ Top beard and strummin’ a banjo. WTF? This will be our final comment on the matter and we are only going to say this once so you might wanna write this down…

1. We don’t play the banjo. Sad but true.

2. It would take us roughly seven years to grow such a beard.

3. We have not rocked an Eagles jersey since Roman Gabriel left town and we’re not puttin’ one on until he comes back.