Good Times Are Few And Far Between

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Vol 33 Issue 14

U.N. Peacekeepers Pulled From Bosnia To Mow Ted Turner's Lawn

MARIETTA, GA—Responding swiftly to "a severe lawncare crisis" in the Southern U.S., a division of U.N. peacekeepers was pulled from Bosnia and deployed to media mogul Ted Turner's estate for emergency groundskeeping Monday. "The deteriorating condition of Mr. Turner's lawn represents a major international crisis that demands immediate attention," U.N. Secretary General Kofi Annan said. If the troops complete their mission early, they will receive several days' furlough before being assigned to domestic duty within Turner's mansion.

10-Year-Old Denies Girl-Liking Allegations

RADNOR, PA—At a cafeteria-table press conference Monday, David Pernell, 10, "categorically denied" girl-liking allegations recently levied against him by fellow Lakeview Elementary School fourth-grader Jonathan Witt. "I do not, have not and will not ever like girls," Pernell told the crowd of seven boys assembled at the lunchroom's back table. "Mr. Witt's accusations are not only 100 percent false, but also slanderous, as it has always been my firm conviction that girls are totally and completely gross." Pernell went on to suggest that perhaps it is Witt who likes girls, particularly Jenny Loughlin, 10.

New Demography Today Magazine Targets Demographer Demographic

NEW YORK—Demography Today, a new magazine targeting the demographer demographic, is set to make its debut on U.S. newsstands this week. "Our statistical data indicated that there exists a large, untapped market of people who are interested in statistical data and untapped markets," Demography Today editor-in-chief Lewis Arnell said. "We've created this magazine for just such 22- to 65-year-old demographers who have 2.1 children, spend $1,630 at restaurants annually, and watch 14.5 hours of television per week."

Skyrocketing TV-Star Salaries

Next year, Helen Hunt will earn $1 million per episode of Mad About You. NBC offered Jerry Seinfeld $3 million per episode to continue Seinfeld. What do you think about the recent explosion in television stars' salaries?

I Can't Stand My Filthy Hippie Owner

Jesus Christ, do I ever hate my filthy fucking hippie owner, Zach. You have no idea the hell I go through, living in this disgusting house with him and his hordes of skank-ass hippie friends.

Report: National Content Now Over 85 Percent Filler

WASHINGTON, DC—According to a report issued Monday by the General Content-Assessment Office, the National Content-To-Filler Index (NCFI) currently stands at 85.5 percent. Representing a 22 percent increase from just three years ago, the current NCFI figure is the highest in U.S. history.
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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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Holiday

Good Times Are Few And Far Between

Hola, amigos. What's the haps? I know it's been a long time since I last rapped at ya, but I've had some serious problems of late, automotive and otherwise.

Two Mondays ago, I noticed some gas leaking from this little hose at the back of my engine. I'd been experiencing a bit of a cash-flow problem and lacked the funds to go in and get it checked out proper, so I attempted to take care of the leak myself. I was pretty sure the hose was supposed to be plugged up, so I took a pencil and stuck it in. Ever since then, I've been driving around hoping that the pencil doesn't fall out, 'cause then we could have a Flaming Jim Deathmobile on our hands. That'd be the end of The Cruise for good, hombres, and neither of us would want that.

On top of the car troubles, I just got a new job that's severely cramping my style. Now, as all of you know, I got canned from my warehouse-guard job about a month ago, and I've had a lot of bills piling up, so I had to land a new job real fast. Well, I should have known better than to keep shooting my mouth off, saying I'd never work one of those fast-food jobs, 'cause now I've gotta eat my words with special sauce all over them, and that's a taste I don't much enjoy. That's right, Jim Anchower's working fast food.

I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "Let's go down to that restaurant and razz old Jim." Now, I'm not mad at you for wanting to do that. Hell, I'd be wanting to do the same thing if I was in your shoes. But I'm laid low enough as it is, so I ain't gonna subject myself to any further humiliation by telling you which burger joint you can find me at. I ain't stupid.

