What's So Funny
You don't even want to know how we'd get orange milk when What's So Funny was a kid. But we'll tell you, anyway. First we'd shovel four heaping spoonfuls of cottage cheese into a dish, which we would then place in the hot sun for seven hours. After that, we'd mix a concoction of grain alcohol and expensive port, stolen from one of our parent's liquor cabinets, and make whoever lost at rock-paper-scissors binge-drink it for two to three hours. We'd time things perfectly so that just when the cottage cheese was beginning to froth and turn, whoever had drunk the booze would be ready to throw it back up.
Here's where it gets tricky: The puker would then have to aim his chunks directly at the curdled cottage cheese, thoroughly douse it with regurgitated dollops of vomitus, then quickly swallow everything back up. After that, it was just a matter of waiting for that person to puke once again -- which was inevitable -- and upon re-release, the whole concoction would be stained a brilliant, stomach-acid-and-blood-tinted orange, the perfect Bronco milky blend. Satisfied, we'd head back to our respective homes with a thermos full of "Elway Blood" that we'd pour out during the game for our parents, showing our dedication to the team.
"How the hell did you make that fruity-orange milk?" drunk fathers could be heard to slur across the neighborhood.
"You, all right?" we would shout, imitating that legendary drug commercial from back in the day. "I learned it by watching you!"
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Our dads would laugh and we would smile, and then we'd pass the milk back and forth as the Broncos marched up and down the field while the sun faded on another glorious Sunday.
Today, you can just walk down to the corner, slap three quarters on the counter, say "Mile High Milk me, my good man," and you're in business, provided the immigrant clerk doesn't misinterpret your request in an unfortunate, let-us-never-speak-of-this-again sort of way. In a move more questionable than the intellects of Harry Potter devotees, the Western Dairy Council has launched Mile High Milk, the official milk of the Denver Broncos. Orange-ish in hue, Creamsicle/orange-sorbet-flavored in taste -- although there are many who argue that the drink tastes exactly like tonguing a six-cocktails-deep David Treadwell -- Mile High Milk is the inevitable, lamentable result of a partnership between the National Football League and the American Dairy Association/National Diary Council aimed at getting kids to drink milk, build healthy bones and keep those hilariously pornographic milk-stashes completely de rigueur. The drink made its debut in Colorado schools last year, and due to its enormous popularity -- read: kids slamming forty of the high-sugar drinks during lunch, then launching themselves into orbit off swing sets at recess -- it is now available to the general public. Good work, fat children of Colorado: Here's to your even fatter progeny!
It's just too much. This is football we're talking about, the gridiron sport. The players out there are beating the living shit out of each other day in and day out, so shouldn't fans have to take a few licks themselves? Bad enough that kids today inherited a Denver Broncos team much lauded in the national media, with a bona fide legend forever associated with the team and Champ Bailey jerseys popping up in rap videos. Bad enough that these kids didn't have to suffer through Super Bowl losses more damaging to children's psyches than tonguing a six-cocktails-deep David Treadwell and wondering when, God, when would our team win a Super Bowl, thus validating our city. And now they don't even have to work for their Bronco orange milk? With the puking and the cottage cheese and everything?
What's So Funny headed straight for the Western Dairy Council's Promotion Association -- that's right, the one in Thornton -- because we wanted some answers. While we were stuck in traffic on our way, we started to think back on all the Broncos promotions we'd experienced over the years. We're old enough to remember faint traces of Orange Crush; we can still picture the Three Amigos poster hanging on our wall. We remember buying a John Elway Christmas ornament; hell, we even have our Ed McCaffrey Rocky Mountain Horseradish.
By the time we got to the office to pick up our sample Mile High Milk, we were so thoroughly lost in the nostalgia of Broncos paraphernalia -- how each promotion reminded us of a different moment in the team's history -- that all traces of anger or outrage had vanished. We were as excited as a rotund third-grader about that orangey-milky goodness. And when we opened our bottle of magic juice in the parking lot, our mind was in a Funny state of Zen-like clarity. We weren't thinking about Plummer's interceptions or wondering who was going to start at running back this year. We were thinking about the limitless potential of a new Broncos season. We tipped that plastic bottle to the sky and took a drink. It tasted like victory.
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