
To say that the town is buzzing over this event would be a vast overstatement. Nobody is talking about it. And other than guys with short arms and blubbery rumps, ladies with fanny packs being held in place via rotund protruding bellies, and adolescents with complexions that range from pizza faced to crater faced, nobody cares.
Me and my fellow Minnesotans will be doing what we do best...sitting in our Barcaloungers, getting blotto as we watch the Vikings go down in defeat to our bitter Sconie rivals.
Or as we native born Minnesotans like to call it, an annual right of passage.
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