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“I once planned a book which was to consist entirely of dedications, but abandoned the idea because I could not think of a dedication for it.”
And The Wife
Furthermore, it is with thanks and from the bottom of our glass that we thank The Wife for not only correcting us when we were obviously wrong but when we weren't as well. Where would we be without The Wife's constant guidance?
Still married, probably.
Well do we remember that incident with the Volvo, which gave us a crushed foot. We're still limping. And how could we forget water-skiing with The Wife on Lake Chuggamitchee? The bittersweet memory of treading water while she turned the boat in a wide spray-flinging arc and came back around after already running over us twice?
So thanks, Sunny Jean, for the scars -- outboard propellers leave such interesting ones. If we ever find out where you're living now we'll have a hitman look you up. But as it stands all we can do is dedicate this article to you.
Without the countless oversights of Uncyclopedia, of course, this article would not only be worse than it already is, it would be worse than that. Who among us has not hurried, freshly showered and shaved and wearing only boxer shorts, to type out a brand-new Uncyc article...and awakened 5 hours later, bruised and nearly sober again, in the hydrangea bushes?
For their ceaseless and untiring yet gracefully effortless attempts, we gratefully dedicate the publishers of these words. We only wish they were better. So do you.
And if you don't now, you soon will.
Mom will always be Mom to us, even though she's transgendered and started out as Dad. Who else could have explained "depilatory creme" to us at such an early age, and unraveled the mysteries of hormonal dysfunction before we reached puberty?
How fondly we recall bringing our prom date, Jennifer Alyssa Softpanties, to meet you, Dad. You opened the door wearing a sheer bodystocking through which your body hair protruded in tufts, a satin push-up bra (what did you think it pushing up?), an incoherent mass of frills cinched under your beer belly, and a nearly opaque nimbus of Johnny Walker. You fell down twice while walking down the hall, and blamed it on your six-inch high heels.
Thanks a lot, Dad.
No, really, thanks! It may not have been true love, it may only have been her attempt to save us from sexual confusion, but sweet Jenny Alyssa revealed passionate emotions to us after the dance. Once behind the gym, twice in the backseat, and a fourth time -- orally -- as we were driving her home.
We still feel badly about the denting the Acura's front quarterpanel. At the moment of truth we swerved and took out the Jamison's mailbox. But you forgave us.
You always forgave us.
So, Dad, it is to you, Mom, that we dedicate this article.
An afterword is sometimes appended to the end of an Uncyclopedia article. Sometimes it is irrelevant; other times it is merely senseless. As we have demonstrated, it is in the dedication that the author exposes his tragically laughable humanity. Or maybe it's laughably tragic. We never can remember which.