Get the Hell Off My Property!

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Vol 30 Issue 05

Instant Gratification Sped Up

WASHINGTON, DC—Bowing to the demands of the American people, U.S. officials sped up instant gratification yesterday, making wish fulfillment more immediate than ever before. "Although gratification has been instant ever since the early '70s in this country," said William Lawson, chair of the National Gratification Investigatory Committee, "many Americans were still complaining it just wasn't fast enough." According to Lawson, from now on, gratification will actually be faster than instantaneous, occuring some .002 milliseconds before desire is even felt.

Film To Be Made Into John Grisham

OXFORD, MS—According to entertainment industry insiders, Columbia Pictures' 1995 courtroom thriller, The Witness, will soon be made into noted fiction writer John Grisham. The story of a blind boy who hears a racially charged murder take place in a Washington, DC coffee shop, The Witness will become a six-foot-one, 190-pound, best-selling lawyer-turned-author with a penchant for writing gripping page-turners set in the legal world. "We believe this recent box-office smash will make a great Oxford, Mississippi-based author," said David Rudner, Columbia Pictures' spokesperson. "The gripping dialogue and nail-biting trial scenes should have people who meet Grisham on the edge of their seats." The Witness: The Human Being is due out in July of '97.

Area Panties In A Bunch

CROSS PLAINS, GA—According to police, a pair of area panties was discovered yesterday all wound up in a bunch and badly in need of some loosening. "Whoever owned these panties," Cross Plains Police Chief Jonathan Norcross said, "obviously needed to relax. Failure to chill out is the number one reason so many panties get bunched in this country each year." Though the panties investigation is still pending, Norcross denied rumors of a connection between yesterday's incident and a pair of Atlanta-area undies discovered last Sunday in a bundle.

Jews To Celebrate Rosh Hashasha Or Something

JERUSALEM—Jews the world over are preparing to celebrate Rosh Hashanukah or something this weekend, the traditional Jewish holiday marking some sort of rebirth and new beginning, or maybe the Jews' liberation from some foreign ruler 55,000 years ago. "Rash Kishansha is a very holy time for the Jewish people," said Paul Castellano, a guy from Houston whose gastroenterologist is Jewish. "I think Dr. Futterman said it's the holiday where they light that chandelier and blow that horn." Lasting 12 days, Ran Hosea is followed by Yor Kiplach, the Festival of Sand, during which no buttered bread may be eaten in remembrance of the flooding of the ancient Temple of Hosea.

Nike to Cease Manufacturing Products

BEAVERTON, OR—Citing creative confinement and a desire to focus exclusively on what it does best, the Nike Corporation announced Monday it will cease manufacturing athletic shoes and other sports-related merchandise in order to devote itself fully to the creation of state-of-the-art television advertisements.

Local Teen Slated to Masturbate Furiously

SALEM, IN—In a move designed to relieve several years of pent-up sexual frustration, area teen Jeremy Royce is slated for fever-pitched, white-hot masturbation later this evening.

MTV Launches 'Rock the Census' Campaign

NEW YORK—With four years to go before 2000, MTV is already launching a campaign designed to ensure widespread Generation X participation in the decennial national census survey.
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Just Like Everything Else!: Fox 8 p.m. EDT/7 p.m. ABC Pete's wife is still on him about building that darn shed, these kids are going to be the death of Sheila and Dave, and the hot next-door neighbor is up in EVERYBODY'S business! Sunday nights on ABC couldn't be any more familiar!

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Get the Hell Off My Property!

A most distressing thing happened to me the other day. There I was, squatting like a baboon in my bed, trying to pass a bolus the size of a medicine ball, when a complete stranger burst into my chamber to ask where the restroom was. I nearly leapt out of my skin! How did this obviously crazed and demented individual get past the electric fence and platoon of Swiss guards that surround my vast compound?

I fumbled for the derringer I keep under my pillow, but my nurse restrained me, saying, "He must have strayed from his tour group." She then calmly left the room with the wretch, as though it were the most natural thing in the world!

As I later learned, to my deepest horror, my 650-room mansion and adjoining grounds have been turned into a public thoroughfare, a sort of boardwalk amusement spectacle, if you will! Recently, in 1954 or so, my wastrel son, J. Phineas, decided that the ancestral home of the Zweibels could be converted into a tourist attraction upon which, for a petty and nominal sum, the unwashed and unlettered masses could trod in complete disregard!

Now, I'm a newspaperman by trade, and I've always believed that the invasion of other people's privacy is a supreme right given to us by a wise and just God. But by gum, I just can't bear the notion of some Joe Lunchpail and his slovenly wife trundling clumsily through my private slaughterhouse, or trying on my world-renowned collection of 16th century undergarments.

A man's home is his castle, I tell you! Take that away from him and you deny him his very manhood. I refuse to stand for this outrage!

I thereby proclaim to you, citizens of the Republic: Get the hell off my property, you lowlives! I'll show you what for. You think you can eat my melba toast and soil my linens and listen to my gramophone? I'll fill your posteriors full of lead first! Nurse, fetch my musket!

Stay off my property. That is my final warning. After that, you're fair game. As God Almighty is my witness, if I find you wandering about my landholdings, I'll gut you like a deer.

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