Something to Drink to

Good morning, SMU. Gather around. Come Close. Squeeze in. Areyou hungry? Thirsty? Want some Cheetoes and an icy-cold Fresca?Have your fill, little Mustangs.

Welcome to the very first product of a future Pulitzerprize-winning columnist. Welcome to the truth. Welcome to the voiceof reason, compassion and deliciousness. Welcome to UncleMacky’s story time.

I know what you’re thinking.

Who the hell is this dude? I thought Guy Bellavar graduated.

This wannabe is sick, smarmy and smells of hamsters and FigNewtons. Somehow evolution overlooked him, proving the late Mr.Darwin’s theory false. This Mayo character is an itchymosquito bite on the butt of life.

No, he’s worse.

He’s like that one self-righteous, slightly bearded guywith thick-rimmed glasses in every class who intentionally dressesa little off-beat and interrupts the professor at every possiblemoment to add some uninteresting, obscure tidbit of knowledge tothe conversation in an attempt to make himself seem that much moreintellectual.

Yeah. He’s that guy.

Well, if that’s what you jokers think I am, you’rejust flat out being hurtful — and that, my friends, is highlyunnecessary.

Okay, so you don’t know me. Don’t be sorry, becauseyou have a right to be dubious. I wouldn’t want to read somerandom person’s raving lunacy without some establishedcredibility either.

Therefore, to be fair, I will provide you with a foundation ofknowledge that we can build our budding relationship upon, SMU. Iguess you could say we’re in the courting phase. It’sthe first date, and I’m whetting your appetite for more.

My name is, in fact, Mack Mayo — Boyd McFadden Mayo,legally speaking — and I hail from the thriving metropolis ofSpartanburg, S.C. It’s nice to meet you.

I’m a junior English major with minors in CCPA andjournalism, and my mommy says I’m special. I am a short,blue-eyed, jolly fellow with an overwhelming jealousy for JimmyBuffett’s lifestyle. I like drinking Fat Tire and headbanging to the Kings of Leon. (Don’t know who they are? Youshould look into that). I wanna rock like Twisted Sister, eventhough I’m not, and never will be, a rock star.

Enough about me. Let’s talk about the column”Something to Drink to.”

“Why, oh, why would you name your column that, UncleMacky?”

I did, little guys, because I want to provide five awesomelythoughtful and creative gifts for my readers every week: Things weshould all cheer to.

In no particular order, these gifts are laughter; interestingand relevant conversational topics; something to pee your pants forweekly in The Daily Campus; a peer’s humorous voiceyou can relate to; and, for all you ladies out there, a boyishlycharming sex toy you can use and abuse.

And all five are grounds for celebration, people.

Fine, I lied. I don’t actually care to give you thosegifts.

All I really want is to be perceived as being as cool as PaulRudd’s character in Wet Hot American Summer, asinquisitive as John Cusack’s character in HighFidelity, as witty as Adam Brody’s character on‘The O.C.” and as tough as Paul Newman’scharacter in Cool Hand Luke.

Now that’s a lofty aspiration because the only personremotely close is most likely Michael Ian Black from the Stellacomedy group and VH1’s ‘I love the 80s,” eventhough he’s not even as intimidating as a Hillary Duff musicvideo.

But seriously, people, your weekly entertainment is my highestpriority.

I will ponder new inventive ways to spark your imaginationmorning, noon and night. Hell, I’ll be so inundated withstreaming, nonsensical thought that I’ll probably forget toeat or sleep — not really, y’all aren’t thatgreat so don’t flatter yourselves.

I will, however, provide you with excellently clever social,political and pop cultural commentary that matters to our agebracket.

So now that you barely have the foggiest idea of what I aim todo, what am I not going to do?

I won’t bitch for no reason about trivial crap justbecause I can.

I won’t tell you about how hard my classes are, or how badmy day was, because I know you’d rather drive a spike throughyour eye than read about my sexual dysfunction.

I won’t covertly attempt to sway your party affiliationwith my subtly manipulative nuance because Bill O’Reilly andAl Franken are currently hard at work at that.

I won’t produce dribble that doesn’t interest you oris void of humor. I vow to never bore you, SMU.

If I don’t have anything interesting to say, I damn wellwon’t say anything at all.

I’m not going to blow smoke up anyone’s ass —unless it’s Owen Wilson or Mo Rocca. After all, they are theepitome of all that exudes coolness.

Basically, SMU, now that The Daily Campus‘beautifully intelligent editors have blessed me with this weeklycolumn, I will change your lives. I will be your muse. I will rockyour world. I will be the motivation you need to rise from bedevery morning. I will be the air you breathe — okay, took ittoo far. Sorry.

In short, I just want us to have fun together like Gee-DubyaBush and Dick Cheney do when they crush beer cans on their headsafter they shot-gunned those two lukewarm Pabst Blue Ribbons.

Before I go, allow me to leave you with a final thought thatwill indefinitely confuse you.

It’s like they always say, “white water in themorning.”

Who says that, you ask?

For answers, please consult one of Chris Farley’s finalmovies, Almost Heroes, which, coincidentally, remains one ofhis worst.

So raise your goblets with me, folks, and let’s all cheerto the first installment of many to come, and the sexy memoriesthat will inevitably follow.

Meet back next week for your food for thought. See you then.Upwards and onwards, ‘Stangs.

Mack Mayo is a junior English major. He can be reached [email protected].