I guess the free food is okay. Saving money on food leaves me more to spend on the necessities, if you know what I mean. But besides that, the job blows.

The biggest problem is, the job's put a severe dent in my spare time, since I gotta allow at least three hours on top of my actual shift to do it right. Getting there in my dumb-ass uniform without getting seen takes about an hour, 'cause I gotta stick to back streets and keep my eyes open the whole time. Then, when I'm done, it takes an hour to get back home, and another hour to scrub down. That grease sticks to you like glue, and no way am I hangin' out with my buds on a Friday night smelling like an order of fries.

Anyway, last week I had the rare fortune to have two whole days in a row off. That meant one thing: Par-tay! I sure as hell earned it, hombres. So, I called up Ron to see if we could get together and stir up some shit. I know I'm usually down on Ron, but when it comes down to it, he's an all-right guy to hang with. Except this time. This time, he lamed out on me 'cause he had a date. I pleaded with him for nearly an hour to ditch the chick, but it was to no avail. I can't believe Ron blew me off for a woman!

With Ron out of the picture, I had to take a mental inventory of who I could call up. First, I put in a call to Wes "The Bomb" Baumgarten. He's usually up for a good time. I didn't get a hold of him, though. I got his damn answering machine instead. I thought he was dogging me, screening my call, so I left a whole string of swear words on his machine. I guess I've got a sailor streak in me. I found out later that he was actually at work, but I was pretty steamed at the time.

That was two strikes. I thought for sure I could get Stallion Doug to hang out. Not that I like Doug all that much, but he usually has a goodly amount of weed lying around waiting to get smoked, and I was up for the job. Well, I called him up, and he was home, but he said he was just heading out. "So, where you going?" I asked him. He said he was going to a party, and he'd love to invite me, but he didn't think that'd be cool with the hosts. So I said, "Just call and ask them, dude! I bet they'd make an exception for Jim Anchower!" Doug was all like, "No, man, that wouldn't be cool." Well, I was plenty pissed at that point, so I just hung up on his lame ass. Talk about being all revved up with no place to go!

I spent the better part of the next few hours thinking and drinking, trying to figure out at what point my friends became such pussies. I mean, here was a perfect chance for them to cut loose with their buddy Jim, and they all acted like I had the plague! What a bunch of old ladies!

If they were getting too old to hang with Jim, I figured I'd have to find a new crew to hang with. Around 9:30, I called up my cousin Pete, who's a junior in high school. He said there was no action on that particular night, but the next night, there was going to be a two-kegger over at the dunes, so I should head out there.

I hadn't been out to the dunes since I was in high school. Even then, it was pretty lame. But, hell, it had been a little while, so maybe it had gotten better. The next night, I hopped in my car, cranked up the REO Speedwagon and headed off to the dunes. When I got close, I had trouble remembering which exact side-road I was supposed to take, so I started pulling off onto every one I saw.

When I finally found the dunes, I didn't see my cousin anywhere. That wasn't a problem, though, as my top priority was taking care of my considerable thirst. I went up to the keg and asked some kid, "Who do I pay to get a cup?"

There must've been some sort of misunderstanding, 'cause the kid took one look at me and ran off, yelling, "Cop! Ditch!" All the other kids started hauling ass to their cars, and I was standing there, yelling, "Hey, man, I'm no cop! I hate cops, goddammit!" But that wasn't stopping anybody. Within three minutes, every kid was gone, leaving behind nothing but me and the two full kegs. Well, this was an interesting situation. I hated being mistaken for a cop, but I love free beer. I drove my car up to the kegs and damn near busted my back getting them into the back seat.

I took them home, and I was getting ready to enjoy them all by myself, when Ron came to the door. Well, I was pretty pissed that he dogged me the previous night, but I had to admit, even I couldn't drink that much beer all by myself. I ragged on him for not being around earlier to help me move the kegs, but I was pretty glad to have the company. Good times like those are few and far between, so you gotta savor them.

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