Stay Away From My Granddaughter Cornelia!

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Vol 31 Issue 07

Ask A Salmon

Ask A Salmon is a weekly syndicated advice column that appears in over 250 newspapers nationwide

Pile Of Crap Excites Publicist

NEW YORK—Thomas Hill, publicist for the Scarsdale & Loeb Group, expressed his excitement over a great big pile of crap Thursday. "I'm really excited about the marketing possibilities for this enormous heap of worthless crap," said Hill. "There's a lot of buzz in Hollywood about it. Confidentially, Paramount has expressed interest. I think crap is going to be big in '97, and this promises to be some of the best crap yet. It's really fresh and exciting stuff." Hill was paid $600 by the crap's agent for the minute-long remark.

Congress Orders Clerk To See If He Has Any In The Back

WASHINGTON, DC—Retail clerk Tony Bellarusso was ordered by the U.S. Congress Monday to see if he has any in the back. "See if you have any more in the back, would you?" said Rep. Daniel Gable (R-FL) as he slapped the store countertop angrily. If no more are in the back, Beltway insiders predict Congress will check that other place down on Massachusetts Avenue.

Dancing Costumed Midgets Celebrate Death Of Deng Xiaoping

MUNCHKINLAND, OZ—Elated Munchkins celebrated the release of their Chinese protectorate province Wednesday following the death of Chinese leader Deng Xiaoping Sunday. "Deng, Deng, Xiaoping is dead," sang a choreographed crowd of whimsical, somersaulting dwarves upon hearing the announcement of Deng's death. Deng, 92, succumbed to pneumonia, a condition exacerbated by his being crushed under a falling house. The Lollipop Guild has officially begun an investigation into the whereabouts of the drab uniform shoes Deng was wearing upon his death.

Baby, Please Don't Walk Out That Door

Aw, baby. Where you going? Please don't walk out that door. Don't walk out on Smoove B. He's the man who can make everything all right. He's the man who can make love to you all night.

My Teddy Bear Collection Is Fucking Great

You should see how many fucking teddy bears I have. I just can't get enough! Shit, last time I counted it was up to 150. I've got most of them in the bedroom, but I can hardly fit another goddamn thing in there, so I had to start putting them in the living room.

Should Car Phones Be Banned?

A number of public-safety groups are lobbying Congress to pass legislation banning car phones, calling them dangerous and distracting to the driver. What do you think?

Fat-Free on the Decline

After nealy a year of phenomenal slaes, fat-free food products are beginning to decline in popularity. Why aren't Americans buying fat-free items?
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Scientists Posit Theoretical ‘Productive Weekend’

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Stay Away From My Granddaughter Cornelia!

My granddaughter, Cornelia Josephine Agrippina Zweibel, recently had her coming-out ball, during which she managed to turn quite a few heads. Ever since that magnolia-scented evening, a considerable number of young gentlemen have been paying call to the Zweibel Estate. With ukuleles, portable Victrolas and boxes of sweetmeats in tow, these cheeky swains hope to eventually win Cornelia's lovely hand, much to my great dismay.

A prisoner in my own bedchamber-annex, I have been given very little say in the romantic prospects of Cornelia. This is mainly the doing of my daughter-in-law Irene, Cornelia's mother, a hideous, sperm-whale-shaped woman with all the cunning ruthlessness of a Manchurian warlord.

When Cornelia was still in pigtails I suggested she be betrothed to J. Titian McBrodie, the bachelor steel magnate. But Irene nixed the idea, saying that McBrodie was 64 years older than Cornelia and was dead. Utter nonsense! A May-September romance never hurt anyone. Why, Mrs. Zweibel was 12 when she married me, and they never did prove that her habit of scraping the skin off her body with a file had anything to do with our holy union.

Anyhow, you would not believe the sad specimens that Irene considers eligible escorts for my granddaughter. Most of them are effete college boys who would blow away in a light breeze. One of them, Thad "Bubbles" Bainton, heir to the Bainton soap fortune, bore the fussy, weak-willed demeanor of someone who spent hours in the bath-tub. As he and Cornelia played croquet and ate cucumber sandwiches in the courtyard, I watched from my window in silent fury, wishing that my nurse had not confiscated my musket.

But don't count me out. I did not get where I am by letting some Yalie with tuberculosis best me. I've prevented Cornelia from marrying before, and I'll do it again. Thanks to my vigilance, she's still single at 54 and sits in a high-chair at the dinner-table. So let this be a warning to all would-be suitors: Stay away from my granddaughter, or you'll wear buckshot on your britches!

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