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New EPA Chief Proposes 30% Cut In All Carbon-Based Organisms

WASHINGTON—Expressing confidence that the nation would meet the ambitious benchmarks by the end of Donald Trump’s presidential term, Scott Pruitt, the president-elect’s nominee for chief of the Environmental Protection Agency, said Thursday he would seek a 30 percent cut in all carbon-based organisms upon assuming office.

Tips For Hotel Etiquette

Staying in a hotel can be a fun and luxurious experience, but it requires consideration of the guests around you. The Onion presents its guide to hotel etiquette:

Report: Look How Big Player Is Next To Sideline Reporter

GREEN BAY, WI—Marveling at the pronounced disparity in size during the postgame interview, sources confirmed Sunday that, Jesus Christ, just look at how big Houston Texans nose tackle Vince Wilfork is next to the CBS sideline reporter.

John Kerry Throws Vine Over Pit Of Quicksand To Save Child Companion

PANGSAU, MYANMAR—Thinking quickly to thwart disaster as he ventured deep into the Myanmar rainforest to meet with State Councilor Aung San Suu Kyi, Secretary of State John Kerry threw a vine over a pit of quicksand to save the life of his 12-year-old Moroccan companion, Drumstick, sources confirmed Monday.
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A Message from the Publisher: What's So Wrong With Internment Camps?

Editor’s note: Without warning, Onion Publisher Emeritus T. Herman Zweibel violated his state-imposed retirement and mandated space for a weekly column which he will send via modem from the medical wing of his 800-acre estate. As per his explicit instructions, these columns are printed in their entirety and without copy-editing.

When a war’s on, there’s no excuse for not standing by your country, right or wrong. The Japs are our enemy now, whether we want them to be or not, and it’s our duty to mistrust them.

Mexicans are no better.

I’m not quite the fighting man I used to be. The Mexican–American War was my war. And I fought hard. Remember the Alamo! Go, Fighting Eighth!

Well, I’m still fighting Mexicans. Now it’s Yolanda, my damned nurse.

Bring me iodine, you cow! My IV is infected! I’m going to get gangrene. Your Latin jungle voodoo medicine can’t help me. I need chemicals!

She’s enormous, and colors her hair an unnatural yellowish brown that makes her look more like a Vaudeville dancing girl than a Mexican. I can’t understand a word she says, with her ooga-booga tortilla-village talk. I glare at her blankly, but that’s only because of my lowered muscle control. Inside, I have death in my eyes as she babbles and bobs around my bed, changing my bed pan and wiping away the drool.

Is this why I fought in the Mexican-American War? Is this why I rode Tinker’s Hill and lost my best friend to the bayonet of a Brownita? To be cared for in my last years by the devilish brown enemy herself? I think not!

Write your Congressman. Cry out from the hilltops. We will not stand for enemies of these United States fraternizing with citizens. Put the Mexicans in internment camps and lock the doors. Throw them in there with the Japanese and the Germans. Throw the Irish in just for good measure.

But first get me some god-damned iodine.

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