My Last Will And Testament

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Vol 33 Issue 07

Gated-Community Members Wish There Was Something They Could Do

HIGHLAND PARK, IL—Residents of Maplewood Estates, a gated residential neighborhood in the upscale Highland Park suburb of Chicago, announced Tuesday that they wish there was something they could do. "If you look around the world today, there are so many poor people and other terrible things," said resident and bridge enthusiast Marjorie Evans. "It’s very sad." Judith Donnelly, editor of Maplewood Estate’s monthly newsletter Maple Leaves, said she is similarly upset by all the problems to be found outside her police-guarded gates. "It’s such a shame," Donnelly said. "But what can you do?"

Swiss Unable To Maintain Neutrality Toward Delicious Pastries

BERN, SWITZERLAND—The nation of Switzerland ended 183 years of neutrality Wednesday, when the Swiss Federal Assembly unanimously approved an alliance with an assortment platter of Schoenherr Brothers oven-baked pastries. "We remained neutral for as long as we could," said Swiss president Heinrich Koller, "but in light of the flaky crust and delicious fruit fillings these pastries offer, we can no longer refuse an alliance between these wholly scrumptious treats and our tummies." Under the terms the accord, the Swiss military will defend the baked goods should they be invaded.

I Be The Real Employee Of The Month

Yo yo yo yo, whassssuuup, G's. H-Dog in tha house, and you'll pardon me if I dispense with the usual formalities, but I'm out for muthafuckin' REVENGE. You see, some dirty cocksucka dared fuck with me, Tha Stone Cold Funky-Fresh Bad-Ass Of Accountz Reeceevable. I swear, before I sign out for lunch today I'm gonna Hong Kong on that sorry fool's ass. I'm gonna cut him a permanent smile wit' my Letter Opener Of Death. I'm serious. Heads will get flown.

Should The U.S. Attack Iraq?

Frustrated by Saddam Hussein's continued defiance of U.N. weapons inspectors, the U.S. is strongly considering a tactical strike against Iraq. What do you think?
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My Last Will And Testament

I have decided to revise my last will and testament. The person to whom I previously bequeathed my entire estate, the woman with the enormous mammaries, apparently cannot be located, so I will have to designate new heirs. They are as follows:

My new iron lung shall go to my eldest son, U. Fairfax; I give my shawl to son V. Lucius; J. Phineas shall receive three crates of Dr. Wessel's Patented Lubrication Ointment; my twin sons R. Buckminster and G. Talmadge shall each receive one of my prosthetic ears; and my youngest son M. Prescott, whom I love more than all my children, for he is the son of my old age, shall receive my stereoscope, along with all my stereoscope-cards, including my coveted set of views of Niagara Falls.

The next people I wish to reward are those who have been in my employ for many years. They have shown me more love and loyalty than most of my wretched family, and have stood by me through both good times and bad.

First, there is my stable-boy Augustus, who saved my life once by applying a soothing liniment to my anus, which was chock-full with the most hideously painful piles I have ever experienced. Ah, my intrepid, dutiful little Augustus! Upon my death, sweet Augustus, you may take the pick of the litter of my prize brood-sow, Butter-ball.

And, finally, how could I draft my last will and testament without mentioning my faithful man-servant, Standish, who has served as head butler of my vast estate and my trusted confidante for the better part of this century. Standish, you are the man who provided for my every hedonistic whim. You helped me successfully black-mail President Harding. You drove the get-away carriage after I heaved a cinder-block upon the cranium of the editor of The Brickton Atlas-Trumpet, P. Oliver Gummidge. For all that you have done, I give you the greatest of gifts, a gift I know you have sorely desired all your life. Standish, upon my death, you shall be given the first name of Ephraim.

The rest of my estate—mansion, assets, stocks and bonds, jewels, motor-cars, art collection, etcetera—will go to Amos 'N' Andy. Thanks for all the laughs, boys!

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