I'm Not A Wino, I'm A 'Why-Yes'!

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Vol 36 Issue 14

Hotshot Test Pilot Removes Helmet, Reveals Female Status

SHEPPARD AFB, TX–"Corporal Green," an enigmatic but brilliant Air Force test pilot, was revealed to be a woman Monday, when she removed her flight helmet following a trial run of the new AF-50 Shadowhawk, rumored to be "the fastest thing on landing gears." "I was completely flabbergasted to discover that the cocky ace behind those death-defying barrel rolls and devil-may-care canyon strafes was, in fact, a woman–and a gorgeous one at that," Lieut. Col. Thomas Hagerty said. "The flight suits are sufficiently baggy that I never suspected it until she took off the helmet and shook her head, sending her long blonde hair cascading down her back." Hagerty noted that his recent statement that Green "has got solid-brass balls" is now steeped in irony.

New 'Time' To Keep Everything From Happening At Once

CAMBRIDGE, MA–On what is now known as "Monday," a team of MIT scientists unveiled "time," a revolutionary new event-sequencing protocol which organizes phenomena along a four-dimensional axis, preventing everything from taking place at once. "No longer will the extinction of the dinosaurs, the assassination of John F. Kennedy, and the Earth-Xabraxiq Pod Wars all collapse into a single point," theoretical physicist Dr. Lawrence Chang said. "With time, we can now contextualize each of the universe's infinite number of occurrences in its own spatial-temporal plane, creating order where there once was chaos." Added Dr. Erno Toffel: "Using time, one event can be positioned chronologically so as to be the cause of another. For example, a man's death may result in a gun being fired at him. Or the other way around. We're still working out some of the kinks."

Waiter Seriously Needs His Apps

INDEPENDENCE, MO–Twenty minutes after turning in table eight's order, T.G.I.Friday's waiter Eric Porcher announced Monday that he seriously needs his apps. "Still waiting on those apps, guys," Porcher shouted into the kitchen, hoping to spur the grill crew into swifter action on table eight's long-overdue appetizer order of Buffalo chicken strips and Jalapeño Poppers. "My four-top is short on apps." Five minutes later, Porcher added, "Still waiting on those chick strips and Poppers."

Teen Breaks Rules In Socially Accepted Ways

HACIENDA HEIGHTS, CA–Daniel Lindblad, 15, openly flouts societal conventions in a manner that will not get him in trouble, it was reported Monday. "I just got this T-shirt that's got a picture of Charles Manson with the swastika on his forehead," Lindblad said. "It's so fuckin' sick. I always wear a sweatshirt over it when my parents are around–they'd totally kill me if they saw it." Lindblad said he plans to pierce his nose and dye his hair blue this June, "the moment school lets out."

Report: Most Terrorists Do Not Start The Day Off With A Good Breakfast

GENEVA, SWITZERLAND–In a report that is prompting some to rethink the causes of terrorism, the World Health Organization announced Monday that a startling 96 percent of international terrorists do not start off the day with a good breakfast. "Very few of those who use violence to advance their radical agendas enjoy a healthy, well-balanced breakfast with selections from a variety of food groups," WHO director Johann Bruckhörst-Kliebe said. "These findings make it clear that when it comes to the problem of fighting terrorism, nutrition may play a far more important role than previously believed."

Jean Teasdale Living

Well, Jeanketeers, I've got a confession to make: For a while there, I wasn't following my trusty old axiom, "Keep smiling!" In fact, you could say that my frown practically dragged on the ground!

Watching N. Aeschylus Grow

It is a bitter-sweet season at the Zweibel mansion. Though my sweet betrothed, Miss Bernadette Fiske, has perished from a swooning fit brought on by extreme womanliness, her delicate, lithe-limbed beauty lives on in our square-headed, seven-foot-tall baby boy, N. Aeschylus. The clangor of his iron feet as he frolics about the mansion is just the tonic my nerves require. I had forgotten the wonder that is a Zweibel-child!

The Columbine Legacy

April 20 marks the one-year anniversary of the Columbine High School shooting. What is the legacy of this tragedy?
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I'm Not A Wino, I'm A 'Why-Yes'!

I've sucked down a lot of booze in my 42 years. A hell of a lot. In fact, some would go so far as to call me a wino. But I've got no time for that kind of negativity. I'm not a wino... I'm a "why-yes"!

I didn't always have such a positive, can-drink attitude. In 1994, I was evicted from my apartment for overdue rent. Three days later, I woke up in a dumpster with a splitting headache and 12 cents to my name. And what did I do? I cursed the landlord who threw me out, the boss who fired me, and God Himself for allowing me to sink so low. "You're nothing now," I thought to myself. "You're a worthless, stinking wino."

I guess, in retrospect, it's hardly surprising that I felt that way. All the other winos in the neighborhood seemed to have a similarly defeatist attitude. All I would hear is, I hate this, I don't care about that, I need some money to get shitfaced. I mean, sure, they'd be happy some of the time, usually after getting plastered on a fifth of Fleischmann's. But just as often, they'd be loudly complaining about something. (Between you and me, I think some of them may have had a manic-depressive condition.)

Anyway, some of that negativity must've rubbed off on me, because before long, I started saying the same things: Life sucks! It's so cold! The lady at McDonald's is trying to telepathically interfere with my brainwaves to make me kill squirrels! I hated my pathetic, miserable, vodka-soaked life.

Then, one morning, I took a good, long look in the hubcap and said to myself, "Hey, instead of complaining, why not make the best of your situation? If you're going to be a drunk, focus on being the best damn drunk you can be!"

From then on, I pursued my alcohol hobby with renewed vigor. From the moment I woke up to the moment I laid my head down on my cardboard pillow each night, getting hammered was my A-1 top priority. That meant redoubling my panhandling efforts. And checking the Dumpsters outside bars. And never drinking 30 proof if 40 proof was available. In this life, you gotta dive into the gutter headfirst.

And you know what? It worked! I've never been as liquored up as I have this past year. Christ, I've drunk a fuckload of booze!

Oh, sure, I have my bad days. When I've been without alcohol for five hours and am falling short of my panhandling goals, I can get so wound up, I feel like pounding the living crap out of somebody. But at the end of the day, I always pat myself on the back. Both to scratch the scab that's covered my left shoulder ever since those teenagers poured hot coffee on me and to say, "Hey, you did your best to get drunk today." It's that kind of positive attitude that gets me up in the morning, before 2 a.m., when all the liquor stores close.

So, if you see me on the corner of Wilmot and 11th, give a nod and some spare change to help a guy get smashed. My next Night Train toast will be to you!

Be good to each other.

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