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Rookie First Baseman Nervous To Chat With Baserunners

ATLANTA—Noting how important it is to make a good first impression, Pittsburgh Pirates rookie first baseman Josh Bell told reporters before Tuesday’s game against the Atlanta Braves that he’s still nervous about chatting with opposing baserunners.

What Is Trump Hiding?

As The Onion’s 300,000 staffers in its news bureaus and manual labor camps around the world continue to pore through the immense trove of documents obtained from an anonymous White House source, the answers that are emerging to these questions are deeply unnerving and suggest grave outcomes for the American people, the current international order, Wolf Blitzer, four of the five Great Lakes, and most devastatingly, the nation’s lighthouses and lighthouse keepers.

Deep Blue Quietly Celebrates 10th Anniversary With Garry Kasparov’s Ex-Wife

PITTSBURGH—Red wine and candlelight on the table before them, Deep Blue, the supercomputer that defeated reigning world chess champion Garry Kasparov in 1997, and Kasparov’s ex-wife, Yulia Vovk, quietly celebrated their 10th anniversary on Wednesday at a small French restaurant near Carnegie Mellon University, where Deep Blue was created.
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Zweibel Goes A-Courtin'

The estate was awash in jollity and good tidings this week during the wedding of my great-great-great grandniece Violet Carstairs Zweibel to some pansy who is heir to a vast gelatin fortune. Though the ceremony was held in my own court-yard, I was locked in my bed-chamber, doubtless out of fear that I would create a scene. Lousy ingrate family of mine!

During the wedding, whilst gazing through my bed-chamber window, I spied an enchanting milk-maid strolling on the estate grounds. I was transfixed by her beauty, and the wedding made me nostalgic for my courting days. I resolved that I must have this fair maiden as my wife. The mourning period for my late wife had surpassed the customary 60 years, and I was ready to take off my black crepe armband and don my seersucker courting suit once again.

With a box of sweet-meats and bouquet of posies in tow, my manservant Standish wheeled me out to the servants' huts where the milk-maid dwelled. Standish knocked at her door, and out she emerged, her skin as white as the milk she drew from cows' udders. He presented the gifts to her, and told her that there was a man of immense wealth and prominence who wished to make her his bride. Her eyes registered amazement, and with breathless delight she asked who this wonderful man was.

Standish stepped back to reveal, if I may say, quite a dapper old gentleman. I even wore my prosthetic ears and iron dentures for the occasion. Determined to show my love for her, I mustered all my strength to raise what remained of my fore-arms and asked for her sweet embrace.

A look of sheer terror filled her face. She dropped the gifts and slammed her door. Furious, I summoned my Swiss Guard to storm her hovel and drag her out, but they could not find her. She must have escaped through the back window. Bloodhounds in tow, the guards searched for hours in a driving tempest. They finally found her, floating face-down in a drainage ditch some 200 yards from my estate.

The girl chose suicide over marriage to me, bless her heart! It's happened before. But I'm much too old for this love nonsense anyhow. Nurse! Stoke my hot-water bottle, it's getting cold!

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