If you're anything like me, you're fat and unemployed. And lonely. Oh, the loneliness. Also, you've probably wondered what the Weekly Visitor would be like in the 1800s. Would Bart Gunn be rebeaking Afterburn? Would Sofa have been assassinated by some famous actor such as The Rock? Would funny hats be involved? Seeing as I'm still in possession of last week's shitty time machine, I think it's time to find out. Let's blog the harrowing adventures of five intrepid pioneers on the Oregon Trail. Blog Cabin.

"Try taking a covered wagon across 2000 miles of plains, rivers, and mountains. Try!" You know, I didn't really feel like trying, but this game seems awfully insistent. The exclamation point is what sold me. "What about supplies? Well, if you're low on food you can hunt. You might get a buffalo... you might." Who wrote this, Yoda? "And there are bear in the mountains." SOUNDS DANGEROUS!!!

Now I have to decide on my self-insertion character's backstory. Banker from Boston? Even in the Old West, the Jews controlled everything. "Wild" Billy Kidman. Carpenter from Ohio? Sofa hand-crafts his own furniture. He built himself. Farmer from Illinois? Yeah, sure. Holdin' it down for my peoples in the Land of Lincoln. I don't think it was the Land of Lincoln yet. Probably the Land of Slaves or something. I bet I could grow a mean potato if I was really put up against it. This is apparently the most difficult career path. I'm going to fucking die.

Let's meet our blurry team so they can sue me for unauthorized usage of their identities:

   SOFA is the captain of this perilous enterprise. He was once assimilated by the Native Americans, who filled his head with all their crazy beads and feathers and shit. Then he traveled to Japan to be The Last Samurai. He has big smile like Tom Cruise. SOFA will handle all the delicate diplomatic relations with the denizens of the Old West. Sheriff Worf, Deputy Alexander, and the Fistful of Datas.

   JG is some mysterious drifter we picked up on the side of the road. We had to pay him 5,000 Wetbacks or whatever the fuck the currency was back then before he would join our mysterious party. He travels with his mysterious dog, Chad. We're going to totally leave him behind when the world mysteriously blows up. Haha, sucker. As Executive Officer In Charge Of Clothing, JG's job is to coordinate our sassy outfits and also to get that crotchety Charlie Haas to walk down the runway. Dadgum him.

   SUPERASIA was home-schooled and doesn't believe in them thar "spaces". He hails from the Far East, so he wears one of those delightful rice paddy hats. SUPERASIA traveled to this great country to build the Intercontinental Railroad, which was rendered obsolete after the invention of the A-Train. This patriotic youngster serves as our chief engineer because those Japs are an industrious people. He's like a pit crew!

   BOOBERMON is not a Pokemon. He is a cheerful Jamaican man who is going to have a bright future in beverage advertising just as soon as television is invented. Hooray sarsparilla! His job is to use bullets and Hardy Boyz fingerguns to defend us from Lennox Lewis or any other weird black Englishmen.

   I'm TNM and I'm here to say, I'm gonna rock this wagon in a really big way. If this wagon's rockin', don't come a-knockin'. I'm just a white boy from Mineral Town tryin' to make ends meet. Banker Bradshaw foreclosed on my farm, so now I have to travel to Oregon and get some... oregano. I've put myself in charge of the food. Specifically, eating it.

JON and SSS were left behind to defend the homestead from zombies and pirates, respectively.

Our story begins in Independence, Missouri in 1848. That's very near to where my fake girlfriend lives. If she had called me, you wouldn't have to be reading this. You know who to blame. In the style of Balki Bartokomous, Sofa paints us an "OREGON OR BURST" sign to hang in the back of the wagon. He's a sensitive artist. We must decide a month in which to begin our trek. I vote Extreme March. There apparently won't be enough grass for the oxen if we leave this early, but fuck that pussy shit. We're a rough-and-tumble band of scoundrels. We'll punch your mule and steal your poncho.

Time to suit up at Matt's General Store with our $400. OHHHH YEAHHHH!!! Good to see he's found work while recovering from knee surgery. Jesus Christ, we need 200 pounds of food per person? It's a Big Show situation. I can't even afford the basic requirements for everything on my minimum StevieCorp wage. We're so fucked. I didn't skimp on the matching Little People Nation jumpsuits, though, believe you me.

We say our tearful goodbyes to Matt Hardy and hit the trail. See U Wouldn't Want 2 Be U. IT HAS BEGUN. OH GOD A HORRIBLE TINNY BEEPING RENDITION OF YANKEE DOODLE HOW DO I TURN OFF THE SOUND??? Man. No more Yankee our Doodle. Let's talk to some dude. He tells us the latest news from the Missouri Republican. Crazy right-wingers. Our pace is steady and our rations are filling. I change them to "strenuous" and "meager" because I am a harsh mistress. Come on. Finish this.

