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New EPA Chief Proposes 30% Cut In All Carbon-Based Organisms

WASHINGTON—Expressing confidence that the nation would meet the ambitious benchmarks by the end of Donald Trump’s presidential term, Scott Pruitt, the president-elect’s nominee for chief of the Environmental Protection Agency, said Thursday he would seek a 30 percent cut in all carbon-based organisms upon assuming office.

Tips For Hotel Etiquette

Staying in a hotel can be a fun and luxurious experience, but it requires consideration of the guests around you. The Onion presents its guide to hotel etiquette:

Report: Look How Big Player Is Next To Sideline Reporter

GREEN BAY, WI—Marveling at the pronounced disparity in size during the postgame interview, sources confirmed Sunday that, Jesus Christ, just look at how big Houston Texans nose tackle Vince Wilfork is next to the CBS sideline reporter.

John Kerry Throws Vine Over Pit Of Quicksand To Save Child Companion

PANGSAU, MYANMAR—Thinking quickly to thwart disaster as he ventured deep into the Myanmar rainforest to meet with State Councilor Aung San Suu Kyi, Secretary of State John Kerry threw a vine over a pit of quicksand to save the life of his 12-year-old Moroccan companion, Drumstick, sources confirmed Monday.
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I Like Living In L.A. Because People Don’t Act Weird When They See Me On The Street

We’ve all seen how people can act around big stars. They’ll openly gawk at them, even interrupt them when they’re just trying to enjoy a meal at a restaurant. And hey, I get it, people love celebrities. But the truth is, Hollywood actors like myself appreciate common courtesy as much as anyone else. That’s why I like living in Los Angeles, where I can go out in public and no one ever acts all weird when they see me coming down the sidewalk.

Honestly, nobody—and I mean nobody—ever gives me so much as a second glance here.

When I’m taking my dog for a walk or heading to the corner store to pick up a quart of milk, the absolute last thing I want is for a swarm of people to crowd around me just because I starred in Lois & Clark: The New Adventures Of Superman. And in L.A., that kind of thing just isn’t a problem. Far from it! Here I can go about my business without anyone hassling me or even letting on that they’ve spotted me.

Honestly, I can go around town all day without a single person hounding me for autographs, taking my picture, or chewing my ear off about how much they loved my performance in The Perfect Husband: The Laci Peterson Story. I’ll walk down Wilshire Boulevard in full view of hundreds of people, and every last one of them will brush past me without so much as making eye contact.

I suppose folks here are just so used to celebrity sightings that they’ve learned to be considerate about it. Which means I can get my car washed or drop off my dry cleaning without having to wade through a pack of pushy Dean Cain fanboys or be ogled by a group of starstruck teenage girls.

I can’t even remember the last time I had to deal with that kind of thing.

And when I do meet new people in this city, they’re always pretty laid back about it. It’s never “Oh my God, Dean Cain!” or “What was it like working with Mare Winningham in Clubhouse?” It’s more like “You can pick up your prescription in 20 minutes” or “Do you know how to get on the 101 from here?” That’s life in Tinseltown for you!

Really, you wouldn’t believe how cool some of these people play it. Sometimes I’ll be at a coffee shop, a young woman will approach me, and I’ll think, “Oh boy. Here we go.” But inevitably she’ll just want to know if anyone’s using the empty chair at my table, and she’ll drag it away without making a huge deal out of the fact that she just talked to a former host of Ripley’s Believe It Or Not!

It never ceases to amaze me how people here treat me as if I’m just an ordinary guy.

That may be the best part of L.A.—I don’t receive any special treatment whatsoever. If I want to hit up some trendy new Sunset Strip nightclub, you’d better believe the door staff makes me wait in line for two hours just like everyone else. Sometimes I won’t even get in. It’s the same with auditions: They put me in the waiting room with all the other Hollywood hopefuls, and the casting director never makes a big fuss about how the Man of Steel himself is trying out for his infomercial.

I’m not saying L.A. is the only place I enjoy this kind of low-key treatment. People are great at keeping their distance when I’m in New York City, too—or in my hometown of Mount Clemens, MI, for that matter—but Hollywood residents are just about as down-to-earth as they come as far as ignoring me for hours at a time goes.

Yes, even someone like Dean Cain—someone with a long, illustrious string of film and television credits, someone who devoted his entire adult life to entertaining people and always did the best he could, someone considered a promising young talent until one day the phone just stopped ringing, someone who sacrificed everything—everything—for a chance to see his name in the marquee lights—doesn’t raise so much as an eyebrow in this big crazy town.

Yup, here I’m just another face in the crowd, and nothing more. Nothing more at all!

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