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3/5/26   
Death never smelled so good
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Gates Sues Christo Over GatesFebruary 28, 2005
Medina, Washingto
Shaki Meadows
An artist’s concept of just how hard this thing might blow
C
rap-art lovers of New York have had their chicken salad shat upon this week with the news that their beloved The Gates of Central Park, a conceptual-art project by French artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude consisting of 7,500 orange gates strewn throughout the famous park, may be in jeopardy. A lawsuit filed by Microsoft headcheese Bill Gates over copyright issues would have the famous art-things torn down from their current location in the park, then re-erected on Gates’ front lawn.

The enigmatic uberdork Gates first attempted to purchase the art installation earlier this month, after seeing it on USA Today and screaming “I want those things!” to the various electronic henchmen whirring about his family’s high-tech Medina, Washington home. But despite being t...Read more...


Duke Prosecutor Disbarred, Accepts New Position as National Scapegoat

Rick Perry: "No, Goddammit, I'm not that Madea guy, stop asking that."

Sudan peace plan calls for Led Zeppelin song about Darfur

FDA: Celebrex has incredibly effective lobby



January 5, 2004

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Hospitality

Editor's Note: Sampson L. Hartwig may be gone and presumed dead, his stuff long since passed around to the staff members who have gone through his desk, but the prolific Hartwig had oodles and oodles of remembrances we were never desperate enough to run. Until now. Enjoy!

I remember my first trip to the hospital. It was the birth of my sister, Stephanie, and I was only a little tyke. Me and my brother Goose were both five. Actually, Goose was three years older than me, but always wanted everything I had, so my dad made us both five. Come to think of it, Goose never did get those years back.

The hospital was a big, scary place for a little kid. Everything was white and sterile, people moved around gigantic electric equipment since back then everything was tubes and hand-cranks—thermometers took up whole rooms. And then there were the doctors, big old scary guys walking around with masks on their faces like bank robbers. As a kid I thought it was so nobody knew, even the nurses, who left the sponge in the guy after they sewed him up. Kind of like when they shoot a guy, there's four riflemen with one bullets. Though I guess you could bring your own bullets from home to make sure, no one's stopping you.

All I knew was Mom came in with a bellyache and a big fat stomach. I thought it was because Dad punched her there all the time, but he said he just did that so the baby would come out with good reflexes. You may scoff now, with your...Read more...


º Last Column: Good-Bye
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December 22, 2003

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Sorry for Skipping the Poor Kids

Nothing's more depressing than gearing up for the Christmas season, getting all jolly and stuff, and getting one of these letters from the little kids who are oh-so innocent: "Santa, can you please bring gifts to all the poor kids this year?"

Ah, Christ. Like I needed that bring-down.

Look, once and for all, I cannot help the poor kids. It's not because I'm some big fat asshole, lord knows. My hands are tied on the matter. Sorry. Life's hard, learn to cope.

Once Thanksgiving is over I got my helpers showing up in droves telling me what kids want, and every one says, "By the way, getting a lot of flak on the whole 'poor kids' thing. Can you do something about that this year?" I kick them out of the office and don't tell them anything else, because it's none of their business. I'm the head elf. They don't need to know the murky depths of the business.

But just for the record, without naming names, let's just say it's very difficult to run a high-overhead operation like this and cutting costs wherever possible is a must. I got the elves and reindeer out selling band candy and magazine subscriptions all year around just to afford the toys in the first place, then I have to work out tax bracket nonsense with each individual government. That's a lot of work.

Not that these guys aren't jolly in their own way, I'm not pointing the finger at them. They've got their own problems. You don't have a major influx of...Read more...


º Last Column: Get Me on the Next Plane to Nigeria!
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Quote of the Day
“If you're not a liberal when you're 25, you have no heart. If you're not a conservative by the time you're 35, you have no inheritance. Die already, Uncle Franco… just… die.”

-Winthrop Shuriken
Fortune 500 Cookie
Who's the man? More specifically, who's the man who shattered your kneecap with a club and took you out of the competition? Now would be a good time to switch to NetFlix from your previous practice of watching the movie on the video store display TVs. Keep your eye on the sparrow. Lucky jeans: Levi, Bugle Boy, Lee, and Auel.


Try again later.
Top Recent Mother Mary Appearances
1.Wad of wet toilet paper, Gas station restroom floor, Houston TX
2.Numerous, Mother Mary's Gift Shop, Albuquerque NM
3.Fur pattern on Dalmatian's ass, Kingley OK
4.Burrito Del Maria, Taco Bell Extra Value Menu
5.Mary, Mary, ABC Thursdays
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North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie

View Past Columns
BY Harpooner Johnson
8/18/2003
Freak Outs and Head Trips in Atlantic City
Atlantic City is like the orange shag carpet of a ratty first apartment, brilliantly bright and nasty. Filled with cigarette butts and alcohol stains that come out fully visible in the unforgiving glare of fluorescent lights. And there's nothing but fluorescent lights in Atlantic City, flat and neon, gross and putrid.

Intelligent beasts don't go to Atlantic City of their own free will. Neither did I, and would never have set foot in the rectum of America had I not been on assignment for Boner magazine to cover the first of its kind Monty Python Fan Base Convention. Anything better but the scraps of altruistic sex magazines was something I couldn't ask for, troubled and washed out by all major journalistic outlets for my decadent behavior. Decadent by their standards, my own...Read more...

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