You Do Not Deserve Me

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Vol 36 Issue 10

Area Man's Got A Ton Of Shit On His Mind Right Now, Okay?

LOS ANGELES–Look, just give Bill Turlington a break, okay? The 35-year-old L.A. advertising executive is buried up to his neck in shit right now, and half an hour of peace and quiet is all he's asking for. Tormented by incompetent assistants, clueless clients, and the very real possibility of losing the MCI account, and, if you hadn't noticed, the ulcer-plagued Turlington is on the phone at the moment, so would you please get out? Now listen: Turlington has no idea where your scissors are. Use a goddamn penknife or something and allow him to finish his conversation, for God's sake.

Parents Of 6-Year-Old Sorely Regretting Purchase Of Knock-Knock-Joke Book

MERCER ISLAND, WA–Just four days after giving their 6-year-old son Tanner a copy of 1,001 Silliest Knock-Knock Jokes In The World, Kevin and Jennifer Voskuil are already experiencing deep regrets about the decision, the Mercer Island couple reported Monday. "Hoozere?" asked a bleary-eyed Kevin, trying to sleep on the living-room sofa as Tanner read him yet another joke. "'Orange you glad I didn't say banana?' That's a funny one. Run outside to the garage and tell it to your mom." Jennifer, who has been treated to 762 of the 1,001 knock-knock jokes as of press time, expressed hope that Tanner can be weaned off the book and onto one that is less interactive. "Maybe the Guinness Book Of World Records," Jennifer said. "Or the thesaurus."

Local Woman Has Story About How She Got These Shoes

NATICK, MA–Mandy Walters has an interesting story about how she got these shoes, the Boston-area file clerk said Monday. "Okay, I'm driving to my mom's in Vermont when I stop to get gas," Walters told coworker Janet Bloch. "As I'm paying, I notice the time on the receipt, and it's an hour earlier than I thought, so I ask the guy if their clock is off. He says no, 'cause it turns out the night before was daylight savings. So, suddenly, I have an hour to kill, and what's right across the street? An outlet mall! And the Payless store had these for only $29.99!" Walters' blouse, purchased at the same mall, is reportedly another story altogether.

German Auto Engineer Issued Lab Coat

ELDORF, GERMANY–Karl Meine, a new engineer at BMW, was issued a white lab coat Monday, giving him the air of a man at the forefront of German automotive technology. "Karl will wear his lab coat and observe BMW prototypes being driven at extreme speeds on sheets of gleaming ball bearings," said BMW chief engineer Gunnar Hoechst. "He will also stand before a wall of computers as cars are subjected to advanced 59-point wind-tunnel tests in stark, white rooms." In addition to the lab coat, Meine has been issued a clipboard.

FCC Passes Mandatory Garofalo/Griffin Guest-Appearance Regulation

WASHINGTON, DC–Motivated by recent Janeane Garofalo and/or Kathy Griffin appearances on The Sopranos, 3rd Rock From The Sun, The Second Annual TV Guide Awards, Law & Order, and Strangers With Candy, the FCC passed a regulation Monday requiring walk-ons by "at least one of these cutting-edge underground comediennes on all TV shows." Said FCC chair William E. Kennard: "This measure is good for the television industry, ensuring that all programs enjoy a dose of the Garofalo/Griffin indie aura." Griffin is already slated for a guest appearance on next Monday's Nightline, on which she will play a nymphomaniacal tobacco lobbyist obsessed with Ted Koppel.

Clinton Vs. The NRA

In recent weeks, President Clinton and the National Rifle Association have been at war over the issue of gun control. What do you think?
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FIFA Frantically Announces 2015 Summer World Cup In United States

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Personal Finance

You Do Not Deserve Me

It has been brought to my attention that there are some members of my porcine reader-ship herd who do not realize that my column is the jewel in the Onion news-paper's tarnished crown, and call upon the current editors to remove it altogether. My response to them is the same as it is to all readers, whether they be cut-throat nay-sayers or members of my lick-spittle sycophantry: To Hell with the lot of you! You will live longer by feasting on your own fetid night-soil than by trying to appeal to the emotions of T. Herman Zweibel!

I admit that my column is at least a partial failure. I have tried and tried to guide and influence you peasants with the harsh, printed truth. I could have used the much more cost-effective method of brightly colored propaganda posters and merry buntings, or had you economically manipulated by secret business-men's-clubs, or instructed Standish to have salt-peter dumped into the reservoirs, but as far as you know, I did not! No, I appealed instead to your primitive sense of rectitude. Yet you continue to ignore my writings in favor of columns by pussy cat loving women or near-illiterate ledger-accountants.

You do not deserve to read my wisdom or the news-paper in which it is printed! Of course, you deserve only to have your still-burning bodies stretched on the rack by black-a-moors, but I have said so before. Had you listened to me, the rivers of this Republic would have run black with strip-mine tailings, her slums would have overflowed with oppressed ethnic types, her forests would have fallen before the ax, and her laborers would not spend so much time in elementary schools. Instead, very little progress has been made at all.

I do not perform the service of writing this weekly column for my health, you should know! Far from it, as its dictation into the wire-recorder so saps the strength of my frail carcass that I inevitably succumb to coughing-fits worthy of the tuberculosis, occasionally causing several of my ribs to snap with a sound like wind-chimes. On the other hand, I do not write it for you under-men, either, as you consistently ignore my wishes by electing non-Whig Presidents, patronizing non-Onion advertisers, and allowing your women-folk to wear shoes. I write so that the sweet release of Death will find my life-long word-count far outstripping that of that shit-ass Hearst, and don't you forget it.

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