My Employees Of The MonthCommentary • ISSUE 36•08 • Mar 8, 2000 By T. Herman Zweibel, Publisher Emeritus (photo circa 1911) As an Onion reader, you know God-damned well that I did not rise to the position of Publisher by relying on you barely literate, gape-jawed Judases. Nor did I raise this news-paper to its present position as the finest in the Republic by leaning on the back-stabbing pack of boars that makes up my editorial staff. No, I did it with a special blend of low animal cunning, scandalous petticoats above the front-page fold, and the inherited millions that are my birth-right. T. Herman Zweibel needs no-one but him-self, and don't you forget it! However, from time to time, certain rare individuals in my employ have been able to see beyond their worth-less lives and dedicated themselves to furthering my cause. By selflessly taking care of an arch-duke here and inventing a laxative that tastes like good black-strap molasses there, they have helped me immeasurably in achieving my own ends. To these brave souls is awarded the lofty title of T. Herman Zweibel Employee Of The Month. Ah, to be chosen T. Herman Zweibel Employee Of The Month! Greater pride hath no man–save, of course, myself–than he who bears this lofty title. To him is given the fatted calf! To him is granted the cashier's cheque, drawn on the oldest bank in Zurich, for 15 American dollars! To him is given the Elysium of an afternoon in my second-best iron lung! To him is given the honor of having his name graven in quarter-inch letters upon a plaque of gilt-brass! Though I cannot reveal to you undeserving rabble the entire T. Herman Zweibel Employee Of The Month roll-call, it will do no harm to name some of those who are beyond the reach of the Law. Read, and be awed by their names: Adolf Krupp, designer of delightful artillery. Professor-Doktor Klaus von Klimpt, manufactor of soothing liniments. James Garfield, president of the Republic. Seaman Second Class Colgrave, powder-man, U.S.S. Maine, and pipe-smoker. Charles Guiteau, assassin of president James Garfield. My Father's fat Polish laundress, for services rendered. Standish, for decades of reasonably adequate steward-ship. Thomas Edison, wizard and thaumaturge. Heroes, one and all! Readers, take note: You are not fit to have such titans shit in your hats.