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6/2/26   
It's like God... with almonds
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Killer Killen Tried for KillingsJune 20, 2005
Philadelphia, Mississippi
Whit Pistol
Accused killer Killen is brought to the courthouse with shackles on his wheels, to prevent a flight risk.
T
he trial of last century is making all the news in Mississippi and nowhere else, as the racially-motivated murders that inspired the film Mississippi Burning are underway after a lengthy ignoring of the whole thing. It took a little time to build a case and find a non-racist jury, but after 41 years, Edgar Ray Killen is being given as fair a trial as the white man's legal system will allow in a Philadelphia, Mississippi court.

The accused killer Killen is on trial for the premeditated murder of civil rights workers James Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Schwerner, who came to the town to aid in black voter recruitment. The accused was originally tried in 1964, but the jury deadlocked and couldn't decide whether murdering a Negro and two Jews was a crime in Mississip...Read more...


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July 3, 2012

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I Sing the Body Erotic

Ah, my sweet Nancy. Another year, another anniversary, and our love endures. Why does it last? Is it because ours is a love meant for the ages, without judgment or fear of reprisal, a shared connection between two people who are soulmates? Yes, a smidge. Mostly it continues to grow stronger because we never let ourselves lapse into staleness.

As you know, Nancy, I am not simply a heart that never stops loving and a mind that never stops obsessing over our love. I am also a penis. I am a testicle. Two testicles, in fact. I am a body, the throbbing impulses of a man. And you are more than love to me. You are the rounded hips, the supple breasts, the plush lips, the honeyed cave hole of a woman. We satisfy each other's bodies as we do our eternal longing for companionship. Yes, Nancy, like Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden, we express our love with constant humping.

The years pass, Nancy, but our physical love continues to bring us closer. No matter how many times we do the nasty, my darling, I never tired of the act, and I know you feel the same. For no matter how we may copulate in familiar ways, when things grow too familiar and comfortable for us, we always choose to raunchy it up with a little romantic experimentation. Your leg here, our backs bent this day, dangle these here and lick them—our imaginations are limitless when it comes to our storied love-making. Even if we were blithering retards, dear Nancy, we still have that dirty Japanese...Read more...


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December 30, 1999

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Mr. Dingle

"I remember in my youth, I had made a mask out of rubber bands and construction paper. It was a beautiful thing, glittering with sparkles I had glued around the eye holes. I would wear it everywhere and would make people call me 'Mr. Dingle' and refer to myself in third person as in 'Mr. Dingle would like some mashed potatoes' and 'Mr. Dingle demands we watch cartoons.' One day, my father approached me with a sad look on his face. Great Aunt Mable had died of pneumonia and the family was in mourning. So my father says to me, in that gentle way of his, 'Son. We all like Mr. Dingle, but I'm afraid he's not invited to the funeral. Only you were invited.' I was stunned. I said, 'Dad! I'm 22 years old! I'll decide whether Mr. Dingle is invited or not!' Mr. Dingle enjoyed that funeral. I think Great Aunt Mable would have been...Read more...


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Quote of the Day
“All the world's a stage, and unfortunately everyone's doing improv and they think they're so fucking funny. But you know what? LAME.”

-Bill Shacksperd
Fortune 500 Cookie
Top dentists all agree: You need teeth, so in short, allow the gargantuan redneck arguing over who did that "Life is a Highway" song to win the disagreement. Sometimes life feels like a TV show, and this week it feels like Red Shoe Diaries—the nudity is all too brief and all your sex will be simulated. Taste taser, motherfucker. Lucky moods are alright, not too bad/you?, feelin' frisky, and I seriously can't go on living no more.


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View Past Columns
BY Violet Tiara
5/28/2007
Blog
There was a frog
on my pog
until a dog
ate the pog
and a log
ate the dog
on a jog
yes, the log
then a clog
ate the log
and a bog
ate the clog
and in the bog
swam a hog
in the smog
sent from Prague

as I slog
through eggnog
like a cog
and a polliwog
recalls the frog
on the pog
and a dog
drops a log
where I jog
and a hair clog
in the bog
chokes the hog
in the smog
and in Prague
Praguers slog
sipping eggnog
through a cog
while a Golliwog
offends the frog
smells the pog
bites the dog
and writes a...Read more...

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