That's right, people. It's that time of year again...

    The 3rd Annual

St. Louis


Want to learn more? Just follow Lindsay Lohan as she makes her descent from fiery-haired teen starlet to unfuckable hag from the Planet of the Coke Zombies.

"I KNOW WHO KILLED ME! It was... cocaine!"
Linsday stands poised on top of the world.
What Makes This EXTREME
A sudden snap, and the arrival of the dread Mummy Queen.
What Will Definitely Be There
Minor recovery, but the madness lurks behind her eyes, waiting.
Where We Will Go
That's my girl! Back on track with 2 mugshots in 2 months.
Where We Will Not Go
Lindsay, in court, tries to contain the Darkness, and fails.
What Happened Before
Channeling a deranged Olsen Twin. Always a good sign.
Accept the Inevitable
A moment of lucidity, or caught in a drug tunnel? Take a guess.
Special Bonus
The demons now have complete control. Avert your gaze.
Who's Coming?
The thousand-yard stare of the soulless and hellbound.

BEES?! (GOB's not on board)

Gird your loins, people: It's happening again. Over the past 2 years, St. Louis has grown to fear the arrival of the July 4th weekend, and the madness our ragtag band of misfits unleashes on this scab of a city (Who am I kidding? They have guns and STDs; they fear nothing). REGARDLESS, the time has come once again to descend upon the Moldy Butthole of America and celebrate everything that makes this land great: Alcoholism, awkward sexual tension, and petty vandalism. It's FOURTHSTRAVAGANZA, and you'd better believe you're coming. Please? This is the best thing I've ever done.



I bet you're all like, "Nathan, it's a gathering of terrible people barfing on things together. You don't need to sell me on this." Maybe not, but I wouldn't be worth my salt as an ad man unless you were completely choking on reasons-why.

In many ways, it'll be the same beautiful mess as years past -- we'll still drink regrettable things, Ducky will continue to say stuff to confuse or alienate us all, I still won't understand rugby culture -- but there are also welcome changes that'll make this year's FOURTHSTRAVAGANZA better than ever:

    Rachel and I got a cute new place together, with, you know, room to actually move around and a backyard and multiple sleeping areas and shit. So, now we can host guests without everyone being crammed in the one tiny room that has air conditioning. All hotboxing White Castle farts with someone's dirty feet in your face. All sleeping on a pile of rags like a vagrant. I'm not saying we shouldn't still do these things -- I'm completely in favor of inviting that many more people, so the place is as cramped and uncomfortable as ever -- I'm just saying, the option is there.

    As much as I enjoyed terror-sprinting from my building to my car every morning, it was time to move on. Our new neighborhood is along the alleged Best Mile in St. Louis, which is kind of like saying the Best Chromosome in a Downs Syndrome Baby, but we take what we can get. Instead of abandoned schools and shady beauty parlors, we're now within walking distance of a park, 2 Thai places, 2 Vietnamese places, a gelato shop, a lesbian bar, a lesbian coffeeshop, some hipster joints, a tapas bar, and a FEDEX/KINKOS. There is a tattoo & piercing shop/S&M dungeon literally around the corner, in case anyone decides they want to make some Permanent Mistakes.

    San Francisco People: I know you don't like leaving your little utopia, but this is the closest Midwestern equivalent, minus a homeless dude shamelessly taking a dump on the sidewalk in front of you.

    Crime Rate in St. Louis, By Neighborhood

    Observe how smart it is to visit now... and how very, very stupid it was before.

    OK, that's not even remotely true. Millie is old as shit. I often compare her to an aging Hollywood starlet -- you can tell she used to be pretty and charming at one point in her career, but now she's just this scraggly, deranged monster that constantly yowls for attention and abuses the help. "You never know which end the fluids will fire from" is a little saying I have about Millie. Don't worry, though -- you'll love her when you're drunk.

    UPDATE: Unfortunately, we had to put Millie to sleep before the 4th could roll around... Obviously, this wasn't an easy decision, but as much as we liked the idea of her tearing around the apartment, hassling drunks and grinddancing on Ducky's face while he slept, she was old, and sick, and a dozen cretins stomping around was probably the last thing she needed to experience.

    As much as I made fun of her, Millie was a good, cute little cat, and Rachel and I are really gonna miss her... I'm not much one to believe in the existence of an afterlife, but I'm totally willing to bend my own rules if I get to imagine Millie up in Heaven all screeching at Isaac Newton for petsies.

If you want to hear a thoroughly depressing song that
gets me weirdly teary about Millie, I am happy to oblige


As this type of event is always destined to gather a certain number of, let's say, unknown quantities, I sort of hesitate to say, "We'll do this, or we'll definitely go there." I mean, there's always a chance we'll all wind up in jail, and WHOOPS there goes my carefully organized itinerary.

