My Year-End Bowel Movement Round-Up

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Vol 32 Issue 19

FBI Chief Releases Composite Sketch Of Dream House

WASHINGTON, DC—At a press conference Monday, FBI director Louis Freeh released an artist’s rendering Monday of the home he has dreamed of all his life. "We must find this home," a determined Freeh told an assemblage of FBI agents and reporters. “Just look at the outside. That’s cedar paneling. I’ll never have to paint." Distinguishing features of the house, Freeh said, include a circular driveway, tennis court and wrought-iron lattice-work fence. "The FBI has made the search for this lovely house a top priority," Freeh said. “We will not rest until I am relaxing in this sunken marble bathtub."

134-Year-Old Man Attributes Longevity To Typographical Error

NEW ORLEANS—Area dock worker Bert Greer celebrated his birthday with a quiet party at his home Sunday, surrounded by family. Asked the secret to his astounding longevity, the feisty 134-year-old credited "healthy eating, a good walk every evening, and a Social Security worker’s accidental striking of an extra digit while typing in my age." The remarkable Greer, who remembers meeting President Lyndon Johnson as a young boy, said he has “no plans to retire any time soon.”

Tractor Pulls Now Number-One Use For U.S. Tractors

WASHINGTON, DC—According to a survey released Friday by the Department of Agriculture, after more than 150 years on top, farming is no longer the number-one use for tractors in the U.S., surpassed by tractor-pull competitions. "Fortunately for tractor manufacturers like John Deere," said Agriculture Secretary Dan Glickman, "Americans’ declining interest in farm-based crop-tilling has been offset by a rising interest in stadium-based ass-kicking."

Santa Claus Killed In Electric-Razor Crash

STAMFORD, CT—Noted philanthropic elf Santa Claus was killed Monday in an electric-razor crash during a practice run for his annual global gift delivery. According to witnesses, at 11:20 p.m., while riding over an icy embankment, Claus lost control of the Norelco razor he was piloting, sending him careening into a suburban home. Long believed immortal, Claus was pulled from the mangled razor and rushed to a local hospital, where he was pronounced dead. "We are shocked and saddened by this tragedy," Norelco CEO Steve Drucker said. "This is a terrible loss, not only for the Norelco family, but for all the children of the world." Control of KringCo, Santa’s massive non-profit toy-distribution franchise, was transferred to former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, widely known to possess the same magic powers as Claus. Children are advised that Dr. Kissinger prefers "a nice green salad or fruit plate" to cookies.

African Child Dies Despite Merlin Olsen Endorsement

AKOBO, SUDAN—Despite a high-profile media endorsement featuring touching piano music, soft-focus photography, and the star power of former NFL great and television personality Merlin Olsen, Sudanese child Nwangi Botusa died Monday of what medical-relief authorities are calling "starvation."

The ONION's 1997 Man of The Year

Each year, The Onion's esteemed Board of Directors faces the daunting task of singling out one individual who most embodies the spirit of the times, who is most deserving of the title "Man Of The Year."
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My Year-End Bowel Movement Round-Up

Another year has come and gone. And what an eventful year it was! Among my many accomplishments: I published my long-awaited autobiography; unsuccessfully courted a young milk-maid; blackmailed President Harding; wrote a play; formed a foot-ball team; attempted suicide; and, perhaps most memorably, hired the terrifying mechanical ro-bot Mr. Tin to replace my walrus of a nurse, who abandoned me to join up with my hated nemesis, the rogue thief and highway-man Black Scarlet.

As is the annual custom, I will now present my list of my most noteworthy bowel movements of the past year. If you have a problem with it, you can kiss my bottom! After all, I've lived on this miserable orb for 132 years, and no-one, not even William Randolph Hearst, has had more bowel movements than myself, let alone such memorable ones.

Admittedly, the list has gotten considerably shorter of late, as I have not eaten in 28 years. In fact, I'm not exactly sure what it is I am extruding. But I do not wish to renege on the solemn pledge I made in these pages back in 1906: to make my bowel movements a matter of public record for all to see. This year's list is as follows:

Friday, March 28—Witnessed a comet streak through the heavens, and in terror spontaneously shat myself.

Tuesday, June 10—Standish fills in for my traitorous nurse. As he removes my diaper, he is buffeted by a powerful jet of pasty yellow fecal matter.

Monday, Oct. 6—A thin brownish dribble is the best I can coax from my ancient rectum. Oh, for the days of my youth, when my average daily yield could fertilize a good acre of sorghum!

Sunday, Dec. 7—God bless Augustus, my stable-boy! I caught him in my bed-chamber last night, trying to place some horse-shit in my diaper. He had hoped I would wake in the morning and think it was my doing, thereby restoring my spirits. I am truly fortunate to have such a thoughtful and faithful servant in my employ. He shall get a shiny nickel for his efforts!

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