March 2, 1848: The wagon tongue breaks immediately. I think that was the one thing I didn't buy a spare of. We're off to a rollicking start. Luckily, SUPERASIA is able to cobble the existing one back together with some chaw.

March 7, 1848: No further shenanigans occur. We've traveled 102 miles to the Kansas River crossing. Can't afford to take Big Vito's Staten Island Ferry because I spent all our gold doubloons on bullets and Raisinettes. As an MXC fan, SOFA elects to caulk the wagon. Put the caulk in the crack. "You had no trouble floating the wagon across." Oh yeah. We like to float 'em. All day long.

March 11, 1848: On the road again. I'm sending BOOBERMON hunting because I want to see something fucking dead. Whoa, he looks like the dude from Robotron. Two squirrels and a buffalo escape because I fucking suck at this.

March 12, 1848: Second try. DEAD BUFFALO!!! We white men are totally raping this land. We end up with 920 whole pounds of food men love, but can only carry 100 to the wagon on account of ropey arms.

March 14, 1848: Arrived at the Big Blue River crossing. "Big Louie" tells me not to push the oxen too hard. Isn't he in Tazz'z posse? Fuck you, Big Louie. Goddamned PETA members. Another river-crossing conundrum. Let's float it one more time. Fortunately, we didn't go to the well once too often. Ain't nothin' but a thang.

March 18, 1848: "TNM has a fever." I'm fool-blooded, check it and see. Our overall health has dropped to "fair". I'm going to slacken the pace on account of my delicate constitution. Also, let's rest for a day. I don't want to die. I'm carrying this team on my BACK. Look, a gravesite! Spooooky! Maybe John Cena is rapping there. The tombstone reads "here lies andy - peperony and chease". Cryptic. Eddie Guerrero moed my lawn.

March 23, 1848: We've reached Fort Kearney. Oops, I wasted three days trying to trade with people. We could buy supplies if we had any goddamned money.

March 29, 1848: On our way to Chimney Rock. I think that was in The Legend of Zelda. "Ox wanders off. Lose 2 days." Johnny the Bull, you fucking retard. There are no Olive Gardens out here.

April 1, 1848: APRIL FOOLS!!! JG put itching powder in SOFA's britches. Oh, how we laughed.

April 2, 1848: BOOBERMON gets the order to bring down another buffalo. Such a waste of meat. Wavell Starr sheds a single tear.

April 8, 1848: Here we are at Chimney Rock. Look out, Ganondorf. Let's rest for a day. We're worth it.

April 9, 1848: We must be in the desert or something, because the ground is all orange.

April 14, 1848: Fort Laramie, ho. I have to switch diskettes or whatever on my piece of shit emulator. The perils of the Wild, Wild West were many. Steven Richards would come after you with a giant mechanical spider. He was angry because Heidenreich ripped his legs off. Jesus Christ, why am I referencing that movie? Some broad tells me not to drink water from holes. "We buried my husband last week. Could use some help with this harness, if you could spare the time." Sorry, lady, no time for the freaky sex. We've got to reach the Rose Garden in time for Unforgiven!

April 16, 1848: Off to Independence Rock. Why are we so interested in visiting all these rocks? It's not like we can afford anything at the gift shop.

April 18, 1848: "JG has cholera." chol-er-a, n. - Any of several acute infectious diseases of men and domestic animals, characterized by severe intestinal disturbances. We warned him not to eat Cousin Chewie's burrito.

April 28, 1848: Three deer corpses litter the land. BOOBERMON is a loose cannon. Buhlee the hype.

May 4, 1848: Independence Rock at last. Nothing stupid happens.

May 6, 1848: "TNM has a broken arm." Ow! You're breakin' my... arm! JG must have punched me too hard.

May 15, 1848: Welcome to the fabulous South Pass. A fork in the road! Our fearless leader, SOFA, elects to make for the Green River. I love Credence.

May 21, 1848: "Find wild fruit." Find your own wild fruit, bossy. Oh, you mean we found wild fruit? 20 pounds of delicious Ricoberries are aboard.

May 22, 1848: The mysterious Green River. Happy St. Patrick's Day, everybody. Shit, this is a deep-ass river. D-Von, get the caulk. It's all good.

June 5, 1848: Well, that was a whole lotta nothin'. We've made it to Soda Springs. Sofa Springs. Sakoda Springs. I want a Dr. Pepper. Some kid tells us about how he burns buffalo chips when there's no wood to be had. Good for you, dear boy.

June 10, 1848: IT'S BREAKING DOWN HERE ON SATURDAY NIGHT!!! We found two more bunches of wild fruit, but then there was "inadequate grass". BOOBERMON was supposed to be keeping an eye on that. Mon. RVD was crushed. Beneath our wagon wheels. SUPERASIA's satard powers went on the fritz, destroying 4 sets of clothing. No, SUPERASIA, you're supposed to PUT OUT the fires! Dale Earnhardt Jr. would have been dead by now. Our only pair of Mechanix gloves was destroyed. We only have 4 sets of clothing remaining. Let's draw straws to see who ends up naked.

