The last temptation of Calendar

April 27Wednesday

The school year is finally coming to a close, and with it, Calendar’s inaugural term as purveyor of all things funny, cool, funny and generally funny. Oh, we also specialize in being funny. We might stick around for summer semester if Sheriff John Stone doesn’t chase us out of town for the 40 DTP violations we racked up (in one day), but for the moment, we’re taking the slight break in our regular publication schedule to beat the ever-loving crap out our very own Chris Whipple, twice a day, every day until May 16.Why might Calendar be forced to take such drastic actions against the man-and by ‘man,’ we mean ‘walking, talking liver’- that, at one time, was known as Calendar’s right-hand DUI?It’s not by choice, trust us. Well, actually it is by choice-Calendar’s been meaning to kick that kid’s ass ever since we nominated him for pope, and he let us down by only being elected freakin’ Cardinal. What the hell is that, Chris? We said pope, Whipple! Pope! We also need to give Whipple the beating out of his life to knock some sense back into that beer-goggled, whiskey-eyed head of his-lately, Whipple’s just not been himself. He doesn’t return phone calls, he disappears for days on end and Calendar hears he’s been sleeping under the freeway overpass for about a week-and-a-half now. We know, we know-that sounds just like Whipple, right? Wrong! It’s trickery! Although the old Whipple was known to do all of the above-and then some-his behavior was always easily attributable to some hellacious bender or another.Here’s where things get weird: See, Whipple’s put down the bottle. He’s 12-steps to sobriety. He’s a changed man, claiming to have found salvation in a higher authority. What higher authority? Jesus: nope. Buddha: nope. Vishnu: nope.No, no, no-Whipple has pledged himself to a life of eternal servitude as a disciple of the most reviled, most extreme, most horrific deity known to… um…Calendar-The Grand Kerfuffle.Not only is Kerfuffle Calendar’s arch nemesis-as we’ve mentioned before-he’s also a false prophet. That’s so lame-here Calendar is, a REAL prophet, and that jerk gets all the penitence. If you see Whipple wandering about the halls of the Union, let Calendar know-we’re going to make that turn-coat Bene-dick Arnold scream so loud even The Wailers, playing Shaggy’s Velvet Room (155 W. 200 South) tonight at 7:30 p.m., won’t be able to drown out his cries of misery. Tickets to the concert are $22 and you must be 21 or older to attend, but the Whipple ass-whoopin’ is free of charge and open to all ages-kiddies come join the fun!

Needless to say, when Calendar gets our events-listing hands on that turn-coat son-of-a-gun Whipple, we’re going to put the fear of God in him. By the time we’re finished tearing him and his Kerfuffle asunder, he’ll be begging us to call in the reaper. But, of course, we won’t. No, the closest thing C.D. can hope for is a divine visitation from Ply & Reaper, Salt Lake City’s own redemptive hip-hop duo, who just so happen to be making a heavenly appearance this Thursday, April 28 at The Velvet Room (149 W. 200 South). The salvation begins at 10 p.m., tickets are dirt-cheap, and unlike the road to Hell, this spiritual journey into a dark night of the soul is indeed paved with good intentions…and sick beats…and haunting lyrics. Don’t miss your chance to glimpse the pearly gates of Ply & Reaper’s ethereal expertise with DJ Steezo, violinist Carol Dalrymple and special guest Koteba.

As you can tell, Calendar is after Whipple like Ahab was after that damn white whale-this is peg-leg type s***. Ironic then, that the white-ass whale himself, Moby and his blowhole are going to surface tonight at In The Venue (219 S. 600 West). Tickets are $25, doors open at 7 p.m. Remember when we said we were the purveyors of funny, cool, funny and funny-all we’re going to say is “case in point.”And “Avast ye land-lubin’ scabs!” We’re going to say that, too.

And now, for something that makes even less sense.Attention: If you rock a trucker hat, have ever used the word “extreme,” with a particular emphasis on the “ex” or the “treme,” and if you absolutely refuse to believe that Mountain Dew has shrunken the size of your testicles three-fold, then get this-we know the password to your secret dungeon of testosterone and shrunken manhood. It’s “Hella,” isn’t it? Huh? Huh? Hella? Well, even if it’s not, Calendar, for one, is hella glad we dispensed with that gem of a joke-sorry, can you hold on one second? Comedy Central is on the other line, they say we’re the next big thing. The next…hella big thing! Hella plays tonight at Lo-Fi Caf (165 S. West Temple) with Outhud. Tickets are $8, show starts at 7:30 p.m., Brah.

Other things Calendar is hella about: hustlas, gangstas, ballas and our very own Number One Gun-which has been known to misfire a cockeyed shot or two toward the odd hot air balloon and/or Budweiser blimp. Those things are filled with beer, right? We sure hope so-you know what they say: If the beer blimp lands in your backyard, it’s yours. To ransack. For booty. And yuppies. Number One Gun plays Mo’s Neighborhood Grill (358 S. West Temple) tonight at 7:30 p.m., tickets are $6.

And that’s all, kids-we’re off. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve got some Kerfuffle to beat out of a certain someone (Hint: It’s C.D. Whipple…traitorous dog).