The underground Best of the Butte
Years ago, being sick and tired of the same old, boring, obvious-who's-going-to-win categories of the “Best of the Butte”, I submitted about 35 fresh, new potential categories to the CB News.
They were free to use any or all of them in order to update the contest and hopefully eliminate some of the same ol', same ol' feel of the present format, which had gotten about as stale as the mothballs in your grandmother's coat closet. I think they took about two of my suggestions, and otherwise continued with the same tired, recycled crap for yet another year. And another. And another. Personally, I stopped voting. It couldn't be more mundane. I'd be willing to bet that this year, just like every other year, Tuck is the best bus driver. Camp 4 has the best cup of Joe, CoBo does the best board tunes, the Steep has the best bloody, and the Stash has the best pizza. At least they threw us a couple of bones with the new, “This town has too many…” (dudes), and “This town needs more…” (chicks). But I'm through offering suggestions that merely go unheeded by the man. Now, I have my own column, so I don't really need to suggest s***, because I can write about it right here and now, and I can have my own, renegade, underground contest. Over fried fish and draft beer, I, with the witty aid of my girlfriend, have come up with entirely new and infinitely more relevant titles. The REAL Best of the Butte. Or the Worst of the Butte. Or the Mad Real of the Butte. Or whatever. So out with the old and in with the new. Because I don't need to wait for the results to come in to know that a bowl of Count Chronula and two feet of fresh is the best hangover cure available.
Seeing that we're a tourist town (for now, anyway), bars and restaurants make up a large part of both the commerce and social arenas. Half of the categories in the present “Best of the Butte” are steered towards eating and drinking. It would be senseless to ignore this most important sphere of life in the Butte, so I, myself, must start with the bars. But let's stop beating around the bush and get right to the point, shall we? Biggest drunk. This listing may be broken down further into Best Drunk (the guy who's always leaving $20s on the bar) and Worst Drunk (the guy that's always puking on the floor). Let's not leave the ladies out. Biggest slut. It's important to note that I do not in any way think this to be a classification of ill repute, for these players serve a most important function in any society. There would be a lot fewer fights and a lot less crime if everyone around here (and everywhere else) was getting laid a little more regularly. There could not be a male version of this classification, of course, because we're all winners already.
We know, too, that the sauce doesn't only get swilled on one side of the bar. Drunkest Bartender. You want more? Worst tipper. Most functional drunk. Best drunk driver. Biggest perv. I was considering having a whole separate section for the sex stuff, but seeing that alcohol is such a lovely social lubricant, and that bars are really just modern brothels without the rooms, I'll just lump it all together here. Best butt. Best rack. Best BJ. The hung like a horse award. Guy/girl I most wanna get with. Hottest cougar/milf. Stealthiest cheater (the Tiger Woods award). Most justifiable social faux pas. There. Those should give you something to think about when you're killing some time with a Beam and Coke next to one of those silver ballot boxes in the coming week, all horned up with no place to go.
On to the restaurants, which outnumber even the bars, but are really mostly just bars with that nonsensical element of food thrown into the mix. Worst food. Most desperate attempt to generate business. Worst service. Fewest calories per dollar. And, of course, How the hell are they still open?
Other Stuff? Most disillusioned realtor. Most overpriced piece of real estate. Most annoying dog. Most annoying child. The Editor's Choice Award for Most annoying columnist. The Gadfly Award for Most underpaid columnist. Worst tattoo. Doomed couple. Best drug dealer. Best smoke shack. Worst attempt at being in the closet. Best use/abuse of the system. Worst Facebooker. Best style. Worst style. Poorest personal hygiene. Gnarliest nose hairs. Most white trash yard. Next business to fail. And, inspired by my days in Aspen, when I would spend countless blissful hours reading the Aspen Daily News at the members only Caribou Club, of which I was most certainly not a member, surrounded by fine marble, classical music, sweet scents, and the softest towels, Best place to take a s***.
These suggestions should give you some food for thought when it comes time to sit down after work with a cold one and a pen and vote in our little local competition. Go ahead and cross off the present categories and insert these in their stead, with your responses, before you drop your completed ballot into the box. I'm sure Tuck won't mind. He already knows he's going to win.
The original, raw version can be viewed at http://hucknuckler.wordpress.com/