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Rural Working-Class Archbishops Come Out In Droves To Welcome Trump To Vatican

VATICAN CITY—Arriving in their dusty pickup trucks from as far away as the dioceses of Oria and Locri-Gerace to express their support for a leader who they say embodies their interests and defends their way of life, droves of rural working-class archbishops reportedly poured into St. Peter’s Square today to greet U.S. president Donald Trump during his visit to the Vatican.

Rookie First Baseman Nervous To Chat With Baserunners

ATLANTA—Noting how important it is to make a good first impression, Pittsburgh Pirates rookie first baseman Josh Bell told reporters before Tuesday’s game against the Atlanta Braves that he’s still nervous about chatting with opposing baserunners.

What Is Trump Hiding?

As The Onion’s 300,000 staffers in its news bureaus and manual labor camps around the world continue to pore through the immense trove of documents obtained from an anonymous White House source, the answers that are emerging to these questions are deeply unnerving and suggest grave outcomes for the American people, the current international order, Wolf Blitzer, four of the five Great Lakes, and most devastatingly, the nation’s lighthouses and lighthouse keepers.

Deep Blue Quietly Celebrates 10th Anniversary With Garry Kasparov’s Ex-Wife

PITTSBURGH—Red wine and candlelight on the table before them, Deep Blue, the supercomputer that defeated reigning world chess champion Garry Kasparov in 1997, and Kasparov’s ex-wife, Yulia Vovk, quietly celebrated their 10th anniversary on Wednesday at a small French restaurant near Carnegie Mellon University, where Deep Blue was created.
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From The Diaries Of My Father

My father, Onion founder Herman Ulysses Zweibel, was a great man and a beloved figure throughout the Republic, until his reputation was eclipsed by time and my own greatness. That is why, for the benefit of those born in the 20th century, I have decided to publish my Pater's diaries in book form for the first time. My column to-day features several tantalizing excerpts from his days on the rugged frontier, as well as some from his waning years.

June 19, 1862: To-day I shot 654 passenger pigeons. That axe I bought from that lousy trapper has a rotten handle. I think the dog has typhoid. I like living in a sod house. Is civil war imminent?

May 11, 1866: D—n! I just found out about the Civil War! That's what you get when you print a news-paper hundreds of miles from civilization, I suppose. To-day I shot 1,297 passenger pigeons.

September 5, 1869: Young T. Herman is looking more and more like his Papa every day, and The Mercantile-Onion is thriving. Last night, I had another wet-dream about Queen Victoria. To-day, I shot 13,841 passenger pigeons.

June 21, 1887: I am a miserable old man and have to be carted from room to room in a sedan-chair. Young T. Herman is off at that d–n panty-waist book-learning academy out East and won't drop a line to his poor mother and me. I was reading about the cocaine-powder, and would very much like to try some.

April 6, 1891: Still alive. I now dictate my diary entries to my secretary, as my hands are gnarled with the rheumatism. Lately, I've had a hard time telling the presidents apart. Perhaps they are all the same man, with varying facial hair? Death could not come soon enough. I think some-one is poaching the passenger pigeons, as I haven't seen any in weeks.

February 26, 1896: Young T. Herman is back from his world tour and has introduced me to a new remedy called chloro-form, which he says will provide swift alleviation of my various infirmities. He has just dipped his hand-kerchief into a saucer of the curious liquid and is pressing it tightly against my nose and mouth. Careful, son, you're pressing too hard. Ouch. Owww...uhhnn...ohhhhhh...

[Final entry]

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