As of 2018, The Higgs Weldon has been up and running for 5 years. To celebrate, we are re-publishing some of our favorite pieces from over the years for the entire month of January. This article was originally published on July 12, 2016.
(over solemn, stirring music from an earlier era)
In going to Burger King, one is not simply choosing a meal at Burger King. Rather, one is saying something about his or her place in America.
You see, when, as an American, one steps up to the front of that line and a cashier says, “Welcome to Burger King,” it is an invitation, and not just an invitation to eat at BK, but, more so, an invitation to an experience, a truly quintessential American experience. (more…)
I think my therapist is a drunk.
I have mixed feelings about this, so I decided to write down the PROS and CONS of working with this particular therapist.
I’ll start with the CONS:
-Therapist expresses weekly scheduling confusion via (probably drunk) text messages such as these:
MONDAY TEXT MESSAGE:
Therapist: Hi Nicole!!! Hope you’re having a good week!!! See you Tuesday at 4pm! :) :)
Me: Hi. You too. But my appointment is Thursday at noon. (more…)
Essay prompt: What traits and talents does your child have that will make him or her a valuable addition to the Litchfield Canterbury Nursery and Grammar School? (500 words)
Our little McKinley is a remarkably precocious child who will thrive in the challenging environment of a prestigious, selective institution like Litchfield. At the tender age of twenty-three months, McKinley is already developing a keen interest across a broad spectrum of the arts. Almost every night, she displays her grasp of Greek philosophy by making Socratic enquiries like “why?” into the existence of bedtime. She recently pursued her passion for theater by taking on a starring role in the self-directed, self-written one-act drama, A Temper Tantrum at Whole Foods. And then there is her work as a budding mixed-media sculptor. McKinley specializes in mostly-digested organic materials of various textures and colors, arranged in more or less tubular configurations. We had previously requested that she keep her masterpieces confined to the bathroom, but soon gave up because, really, how can you restrain such an artistic soul? (more…)The Night At The Museum Happened To Me But All The Statues Wanted To Do Was Fuck
Have you ever been to The Museum of Natural History? It’s so cool. I had so much fun rinning around looking at everything that I accidentally fell asleep in the bathroom at the end of the day. Whoops. When I woke up, I realized I was locked inside and that all the exhibits had come to life. I’m a huge history buff, so I thought I was in for an exciting and educational night. However, it turns out all the statues wanted to do was fuck.
I first came across “Lucy” from the Hall of Human Origins. She was amazing. I was shocked and honored to see her come to life before my very own eyes. She is the exhibits most complete skeleton from as long as 4 million years ago, and also a freak hoe. As a skeleton, she clearly wasn’t wearing any clothes. She went to the effort of finding a flowery kimono, just to take it off in a sensual way in front of me. (more…)Are You Guys Going To Give Me A Standing Ovation? I Just Played A Ton Of Piano
This is sort of strange. I just played a ton of piano for like 45 minutes on a stage in front of you guys, but I didn’t get a standing ovation?
Guys, can you hear me? Yeah? Where is my standing ovation? Isn’t this how it works? I take piano classes, invite people to a recital, play some stuff on the piano – you know, press all the keys, smash it a few times – then everyone stands up and claps, I bow, walk off stage, and then everyone keeps standing up and clapping and I walk back on stage and bow again? Standing ovation, anyone? Heard of it? (more…)This Was My Experience at Coffee Rehab For Two Weeks
First and foremost, I wish to express my deepest gratitude for the opportunity to work alongside President Donald J. Trump. Being a part of his administration has been, though hectic at times, a supreme honor and an experience I will never forget. However, recent behavior demonstrated by the president and members of his cabinet has prompted me to reconsider my role in this White House.
I thereby offer my resignation as President Trump’s Tickle Monster, effective immediately.
I worked closely with Mr. Trump during his term’s most trying times. When Attorney General Jeff Sessions recused himself from the Russia investigation, I quelled the President’s volatile rage by slowly drawing the alphabet with a goose feather on his face. After the media criticized his unorthodox speech to the Boy Scouts, I worked around the clock teasing his piggies in the precise manner the commander-in-chief likes. When Congress failed a second time to pass healthcare legislation, I had to blow the most intense raspberry of my career into POTUS’s big boy belly before he finally agreed to come downstairs and attend his meeting with the Israeli Prime Minister. (more…)The Diary of a Turkey
With every holiday comes sacrifice. Sometimes we don’t acknowledge the efforts of the people that have given up so much so that we can enjoy these joyous moments that corporations constantly profit off of. Every November, countless turkeys selflessly give their lives in honor of Thanksgiving, so that we can eat them with great indifference, and a with an admittedly okay side dish. The names of these turkeys get lost in the aether, but their loud “gobble gobbles” echo through the hallways of time. Sometimes the wind whispers their name, but alas, the wind has a faint voice.
A few months ago I paid a visit to a turkey farm in an effort to comprehend what it means to be a turkey. I expected to be greeted by a civilization of turkeys, eager to learn, and eager to teach. Instead, I walked into the remnants of their civilization. As I walked past the unmarked graves of the turkeys of Thanksgivings past, I noticed a small book. A diary. I picked it up. Much to my surprise it was the diary of a turkey. The writing would look like chicken scratch to those who don’t understand the language, but not to me. No, it was clear the writing was obviously turkey scratch, not chicken scratch. Now, my job is to tell you the story of that noble turkey, in its final moments of life. Last November: (more…)