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Black Man Out Of Work

WASHINGTON—Joining the ranks of the unemployed at a time when joblessness remains stubbornly high among African Americans, 55-year-old local black man Barack Obama has lost the full-time job he has held for the past eight years, sources confirmed Friday.

Departing Obama Tearfully Shoos Away Loyal Drone Following Him Out Of White House

‘Go On Now, Git,’ Says Former President

WASHINGTON—Stopping and turning around as he made his way across the South Lawn after hearing the unmanned aerial vehicle hovering just feet behind him, outgoing President Barack Obama tearfully shooed away a loyal MQ-9 Reaper drone attempting to follow him out of the White House, sources confirmed Friday.

Jimmy Carter Contemplating Dying Right Here And Now

WASHINGTON—Carefully weighing the pros and cons of each option from his seat onstage at Donald Trump’s inauguration, former president Jimmy Carter is, according to late-breaking reports, currently contemplating dying right here and now.
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Ro-Bots Are Trying To Kill Me

I'm often asked about the role of technology in our society, and whether it is ultimately beneficial or destructive. My reply: Technology is a scourge which must be abolished! I know this first-hand, for, as of this writing, a vast army of mechanical men surrounds my estate, ready to wipe me off the map!

I should have never let my middle son, U. Fairfax, talk me into the notion of owning a mechanical gentleman—or a ro-bot, as he calls it. When U. Fairfax presented me with Mr. Tin, I despised the artificial bastard at first sight. Its eyes glowed an unnatural yellow and its voice was like the unbearable sound of metal grinding against metal.

At first I gave it some rudimentary household chores, such as changing gramophone needles and darning stockings. U. Fairfax complained that I was criminally underusing this "wonder of the age," that it could do anything from playing a waltz on the concertina to ciphering the most difficult sums. So I commanded it to clear some brush in a remote corner of the estate.

Mr. Tin did as it was told, but before long it returned to the mansion to ask if there was anything else I desired. Vexed at the impudence of this metallic monstrosity, I screamed that the only thing I desired was for it to get lost. Upon hearing my words, Mr. Tin silently wept and lumbered off for parts unknown.

Good riddance, I thought. But I soon regretted my words. Shortly thereafter, stung by my rejection, Mr. Tin ran wild in the village, slaying a number of peasants and setting fire to the grist mill. The creature escaped into the mountains, where it began to construct others in its own hideous image. Before long, it had built a vast army, all for the sole purpose of wreaking revenge upon me!

Technology is strictly for the birds! I remember the days before ro-bots, when everything was calm and carefree, and everyone played the banjo. Now my servants are frantically boarding the windows and stuffing sandbags. I beg President Wilson to rescue me from a horrid fate! I'm sorry I called you "Old Porridge-Face," Woodrow! Help!

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