by Mad Dog

I can attest to the glory of the 15th Annual Competition and Coronation of the Slug Queen because—yes!— I saw it with my own eyes.

     Actually, I can’t vouch for Baywatch Nights, since the truth is I’ve only watched a half hour of it one time. That’s how long it took me to realize that they were more interested in ghosts and demons and spooky stuff like that than they were in wholesome entertainment like beaches, surfing and lots of well-filled bikinis. Hell, the demon who was possessing the 14 year-old girl on the episode I saw never once ran down the beach in slow motion. On the other hand, I can attest to the glory of the 15th Annual Competition and Coronation of the Slug Queen because—yes!— I saw it with my own eyes.

     [NOTE: To be technically correct, it’s actually the S.L.U.G. Queen. It stands for Society for the Legitimization of the Ubiquitous Gastropod, though I’m convinced they made that up after the fact. But to save periods—which are reportedly about to be placed on the endangered punctuation list along with semi-colons, hyphens, and those curly brackets nobody knows what to do with—I’m going to stick with the vernacular, "Slug".]

Five people vied for the title of Slug Queen this year, and two of them were men. This shouldn’t come as a shock.

     It’s fitting that the Slug Queen reigns in Eugene. This is, after all, the city that has a Saturday Market filled with genuine hippies coming in from surrounding communes who haven’t seen a calendar or a hairdresser since 1970. It’s a city where more people believe Jerry Garcia’s still alive than think Elvis is. It’s a city that places stickers near the crosswalks explaining that when the "man walking" lights up you can cross and when the "orange palm" lights up you should stop, yet has the presence of mind not to do it in Braille. And it’s the city that’s home to Oregon Yurtworks, a company dedicated to making modern versions of the circular Mongolian home, hopefully without the yak skins.

     Five people vied for the title of Slug Queen this year, and two of them were men. This shouldn’t come as a shock since a recent survey by Carvel (the people who make ice cream whales but—gasp!—not slugs) found that when making a wish before blowing out the candles on their birthday cake, 61 percent of all boys younger than age 10 who wished to become superheroes wanted to be Catwoman. Really.

I say we have the presidential candidates go to Eugene on Election Day, dress up in silly costumes, put on 3-minute talent skits, and answer one off-the-wall question posed to them by an old Slug Queen.

     Lest you think this is all fun and games, the Slug Queen does much more than strut around downtown Eugene one night in August wearing a short skirt made of duct tape (as Bagonda did). No, official duties include appearing at the opening reception of the Mayor’s Art Show, riding in the Eugene Celebration parade, appearing at the Parade Awards Ceremony, presiding over next year’s competition (as the previous winners, called Old Queens, did this year), and spending the rest of his/her life living it down.

     The competition itself is short and sweet. They’re judged in three categories: costume, question, and talent. It’s over in about 90 minutes. If only the Federal Election Committee had been there they would have seen what a clean, simple system this is. Contrast this with the 2000 presidential campaign (only three years to Election Day, mark it on your calendars!) which was unofficially launched in Indianapolis recently when 1,200 people showed up at the Midwest Republican Leadership Conference and every one of them declared their candidacy. Just kidding. Actually it was only such exciting prospects as Dan Quayle, Steve Forbes, Lamar Alexander, and Alan Keyes that did. But at least they agreed on a campaign theme: "Deja Vu Into The 20th Century".

     Here’s my proposal. I say we have the presidential candidates go to Eugene on Election Day, dress up in silly costumes, put on 3-minute talent skits, and answer one off-the-wall question posed to them by an old Slug Queen. Then we can all go to the polls—or even better, raise our hands and scream—and vote for the slimy candidate of our choice. Personally, I can’t wait to see how Steve Forbes looks in a duct tape dress.

NOW! Find out more about the incredible Slug Queens at their Official Slimey Web Site!

©1997 Mad Dog Productions, Inc. All Rights Reserved.
These columns appear in better newspapers across the country.  They'r so good even slugs read them.