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Jogger Clearly On First Run Of Plan To Turn Life Around

CHICAGO—Taking note of the man’s beat-up tennis shoes, sweat-drenched shirt, and ill-fitting pair of sweatpants as he made his way down the sidewalk, witnesses reported Tuesday that area jogger Dan Andreychuk was clearly out on his very first run of a plan to turn his life around.

What’s At Stake In New Hampshire

With the New Hampshire primary election Tuesday poised to impact the course of the 2016 presidential race, The Onion examines what’s at stake for the candidates
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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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  • How Theaters Are Trying To Win Back Moviegoers

    The number of Americans who went to the movies hit a 20-year low in 2014, leaving theaters scrambling to find ways to incentivize the public to see new releases on the big screen rather than watch films at home or on the internet. Here are some methods theaters are using to win back audiences and increase box office sales:

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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