A Day Off? Sheeit

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Vol 40 Issue 42

Everyone On Campus Afraid Of That One Bar

SPOKANE, WA—Members of the Washington State University-Spokane student body announced Monday that everyone is afraid to visit K-Dee's Tap, that one bar without any windows next to the hardware store on Fordam Avenue. "[K-Dee's] is some kind of biker drug bar or something," sophomore Peter Mendis said. "The drinks are super cheap and they stay open like an hour after bar time, but don't go in there. My friend J.J.'s roommate's brother almost got stabbed there." K-Dee's leather-jacketed bartender, a 67-year-old with a leg brace, said he had no recollection of the near-stabbing, but did caution that, in general, the regular patrons do not welcome "college boys."

Hopes, Dreams Crushed By Panel Of D-List Celebrities

LOS ANGELES—Waitress and aspiring singer Olivia Martin, 21, had her hopes of stardom dashed by a panel of washed-up celebrities Monday. "All I've wanted to do my whole life is bring people joy with my singing, but Martika said I should stick to serving pancakes," said Martin, whose performing also received poor reviews from former MTV VJ Alan Hunter and Saved By The Bell's Mario Lopez. "This was my big break, but I blew it." Martika, who sang the 1988 hit "Toy Soldiers," said Martin lacked stage presence and didn't have "that special something it takes to be a star."

Tibetan Teen Getting Into Western Philosophy

LHASA, TIBET—Deng Hsu, 14, said Monday that he is "totally getting into Western philosophy." "I've been reading a lot of Kant, Descartes, and Hegel, and it's blowing my mind," Hsu said. "It's so exotic and exciting, not like all that Buddhist 'being is desire and desire is suffering' shit my parents have been cramming down my throat all my life. Most of the kids in my school have never even heard of Hume's views on objectivity or Locke's tabula rasa." Hsu said he hopes to one day make an exodus to north London to visit the birthplace of John Stuart Mill.

Millions Of American Lips Called To Service In Fight Against Poverty

NEW YORK—In response to the record number of American poor, Secretary of the Treasury John Snow called millions of American lips to service Monday. "Poverty is a menace to society," Snow said. "As the ranks of the nation's poor grow and more social programs are scaled back, it is crucial that all able Americans talk about how something must be done." Snow then entreated all able-voiced men and women between the ages of 18 and 24 to volunteer to periodically mention that the current poverty rate of 12.5 percent is too high.

Nader Polling At 8 Percent Among Past Supporters

WASHINGTON, DC—A CNN/Gallup poll released Monday shows that 8 percent of those who voted for presidential candidate Ralph Nader in the 2000 election will vote for him again in 2004. "Americans feel it's time for an end to corporate-controlled government, or at least 1/12th of those who voted for me in 2000 do," Nader said, addressing a handful of supporters scattered throughout a lecture hall at Georgetown University. "Don't be satisfied with politics as usual. That is my message to those who voted for me four years ago. Get back with the team." Nader said that 230,000 votes, while nowhere near enough to win, might be sufficient to muck up another election.

Battleground States

A handful of battleground states will be key in deciding the 2004 presidential election. What are some of the states most concerned about?

Bill O'Reilly Sex Scandal

Last week, a Fox News Channel producer sued Bill O'Reilly for sexual harassment, alleging that the cable host pressured her into phone sex. What do you think?
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Innovation

A Day Off? Sheeit

'Sup, G's. Check it out: Debbilyn Sundquist, tha Midstate human-resources secretary, e-mailed me.

"Hi Herbert," she wrote. "This is just a friendly reminder to inform you that you have some paid personal days you haven't used. They do not carry over into the next year, so please be sure to use them soon!!!"

"Accountz Reeceevable don't take no personal dayz off," I wrote back. "We been through this shit befoe. I ain't havin' it. Fuck all y'all an' yo wack no-workin' bullshit."

I trashed her e-mail an' go back 2 krunchin' tha numbahs. Few minutes later, I hear a noise behind me.

I whipped around, assumin' tha White-Colla Warrior stance. It tha office comptrolla, Gerald Luckenbill, an' Bob Cowan, tha human-resources directa. "What? What? What?" I aksed. "You wanna step 2 me? What?"

Cowan peed himself. But Luckenbill wuz straight-up chillin'. "Herbert," Luckenbill said. "I want you to take tomorrow off. Gary will oversee things here."

Next mornin', I got up when it was still dark and took tha 4:52 express bus 2 Midstate. Got there so early, not a sucka in sight. I slipped my keycard into tha electric lock on tha front doe. Tha magnetic strip don't read. Dag. Luckenbill musta blocked my keycard foe tha day. Muhfukka know tha H-Dog's ways too well. Y'all gots 2 recognize that. I bowed 2 Midstate in deep respect an' hustled back 2 my hood.

