Buried Alive--Again!

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Vol 30 Issue 17

Area Male Extroverted

PHILADELPHIA—At any given moment, Randy Grebcyk might initiate a conversation with a total stranger.

Barbra Streisand To Take Rare Public Dump

LOS ANGELES—Barbra Streisand fans worldwide are clamoring for tickets to the singer's first public defecation since her sold-out Carnegie Hall dump in 1975. "This is a once-in-a-lifetime event," said rabid Streisand fan Elaine Waldman, 43. "To see Barbara evacuate her bowels and wipe her ass live is something I wouldn't miss for anything in the world. It's truly an event." The 15,000 $250 tickets for "Barbra: It's Time To Go" sold out in less than half an hour, and scalpers are now asking up to $4,000 for prime seats. In addition to the live audience, the dump will be carried on pay-per-view television. An HBO special on the making of the dump is also in the works.

All U.S. Males Renamed Dudley

WASHINGTON, DC—An emergency session of Congress rushed into passage Monday legislation changing the first names of all American males to Dudley. "Dudley is a great name," said House Majority Leader Dudley Gingrich, explaining the move. President Dudley Clinton signed the bill late Monday night. "Though I felt that Otto was a better choice for a new name, I am satisfied with the compromise that has been reached," Clinton said. The only males who will not be named Dudley are those who already had the name. Those males will be re-named Ira.

Goodyear Unveils New, Circular Tires

AKRON, OH—The Goodyear rubber company unveiled a brand new, perfectly round tire Monday, one that it says will replace all its earlier models of oval-shaped tires. "Market research showed that consumers prefer fuel economy and driver control over the comical, boingy-boingy motion of a car on oval tires," said Goodyear representative Arthur Campau. Consumers are cautioned to store the new tires flat against the floor, as they can roll away when standing upright.

Bangladesh Runs Out Of People

DHAKA, BANGLADESH—A devastating typhoon claimed the lives of the final 290,000 people in Bangladesh Tuesday, reducing the Southeast Asian nation's population to zero. "After countless natural disasters, we have finally run out of people," said Bangladesh President Abdur Biswas, who was abroad at the time. "I am not surprised: It was bound to happen sooner or later. A country can only have so many floods, hurricanes, tidal waves, typhoons, monsoons and earthquakes before it runs out of people." The government of India has rushed to its neighbor's aid, filling Bangladesh's population deficit with millions of its own citizens in time for the coming mudslide season.

Man From Last Week Smacked Into Present Day

WILMINGTON, NC—n a rare case of violence-powered time travel, Wilmington resident Phil Zipper was smacked into this week by a forceful blow delivered by his wife during a Nov. 29 fight. "Wow, I thought she was just talking colorfully," Zipper said moments after materializing in a burst of swirling colored light at the intersection of 18th and Main, just three blocks from the site of last week's smack. Zipper, who has been dubbed "The Man From Last Week," added: "I have so much to learn about your strange world. So much has changed since my time. Is orange juice still on sale at ShopKo? Did the Bulls win Sunday? Have hatred and prejudice finally been eradicated?"

I Fear Grass

Oh, infernal grass, how your greenness haunts me! You camouflage the most diseased of vermin—insects, rodents and children scamper freely in your expansive forests of grotesque greenery we call yards.

It's Not A Crack House, It's A Crack Home

I'll bet a day doesn't go by that I don't hear something negative about crack cocaine, and the people who love it. Well, it just so happens that, despite all the mudslinging you may have read in the magazines, there are plenty of decent, hardworking crack lovers, just like in any other "walk of life."
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Buried Alive--Again!

Leave it to my loathsome, wastrel offspring, J. Phineas, to screw up once more! Yesterday morning, I woke up and everything was pitch black. Not an unusual circumstance, as the curtains are drawn in my bedchamber at all times. But the air felt awfully close, and when I drew my hand to my throat it hit a hard, wooden surface just inches above my head. I had been buried alive yet again! That dimwitted physician of mine pronounced me dead, and my dunderheaded son believed it! Will he never learn?

In the last 50 years, I have been buried five times. I was awake during three of them and had the presence of mind to lie quietly in the coffin and listen to my eulogies. At the first one, President Truman spoke, calling me a rotten old bastard from whose iron shackles the American people had finally been freed. You should have seen Truman's face when I emerged, like Lazarus, from my sarcophagus! I had that lousy hypocrite flogged.

At the fourth funeral, I didn't wake up until the coffin had been lowered into the ground. My hound, Tiberius, dug me up. He tore off my left clavicle, but thankfully, my servants were able to rescue me. Dear, loyal Tiberius!

Wisely, after that fourth burial, I had an electric buzzer installed in my coffin, with a long cord subterreaneously connected to the servants' hall. When I woke up yesterday morning, I rang it furiously, to be sure.

Upon my latest return from the grave, there were tears in the eyes of many at the Zweibel estate. My worthless son, J. Phineas, however, had wasted no time in my absence. There he was at the great oak desk in my study, smoking my cigars, guzzling my brandy and deciding how to spend my riches!

Upon seeing me enter the room, the saphead showered me with tears and hugs, and feigned great joy at my apparent resurrection from the dead. He's made this display before. Little does he know, however, that I have since amended my will. When I do finally escape this mortal coil, I am bequeathing my estate to that woman with the enormous mammaries.

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