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Rural Working-Class Archbishops Come Out In Droves To Welcome Trump To Vatican

VATICAN CITY—Arriving in their dusty pickup trucks from as far away as the dioceses of Oria and Locri-Gerace to express their support for a leader who they say embodies their interests and defends their way of life, droves of rural working-class archbishops reportedly poured into St. Peter’s Square today to greet U.S. president Donald Trump during his visit to the Vatican.

Rookie First Baseman Nervous To Chat With Baserunners

ATLANTA—Noting how important it is to make a good first impression, Pittsburgh Pirates rookie first baseman Josh Bell told reporters before Tuesday’s game against the Atlanta Braves that he’s still nervous about chatting with opposing baserunners.

What Is Trump Hiding?

As The Onion’s 300,000 staffers in its news bureaus and manual labor camps around the world continue to pore through the immense trove of documents obtained from an anonymous White House source, the answers that are emerging to these questions are deeply unnerving and suggest grave outcomes for the American people, the current international order, Wolf Blitzer, four of the five Great Lakes, and most devastatingly, the nation’s lighthouses and lighthouse keepers.

Deep Blue Quietly Celebrates 10th Anniversary With Garry Kasparov’s Ex-Wife

PITTSBURGH—Red wine and candlelight on the table before them, Deep Blue, the supercomputer that defeated reigning world chess champion Garry Kasparov in 1997, and Kasparov’s ex-wife, Yulia Vovk, quietly celebrated their 10th anniversary on Wednesday at a small French restaurant near Carnegie Mellon University, where Deep Blue was created.
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My Latest New Nurse

Ever since my treacherous ro-bot nurse Mr. Tin fled the estate for parts unknown, my bed-chamber has borne witness to a series of incompetents and charlatans, each a disgrace to the nursing profession. One actually tried to suckle me, as though I were a babe-in-arms, and another would scream in horror after laying eyes upon me and race from the room. Yet another, worst of all, thought the all-purpose cure for my ailments was to immerse me in a tank filled with rubbing alcohol. This only agitated my chronic hemorrhoid condition to the point where my rectum felt like a blast furnace. The nurse was promptly dismissed.

I told my physician, Doc McGillicuddy, of my woes finding a new nurse. Doc replied that I was going through the improper channels. "A man of your highly advanced age and delicate health requires a learned specialist to look after him, not a mere nurse-maid with minimal training," he said. Doc added that he would make it his personal responsibility to find me a proper care-taker.

A few days later, Standish entered my bed-chamber and announced that Doc was here with a suitable find for me. In walked Doc with an eight-foot-tall tattooed pin-head dressed in a nurse's uniform. My sphincter gave away. "What is the meaning of this outrage?" I screamed. "McGillicuddy, have you taken leave of your senses?"

Doc responded that this leviathan was the type of specialist he had in mind. She was from one of the Balkan provinces and had years of experience as a care-taker of circus freaks and assorted medical oddities. "She may do if I were Lobster-Boy," I barked, "but I am an elderly, incontinent billionaire!"

My protests came to naught. McGillicuddy left me at the mercy of this hideous creature. Having been in her care for several weeks now, however, I must admit that her skills as a nurse are no worse than Mr. Tin's: She wipes front to back, scrupulously boils the rectal thermometer, and never forgets to remove the tongue depressor from my mouth. I suppose things could be worse, but I despair I will never find my ideal nurse—a woman with enormous mammaries and designs on my fortune.

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