Anyone Got A TV To Spare?

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Vol 39 Issue 41

Alderman Has That Zoning Dream Again

AMES, IA—Fourth District Alderman Frank Pelson, 47, awoke with a start Monday night, interrupting his recurring zoning dream. "It was the third night in a row," Pelson said. "I'm sitting at my desk, drafting my proposal for the construction of a municipal pool near Franklin Park, when my inbox is besieged with angry petitions from residents who object to the traffic that the public recreational facility would generate." Pelson said the dream always ends the same way, with him experiencing the sensation of falling out of his office chair into a 60 percent business, 40 percent residential abyss.

Limbaugh Says Drug Addiction A Remnant Of Clinton Administration

WEST PALM BEACH, FL—Frankly discussing his addiction to painkillers, conservative talk-show host Rush Limbaugh told his radio audience Monday that his abuse of OxyContin was a "remnant of the anything-goes ideology of the Clinton Administration." "Friends, all I can say is 'I told you so,'" said Limbaugh, from an undisclosed drug-treatment facility. "Were it not for Bill Clinton's loose policies on drug offenders and his rampant immorality, I would not have found myself in this predicament." Limbaugh added that he's staying at a rehab center created by the tax-and-spend liberals.

CIA-Leak Scapegoat Still At Large

WASHINGTON, DC—A White House administration official who can be blamed for leaking the identity of CIA officer Valerie Plame to the press remains at large, White House officials announced Monday.

Muscleman Put In Charge Of World's Fifth-Largest Economy

SACRAMENTO, CA—Political observers are struggling to understand exactly how, on Oct. 7, Arnold Schwarzenegger, an Austrian-born, movie-star muscleman with no political experience, was elected to govern the state of California, the world's fifth-largest economic region.

Silicone Breast Implants

An advisory panel to the Food and Drug Administration recommended that the 11-year ban on the sale of silicone breast implants be lifted. What do you think?

Peruvian Shockingly Knowledgeable About U.S. History

GAINSVILLE, FL—During her two-week visit to the U.S., Peruvian visitor Alejandra Mañera demonstrated a "frightening" depth of knowledge about U.S. history, her American friend Briana Heckel reported Monday. "We were sitting around talking about how Bush has no idea how to rebuild Iraq, and Alejandra starts mentioning how at least Woodrow Wilson outlined his postwar plan with his '14 Points' speech," Heckel said. "Then she starts listing all the points, and I'm like, who's Woodrow Wilson?" Mañera further unnerved Heckel by speaking flawless English.
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Anyone Got A TV To Spare?

Hola, amigos. I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I've been burning the candle at both ends lately. Shit, if a candle had three or four ends, they'd be burning, too.

Two people quit at the car-rental place where I work, so I've had to pick up some of the slack. It's good, because I've been wanting more hours. But it's bad, because I'm pulling 45 hours every week, which totally sucks. Not only am I working a killer schedule, but I'm also busting my ass while I'm there.

Before the other guys quit, I'd just drive the little bus to and from the airport. Now, I do that half the time, and the rest of the time, I gotta vacuum out cars. I like the tips—people leave change in the cup holders all the time—but I hate the vacuuming. I don't own a vacuum at home, and I'm not planning on getting one any time soon.

As I'm crawling around on my hands and knees in the backseat of a car, vacuuming away, I can't help but think about the third of my check that's going straight to The Man. Taxes bite my ass. They just pay for all kinds of waste. I wish that Arnold Schwarzenegger was governor here. He'd set things straight with taxes, right off the bat. I can't remember who the governor is here, but I'm sure Arnold would be better. He'd shake shit up. I oughta move to California.

But even after taxes, with all the overtime I'm doing, I'm raking in more money than before. The problem is, my weed and Miller Genuine Draft budgets have gone through the roof. I have to party extra hard to release all the built-up stress. A man's gotta unwind after pulling a long shift.

If I'd save my overtime money, instead of buying brain essentials, I could probably afford a pretty awesome car. But as it is, I had to settle for another Ford Festiva I got from a guy at work. It's not the worst, but it doesn't have the muscle under the hood that I need to lay rubber when it counts.

Owning a better car is beyond me at this point. I thought I'd save up and put a CD player in the Festiva, but it looks like that's not going to happen, because I had a little accident last week and lost my television. I mean, the television is still in my living room, where it's always been, but there's more glass on the floor in front of it than usual. So I guess I didn't lose it, so much as I busted the shit out of it by throwing an empty bottle of Jack at it.

It happened last Thursday. I was at home relaxing after a long day of shuttling and vacuuming, and I was putting away the evening with a couple of six-packs of MGD. I was watching some shitty movie that I didn't really care about on USA, just to let some of the pressure of the day out of my head. In the middle of the movie, someone started knocking on my front door, like there was a fire or something. I opened the door and it was Ron. He had a big, shit-eating grin on his face and held a bottle of Jack and his Nintendo GameCube.

Now, I don't usually do the hard stuff. It gives a bad side to my buzz. Rum makes me tired, gin makes me wanna puke, and vodka sneaks up on me like the Ninja Of Getting Hammered. And tequila—well, that shit will kill ya. But whiskey is the booze I can't refuse. Even though I never know what it'll do to me.

Ron had brought over a game called Super Monkey Ball 2. I usually hate those kid games, but this one had a race that you play head-to-head against another person. For a long time, Ron and I had a good time playing Monkey Race and giving each other hell. Our talents were pretty much equal, so we each were winning about half the time. It was a blast.

But then Ron started to win every game. I couldn't do one thing right. Ron kept blowing me up, and the whole time, he was bragging about it. I can be a good loser, provided the winner isn't a King Dick. But when Ron wins, he won't just whoop once and shut up. He needles you.

I should point out that by this time, we were out of Jack. I was pretty gone, and so was Ron. Ron kept yelling how he was the master, and how he was taking out the trash, and I kept getting madder with every comment. Finally, I looked him as square in the eye as I could and told him that he would shut up if he knew what was good for him. Even then, he didn't listen. He blew me up again, and then he started doing circles around me with his car, to rub it in. That's when I lost it.

You can pretty much fill in the rest of the picture yourself. But the whole thing really wasn't my fault. It happened because I was stressed about work. Besides, it doesn't do any good to point fingers, 'cause that ain't bringing my television back. At least no one got hurt.

Now I gotta save up for a new television—which sucks, because the incident showed that what I really need is some time off. I entered a few contests, so one might come through. But I ain't holding my breath. Sure, I'd like a television with a 42-inch flat screen or some plasma shit, but I gotta be realistic. I'm not looking for anything too fancy. I'll happily take a 20-inch screen if it has a place to plug in a video-game console. Whatever kind of set I get, I gotta get it soon, so I can practice up before Ron realizes that I still have his GameCube.

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