Instead, I'll just note that this has fast become my favorite time of year, and you know I'm always ready to blow some cash on some real stupid, half-baked ideas. So, let's just say that certain... things will be made available to attendees:

  • A male sex doll rigged with hundreds of fireworks - Ideally, it will look like the Borg, except the Borg do not have exploding dicks (erotic fan fiction notwithstanding).
  • A children's inflatable pool, and possibly whatever this is - Also possibly an inflatable couch, for the late-90's nostaglia? We'll see exactly how little time can pass before each one of them is popped by an ill-conceived wrestling maneuver.
  • An Easter Egg Hunt, except the eggs will be filled with bottles of airline booze - Hint: The easier they are to find, the worse the booze will be (e.g., Blackberry Brandy).
  • An awards ceremony, featuring modified #1 Dad trophies (on sale at Target) - Who will score the coveted "Hottest Mess" award?
  • The premiere of Ducky's Tin Can Challenge documentary (final cut), with commemorative DVDs for all guests - Fingers crossed.
  • An Avril Lavigne-themed bathroom - Fingers crossed on this one, too.
  • Bulk booze - Finally, the Costco membership will earn its keep: A 16-gallon bottle of Maker's Mark.
  • About a dozen flavors of Smirnoff Ice - I was never a huge fan of Andrew "Fitz" Fitzgerald, but he recently introduced me to the idea of aggressively forcing Smirnoff Ice on your friends as a sort of sadistic punishment, and it is my new favorite idea ever.
  • Did I mention we have a backyard now? - Grilling, crummy plastic lawn chairs, Tiki torches for gladiator battles -- all will be made available.
  • SNOOPY SNO CONE MACHINE - How much cheap vodka can we add before it officially no longer qualifies as a sno cone?
  • Shady homemade wine coolers from this terrible kit - We'll take bets on who goes blind first.
  • Ridiculous alcohol dispensers - So far this and this (Thanks, John Peel!) Likely filled with sweet tea vodka lemonade / blackberry brandy.
  • That one can of beer I told Ducky I'd save for him.
  • A Wii - Now, I know most of you already have one, but you are not as poor as we are, and have other distractions. As impoverished riverfolk, we tend to make the most of things.
  • Billboard Top 100: 1990 - 2004 - Say how-do to your reckless youth.
  • A variety of Nicolas Cage movies - Including possibly the best bad movie no one has ever seen, ZANDALEE .
  • What about DJ Roomba? - Not unless someone wants to make hella donations. I've included a button to that effect. You're welcome.

Like I said, I know better than to dictate an itinerary. I simply thought I'd offer up some of the fabulous venues St. Murder has to offer... along with grave assurances of certain locales we shall never, ever visit.

Descriptions appear in the purple box below, on mouseover. I am an internet GENIUS.


TequilaGun 2010
Austin Happel -- If you like that gun, visit his site for more similarly great work!


Just in case you weren't completely sold, how about a little reminder of the madness that tends to develop when we congregrate this many ridiculous people and mix with alcohol? Perhaps a visit from The Ghost of FOURTHSTRAVAGANZAs Past is in order?













That is completely the wrong ghost.

The one that started it all, and truly, the one to beat. Unmatched drunken insanity, including:

Smacko in-character as a washed-up, Griesedieck-swilling "Legends of the Hidden Temple" contestant.
Around-the-world chain-reaction-style vomiting, consisting almost entirely of egg yolk liquor and bangers and mash. We have it on video.
Some drunk chick putting her tongue in Smacko's ear, OMG.
Liz's perfect mix CD, including a clearly taped-from-the-radio version of "Sugar, We're Going Down" that Smacko turned into obscene poetry.
#1 Most Beautiful Room Karaoke Report: Smacko got his mic turned off, Ducky had me sing something the crowd hated ("I'll Be There For You"), Liz and Rachel rocked "Zombie."
15-year-old Fake Yousaf Malhance at the shitty Indian buffet illegally serving us alcohol, despite no clear notion of what a shot actually is.
Kyle downing like a half gallon of nice whiskey, then barfing it back up outside a lesbian bar, before telling me how he was gonna be a millionaire in roughly six months, and how I would get a cut. NOTE: Still waiting on that last part.
Smacko and I making out. As always, there are no winners in gay chicken. Unless, of course, you are gay. I probably didn't need to use tongue, though.
Alienating the general public by aggressively promoting "St. Louis Cat Clinic" as the next big thing in hip-hop.
A shitfaced Smacko terrorizing the Children's Hospital after a failed attempt at a Macho Man elbow drop (also after peeing on a different hospital).
Hannah Montana DVD drinking game! Mocking the game required you to drink; the game was impossible not to mock. Genius.
Jealous drag queens sassing Rachel for her tits. Also, apparently one guy there had a boner all night long.
15-year-old dickheads with pent-up sexual aggression violently attacking everyone at the trampoline dodgeball place. They hit Liz in the face, and she told them they would never get laid ever. Jeff Goldblum Merman approves.
Agitator of the Year 2008: Kyle Wild, for turning everything into a political debate, despite the fact that we all generally share the same politics and weren't being particularly argumentative.  

