Keep An Eye Out For Pigs!

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Vol 36 Issue 15

Ammonia-Factory Leak Exposes Texas Town To Mexican Working Conditions

BROWNSVILLE, TX–A toxic-chemical leak at a Brownsville ammonia plant sent workers running for their lives Monday, exposing the city to deadly Mexican working conditions. "I smelled pure, concentrated ammonia leaking from one of the tanks, and for a second, I thought I was in the wrong country," plant foreman Dick Shriver said. "I mean, my God, Americans work here." Investigators noted with relief that shortly after the leak, a brisk wind came in from the north, blowing the lethal fumes out of the U.S.

Boyfriend Vows To Try Harder

BREMERTON, WA–Area resident Len Wallace made a solemn vow Monday to girlfriend Mindy Ellis that he would try much, much harder. "I've just been going through so much crazy stuff these days, baby," Wallace said. "From here on out, I'm gonna be the best boyfriend in the world." Wallace added that they're going to spend so much time together, he swears to God.

Pyramid Scheme 'Not A Pyramid Scheme'

HARTFORD, CT–Despite its expansion-driven profit structure and multilevel-marketing format, the "Cash-4-All" pyramid scheme is not a pyramid scheme, electronically dispatched literature touting the scheme boasted Monday. "Don't fall for those ripoff pyramid scemes [sic]," read an e-mail sent to Hartford resident Larry Grosvenor, "This is the real deal!!!" "This opportunity looks interesting," Grosvenor said of the pyramid scheme, which asked him to add his name to the bottom of a list, then send that list to six other people. "And the best part is, it's not some pyramid scheme."

Teen Male Vaguely Unnerved By Nude Pantyhose Rack At Kmart

OWINGS MILLS, MD–Unable to pinpoint the precise source of his disquietude, 13-year-old Brian Wilmot was "kinda creeped out" by a local Kmart's "nude" pantyhose rack Monday. "There's these plastic, pantyhose-covered legs sticking out of the rack, and the word 'nude' is there in big letters," said Wilmot, who was dragged to the store by his mother. "I don't know what it was about it, but it was just sorta unsettling."

Country Singer Trying To Think Of Rhyme For 'Shove You'

GREEN BRIER, TN–Country singer Ricky Lee Dean, nearing completion of a new song, reported Monday that he is struggling to find a rhyme for "shove you." "It's a tune about a fella who gets drunk and mistreats his gal, and he's trying to explain to her why he acts that way," Dean said. "The line goes, 'Just because I shove you/That don't mean I don't...' but I can't seem to finish it." Dean is also trying to come up with a rhyme for "down a flight of stairs."

Federal Troops Seize Neglected Child In Pre-Dawn Raid

YPSILANTI, MI–Acting under orders from U.S. Health And Human Services Secretary Donna Shalala, a battalion of heavily armed federal officers seized custody of neglected 9-year-old Jeffrey Boyd in a dramatic pre-dawn raid of his Ypsilanti home Monday. "Jeffrey is finally safe and out of harm's way," Shalala said of Boyd, whose parents were written up by Michigan's Department of Child and Family Services last month for "failure to consistently provide proper supervision and nutritious meals." Shalala added that the extreme measures were regrettable, but were necessary to enforce the law.

Third World Debt Relief

An estimated 10,000 people descended upon World Bank and IMF meetings in Washington last week, demanding debt relief for impoverished Third World nations. What do you think?
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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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    Every new year brings a surge in gym membership from new members nicknamed “resolutionists,” many of whom may be unaware that there are unspoken rules everyone must observe when working out.

Spring

Keep An Eye Out For Pigs!

Hola, amigos. I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but things have been a mess around Rancho Anchower. For one thing, I got fed up with working at the hospital cafeteria, so I re-entered the job market. I didn't have to wait long (I guess there's a booming economy or something) before I got a new job at a laboratory. Now, I ain't a scientist, as you probably know, but I do know how to do a few things. Like clean up rat cages.

Mostly, I hate rats, but these aren't the dirty kind that get into your house and spread disease. Sure, the rats at the lab have plenty of disease, but it's shit I'm not likely to get, like cancer. It's not glamorous work, but it's easy as hell. I go in, make sure the little fuckers have enough food and water, clean some cages, then sit on my ass and wait for 5 p.m. to roll around. Now, that's my kind of job.

