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Summit Up

Special to the DailyThis is a goodbye to The Great Atlas, from Ivo and Lisa. "God brought to us this enduring animal to battle his epilepsy together - the battle won on January 24, 2005. Now he can forever run, play and never have another seizure again. He will be missed so very much by many. Goodbye, our 'big boy.'"

Good morning and welcome to Summit Up, the world’s only daily column dreading the viral onslaught.And this time, we don’t even have any snotty little kids to blame.Ever have one of those days where you wake up and your entire body is aching, and you can just tell it’s only a matter of time before you’re full-on sick? This is typically followed by a night of restless sleep where, despite your mind being tired enough to zonk out, your body, in all its aching and soreness, is trying to tell you something and, thus, it keeps you up all night, ruining that peaceful slumber you so desperately need to avoid the complete illness attack.

And then the day after that, the tickle starts in the throat. There’s a few surprise coughs that warn you something more serious is on the way, the wooziness in the head and the clumsiness that comes when your body has more important things to concentrate on than your mind – all the things that lead to a sense of dread about the next day.How bad will it be? Should we stay home today and just guzzle echinacea? Was it the whisky that did this to us, or will it be what cures us? Seriously, we think the loathing and fear that comes with being almost sick is even worse than actually being sick.And maybe it’s just psychosomatic. Maybe a heavy heart is bleeding its effects into our immune system. Maybe it’s the outward manifestation of lovesickness and guilt. Maybe that burrito we found at the back of the fridge late last night didn’t originally have a green tortilla.We’ll likely never know.

***More column feedback. Our faithful fans will recall our shock and disappointment that the Minnesota Vikings’ Randy Moss could be fined $10,000 for fake mooning the crowd. We were just shocked because no one told us that Joseph Stalin was the new NFL commissioner.Well, turns out, the anti-mooning Gestapo has troops a little closer to home than we originally thought. Patrick McFarlane called us to report that, after he stopped his convertible in front of Biff America’s judging stand during the Ullr Fest parade and lifted up his kilt to show the judges his highly toned heinie, the po-po followed him, stopped him around the corner and gave him a ticket for disorderly conduct.Now we’re wondering where Johnny Law would draw the line. At nose-picking? At farting? How ’bout those under-the-armpit noises?

Ah, to heck with it. Put ’em all in jail, the miscreants!***Make this Wednesday whatever you want it to be. You have free reign to declare the holiday of your choice, serve up a feast, dance all night, whatever. Let us know what you decide to celebrate at, fax at (970) 668-0755 or just record some of the festivities on the voicemail at (970) 668-3998, ext. 237.We’re out waiting for a cure …

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