Danang Sailor
nullius in verba
A man from the Lower 48 moves to Alaska, and just loves the place. It is everything he could have wished for - except that no one will give him the time of day outside of his workplace. He'd always heard that Alaskans were so very hospitable and the silent treatment he's receiving just didn't make sense.
Depressed, he wanders into a bar to drown his troubles in Scotch. The only person in the bar that will talk to him is the bartender, and that only because he has to. The poor guy finally has enough. He jumps up on the bar and begins to scream into the room.
"What the hell is wrong with you people? I'm a decent guy but none of you will even look my way! I go to work, pay my bills, try to help my neighbors when I can and all I get is, is ... well, nothing!! What's the problem about me?!??"
The place was really quiet, then an old, old man at the end of the bar spoke up.
"Sonny, everyone knows you ain't gone through the initiation, and you ain't entitled to be called one of us'n til you do!"
"So what is this 'initiation' I'm supposed to go through?"
"Well", the old man drawled, "first you need to down a quart of whiskey, all at one gulp. Then, you gotta rassle a grizzly bar. Finally, you gotta screw an Es-kee-mo female. Do all that, and you'll be a true Alaskan and treated fair by ever-one!"
Now this guy isn't really a drinker, and that quart of Scotch seems an awful lot at one time. However, not wanting to be an outsider any more he agrees to go through the initiation immediately. A quart of Old Moose Sweat whiskey is placed before him and he downs it in just a few gulps, and then runs out the door.
Seven hours later the guy staggers back into the bar, looking like the only survivor of Custer's Last Stand. His eyes are bloodshot, his clothes are ripped, torn, and bloody, and a hunk of his scalp is hanging loose on the side of his head. He manages to make it to the bar, and speaks into the stunned silence:
"Okay, now where the hell is this Eskimo woman I'm supposed to wrestle?"
Depressed, he wanders into a bar to drown his troubles in Scotch. The only person in the bar that will talk to him is the bartender, and that only because he has to. The poor guy finally has enough. He jumps up on the bar and begins to scream into the room.
"What the hell is wrong with you people? I'm a decent guy but none of you will even look my way! I go to work, pay my bills, try to help my neighbors when I can and all I get is, is ... well, nothing!! What's the problem about me?!??"
The place was really quiet, then an old, old man at the end of the bar spoke up.
"Sonny, everyone knows you ain't gone through the initiation, and you ain't entitled to be called one of us'n til you do!"
"So what is this 'initiation' I'm supposed to go through?"
"Well", the old man drawled, "first you need to down a quart of whiskey, all at one gulp. Then, you gotta rassle a grizzly bar. Finally, you gotta screw an Es-kee-mo female. Do all that, and you'll be a true Alaskan and treated fair by ever-one!"
Now this guy isn't really a drinker, and that quart of Scotch seems an awful lot at one time. However, not wanting to be an outsider any more he agrees to go through the initiation immediately. A quart of Old Moose Sweat whiskey is placed before him and he downs it in just a few gulps, and then runs out the door.
Seven hours later the guy staggers back into the bar, looking like the only survivor of Custer's Last Stand. His eyes are bloodshot, his clothes are ripped, torn, and bloody, and a hunk of his scalp is hanging loose on the side of his head. He manages to make it to the bar, and speaks into the stunned silence:
"Okay, now where the hell is this Eskimo woman I'm supposed to wrestle?"