We Accomplish Nothing By Living In Fear Of Chuck Woolery

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Vol 35 Issue 40

That Guy From That One Show To Make Guest Appearance On That Other Show

DECATUR, GA—According to a report from local Chik-Fil-A cashier Len Baxter, that dude on that one show about the guy who can see into the future is going to be on that other show with the two chicks who are undercover cops. "Supposedly, he's playing the blonde one's cousin or something," Baxter told co-workers Monday at the fast-food restaurant, "so he's not the same guy he plays on his show. It's not, like, a combination of the two shows." The highly anticipated episode airs this Friday, though Baxter conceded that he may watch the one about the reporter and the rollerblading dog instead.

Jesus-Loving Co-Worker Believes She's Not Alone At Lunch Table

POCATELLO, ID—Sitting by herself at a table in the Pocatello Tool Works lunchroom, devout Christian Brenda Smolensk announced Monday that she is "convinced beyond any doubt" that she is not alone. "Oh, there may not be anybody sitting to my right, my left or anywhere else at this table," Smolensk said, "but He is with me." Smolensk's co-workers said her overwhelming love of Christ is the reason for her lack of companionship. "We used to sit with her," co-worker Don Inkster said, "but she wouldn't shut up about Jesus and the Bible and stuff. Now we wait for her to sit down before deciding where to eat." Smolensk is also convinced she did not spend last Christmas, New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day, Easter and Thanksgiving alone.

Quaker Oats Assembly-Line Worker Fired For 'Oops! All Berries' Incident

DE KALB, IL—Richard Karl, a 47-year-old assembly-line worker at Quaker Oats' Cap'n Crunch With Crunchberries plant in De Kalb, was fired Monday following an "Oops! All Berries" mishap." "This cereal is supposed to have a yellow-piece-to-Crunchberry ratio of 4:1," Quaker spokeswoman Melissa Dyer said. "But Mr. Karl failed to pull the lever that sends the yellow bits down the chute into the big funnel, so there aren't any in Monday's entire batch of cereal. It's all Crunchberries." Added Dyer: "What are we going to do with all these boxes of pure Crunchberries? You'd have to really love Crunchberries to want to eat these."

Cell-Phone User Promises Girlfriend, Entire Post Office He'll Try To Change

RALEIGH, NC—Speaking on his cell phone while waiting in line to buy stamps Monday, Brad McCall assured girlfriend Stephanie Green, as well as 14 customers and six postal workers at the Jefferson Street Post Office, that he will do everything in his power to change. "Things have just been so messed-up for me lately with all the stuff that's been going on. I know I haven't been myself," he explained to Green and the crowd of strangers. "But all that's gonna change soon." McCall also told fellow post-office patrons that if getting a place together is what it takes to make her feel like he is committed, he is "totally willing."

Ideas That Made Me Millions

Astute readers—of which I have nearly none, as you are a pack of Judas-livered, porridge-pantsed, mung-brained tit-mice—know that I am renowned throughout the Republic for my formidable business acumen. And though my fame and fortune spring mainly from my able helms-manship of The Onion news-paper, I have had many successful marketing ventures over the years. I certainly didn't get to be the East Coast's fore-most miser by depending on your literacy, you know!
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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...

We Accomplish Nothing By Living In Fear Of Chuck Woolery

You think I'm not afraid, too? Of course I'm afraid. But the point is, you cannot give in to that fear. If you give in to fear, you live in fear. Maybe forever.

And if we live in fear, he has already won.

Ten years ago, I had a dream that we would defeat Chuck Woolery before the end of the millennium. That may sound impossibly foolish and idealistic, especially to the younger readers of this column, but in those heady days we had not yet learned the full scope of his power.

Chuck Woolery might destroy one of us. He might destroy a thousand. But he cannot destroy an idea. He cannot destroy our dream of freedom. We must be courageous and devote ourselves to the movement. Don't think of yourself; think of the next generation. The ones who will inherit this earth when you and I are gone. The stand you take today will make a far greater world for the children and their children after them.

This, of course, begs the old argument, "Why would I want to bring children into a world with Chuck Woolery in it?" The answer is: to keep up the fight. To know the pride, if not the joy, of the fight against an ultimate evil. Teach them that when that immaculately coiffed, Dating Game-hosting magog is finally gone, the world will know that generations of courageous rebels are to thank for their freedom. Our names may be lost to the dustbin of history, but our spirit will inspire the human race for all time.

You see that trash-filled vacant lot over there, where a playground used to stand in the happier times, before the premiere of Love Connection? I dream that one day a great monument to our struggle will be built there, and schoolteachers whose grandparents are not yet born will stand by it and tell their students heroic tales of our courage and sacrifice. And maybe one such student will be so inspired by the tales that he or she will grow up to fight the Chuck Woolerys of the future. Or, better yet, stop them before they rise to power.

It can be, my friends. Of that I have no doubt. But we must believe it and stand ever-vigilant. And, most of all, we must conquer our fear, no matter how large it may loom in our souls. If he defeats us today, he must know that we will be back to fight him again in two minutes, two seconds.

When I was seven years old, a bully accosted me on my way to school and demanded my lunch money. I stood tall and told him no. I lost track of how many times he punched and kicked me that day, but I still remember how hard. Halfway through the ordeal, I realized that it wasn't the bully I was afraid of. No, it was me. I was afraid I would give in and hand over my money like a frightened kitten. Realizing that, I held on. And no matter how many times he pounded my face and body, I would not give in and hand him my 50 cents. Finally, he reached into my pocket and took it himself. By then, I was too weak to resist. But as I lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness, I felt a strong sense of pride. He may have taken that 50 cents, but I didn't give it to him.

That's how it must be with Woolery.

Even as I write, I know that He Who Hosted Scrabble In The Mid-'80s will read this. He has eyes and hands everywhere. And I, for one, do not mind. I want him to know the fight he is in for. I want him to know that there are some who will never bow down before him. You hear that, O ruggedly handsome, lantern-jawed minion of Satan? Come and get me! Kill me! The dream will continue, for as long as it must. I don't expect you to understand, Chuck Woolery—you would have to be human to feel the passion for liberty that we do.

As long as I tread this Earth, I pledge to tirelessly strive for a world in which all citizens have the courage to walk up to Chuck Woolery, look him in the eye and say, "Chuck Woolery, I am not afraid of you."

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