Another good showing, of course, but very Ducky- and Smacko-centric. We're gonna need to step it up to top events like:

Smacko in-character as a washed-up, Griesedieck-swilling princess.
Spritz buying his own health food supply to last the weekend, leading to endless derision.
Smacko conning Ducky into paying $150 for a painting that, at best, would make him seem homophobic.
Ducky riding around in our trunk dressed like a Guido.
#1 Most Beautiful Room Report: Smacko got his mic turned off, Ducky had me sing something horrible (White Town's "Your Woman")
Smacko sharing patented seduction secrets, while falling into a dumpster. Twice.
Smacko filming creepy close-ups of the other guests while they slept.
Spotting a jogging, noticeably heavier Missy Barmann and then laughing loudly as we drove by.
Rigging a patriotic Furby with fireworks, then trying to stop fearless black children from diving on it.
The horrors of the Pepper Lounge (a.k.a. Sodom and Gomorrah 2: The Revenge)
Dank had a good time, too.
Smacko nearly getting thrown into jail because of threatening phone calls made to 1-800-GRANNY8, then making Will cover for him.
Macho Walk Jeff Goldblum
approves as well.
Breaking into the Holiday Inn down the street to use their toilet-sized pool.
Agitator of the Year 2009: Ducky. Between biting Smacko, almost getting into a fight with a pack of Cardinals fans by repeating accusing them of "guzzling cum," extolling -- at length -- the virtues of punching a dude in the kidneys, and then admonishing us for our lack of cultural sensitivity (rugby culture, I mean), the Deuce was the clear victor this year.




All right, folks -- that's my pitch. At this point, I've bombarded you with so much shit that you should probably just resign yourself to attending, because I can't guarantee I'll stop otherwise.

If you still aren't completely sold on the idea of coming to St. Louis for the 4th of July, well, enjoy your independence, you heartless automaton.

If, however, you're ready to make some brilliant mistakes, barf in our washing machine, etc., just get in touch with either me or Rachel, and let us know your plans.

  • The 2nd - 5th is only a tentative timeframe; if you want to come early or stay late, I'm sure we can accommodate.
  • If you want to bring your significant other, or other friends, everyone is more than welcome. Well, some more than others.
See you this July!




If you've visited in years past, you know that it was kind of a pain in the ass hauling around 6+ people. It meant multiple cars, bigger, more expensive cabs, and a lot more organization than our little coterie is generally capable of. And now, considering the Tanry ain't so fine as she once was, I've got a proposition for you all.

If there is enough interest -- and a couple people possibly willing to make a small contribution to the cause -- we're thinking about renting a minivan for the weekend. No, not one of those godless 1000° U-Haul cargo vans they smuggle immigrants with (although we considered it) -- an honest to goodness van van, possibly with DVD players in the headrests. Picture cruising around in soccer mom luxury as we see just how far we can stretch the rental place's insurance policy. "Ramp it?" Oh, yes. If there is anything remotely close to a ramp, it will be ramped.

That's not the real bonus, though. If we can get enough people on-board, there may be the possibility of a SUPER SECRET CELEBRITY DESIGNATED VAN DRIVER signing on for the weekend. I don't want to name names, and I don't want to get your hopes up, but this could be some hot shit.

The sooner I hear from you, the sooner I can book the van and work my persuasive magic on our (theoretical) chauffeur. So don't delay. I've set up another incredibly helpful donation button, just in case.

OK, so I know how it is. You get a party invite on facebook or whatever, and you don't want to seem overeager, so you try to play it all cool and aloof -- maybe mark yourself as a "Maybe," maybe don't reply at all and just show up. UNACCEPTABLE.

There are no maybes with FOURTHSTRAVAGANZA. There is only "Yes" and "Call the Children's Hospital, I'm bleeding."

So, to give your lazy asses a real incentive to respond -- and respond how you know you should -- I make you this promise: If you hit me with a hard "yes" -- yes, I bought a plane ticket; yes, I've hooked myself to a gin IV, to start building up my tolerance -- I will say something good about your junk (figuratively speaking). On the internet.

You know you can't pass this kind of publicity up. Plus, I can't completely promise I won't do the opposite if you were to reply in the negative.

Below, you'll find the titans of industry who have already signed on. Look upon their wondrous faces, their miraculous junk (figuratively speaking). Feel the awe, and the terror. And plot your own ascent to their status.

"Bends menstrual cycles to her will."

"I'd google his penis."
"Never a noticeable body odor."

"Studies have shown Ashkenazi Jews tend to be more intelligent; her attendance proves it."
"Like Jessica Simpson, minus the
terrible, terrible weight gain."

"Has video proof his dick works."
"Knows more about tires than anyone."

"No longer a terrible misogynist."
"Only member of the group hospitalized for alcohol poisoning... while dressed as a cat."


Failure to attend will result in a swift lesson...


That's not how counters work.
So many people want to come to this shit, I had to hire this little motherfucker to keep track.

This site has been optimized for Netscape Navigator 2.0 or above.