Keep Your Fucking Shit Off My Desk

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Vol 32 Issue 14

Exxon Donates $70 Million To Clean Up Portland Man's Life

PORTLAND, OR—In a move hailed by environmentalists as its first act of responsibility toward area resident Dan Fanshaw, Exxon Corp. announced that it will donate $70 million toward cleaning up Fanshaw’s life. Among the damage for which Exxon will compensate Fanshaw: his failure to get into medical school, the May ’97 death of his beloved dog Max, and his increasing addiction to anti-depressants. “It’s a mess,” Exxon spokesperson David Haller said. “But we are committed to cleaning it up.”

Chris Farley Has Hilarious Cardiac Arrest

NEW YORK—Obese comedian Chris Farley delighted dozens of onlookers Thursday, suffering an uproarious heart attack at a Manhattan restaurant. “He was enjoying our $10.99 all-you-can-eat lasagna special,” said Il Trattoria owner Ed Gianelli, “when he turned all red and started pounding on his chest. He then flopped onto a nearby table, smashing it into splinters and sending food flying in all directions. I was in hysterics. This guy is the next Belushi.”

St. Vincent To World's Catholics: Stop Donating All This Crap To Me

VATICAN CITY—Frustrated by the ever-mounting piles of used clothing, old magazines and rusting appliances accumulating in his name in thrift shops around the globe, St. Vincent made a plea to the world’s Catholics Monday to “stop donating all this crap to me.” “If one more paint-covered sweatshirt, dented crock pot, or any other piece of thrift-store garbage is dropped into one of my bins, I am going to snap,” said St. Vincent, named patron of works of charity in 1855. “Please, keep your worthless trash—I don’t want it.”

Rubenesque Woman Has Picassoesque Face

HANOVER, NH—Meredith Pierce, 33, a Hanover-area elementary-school teacher, is attracting the attention of the art world with her Rubenesque figure and Picassoesque face. “Her plump form reminds me of the voluptuous servant girl who voraciously eats the roast pig in Rubens’ Flemish Feast (1610),” Oxford University art-history professor Edmund Kent said. “But it is Pierce’s grotesque, asymmetrical face that truly distinguishes her: Her crooked nose and badly misplaced eyes evoke Picasso’s early experimentations with cubism, when he was struggling to capture the fractured nature of modern life, and her severely exaggerated forehead reminds me of Les Desmoiselles d’Avignon and other mid-period abstract works. Pierce’s face is a brilliant summation of the shattered, hideous absurdity of the human condition.” Pierce will be transferred to the Prado next month for a two-year installation.

Federal Government To Be Run By Cheaper Mexican Officials

WASHINGTON, DC—In a cost-cutting move expected to save taxpayers $50 billion a year, it was announced Monday that U.S. federal officials will be replaced by cheaper Mexican counterparts. “I want to thank you for this opportunity. We will do our best to run America as best we can,” said Ernesto Vasquez, the new president of the U.S. Vasquez said he will work closely with Vice-President Guillermo Reyes and members of El Senate and La Casa De Representatives to ensure a smooth transition of power. Vasquez will earn the lavish wage of $3.50 an hour as president, more than most of the new federal officials will earn per day.

Scientists Isolate Pepsi-Resistant Gene

SOMERS, NY—At a press conference Tuesday, scientists working for the prestigious PepsiLab facility announced the historic, first-ever isolation of the long sought-after "anti-Pepsi gene," the basic building block of DNA responsible for so-called "Pepsi resistance" in adult soda consumers.

U.S. Dept. Of Retro Warns: 'We May Be Running Out Of Past'

WASHINGTON, DC—At a press conference Monday, U.S. Retro Secretary Anson Williams issued a strongly worded warning of an imminent "national retro crisis," cautioning that "if current levels of U.S. retro consumption are allowed to continue unchecked, we may run entirely out of past by as soon as 2005."
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Partying

Keep Your Fucking Shit Off My Desk

Yo, yo, yo, yo, yo, bruthahs 'n' sistahs. H-Dog here, His Stone Cold Baadness, The Original Gangsta, The Mack Daddy, The Freaky Gangbanga. And I got somethin' to say to all y'all bitches out there: Keep yo' motherfuckin' shit offa my desk, or I'll fuck your sorry ass up wit' a quickness. And I don't want to see y'all comin' around, puttin' your feet on it, neither. Or puttin' your goddamn coffee cups on it and leaving them fucked-up rings all upside the wood and shit.

'Cause I keep my fly shit on my desk. I gots my dope spreadsheets, my hangin' file folders, my delinquent-account file, my paper clips, my Post-It note dispenser, my monthly desk planner, my Midstate Office Supply business cards, my four-color ball-point pen, my motherfuckin' dot-matrix printer address labels, and my stoopid-fresh three-hole punch. Not to mention my computer. I swear, if I see any of y'all within three feet of my computer, I'll put a Lee Van Cleef on your bitch ass. I'll come at you like a mother fuck.

I'm just trying to keep it real, know what I'm sayin'? I wanna stop the violence before it starts. I could say nothin' and wait in the shadows like some motherfuckin' ninja, and when some punk-ass temp worker come along and start readin' my "Attitude Is A Little Thing That Makes A Big Difference" Successories mouse pad, I could jump out and knock the sucka's teeth the fuck out. 'Cause that would be my right. A man's gotta protect what's his, right?

Take what happened just last week. Judy Metzger, this li'l skank-ass ho from Accounts Payable, be runnin' her ass around the office, puttin' cupcakes wit' the goddamn smiley faces and shit on people's desks. I'm like, "Whus this smiley-face shit y'all be puttin' on my desk?" And she's like, "I made cupcakes for everyone in the office last night!"

Now, I don't take shit from nobody, and I sure as hell don't take no shit from some bitch from Accounts Payable, so I picks up my letter opener and do some crazy kung-fu shit on her. "Flag yo' ass outta here, bitch, and keep yo' fuckin' cupcake shit offa my fly desk."

She go runnin' out of the room and go gets her supervisor, Myron Schabe, from across the hall. Like I'm supposed to be scared of that. Myron older than shit and he wear bow ties like he Pee Wee Muthafuckin' Herman or somethin'. So then he come up to my cubicle and say, "Herbert, I think there's been a misunderstanding. It was Judy's turn this week to bring in a treat." I tell him I don't like no bitches from Accounts Payable puttin' no shit on my desk. But this Myron fool keep pushin' it, tellin' me: "It was meant as a nicety, Herbert, nothing else. It's Co-Worker Appreciation Month, and everybody's scheduled to bring in a treat. You yourself are signed up for next Wednesday."

So you know what I tell him? I says, "I ain't gonna be bringing in no motherfuckin' treat, motherfucker. Treats is for old ladies in the nursing home and shit. And ain't nobody gonna be layin' they smiley-face bullshit on my dope fly desk. I gots everything where I want it, and ain't no little ho gonna be fuckin' it all up. So take yo' bitch-ass, bow-tie self and get the fuck out of my cubicle before I cut you, beee-yaatch!"

After that, Myron walk out of there wit' his li'l dick between his legs. Ain't no Accounts Payable supervisor motherfucka gonna tell Herbert Kornfeld what to do. And no one else, for that matter. You put shit on my desk, you just signed your death warrant. I mean it. Heads will get flown.

H-Dog out. And to all my homies in Accountz Reeceevable and the bruthahs kickin' it down in Shipping, keep ya heads up. Peace.

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