When exactly was the Rule of Law overturned in Western Society? When exactly did our 'independant judiciary' become overthrown? And when, exactly, did Despots come to rule over our World Record books? The Rule of Law is dead in the Western World, throttled to death by none-other than Mr Arthur Guinness, the high priest of record-keeping, the apparently unquestionable tyrant of World Records. For shame Art, for shame. I did not think you would be the one to overthrow Western Democracy. I had my money on Chirac.

Apparently there is no body in the world with enough knowledge to question the omnipotent powers of the Guinness Book of World Records, no person (or persons) wise enough to question the rulings of infinite wisdom that are rained down from the ivory tower of Guinness. So my last attempt is to bring my case before the only court with any power over the Guinness Gestapo; the Court of the People. Not to be confused with the People's Court, they don't have jurisdiction here. Trust me, I tried.

As 'officially' recorded in the Guinness Book of World Records, the record for standing upright is 36 hours. 'Unofficially' I beat the shit out of the official record. 'Unofficially' the record is 47 hours, set by myself, Brad Houston, in the presence of my cousin Cal.Unofficially I'm pissed off. Actually I'm officially pissed off. I think. Whatever, I got turned around here, but you get what I mean.

On September 16, 2007 I began standing in order to break the 'official record'. I had everything in place, a space to stand, a French Guiness judge the Guinness people had flown in, and a stack of bologna 3 feet tall. Ready to go. Everything was going swimmingly, and after 105 minutes I sat down and took my 15 minute coffee break. And suddenly Pierre Bring-me-Down was all over me: "You sat down, this contest is over". I said "buddy, this is America. We're constitutionally guaranteed a 15 minute break every 2 hours. That's why we saved your ass in World War I, to try and give you a little taste of the freedom pie." He yelled some unintelligible babble at me for the duration of my coffee break, but I stuck to my guns. No way was some socialist french dude coming into my country and try to tell me how I could or could not break a record.

So I'm back on my feet, much refreshed after the break, and what do you know, after 20 minutes my Mom calls. She's fallen over in the Wal-Mart parking lot and can't get up. So I gather Monsieur Downer and my cousin Cal, and we pile into my Chevy Nova to go help out Mom. Well as soon as I get behind the driver's wheel Pepe LePew is haranguing me from the back seat, how I'm 'sitting down' again. Well, I'm not putting up with his un-American garbage for a second more, so I stop the car right there on the freeway and turn around "Look mon amie, in America we put family first, not like your communist paradise over in the Alps. My grandfather didn't bail you out of World War II so you could leave your mothers upended in Wal Mart parking lots. That's what I picture now when I picture France: Wal Mart parking lots full of mothers unable to get up because their French sons are too busy drinking wine, eating cheese and sleeping with their mistresses. For Shame Monsieur, for shame. " Well I get another earful, but we got to that Wal-Mart pretty quick.

So I hop out of the car (for the jury of the public, notice I am standing once more) and we go over to my mom. She's busy eating a block of cheese on the ground, so we wait for her to finish (standing all the time I might add) and then help her up. It was a little embarassing because I had to ask Frenchie to help us out, Cal and I couldn't do it ourselves, but the skinny little dude was pretty wiry and we got her up. Well after all this mother was pretty hungry, so we ducked into a KFC for a quick 24 piece bucket.

As I waited in line (ever heard of someone 'sitting in line' - no I thought not, I stood the entire time) I was growing more and more excited: it had already been 4 hours and I was hardly tired. I thought the record was in the bag. On the other hand, Jean Luc Picard was getting pretty grouchy, he kept shooting me these withering glares and talking about getting back to his 'maison'. So in an effort to make peace I order an extra large French Fries with the chicken.

Well, no good deed goes unpunished, and as soon as I squeeze into the booth with mother to enjoy our chicken, Monsieur Mitterand is all over me again! I've taken quite a bit from this jeune homme and I ain't about to be embarrassed in front of my mother so I lace into him once again "President DeGaul would turn over in his grave if he heard you today sir. Here I am, caring for my ailing mother when by all rights I should be on my consitutionally mandated 15 minute break and all you can do is quote rule after rule. Well my Vichy Friend, we didn't bail you deadbeats out of Vietnam so you could come into America and shave away at our freedoms. So I sat down a little bit, cut me some slack - take it out of my future 15 minute breaks. I'll meet you halfway; for my next 10 breaks I'll only take 10 minutes. That should even us out." That's what the French are missing out on: the Art of the Compromise. That's what you get when everbody shares I guess, a sense of entitlement. Canada has the same problem. That's why I love America.

So Cal and I got my mother on her way, and we headed back to the Super Nova. Before we hopped in I poked Pierre in the chest and said "not a word, we'll take this out of my future breaks." By the time we got back to my basement (where the event was occuring) I was pretty sleepy, so I leaned against the wall and went to sleep. (Notice I was still standing). Anyway, when I awoke the judge had abandoned the contest. Cal drew some startling similarities between Jacque Runout and the French nation's actions during military conflicts and then we had a beer around the kitchen table. Cal will vouch that once that beer was finished I leapt to my feet and stood for 30 straight hours, forgoing even my constiutionally guaranteed breaks. And here we are, at the end of my story. Just a little guy being steamrolled by a huge corporation.

So I ask the court of public opinion this: Are we going to let some French dudes decide what an 'Official World Record' is, or are we going to bring that record book home to America? I'm starting my own book entitled "Brad Houston's Book of Records", and the first entry will be "Longest Time Standing: 40 Hours, held by Brad Houston". Not only will this overturn the injustice done by the un-American people at Guinness, it will begin the restoration of the Rule of Law by including an appeal system: If I decide you don't make the cut, you may appeal to Cal, who will look objectively at the situation. If Cal denies you, you may turn to the highest authority in the land: My Mom. Court to be held in the KFC on 12th Street.You're buying.