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It Is Not A Wonderful Life

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Cannon Overshoots Tim Kaine Across Wells Fargo Center

PHILADELPHIA—Noting that the vice presidential nominee had been launched nearly 100 feet into the air during his entrance into the Democratic National Convention Wednesday night, sources reported that the cannon at the back of the Wells Fargo Center had accidentally overshot Tim Kaine across the arena, sending him crashing to the stage several dozen feet beyond the erected safety net.

Wow, Dad Really Went From Zero To 60 With Woodworking This Summer

PAGE, AZ—Expressing their astonishment as they once again heard the sound of their father using his circular saw in the garage despite his seemingly complete lack of interest in the craft prior to last month, the children of area man Sam Morgan, 52, confirmed Tuesday that, wow, their dad had really gone from zero to 60 with woodworking this summer.

Who Is Tim Kaine?

Virginia senator Tim Kaine will be Hillary Clinton’s running mate on the Democratic Party ticket in the 2016 presidential election. Here’s what you need to know about Kaine

Lone Superdelegate Voting For Martin O’Malley Feels Like Total Fucking Idiot

PHILADELPHIA—Sheepishly raising his hand to nominate the man who suspended his presidential campaign back in February, unpledged delegate Bob Shiefke told reporters Tuesday he felt like a “total fucking idiot” for being the only person at the Democratic National Convention voting for former Maryland governor Martin O’Malley.
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It Is Not A Wonderful Life

Another miserable year on this dismal rock has come and gone. As for myself, this was one of the worst years I've ever experienced. It was right up there with 1892 and 1921. Among the events of this hateful year: I tried in vain to run away from my estate; I was horrifyingly suckled by a wet-nurse; I received not a single application for my official-mistress position; I was stalked by assassins; and I was assaulted, on separate occasions, by a lowly mule and an automatic enema-dispensing machine. What's more, my hated rival William Randolph Hearst continues to draw breath.

There is some-thing else, how-ever, that really sticks in my craw. As everyone knows, I am the richest man in the state, and I own virtually all the property in the village that cringes in the valley below my mountain-top estate. I am also the president and majority stock-holder of the village bank, which has a virtual strangle-hold on the meager finances of the impoverished villagers. I charge such exorbitant interest that the debtor is beholden to me to the grave, and, after his demise, his family must shoulder the remaining debt.

There's a building-and-loan in the village, too, but it has only a fraction of the assets of the bank, and it's always a mere whisper away from insolvency.

Yet, to my great dismay, it somehow manages to stay afloat. If I could just find a way to break this miserable building-and-loan, my conquest would be complete!

There is a soft under-belly of the organization, Uncle Billy, an absent-minded relative of the head-strong young executive secretary who manages it. He's always misplacing important items of business. One day, one of my goons at the bank managed to snatch a large bundle of cash Uncle Billy had laid down, and brought it back to my estate. And all on the same day the bank examiner paid a surprise visit to the building-and-loan!

Well, I thought this would spell the ruin of the building-and-loan once and for all. The next day, how-ever, Standish informed me that all the villagers had banded together and raised enough money to replace the lost bundle. That young executive secretary must lead a charmed life, or perhaps he has some omnipotent guardian angel.

You can see what kind of a year it has been for me. I should just give up. I would ask Father Christ-mas to bring me a big sack of death, but I am certain I wouldn't get it anyway.

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