Hold Me

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Vol 35 Issue 03

The Hendersons' Towels, Frankly, Are Not That Impressive

I was peeking out my bedroom window at the brand-new Lexus LS 400 in the Hendersons' driveway when my husband Gary walked in and announced that we were invited to guess whose house for cocktails that evening. That's right, Mark and Linda Henderson's.

Waitress Creeped Out By Overtipper

UTICA, NY—A $7 tip for a $1.59 breakfast special creeped out Ed's Diner waitress Juliet Drake Monday, leaving her feeling uneasy about the implications of the diner's unusual generosity. "God, I hope he wasn't putting the moves on me," Drake, 26, told fellow waitress Paulette Rudd. "If he comes back, get ready to switch sections with me." The unidentified overtipper, described as a heavy-set, fortyish, blue-collar type, has dined at Tom's an estimated 10 times in the past two weeks. The size of his previous tips are unknown at this time.

Laughter Now Exclusively Used To Mask Feelings

WASHINGTON, DC—According to a study released Tuesday by the National Institute of Emotional Studies, laughter, long employed as a cathartic response to absurd or humorous stimuli, is now used solely to conceal contempt and fear from fellow human beings. "The original purpose of laughter, to express joy and delight, began waning in the 1960s with the advent of TV laugh tracks, which replaced humans in the task of laughing at jokes," the report stated. "Today, 50 percent of all laughter is used as sarcastic mockery of failed attempts at humor, with the remaining 50 percent used to create the illusion of comfort in situations involving tension or deceit." The report follows a groundbreaking May 1998 study by the institute which found that crying may eventually evolve into a tool used solely for the manipulation of other people.

Junior-High-School Badminton Unit Inspires 948 'Shuttlecock' Jokes

REDDING, CA—A junior-high gym-class badminton unit resulted in 948 "shuttlecock"-based double entendres Monday, shattering the previous mark of 761. The 948 jokes, all but three delivered by boys, ranged from "Look, I'm whacking my shuttlecock" to "Check out the little red tips on those cocks." Top honors went to eighth-grader Brian Fitch, 14, who ran around the gym shouting, "Where's my cock? I can't find my cock—it was here a minute ago!" followed by a long string of marginally varied quips.

Pre-Millennium Tension

With less than a year to go before the dawn of a new millennium, doomsayers are predicting everything from a global computer collapse to Armageddon. What do you think about the growing Y2K anxiety?
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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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Technology Unfortunately Allows Distant Friends To Reconnect

WAYNE, PA—Providing them the tools necessary to bridge a gap that both individuals say they were more than willing to maintain indefinitely, sources confirmed Monday that the advent of modern technology has unfortunately allowed distant friends Mere...

Hold Me

Many of you have written The Onion to specifically inquire about the state of my health. Actually, no-one has. You heart-less bastards! May you die head-first in a pyroclastic lava flow!

Do you have any idea of the kinds of maladies and afflictions from which I suffer every day? I will now name for you but a small fraction of the diseases that wrack my ancient frame:

Pneumonia.
Consumption.
Leprosy.
Worms.
Gout.
Jaundice.
Typhus.
Distended scalp.
Gangrene.
Scurvy.
Dropsy.
Quinsy.
Distemper.
Plague.
Night sweats.
Corns.
Rickets.
Brackets.
Hardening of the arteries.
Elephantiasis of the knees.
Rheumatism.
Catarrh.
Dyspepsia.
Doldrums.
Croup.
Piles.
Lavender hysteria.
Deposits.
Torpid liver.
Spathic jaw.
Soreness of the parts.
The Crimean itch.
Earwigs.
Miner's glans.
Scrofula.
Shingles.
Hoof and mouth disease.
Lymphatic chalking.

As you can see, I am a veritable receptacle of pestilence, and it gets worse with each passing year. As if you care! I get nary a letter or telegram or a visit from any-one of you!

I can no longer maintain my aloof, dignified facade. Please, please come and hold me. I am a sick, feeble, lonely old man in need of comfort. Hold me! Hold me as a mother holds her first-born.

I beg of you, cradle my poor, blue-veined, egg-shell-fragile head in your young, healthy, supple arms. Gently caress my sore, boil-scarred limbs. Scatter daisy-petals upon my death-bed, and anoint my gout-inflamed feet with myrrh! But above all else, just hold me! Please! Please!

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