MuthaFuckin’ Memorial Day. I’m pretty in 2000 we almost cancelled this holiday. Oh, we were still going to get the extra day off and whatnot, but it was just going to called “Picnic and Sunburn” day. Every year on the last Monday in May, Ralph Lauren would hold a news conference, covered on every station of course, and each year he would be someplace different: The Hamptons, Vermont, Wisconsin Dells, etc. He would decree “It is now safe to wear your white shoes,” then he’s take a bite of watermelon and eyeball a couple of college girls in bikinis.

But then we got ourselves involved in, like, 12 different wars. The House of Representatives fistbumped the Senate and was like, “Fuck yeah, more dead working class folks. Memorial Day 4 Life!”

To memorialize things I had a mint julep. It was tasty. I also had some beers and found this staring at me in a bathroom:

and all I could think about were other things that could have been in that picture:

• car bombs
• cops
• potato famines
• The Pogues
• leprechauns
• DeLoreans

But more importantly, I was reminded that if you’re going to put up posters in your bathroom, punk-rock rules always apply:

Posters are to be oversized and only of one of the following: 1)Dead Kennedys 2) The Clash-London Calling album art 3) Faith No More-Angel Dust album art 4) Alyssa Milano circa 1989 in a NY Rangers jersey.

Rules is rules.

That was all on Saturday. The rest of the weekend I tried to forget about the girl in that poster and the likelihood of her developing some sort of skin cancer. I also cooked meat. On a grill.