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My Summer Reading List

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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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My Summer Reading List

Another swampish July will soon be upon us, bringing with it the promise of sweltering heat, golden pitchers of ice-cold lemon-ade administered to me in enema-form, and the nightmarish prospect of sunlight which lasts until nine o'clock at night. Monstrous! When I was a lad, it was dark from five in the evening until noon the next day, and the July temperature never exceeded fifty degrees on Professor-Doktor Fahrenheit's scale. I am certain that the world is hurtling ever closer to the Sun, overbalanced as it is on one side by the overbreeding of the fecund Hindoo, but at present there is little I can do about it.

Still, if July is the cruelest month, it at least provides some relief in the form of the annual re-drilling of my cataracts. This irrigation, performed by the able hands of Doc McGillicuddy, prevents my eyes, swollen as they are with a milky, bilious substance, from bursting in the cruel heat of summer, running down my face and pooling in my lap.

As the publisher of the Republic's greatest news-paper, my entire life and livelihood have been shaped by the printed word. However, I still enjoy it immensely, no matter how cruelly it has twisted my life and I believe books may be the salvation of our vile populist society, once the bad ones have been collected in great piles and set alight, and, of course, once G.K. Chesterton is hunted down and shot.

Here is my reading-list for the next six weeks:

Extraordinary Popular Delusions And The Madness Of Crowds by Charles Mackay. A valuable primer for the management of large populations.

The Rivet In Grand-Father's Neck by James Branch Cabell, which I chose on title alone.

Delta Of Venus by Anais Nin. I love a good strapping travel book.

The Wizard Of Oz by L. Frank Baum. A nightmarish cautionary tale of agrarian revolution–complete with a hideous tin ro-bot!

Flowers In The Attic by V.C. Andrews. An endearing naturalist perspective on child-hood–somewhat twee, but undeniably heart-warming.

The Book of Leviticus.

Goddamn The Lot Of You, my autobiography. I have been told it was written by ghosts, and the super-natural intrigues me.

These books should occupy your feeble minds for the rest of the year; and, come to think of it, what I read is none of your God-damned business any-way.

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