June 13, 1848: HEY YO, FORT HALL. Survey says, one more for the naked guys. I trade 76 pounds of food for 1 set of clothes. Now I can cover my shame.

June 15, 1848: "Rough trail." Tell me about it, dawg. "Very little water." Cinch it up and hunker down, everybody. BOOBERMON valiantly shoots a deer and a rabbit amongst the desert flowers. One of them desert deer. Maybe we can drink its sweet, sweet blood.

June 23, 1848: A BEAR!!! It's headed straight for BOOBERMON! He kills it Hillbilly Jim-style. Whew.

June 26, 1848: The grass and water still suck. "One of the oxen is injured." Johnny pulled his groin on a failed roll-up attempt. All we could shoot was one measly squirrel. It's a Without A Paddle situation.

June 29, 1848: Snake River. The deadliest river of them all. We're going to ford this one, because the weather is "hot" and we could use a refreshing dip. OH NO THE WAGON EATS A BOAT!!! All kinds of shit is lost, including 4 oxen. "TNM (drowned)". NO! I'm too young and fat to die! Yeah, thanks for the help, guys. You people are NOTHING without me. Enjoy the trip to Oregon with your TWO OXEN. DICKS.

June 30, 1848: Although everyone agrees that the trip is much more pleasant with TNM dead, all hope is lost. Our hardy trailblazers would shoot themselves if there were more than three bullets left. "Bad water" and "Very little water". Very little bad water.

July 11, 1848: We're dyin', man. Make our last three bullets count, BOOBERMON, you crack shot. He bags the slowest bear in the history of the planet. I've placed our food rations on "bare bones". Well, your food rations. I'm already dead. Fags.

July 20, 1848: Health is "poor". Will we make it to the nearby fort where we can die with dignity? The wagon axle broke. Work your monkey magic, SUPERASIA. He takes a break from his busy schedule of starving to death to fix it. "Lose trail. Lose 3 days." That never would have happened if I were still around. Morons.

July 25, 1848: "Heavy fog." This thick Idaho fog will be the death of us! BOOBERMON misses a bear with our last bullet. Hooray starvation! Some plantains would taste awfully good right now.

August 1, 1848: We ring in the new month with horrible diseases. "SUPERASIA has dysentery." Lots of luck, buddy. So much diarrhea on this trip.

August 11, 1848: Welcome to Fort Boise, Orlando Jordan. IT WILL BE YOUR GRAVE!!! I say we eat that family right there. Is that lady showing some nipple? So close to Unforgiven, and yet so far away. If only SOFA hadn't tried to ford that river. I hate you so much, SOFA.

August 24, 1848: The food is gone. BOOBERMON was right about this godforsaken month. "Indians help find food." Alright! Thanks for caring, you filthy savages. Only 26 pounds of it? Lousy Indians. Indian givers. "JG has dysentery". Who will be the next to join me in my watery grave???

September 1, 1848: Food's gone again. The Indians don't give a shit this time. Health is very poor. Maybe we could eat an ox. Or Chad.

September 3, 1848: "A thief comes during the night and steals 4 sets of clothing." REEEPO MAAAN. What a gay adventure this is. Naked, starving, and no bullets with which to shoot each other.

September 6, 1848: "SUPERASIA has a fever". "BOOBERMON has a fever." We've come down with a case of the naked fever. Sexy. "SUPERASIA has died." He fixed our fly wheels. We will never forget him for as long as we live. Until tomorrow.

September 8, 1848: Three left. Who will hold out the longest and earn bragging rights? "Impassible trail. Lose 6 days." BOOBERMON died in the meantime. Farewell to our 19th Century Killing Machine.

September 15, 1848: Only the A-Show gentlemen remain. "JG has dysentery." but he's still kickin'. What a hoss.

September 18, 1848: Whoops, "JG has died." Nice expedition you're leading here, Sofa. Pssh.

September 21, 1848: "Sofa has measles." Poor baby. I hope he doesn't come down with the chicken pox, too! I'd offer some Children's Nyquil, but OH YEAH, I'M DEAD.

September 22, 1848: Happy birthday, TNM. Well, it might have been if I wasn't DECOMPOSING AT THE BOTTOM OF SOME FUCKING RIVER. It's my birthday and I'll die if I want to. Sofa totally ruins my special day by dropping dead. So selfish. And so it ends. "Here lies SOFA". Suffered the same fate as andy peperony and chease. I am given the opportunity to write a tasteful epitaph. "HE ONCE GOT BUSY IN A BURGER KING BATHROOM" would not fit, so I had to opt for the less eloquent "WHAT A SHITTY LEADER".

Now I'll never see Kane vs. HBK. I hate this country. Demott's Turning Point was when I tried to ford the river like a retard.

Final Thoughts: So what was Weekly Visitor like back in the olde days? Answer: Still Shitty.