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Real Deep Throat Not as Sexy as MovieJune 6, 2005
Santa Rosa, CA
Junior Bacon
Felt ruined more than a few 30-year-old sexual fantasies with his recent disclosure
A
merica’s nuts were chapped a bright red this week with news that former FBI second-in-command W. Mark Felt, 91, had come out of hiding to end a 30-year mystery, announcing that he was Deep Throat, star of the semenal porn film that took the country by storm in 1972.

Americans from all walks of life gagged at the news and the sight of Felt, who has aged poorly since his starring role as the sex kitten known for her plucky personality and propensity for swallowing rod all the way down to the balls.

Despite lacking establishment distribution or any tangible evidence of a script, the 1972 film Deep Throat was a gigantic hit, inspiring excessive repeat business from about a dozen guys who couldn’t get enough of the erotic “art film.” Even a l...Read more...


Whale-dolphin hybrid born to overeager whale, traumatized dolphin

New photos of Iraqi prisoners in Barely Detained Magazine

Affleck pregnant

Iraq perfectly quiet all week



July 8, 2002

Click for Biography

I'm Through Trying to Invent New Drugs

Drug lords of the world can rest easier now, Clarissa Coleman is out of the narcotics business once and for all.

Before the feds jump on my gullet they should know I didn't really mess with anything illegal. Coca plants or whatever they call them, cannabis, all of that already illegal stuff is off limits as far as I'm concerned. The whole point of getting involved in narcotics in the first place was to create a drug that's both legal and gets you fucked up. And I think I can say I failed, so have no fear, D.A.R.E., you won't have to keep kids away from my product. It doesn't exist.

Everybody enjoys a little buzz now and again, let's not kid anybody. I'm sure Bob Dole got lit on something now and then, I have a friend who has a messed up arm like that and he sure didn't serve in the Gulf or wherever. Just an acid trip that confined itself to his right arm and has yet to stop. My challenge, as I thought of it while getting baked a few weekends ago, was to create a legal upper/downer/all-arounder and peddle it to my friends, family, and yes, some street junkies or whoever wanted a hit of my wonder drug.

Some of you are probably thinking I don't have what it takes to make a highly-addictive non-lethal narcotic, since I never got my college degree or anything. But you naysayers can hold your tongues. I'm sure the guy with crack had a lot of guys telling him he couldn't do it, like the D.E.A. or the cocaine companies. I'm not going to let...Read more...


º Last Column: I Don't Understand America's Love Affair with Books
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July 7, 2003

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Roll On, Columbia

Imagine my dismay when I was driving in the great state of Arkansas earlier this year, the window down and enjoying the smell of oppression, listening to Neil Young's "Heart of Gold" on the radio, when the local newsboy interrupts to tell me the news that the space shuttle Columbia had blown up on its way to landing. I could not have been more infuriated—everyone knows "Heart of Gold" is the best Neil Young song ever. The astronauts would not have been any more expired had they waited another few minutes to give me the news.

Not that I take the death of astronauts lightly. They are the pilgrims of space, without dressing in the stylish black as much. It was a shame, but I have been writing angry, rambling letters to NASA for years advocating the use of weaponry on shuttles, and it was sad that someone had to get killed before they'd realize the wisdom in the suggestions.

Yes, hopefully when they file the official report on the Columbia shuttle disaster, of course blacking out the good parts with ample use of a Sharpie, the one good piece to come out of all this will be the recommendation of equipping future space shuttles with high-tech cannons and other defensive machinations. The fact Columbia was wiped out so efficiently only proves we are getting closer than ever to the alien lifeforms we've been seeking all this time.

I'm the first person here on terrestrial earth to sing the praises of peace, of trying to work out all our...Read more...


º Last Column: SARS: Our Middle Finger to China
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Quote of the Day
“Speak when you are angry and you'll make the best speech you will ever regret. Speak when you are extremely angry and you'll really regret it—all stuttering and shit, like Porky Pig. And they'll just make fun of you. I know I would.”

-Ambruce Fierce
Fortune 500 Cookie
Stick it where the sun don't shine—that's the only way you'll be sure it glows in the dark. Does this look like medium rare to you? Take it back or there goes your tip. If you could ask God one question, don't make it, "Who farted?" Take a self-time out this week, but don't just waste it by yourself; extract the time itself from the timeline, so you can put it back wherever you want. Lucky legends this week: Sasquatch, the Jersey Devil, Abominable Snowman, and other Bigfoot rip-offs.


Try again later.
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Last IssueLast Issue’s Lead News Story

North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie

View Past Columns
BY Ulysses P. Crackbutter
9/29/2003
The Insomnia of Ransom Ripple
Ransom Ripple's twisted nipples
kept him from his sleep.
The night was long,
as Ransom's thong
straight up his ass would creep.

An incessant dripping
at his ears was nipping,
as it echoed from the sink.
"This noisy room
will be my doom!"
was all that he could think.

The words to a song,
like a clanging gong,
rang and jiggled his brain.
"This tune will be
the death of me!"
he was heard to complain.

He counted sheep,
then counted Jeep,
then counted jellybeans.
But then he remembered
once being dismembered…
"I wonder what that means?"

Ransom Ripple's toe was crippled
and he had to pee.
His nose did...Read more...

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