Dude, I Almost Got Drafted

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Vol 31 Issue 16

DEA Accepts Record $280 Million Drug Bribe

WASHINGTON, DC—Drug Enforcement Administration officials announced Monday the largest-ever drug bribe received by the agency. The $280 million bribe, which was airdropped over DEA headquarters by an unmarked twin-engine plane from South America, exceeds the previous record bribe by almost $50 million. Said Drug Czar Barry McCaffrey: "This enormous bribe will ensure the smooth transport of Colombian drugs across our borders and into our nation's public schools for years to come." Added McCaffrey, "Winners don't use drugs."

A&E Biography Host Peter Graves Comes Out In Ellen-Inspired Ratings Grab

LOS ANGELES—In an Ellen-like ploy for higher ratings, the producers of A&E's Biography have chosen to reveal the homosexuality of host Peter Graves. "I am a gay man," Graves announced Monday on the season-ending episode of Biography, which chronicled the life of silent film legend Buster Keaton. As clips from Keaton's film career were shown, Graves spoke of the joy he has long derived from the committed, loving relationship he enjoys with his longtime partner, Stan. "I love my boyfriend Stan more than anything in the whole world," Graves said. No sponsors pulled out of the show.

McDonald's Fights World Hunger With New Triple-Decker Burger

OAK PARK, IL—The McDonald's Corporation took a giant step toward conquering the problem of world hunger Monday, unveiling its new McTriple Decker Cheeseburger. "Boasting more than a half pound of grade-A meat, this big, beefy burger is guaranteed to cure any hunger," McDonald's director of public relations Gregory Meacham said. "Believe me, no child, no matter how hungry, will still be starving after eating the new McTriple Decker." McDonald's will focus its marketing efforts on hunger-wracked nations such as Rwanda, India and Cambodia, promoting the new burger through billboards, television ads and flyers dropped from airplanes. Said Duk Soo Park, a North Korean peasant dying of malnutrition, "Please, help."

Wanted: Food Chewer

That's it. I'm through with that ox of a nurse. I despise the way her buttocks ripple shamelessly back and forth under the thin fabric of her white uniform as she walks. She gives me sponge baths with ice-water, changes my colostomy bag only when it's so full of urine that it has grown to the size of the Graf zeppelin, and feeds me my castor-oil with an old spoon with an icky metal taste. She also greases the rectal thermometer with limburger cheese.

Premarital Counseling

In response to escalating divorce rates, some federal legislators are pushing for a law that would require all engaged couples to meet with a counselor before getting married. What do you think?
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Dude, I Almost Got Drafted

Hola amigos. Workin' hard or hardly workin'? If you know me, you know my answer to that question. And if you don't know me, then hang on, 'cause you're in for a wild ride. I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but my time has been occupied with the usual: fast cars, fast women and fine whiskey.

Yes, life has been pretty good to Jim Anchower lately: I got a new job, I got no shortage of ice-cold Miller Genuine Draft and, most importantly, I finally got my car up and running. You may think that all this is too good to be true. Well, it is and isn't, my friends.

See, before I settled into my comfortable new station, I had more than my share of problems, as you could well imagine. I spent most days moping around my house, waiting for good luck to come my way. Feelin' low, I'd spend hours watching Yolanda and all those other daytime talk shows. I figured seeing all these people who were worse off than I was would take my mind off my troubles.

But the real trouble started this one afternoon a couple weeks back, when I started feeling hungry. I had finished off my last emergency pizza the night before, and I had nothing left in the fridge except a few slices of American cheese.

Before long, I didn't even have that. I needed some food, and how! I still had some birthday money left over, thanks to my grandma, so I figured I should go out and forage for food at the County Line Mall, where John's Place For Eats was located.

Now, John's Place isn't the finest establishment in the world, but they have plenty of cheap eats, plus a video poker game that rumor has it pays out if you're in good with John. Well, I'd been there enough times that I thought John would remember me, and I could go play a few hands of poker and get my food for nothing. Plus, if my memory served me correctly, the day's special was three hot dogs, a medium drink, and fries for two and a half bucks. How could I go wrong?

So I put on my pants and made the haul to John's, which isn't that far, but it was kind of cold out, so it seemed like a long-ass haul. By the time I got there, I was really hungry because I'd been walking and shivering the whole way. But what did I find when I pushed on the door? A sign that said they went out of business! Talk about the best laid plans falling to pieces!

At that point, I seriously needed to get myself to someplace that was out of the wind and cold and had something to snack on. Unfortunately, there was nothing within a mile and a half of John's Place. Desperate, I ducked into the first door that looked like it wouldn't kick me out.

Now, I should have realized where I was the moment I saw all the posters with smiling people wearing camouflage and holding bazookas and shit, but I wasn't paying any attention because something much more interesting caught my eye: a heaping plate of donuts that were just begging to be eaten.

I looked around and the room seemed to be empty, so I snagged a nice honey-glazed chocolate number. Then I saw they had coffee, too, with plenty of cups and no honor dish like at just about every job I ever had. Well, donuts without coffee is like Black Oak without Arkansas, and the place was still empty. Without a second thought, I poured a cup and added plenty of sugar and cream.

Well, I figured if one donut was good, then two would be even better (which is, by the way, Jim Anchower's eighth rule of life), so I grabbed a custard-filled one.

Just as I was about to take a bite, I heard this person behind me go, "How are you doing today, son?" Man, I almost crapped my drawers! I was caught red-handed, hombres. I couldn't just make a break for it or nothing, cause Sergeant Slaughter probably would've chased me down and yanked the donuts I'd just eaten out of my stomach and showed 'em to me before he killed me. I looked out the window and saw a sign that said "Army Recruitment Office," only it was backwards 'cause I was inside looking out and not the other way around.

Now, you should remember that I have a lightning-quick brain that enables me to quickly assess any situation and make the most out of it. I saw I had two choices: The first was to pretend I was in the wrong place and pay for the donuts and coffee. There was no way I was doing that, though, since I figured that, as an American taxpayer, those were my constitutional eats. The other was to join the army. Talk about a rock and a hard place!

Fortunately, there was one other option. I slowly turned and said, "Yes, sir, I came by to get some pamphlets and other information on my potential career opportunities in the armed services." That's right, I decided to pretend I was interested in signing up. That way, he gets a potential recruit, I get my free donuts, and no one is hurt. He smiled all big and friendly and put his arm around my shoulder and started talking about how great the army was and how it would make a man out of me and all this crap, but I wasn't having any of it. I just kept eating donuts and coffee the whole time and going, "Uh-huh."

Problem was, after a while, I started getting tired of listening to him yammer, and I had to take a leak. As I started to back out of there, all the while he was shoving all these pamphlets, stickers and pens into my hand, saying that he wanted my number. Of course, I wasn't dumb enough to give him my number, so I gave him Ron's name and number instead. (That'll show that dickweed for not paying me back that 10 bucks.)

When I was finally out of there, I was extremely relieved. I mean, I almost became Private Anchower for just a couple of lousy donuts! I would have thought about it more, but I had to piss in a major way.

Now, maybe you need a job, or you want to impress the ladies, or you've just got a couple of years you wanna kill. But unless that's the case, do me a favor and don't go talking to any army recruiters. I made that mistake, and I almost ended up getting drafted! Man, Jim Anchower is simply too much of a rebel to get caught in that kind of rut. I mean, I love the U.S. of A. and all, but no way am I gonna join up. Three months of Boy Scouts when I was eight cured me of that scene once and for all, and you can put that in your pipe and smoke it, amigo.

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