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It Kind Of Sweet CEO Thinks He Doing Good Job

SEATTLE—Admitting that the sight of him laying out his vision for the company was pretty endearing, employees at Rainier Solutions reported Monday that it was kind of sweet that CEO Greg Warner thinks he is doing a good job.

How Obamacare Can Be Improved

With Aetna just the latest health insurance provider to opt out of covering Obamacare markets, many are wondering what changes can make the Affordable Care Act more appealing to customers and insurance companies. Here are some proposed improvements

How Internet Clickbait Works

Facebook and other sites have recently begun to fight back against “clickbait,” often misleading internet posts designed to be seen by as many readers as possible. The Onion breaks down the production and spread of this content

Home Depot Employee Can Tell This Customer’s First Attempt At Pipe Bomb

APPLETON, WI—Shaking his head Monday as the customer selected a length of plastic pipe over a stronger metal alternative and placed it into his shopping cart, local Home Depot sales associate Graham Warner, 57, was reportedly able to tell right away that this was the store patron’s first attempt at making a pipe bomb.

Disappointing Buffalo Wild Wings Not Living Up To Ridicule

LOS ANGELES—Describing the experience as a significant letdown, local diner Eric Tidwell told reporters that the disappointing Buffalo Wild Wings franchise he visited Thursday night failed to live up to the scorn he had long heard about the restaurant.

KFC Introduces New Previously Owned 20-Piece Hot Wings

LOUISVILLE, KY—In an effort to meet the changing demands of its consumers, fast-food chain Kentucky Fried Chicken announced Wednesday that it has begun offering customers the option of purchasing, at a significant discount, a 20-piece box of pre-owned hot wings.

Man Has Loyalty To Pretzel Brand

BROWNSVILLE, TX—Describing them as “the best pretzels out there” and “the only ones [he] buy[s],” local resident Ned Carlisle expressed his firm loyalty to Snyder’s of Hanover–brand pretzels Tuesday.

New Mountain Dew Vows To Kill 99.9% Of Stomach Bacteria

PURCHASE, NY—Touting the beverage’s refreshing citrus taste, tongue-tingling carbonation, and prescription-strength antimicrobial properties, PepsiCo officials announced Wednesday that their newest product, Mountain Dew Code White, kills 99.9 percent of consumers’ stomach bacteria.

Heart Attack A Real Wake-Up Call For Man’s Insurance Provider

HARTFORD, CT—Saying the incident had forced them to completely rethink their past decisions about the man’s coverage and how they would approach his policy from here on out, Aetna executives reported Thursday that the recent heart attack of longtime plan member Michael Burns was a real wake-up call for the 163-year-old insurance company.
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I Didn't Install This Two-Way Motel-Room Mirror To Watch People Commit Suicide

I don't get it. Is today's society that joyless? What happened to the days when a man and a woman, or even better, a woman and a woman, came to a small motel in a tiny town off the interstate, requested an room with an hourly rate, signed in under obviously fake names, paid cash, and enjoyed some possibly illicit but vigorous and consensual sex? Please don't tell me that all ended in the '70s. Please tell me there are still swingers out there who love life and aren't afraid to have a little fun once in a while. Please. Because things have not been going the way I'd planned since I installed this new two-way mirror. Not at all.

As a motel manager, you see a lot of things. But 11 suicides in six months? It's getting to the point where I'm too freaked out to unzip my pants. Don't these people know they're being watched? What, the mirror built into the wall—built into the wall, not hanging off it—opposite the bed is just there to make sure they can check out their teeth at any hour, day or night? I didn't go through all this trouble to watch you shed this mortal coil with a 12-gauge shotgun.

I'll tell you what I think: People need to cut this heavy-handed crap and get over themselves. If only they could join me in the broom closet adjoining their room and look at themselves, maybe they'd acquire some much-needed perspective about their place in this world. And maybe they'd start using motels for what they're meant for: ménage-à-trois, raging cocaine parties, and full-body lube jobs, with all the perks, given by a Laotian teenager.

And, by the way, are women business travelers now too jaded to take long, private baths in our surprisingly roomy tubs, slowly dry themselves with downy soft towels, and then retire to their comfortable queen-size beds to pleasure themselves gently? No, it's all "I can't live like this" scrawled on our complimentary stationery, and the bathtub becomes a catch-all basin for the gore that ribbons out of their slashed wrists. These gals don't even bother to undress—they're that far gone.

I guess I should be thankful that there's only been one double-suicide. Though, actually, that was one of the few highlights. They were very young, and that girl was stacked like a Penthouse Pet. I thought my luck had finally turned around when they stripped down completely. I was feeling okay when they downed those pills, took each other's hands, and lay down on the bed. It's silly, but even after the shaking and vomiting began, I was still kind of holding out hope. But when it became clear that the beast with two backs wasn't going to be putting in an appearance, I quietly walked back to the front desk and called 911.

Which reminds me, I should probably let someone else discover the bodies once in a while.

And another thing, I'm sorry I ever got Tami involved in all this. She's a real pest sometimes, but she has a steady enough clientele, which is a lifesaver on slow nights, and it's better than having her cadging free drinks at the bar and scaring off respectable customers. But, Christ, the guy did say he was tired of being alone. Harmless enough, right? So I gave her a key and got situated. Next thing I know, his brains all over her little pink get-up. Thanks for the memories, pal.

What kind of life is this, anyway? Huddled like a rat among the buckets and brooms and ammonia bottles, only to be robbed of the dignity of a decent climax because Mr. and Mrs. Woe-Is-Me had to off themselves in my "honeymoon" suite.

You can call me a hopeless romantic, but I'd like to think I have the heart—and stomach—to keep following my dream. But as much as it pains me to say it the truth is, I've got half a mind to quit spying on my guests altogether and just head on down to that strip club out by the sporting-goods store. That place is a real breath of fresh air.

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