Your New Vacation Destination: The Woods!

Tired of the hustle and bustle of daily life? Want to get back to the basics? Well, I’m sure you’ll be interested in spending your vacation at one of our many new camp sites in The Woods!

Now, now, I know what you’re thinking: “The Woods? The Woods off of state Route 230? Isn’t that the place with the orphanage and the burning and the drifters who had their whats-it-calleds removed with the what-was-it and strung through the trees like ribbons?” Yes! those very same woods. But before I get around to dismissing some damaging and untrue rumors about The Woods, let me show you something. Here, check out a picture for yourself and tell me you wouldn’t want to spend a weekend camping there with your wife and children!

Um. This part of The Woods is, like, really, really dry. Don't smoke here. I mean it.

Let’s face it, there are a lot of superstitions in the travel industry today. Hotels are sometimes built without a 13th floor, ancient Egyptian artifacts are thought to cause the sinking of the Titanic and who could forget all of those spooky campfire stories about the Phantom Rest Stop and Dog Park along the lonely highways of the American Southwest?

Telling scary stories is fun, but few of these places have a more-undeserved reputation than The Woods off of state Route 230 down the road from Jackal Township. Stately, beautiful and free of Blood Gnome sightings for 30 years, this pristine, but misunderstood land was once described in the sepia-toned poetry of Robert Frost! He immortalized it in his unpublished 1943 classic: “He Whose Woods These are Is Tapping on my Bedroom Window With A Scythe.”

It was rejected by his short-sighted editor for being “too clunky.” Sadly the art of poetry and The Woods suffered as a result of that decision.

And few places have had to deal with a more biased reception in the media! Just look at this ridiculous police blotter printed in the Arawak Star Tribune:

9:45p.m. – Officer O’Leary reported a 1995 Dodge Caravan apparently abandoned near The Woods along state Route 230. Van had left blinker on, which was visible through the sheets of rain. The drivers-side door was hanging open with seatbelt laying in the road. Vehicle checked negative for any occupants. Officer O’Leary later inspected a drainage ditch near the abandoned vehicle. Will complete report once officer stops shrieking.

Completely free of tree vampires!

Let me be unequivocal here: stories like this one are outright fabrications, just like any other urban legend. The Woods are not “infested with pet semataries” nor has Leslie Nielsen been seen “flying above the tree canopy on leathery wings to worship the new moon.”

I promise you, if you spend your vacation in The Woods you will not see “La Llorona sobbing on her knees in front of a stream while she rubs a filthy pair of infant pajamas against her cheek” nor will you see  “a black horse playing ninepins with the devil.”

You can’t hear me through this promotional flier, but I said that part in quotes in my sarcastic voice. And no, before you ask, hikers in the area do not stumble across bestial orgies that look like “something out of a Hieronymus Bosch painting, a sexy Hieronymus Bosch Painting.”

I’ll never know why I agreed to do that interview with Redbook.

Anyway! You can spend a weekend at one of our 20 primitive camp sites in The Woods for just $15 a day! Each camp site comes with a picnic table, fire circle and complementary tree whose bark looks like an old, scowling face!

I developed this picture from a camera I found laying in a pile of shredded camping gear. It's like a treasure hunt out here!

To visit us, just drive East on state Route 230 through Jackal Township, turning left when you pass the broken-down ice machine that has the hillbilly sitting on a rocking chair next to it. “The shifty-eyed hillbilly who’s muttering to himself and fingering the teeth on a buck knife?” you ask. “That very same!” I reply!

From there, the camp site is just a short 2 mile drive down a charming, simple, rustic, country (re: you’re gonna want to be driving something that competed in a tractor pull) road. We’re located just across the dried-out riverbed, which you can see through one of the many missing timbers in the covered bridge.

Your palace in The Woods awaits!

Not Another Damn Snake Cult!

I'm Cecil the Bear Baiter and I'm madder than hell!

Listen, I just want the Village Elders here to know that I’m only complaining because I love this village. Pigsnot Marsh is an excellent place to work and raise a family. Our women have sturdy legs, the plague outbreaks are reasonable and we haven’t been sacked by an invading army of barbarian slavers in weeks. I’d put this village up against any in the entire Northern Kingdom. I mean that. I do.

Now, my good friend Urk the Bloodletter already touched on most of what I was going to say tonight, so I’ll keep it brief.

