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Why Can't I Have A Mistress Too?

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Jogger Clearly On First Run Of Plan To Turn Life Around

CHICAGO—Taking note of the man’s beat-up tennis shoes, sweat-drenched shirt, and ill-fitting pair of sweatpants as he made his way down the sidewalk, witnesses reported Tuesday that area jogger Dan Andreychuk was clearly out on his very first run of a plan to turn his life around.

What’s At Stake In New Hampshire

With the New Hampshire primary election Tuesday poised to impact the course of the 2016 presidential race, The Onion examines what’s at stake for the candidates
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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!

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  • How Theaters Are Trying To Win Back Moviegoers

    The number of Americans who went to the movies hit a 20-year low in 2014, leaving theaters scrambling to find ways to incentivize the public to see new releases on the big screen rather than watch films at home or on the internet. Here are some methods theaters are using to win back audiences and increase box office sales:

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Why Can't I Have A Mistress Too?

I have often been asked if I regret anything about my life. The answer is no! If I were to do it over again, I'd do it all the same! After all, it was I who transformed The Onion from an obscure frontier news-paper with a reader-ship composed mainly of Mennonites to a bustling daily with a readership of millions. And I'll be damned if I ever apologize for taking the life of Brickton Atlas-Trumpet editor P. Oliver Gummidge!

But I must admit defeat on one account. There is one thing in my life I sorely desired and was unable to make a reality, and that is to have my own mistress. Virtually every leading newspaper-man and captain of industry through-out our Republic has one: why not I? Hearst has that frowsy blonde chorus-girl, and President Harding himself regularly couples with a young woman in a closet adjoining the Oval Office. And before his savage murder, even P. Oliver Gummidge had an understanding with the comely Atlas-Trumpet copy editor.

It's not for lack of trying. Many a love-missive I've penned to Miss Lillian Gish, entreating her to be my concubine, but she stopped responding years ago. And I don't even want to get into the whole Gibson Girl fiasco. How was I to know she was just an ink-drawing? Perhaps my standards are too high. But why shouldn't they be? I'm as rich as dung!

Anyhow, after decades of seeking a mistress in vain, I am forced to swallow my pride and implore any and all young, unmarried, virgin females to consider shacking up with me. True, I've been shooting blanks for 91 years now, and when I'm wheeled about the mansion, a servant must follow close behind with a mop. I would not be able to fulfill any conjugal capacity, but there are other ways in which you can amuse yourself. You can listen to my extensive wax-cylinder collection or slide on the ballroom's freshly polished parquet floor! You would never again want for anything. You would wear nothing but the finest silks and eat nothing but sweet-meats!

Interested parties should address inquiries care of the Zweibel Estate. And should my search for a mistress prove fruitless, I'll be forced to select a random name from the telephone directory and have her shanghaied to my estate.

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