Kyle T. Webster

There's a terrible rumor. Something quite urgent, and dire. Indeed, it's something about almost the entire Grey's Anatomy cast coming soon to Seattle something-something, staying possibly indefinitely (maybe forever!?), something-something, might start shooting most of the whole damn show here something-something. Yay. I don't know if it's true, but that's not important. You're not really reading this, are you? Of course not. You're madly spending the money, baking the little tree-shaped cookies, swilling the nog, and/or dreid, dreidel, dreideling all over the damn place, depending. 'Tis the fucking season, ho, ho, ho. Hell, I'm barely even writing this. I just drove 40,000 miles into the frozen wilderness that is Butte-Oh-My-Fucking-God-Montana for the holly jolly duration, and the Christmas bells that ring here are the clanging chimes of doom (so tonight thank God it's me, instead of you).

I always drive to Montana for Xmess. It's tradition. I was born there, you understand, in Butte. It's something of a secret. I am often quite hesitant to reveal my origins, but just lately there seems to be something of a stigma attached to growing up in this freezing wasteland: home of Republican sympathizers, blue-haired Irish Catholics, the deep-fried pork-chop sandwich, and the World's Biggest and Most Toxic Hole. (Sorry, Courtney—and speaking of Courtney's toxic hole, some soft-headed judge just expunged her extensive drug record and dropped all pending charges, so you know what that means. Right. There is a Satan, and He's winning.) So finally, I admit it. I'm from Butte. I hope everyone is thrilled. Or would be if they were actually reading this. Which they aren't. So, HA!

The biggest celebrity Butte can boast (besides Lucille Ball, who was allegedly born in here), is Evel the fuck Knievel. Remember that crazy old coot? He used to get gussied up in faggoty flag-themed jump suits and launch himself, via motorbike, over various natural and man-made obstacles. He was on The Bionic Woman once? Indeed. He's from Butte. In fact, I maybe lost my tender virginity to a close member of his immediate family. Of course, you don't need to know that, but you're not reading this. (Ho, ho, ho.) Ironically, the old coot snagged himself some press in this century by announcing last week his intention to sue the baggy bling-bling off some rapper called Kanye West for using his old and cootish image in a video sans permission. "That video is the most worthless piece of crap I've ever seen in my life, and he uses my image to catapult himself on the public," Evel says, which tells us two things: He's not quite dead yet, and he's still suffering delusions of relevancy. But you're not reading this, so, blah, blah, blah.

Next week: My secret butt-sex date with Jim Castillo!

Send! Adrian@adrianryan.com