It’s not too late to make it its own post. It’s *never* too late to increase the net literary output of the world!!!

Sven and Ole die and, having not necessarily been good Norwegians, find themselves in Hell. The first day they’re there the devil meanders by to see his new residents are enjoying their torment. To his surprise and disconcertment they’re lounging around their cell singing songs and drinking beer.

“What the hell?” the devil asks with surprisingly little awareness of his ironic choice of words. “You’re not supposed to be happy! You’re roasting in flames!”

“Well, ja sure,” replies Ole in typical-for-this-type-of-joke generic Norwegian fashion, “but we’re both from International Falls, don’t you know, and we’ve got plenty of cold stored up. This warm feels just about right!”

Well phoo on that, thinks the devil, and he heads over to the Infernal Thermostat and cranks it up as high as it will go. The flames shoot high and the screams redouble. Grinning evilly (of course) to himself, the devil goes back to Sven and Ole’s cell, only to find them roasting a walleye over the flames as they relax in shorts and T-shirts.

“Hey HEY hey hey hey!” the devil yells. “Quit enjoying Hell! How can you not mind the heat in here?”

“Well, you see,” replies Sven, “it is a bit hot in here, no mistaking. But back in International Falls we learned to never miss an opportunity for a walleye roast!” And he and Ole raise their beer mugs in appreciation to the devil, who by this point is somewhere beyond incensed and into p.o.’d territory. He runs back to the Infernal Thermostat and turns it all the way down as far as it will go.

“So they’re happy to be away from the cold, are they? Well, then let’s make it cold!” he yells and lets loose a generic cartoon-ish bad guy laugh. The flames quickly die down and frost rimes the cell bars around Hell. Icicles begin to form and snow begins to fall. He runs back to Sven and Ole’s cell only to find them dancing around and singing with glee.

“What now?!?” the devil yells.

And they yelled as they danced, “Look around you! The Vikings must have won the Super Bowl!”

This was a long comment… probably shoulda made it its own post.

But I am sort of used to that. Maybe you should publish a little Glossary of Meaningless Musings Allusions for Dummies. Or I could invest in a few CD’s…

Heh. Remember when CD used to mean Certificate of Deposit?

Hey. IM me! I’m bored!

Heh (again). Word verification just very helpfully suggested a few old entries, just in case I want to use them again. Thanks, word verification!
Or should I say shrlgi! wnvgypr! yxcqmkno!

And, as Dave astutely notes, the “guess the lyric” game is alas over with the passing of 2005. You seem to have caught the allusion, though!

Here’s a suggestion: “If you think it would be lots of fun to sue me, I will gladly send you a copy of my student loan portfolio!” you could say, more or less.

Or instead, you could not really say something like this: “Neither Charlie nor Meanlingless Musings is responsible for death, injury of any sort, loss of property, delay or inconvenience occasioned by force majeure or other acts of God, acts of government, acts of war, labor discord, criminal or terrorist conduct or for any other act, action or inaction, whether negligent or otherwise, resulting from actions inspired by this blog entry.”

You know, just to cover your… um, toe.

If so, I’ll guess this one is from the classic Stan and Doug tune, “Baby, It’s Cold Down Here.”