Foe a while, I lifted weights, but then I wuz like, fuck this, I already mad ripped. Then I caught some-a tha bitchez on Court TV. That sweet, sweet ho Nancy Grace wuz on, an' I had 2 whip it out an' start hittin'. She wuz in one-a her hard-ass moods, bitchin' 'bout it ain't right some ho from Oklahoma got off foe shankin' her man, so it wasn't two minutes befoe I busta nut and switched tha bullshit off. Work is where us A.R. bruthahs thrive. Once on tha outside, it a different story, y'all. They less numbahs 2 krunch. Some y'all can balance yo' checkbook or figger yo' taxizzes, true dat. But that ain't enuf, know what I'm sayin'? Bruthahs got 2 keep they minds occupied.

I called Agnes, my ol' boo an' my shortie's moms. "Yo, chickenhead, muhfukkas be makin' me take a personal day," I said. "Is Baby Prince H Tha Stone Col' Dopest Biz-ook-kizeepin' Muthafukkin' Badass Supastar Kornfeld Tha Second at that wack-ass day care? I wanna bust him out an' take him 2 tha park or tha Chucky-Cheez or some shit like that."

"Tanner is with me today," Agnes said, usin' dat goddamn moniker again. "My class was canceled. You can visit him Sunday like we agreed, Herbert."

I hung up on tha bitch an' called Vi, one-a tha hotties that work tha Midstate cash room, an' tol' her, get yo' fine ass down 2 my hizzy, I treat you right. She say she workin'. I say I gots crazy personal days, you can have one-a mine if you just come down here an' give it up 2 tha H-Dog. She say personal days ain't transferable.

Hell, what's a man 2 do in these unfavorable circumstizances? I was hungry for some reeceevin', y'all. I hopped into tha Nite Rida an' cruised tha bidness district, lookin' foe action. Outside o' Kessler, Orbach, Cowart & Associates, LLP, tha biggest accountin' an' auditin' firm in town, I peeped a posse o' office bitchez gettin' they lunch on.

"Bitchez," I shouted from my hoopty. "Give up some numbahz 2 Daddy H so's he can krunch 'em."

The li'lest one speak up, a nasty skank wit' her goddamn cross-trainin' shoez on ovah her pantyhose, like wearin' heels gonna break her ass or somethin'. "What happened, Herbert Kornfeld, Midstate fire your skinny ass?" she said. "Go away. You're not getting anywhere near our numbers."

Damn, y'all, I wuz about 2 put tha smack down on that li'l skank when tha 5-0 pull up behind me. I recognize tha cop from back in tha day, after I got busted foe illegal street accountin'. He aksed how come I ain't at Midstate. I aksed how come he ain't retired. That made all tha bitchez laugh, 'cept foe tha li'l one. "Herbert just asked if we've got any numbers to crunch, officer," she said.

She knew tha cop was itchin' foe reasonable suspicion 2 search my hoopty, an' she give it 2 him. Well, took tha cop 20 seconds 2 find a old wirebound columnar book an' a pencil undah my seat. He said that groundz foe arrestin' me on suspicion foe unsolicited accountin', cuffed me, an' hauled me into HQ. Fuckin' buncha bullshit. That columnar book wuz mine, true dat, but it wuz all used up and didn't have no mo' room 2 write numbahz in. An' tha pig fuckin' planted tha pencil. It had a punk-ass rubbah grip. Tha H-Dog don't need no rubbah grip. Tha H-Dog so dope, he give tha pencils calluses. Tha first call I made wuz 2 Gerald Luckenbill, tell him he' hadda come down an' bail my ass out. He told tha precinct captain that my personal day wuz legit an' I wuz fully certified, meanin' they case against me wuz mad weak. Tha cops released me wit' a warnin' not 2 go near tha bidness district durin' workin' hourz.

Luckenbill learned that day that personal dayz be not only a pain in tha azz foe A.R. bruthahs, they downright dangerous. He talk 2 Bob Cowan, an' they decide 2 not make me take any mo' personal dayz, lest they wanna be wastin' they time keepin' they best employee outta lockdown. So, you know what that mean, G's: a sweet-ass deal foe Daddy H. Nothin' but straight-up officin' 8-2-5, wit' tha exception o' weekendz an' major holidayz. On those dayz, I on my own an' gotta watch my back. But at least I don't got them goddamn personal dayz 2 contend wit' no mo'.

An' incidentally, come next day, that li'l accountant bitch got a surprise when she come in an' fire up her addin' machine. When she punched in some numbahs, all of them come up in red ink on tha calculata tape, like they wuz bein' subtracted, even though she wuz addin'. After she peeped that blood red, she ran outta her cubicle, jumped into her hoopty, peeled down tha parkin' ramp, an' ain't been seen since. When office flunkies cross a A.R. playa, they get served that blood-red ink sheet as a warnin'. What it a warnin' foe, I ain't sayin,' lest I incriminate myself, know what I'm sayin'? I had enuf o' this shit, G's. H-Dog OUT.

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