Snake. Cult. Someone has to do something about these goddamn Snake Cults! This used to be a nice neighborhood before all of the Snake Cults showed up!

I don’t know what it is with this area. Something about the landscape must really grab the attention of creepy magicians that convinced a bunch of sexual degenerates from the City to worship a 15-foot-long reptile that came from, like, the saddest circus sideshow ever. It seems like every planting season another one of these groups show up – conducting loud snake orgies at all hours of the night and looking down on the ways of us simple, offal-besmeared commoners.

Common Sense about Haiti with Chuck Guntly

Hey, all. Chuck Guntly, here. It’s been a few years since my Internet debut on Youngstown’s own Valley 24, where I riled up a few feathers as we Guntlys are known to do (just ask the last McDonald’s we had a birthday party in!). Unfortunately, my days as an Internet truth-teller came to an untimely end when local police officers confiscated my laptop for reasons I’d rather not explain here. Though I would like to make it clear that those e-mails discussing the hijacking of a Bingo supplies truck were uploaded to my account by a hacker and a Guntly always stands by his word.

First off, I would like to welcome James “Jimbo” Traficant back to the outside world. From one former convict to another, “Beam me up!” Folks, what kind of a country do we live in where you can’t use a little money to grease the wheels of democracy, or allow a local dogfighting ring to use your tool shed as a place to butcher poorly-performing animals? I’m sure me and Jimbo both wear our inability to vote like badges of honor, though I bet Jim didn’t have a filthy tool shed waiting for him when he got out! Jimbo, you lucky dog! And that wife of yours! From one Youngstownian to another, I would really like to have sex with her! I think we can all agree that would be more fun than trying to scrub dog blood out of concrete — but I guess you would be the expert on that particular subject!

But ol’ Chuck isn’t here just to talk about politics or the possibility of wife-swapping. I think I speak for all of us when I say that this news about Haiti has really grabbed the nation by its short hairs. No matter which channel I turn on, it’s Haiti this, poverty that… you’d almost think the United States doesn’t even exist anymore! Now, a major disaster doesn’t usually mess up my day — when there was that big tsunami over in Asia a few years back, my fishing trip for the following weekend went off without a hitch. But when I heard that NANCY PELOSI planned on sending MY HARD-EARNED TAX DOLLARS to some country that doesn’t even have the common decency to be the setting of a good James Bond movie, well, that’s when I’ve gotta put my foot down.

Cry me an earthquake, Haiti. We've all got problems.

I feel for those poor souls in Haiti. I really do. But what HILLARY CLINTON and her fellow witches on Capitol Hill need to realize is that America has its own problems — and where Chuck Guntly’s from (America), America comes FIRST. Last time I checked, America was the only country where homeless people die on the streets, children go to bed hungry, and our elderly watch TV unaccompanied — so why all the hub-bub about Haiti? Listen, it’s too bad for all the people who had the sorry luck to be born into such lousy country, but that’s just how things shake out some times. You don’t hear the indians complaining about those germs they couldn’t handle all those years ago, and now they’ve got those fancy casinos and they don’t even pay taxes (what a racket)! Even Chuck Guntly himself came from humble roots to become the proud owner of a local business, and you don’t hear me bellyaching about how I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth. Sometimes life hands you lemons, and you’ve just gotta make lemonade. And I think it’s time we taught the people of Haiti how to make this delicious beverage for themselves (I like to put a little Jim Beam in mine on those extra-hot summer days).

Some of my holier-than-thou “friends” have taken ol’ Chuck to task for his brave stance on the Haiti situation. “But Chuck,” they moan, “Didn’t Jesus say ‘Whatsoever you do to the least of my people, that you do unto me’?” I’ve never been real big on reading the Bible, and even though I’m a God-fearing Christian, I don’t think that sounds like something Jesus would ever say. But sometimes I humor these poor dopes and tell them that the whole “helping strangers” thing might have been a good idea in Bible Times because back then there were  — what — like, 200 people in the entire world? I’m sure if Jesus was around today, he’d be kosher with the idea of not helping others if they couldn’t immediately pay you back or give you a footrub or something. You know what Jesus wouldn’t like? That new half-percent increase on our sales tax — talk about being crucified!!!

Well folks, I wish I had more time to speak about these important issues, but that cornhole tournament isn’t going to referee itself. Just remember what Chuck says: do onto YOURSELF as you would have others do onto you. It’s just common sense.