This 'Alan Jackson' Must Be Stopped

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Vol 31 Issue 16

DEA Accepts Record $280 Million Drug Bribe

WASHINGTON, DC—Drug Enforcement Administration officials announced Monday the largest-ever drug bribe received by the agency. The $280 million bribe, which was airdropped over DEA headquarters by an unmarked twin-engine plane from South America, exceeds the previous record bribe by almost $50 million. Said Drug Czar Barry McCaffrey: "This enormous bribe will ensure the smooth transport of Colombian drugs across our borders and into our nation's public schools for years to come." Added McCaffrey, "Winners don't use drugs."

A&E Biography Host Peter Graves Comes Out In Ellen-Inspired Ratings Grab

LOS ANGELES—In an Ellen-like ploy for higher ratings, the producers of A&E's Biography have chosen to reveal the homosexuality of host Peter Graves. "I am a gay man," Graves announced Monday on the season-ending episode of Biography, which chronicled the life of silent film legend Buster Keaton. As clips from Keaton's film career were shown, Graves spoke of the joy he has long derived from the committed, loving relationship he enjoys with his longtime partner, Stan. "I love my boyfriend Stan more than anything in the whole world," Graves said. No sponsors pulled out of the show.

McDonald's Fights World Hunger With New Triple-Decker Burger

OAK PARK, IL—The McDonald's Corporation took a giant step toward conquering the problem of world hunger Monday, unveiling its new McTriple Decker Cheeseburger. "Boasting more than a half pound of grade-A meat, this big, beefy burger is guaranteed to cure any hunger," McDonald's director of public relations Gregory Meacham said. "Believe me, no child, no matter how hungry, will still be starving after eating the new McTriple Decker." McDonald's will focus its marketing efforts on hunger-wracked nations such as Rwanda, India and Cambodia, promoting the new burger through billboards, television ads and flyers dropped from airplanes. Said Duk Soo Park, a North Korean peasant dying of malnutrition, "Please, help."

Wanted: Food Chewer

That's it. I'm through with that ox of a nurse. I despise the way her buttocks ripple shamelessly back and forth under the thin fabric of her white uniform as she walks. She gives me sponge baths with ice-water, changes my colostomy bag only when it's so full of urine that it has grown to the size of the Graf zeppelin, and feeds me my castor-oil with an old spoon with an icky metal taste. She also greases the rectal thermometer with limburger cheese.

Dude, I Almost Got Drafted

Hola amigos. Workin' hard or hardly workin'? If you know me, you know my answer to that question. And if you don't know me, then hang on, 'cause you're in for a wild ride. I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but my time has been occupied with the usual: fast cars, fast women and fine whiskey.

Premarital Counseling

In response to escalating divorce rates, some federal legislators are pushing for a law that would require all engaged couples to meet with a counselor before getting married. What do you think?
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Just Like Everything Else!: Fox 8 p.m. EDT/7 p.m. ABC Pete's wife is still on him about building that darn shed, these kids are going to be the death of Sheila and Dave, and the hot next-door neighbor is up in EVERYBODY'S business! Sunday nights on ABC couldn't be any more familiar!

Special Coverage

Good Times

Man Considers Nodding Approvingly After Friend’s Drink Purchase

MEQUON, WI—Seeking to convey his endorsement of his acquaintance's selection at local bar Coney's Draft House this evening, area man Thomas Dodge told reporters that he was considering nodding approvingly at his friend’s alcoholic beverage pur...

Small Business

This 'Alan Jackson' Must Be Stopped

All over this country there is evidence of a takeover. Not a violent, outright takeover, but a far more subtle and insidious one. To do nothing is to accept our demise. I cannot do nothing. This Alan Jackson must be stopped.

I have seen the 10-gallon hats and spangled outfits, the tight blue jeans and rhinestone rings that mark the true believers. I have seen What I Am posters in the recordstore windows, and gone eye to empty eye with a man who wears a mustache, but not a beard. I have never been a holy man, but I know what is right and what is wrong. And this is so very, very wrong. If this is not to be our future, every last one of us must take up arms.

A belief in Alan Jackson has its attractions. I know only too well the abhorrent effects it can produce. "She's Got The Rhythm (And I've Got The Blues)" jingles and jangles right into the wall of your cranium and lodges itself there until you are powerless, swaying down the aisles of Kmart to a 4/4 beat. The scourge of it!

I first heard Alan Jackson while sitting in a dentist's waiting room. "Don't Rock The Jukebox" crept into my conscious mind as I paged through an issue of Time. I bolted upright. The young man next to me, 22 at most, was transfixed by the music. I looked down at his feet, tapping away, encased in cowboy boots. I cringed as I caught a glimpse of a future where his kind was the norm, a future where all are united under Alan Jackson's banner of rural conformity.

This Alan Jackson is supposed to be different and new. Yet it is strangely reminiscent of some ancient evil, some crawling, seething thing that had spawned such devils as Debbie Gibson and Richard Marx.

Don't tell me that "Chattahoochee" is a harmless, bouncy tribute to the beauty and simplicity of the past. No, this song is something much darker. I do not know what Alan Jackson's evil message is, but I do not trust his messengers. Their very dress is a uniform of evil. Witness how cowboy boots, which seem so innocent, have sharp, wicked points at the front for tearing flesh and thick, clublike heels for crushing bone. Witness how the bolo tie is nothing more than a stylized assassin's garrote. And who knows what malicious instruments may be concealed beneath a 10-gallon hat? And the leader of this band is Alan Jackson, with his mane of hair and sinister white T-shirt. Damn him. Damn him to hell!

With his soft "Yes, ma'am"s and "No, sir, I don't reckon"s, he charms his way into our hearts. But once there, he will work at us from the inside out. He looks so harmless on the cover of A Lot About Livin' (And A Little 'Bout Love), but lo, he is not. The South cannot be trusted! Like Germany, they were defeated, but bide their time with clandestine plans!

As America's easily swayed young farmers dance their joyless, grim-faced line dances, we must ask ourselves: Do we want such suspicious people in charge of feeding our nation? Alan Jackson thinks so. Even as we speak, he is amassing cash to marshal a takeover of our weakened Northern cities. He must be stopped. People, I have warned you!

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