Anyway, besides the new job, I recently had a little run-in with the pigs. Now, you know Jim Anchower is usually too smart to fall into the traps laid by Johnny Law, but this time I got a little careless. See, I was cruising around listening to the radio (mistake number one, 'cause I usually listen to tapes), and Mike & Tony, the two DJs on WROK, "Home Of The Hard Rok" (mistake number two, 'cause those guys are lamer than lame), said they were outside Swiggers Bar & Grill giving out free tickets for Jackyl that night to the first 25 people who show up. (Mistake number three, 'cause I only know two of Jackyl's songs and only kinda like one of them.)

I was on the other side of town from Swiggers at the time and was supposed to be on my way to Wes' to deliver a bag of weed, but I just couldn't resist the lure of free tickets. The way I figure it, the cards are stacked against me so often that, when my number finally comes up, I gotta pounce on it, right? So I did some quick calculating and figured that I could get to Swiggers in 10 minutes if I took some liberties with local speed ordinances.

I started off easy enough, punching it through a bunch of yellows. I wasn't going crazy fast, maybe 55. I was about a mile away when I looked in the rearview and saw the flashing blues. I tried to think up a scheme that would get me out of the jam, but it was no use. I'd just gotten off with a warning a few months ago when I ran a red, and that was all my sweet talk right there. I didn't have anything left.

So I just sat there on the side of the road, waiting for the pig to walk up to the car. That's the worst part. With all the computers and satellites and shit they've got, the cops can get all the information they need in, like, 15 seconds. But, no, they make you sweat it out for four or five minutes while they're back there in their baconmobile, laughing their asses off at you. As I waited, I started thinking about the bag of weed I had in my pocket. I knew that if he frisked me, I'd be screwed. The pigs hate Jim Anchower. They're just waiting for a chance to put the screws to me.

After a long-ass time, the cop finally came up and told me he was gonna have to issue me a citation for speeding. He said I was clocked doing 45 in a 30 mph zone. I almost busted out right there–no way was I was doing just 45! But what was I supposed to do? Tell him, "Officer, your machine is fucked, 'cause I was doing at least 10 mph faster than that." It's not like they give you points for honesty. So I just put on my solid-citizen face and gave him some crap about how I was sorry for driving irresponsibly and endangering the safety of my fellow citizens.

He didn't buy it, though, and went back to his car to write out the ticket. The whole time, I was sweating up a storm, thinking that he'd still frisk me and find the stash in my jeans pocket. By the time he got back, I was a ball of sweat. He just gave me a ticket for $95 and told me to be careful. Man! He's the one who should be careful! If he weren't wearing that badge, I'd have busted him right in the jaw!

Anyway, I took off toward Swiggers just as they were packing up. I laid my sob story on 'em and they gave me two free tickets. That's when I got even more pissed: I looked at the tickets and saw that they were only worth $4.75 apiece! Shit, I'd have saved myself a hell of a lot of money if I'd just driven slower and paid for the stupid things!

When I finally got to Wes' place, I discovered that the weed, which was packed in some baggie that let moisture in and out, was all soaked with sweat. I had to dry it out in the microwave before we could smoke it, and even then, it tasted funny. It did the job, though. After that, we went and saw the show, but I couldn't enjoy it. I was pissed about the speeding ticket. Wes didn't enjoy it either, but I'm not sure why. Probably because he was pissed about having to smoke sweaty weed. Either that or because we were seeing Jackyl.

So now I've got to dust off the old court shirt and make an appearance, hoping that they'll reduce the fine and knock off a few points. I wish I could say that the moral is that you shouldn't speed, hombre, but I don't feel it in my heart. Hell, speed all you want. If God didn't intend for us to speed, why did He make cars that go up to 110? Instead, the advice I got for you is this: Never listen to the radio and don't get caught. Get a radar detector. Or, if you're cheap, get a friend to sit in the passenger side and keep an eye out. Only make sure it's not somebody like Wes or Ron, 'cause they're about as reliable as a Vega engine block. That's a car joke. If you gotta look it up, you shouldn't be reading this.

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