Letter From Milo: There Goes The Nobel

September 29th, 2019

I did it again. I used this blog space to air personal grievances, which is strictly against corporate policy. Not only did I disparage Joseph Stiglitz, the esteemed Nobel Prize winner, but I also attacked Alfred Nobel, the hypocritical bastard who introduced dynamite to an unsuspecting world and then had the gall, the unmitigated audacity, to name a peace prize after himself. The man had brass balls. I bet you could have heard him coming a mile away.

Still, everything would have been just fine except that I made one little bitty error in judgment. I took one tiny step over the line. I made the mistake of calling Alfred Nobel a “Swedish cocksucker.”

Within minutes of posting that blog, our corporate office on Michigan Avenue was flooded with thousands of emails, phone calls, telegrams and faxes, all from outraged Swedes and all demanding my head. Here are a couple of the tamer missives:

“Yah, der is no sucking of cockers in Svenska. Dis bad man Milo is telling many lies.”

“Yah, I am understanding that there is much sucking of dicks in Norway, but, I am assuring you, it has never happened in Sweden.”

“Yah, Alfred Nobel is a true hero and a saint of my people. He would never think to shame his country by blowing somebody’s job.”

I thought the whole thing would blow over in a day or two. After all, what the hell do the Swedes have to bitch about? They’ve got themselves a nice little country up by the North Pole. They have a high standard of living, universal health care, a reputation for open-mindedness, good beer, safe cars and an abundance of long-legged, busty blonds. Despite foisting lutefisk and ABBA on the world, Swedes seem like decent folks.

Like I said, I thought things would settle down in a day or two, but I was wrong. That afternoon, I got an email from Big Mike, the Barn Boss of this scabby, lice infested outfit. When I opened the email I read the words:

“You are suspended indefinitely – without pay.”

Shit! I didn’t mind the time off, but I would dearly miss the money. I have a family to support, two mistresses with expensive tastes, plus six or seven child support checks to mail out every month. I need that money. I have a lifestyle to maintain. I have responsibilities.

So, I decided to call the Barn Boss and see if I could convince him to change his mind.

“Hey Big Mike, it’s me, Milo.”

“Make it quick, asshole, I’ve got a blog to run.”

“Damn it, why are you suspending me this time?”

“For one thing, you insulted the national hero of Sweden. We have tens of thousands of readers in Sweden. That country is a cash cow for us. Now the Swedish Parliament is going to revoke our blogging license.”

“It was just a lapse of judgment on my part.”

“Lapse of judgment my ass. What about the time you called the Queen of England an ugly old whore?”

“I had just come out of surgery. I was heavily sedated.”

“What about the time I suspended you for calling the Pope a senile old pedophile? Cost us a lot of Catholic readers.”

“I was drunk.”

“And that time you called Barbra Streisand a addle-headed, talentless slut? Cost us a lot of gay readers.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. But this suspension without pay comes at a damned inconvenient time. I’ve got some expenses coming up. Can you loan me twenty bucks to see me through the week?

“No.”

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