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The Arguments For And Against Bernie Sanders Staying In The Race

Bernie Sanders is ramping up his efforts in the presidential race despite long odds, while sharpening his criticisms of a Democratic Party increasingly focused on the general election with Hillary Clinton as their presumptive nominee. Here are the arguments for and against Sanders staying in the race

Report: Nobody Fucking Cares

NEW YORK—According to a brief but conclusive report released Monday, nobody fucking cares. “Doesn’t fucking matter,” read the report in part, which went on to inform readers that no one gives two shits, so fuck it.

Mom Sleeps In Past Sunrise

WOBURN, MA―Noting that she had somehow managed to sleep through both the dawn chorus of birds and her neighborhood’s early morning garbage pickup, 53-year-old local mother Laura Maloney confirmed that she did not awaken Monday until after the sun had risen.

Facebook Clarifies Site Not Intended To Be Users’ Primary Information Source

‘No One Should Really Be On Here More Than 15 Minutes A Day,’ Say Executives

MENLO PARK, CA—Addressing concerns about the site’s alleged bias in how it displays news stories in users’ feeds, Facebook executives held a press conference Thursday to clarify that the social network was not intended to serve as anyone’s primary source of information, and that its 1.6 billion active users should, at most, be spending 15 minutes on the platform in a given day in the first place.

Heart Attack A Real Wake-Up Call For Man’s Insurance Provider

HARTFORD, CT—Saying the incident had forced them to completely rethink their past decisions about the man’s coverage and how they would approach his policy from here on out, Aetna executives reported Thursday that the recent heart attack of longtime plan member Michael Burns was a real wake-up call for the 163-year-old insurance company.

Area Dad Needs More Time With Museum Plaque

NEW YORK—Leaning in close to the paragraph of text as his family continued on to the museum’s other exhibits, area dad and Frick Collection visitor Phillip Schermeier, 58, reportedly needed more time with the plaque beside Rembrandt’s 1626 painting Palamedes In Front Of Agamemnon Thursday.

Dad Locks Into Elaborate Chess Match With Lawn Mower Salesman

TACOMA, WA—Intermittently shifting his gaze between his opponent and the product brochure in his hands as he shrewdly calculated his next move, local father Thomas McCabe became locked into an intricate chess match Thursday with riding lawn mower salesman Keith Porter, family sources reported.

How To Prepare A Will

Writing a will ensures the proper distribution of your assets upon your death. The Onion takes you through the steps of preparing this important document
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Ro-bot Monster

As a youth, I always envisioned that my older years would be fraught with peace and grace, and that I would sit under the shade of a sycamore tree in my favorite white linen suit, sipping a mint julep and telling my grand-children of my wondrous exploits as the editor-in-chief of The Onion news-paper.

Instead, I am rarely permitted to leave my bed-chamber due to my ridiculously frail health, and, far from the serenity I had once imagined, my days are filled with dread and my nights with the most horrifying night-mares. Even some-thing as minor as a branch scraping against my bed-chamber window, or the clatter of a bed-pan, sets me a-trembling. The source of all this distress is none other than that hideous mechanical ro-bot gentle-man, Mr. Tin, who still remains at large.

Earlier this year, while temporarily plunged into destitution and forced to wander about the harsh wilderness, I discovered that Mr. Tin was in cahoots with Black Scarlet, the villain who had absconded with my fortune. When the pair was cornered by an officer of the law, Mr. Tin blasted into the heavens through the use of propelling-devices that emerged from the soles of his fear-some iron feet. Not even bullets could stop his swift ascension! He has not been seen since, and this troubles me. His alliance with the hated highway-man leads me to believe that his metallic brain-pan is still fired by a desire for revenge against me.

Perhaps if I had been more appreciative of him years ago, when my son V. Lucius gave him to me as a companion, he would not hate me so. But he repulsed me from the very start, what with his squeaking joints, the blue smoke chugging from his ear-sockets and the piercing beam of his red electric eyes.

I recently asked my solicitor if there was anything in our great Republic's statutes that protects elderly plutocrats from rogue ro-bot aggressors. He replied that, aside from general laws ensuring civil rights and well-being, there was nothing that had been created for a man in my particular predicament. Damn it all! There are laws against spitting on a street-car, or cursing in the presence of women and children, but when a ro-bot terrorizes a miserable, tooth-less old man, for some reason a legal writ to prevent such an action is mystifyingly absent.

Where can that ro-bot be? Incidentally, if I hear that any one of you is sheltering or lending aid to him, you will be pressed to death.

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