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April 18, 2005 |
"Suspect" Brian Nichols returns to the courthouse/scene of his last crime under close watch by court officials/potential victims. rian Nichols, the world's most rightfully-imprisoned black man, appeared Friday in the same courthouse where he killed three people on March 11 in Fulton County, Georgia. Asked to enter his plea by a very timid judge, surrounded by trigger-happy bailiffs and police, Nichols pleaded "déjà vu" in his case.
While his attorneys very politely reminded him he could only plead "guilty" or "not guilty," though "not guilty" seemed an extremely unlikely choice, Nichols laughed off his odd feeling of having been through it all before.
"Sorry," the very large former linebacker told the court, as they listened with wide eyes and trembling lips. "It's just like, wow, I feel like I've been here before in some way. I have this whole memory of struggles with officers and gunfi...
rian Nichols, the world's most rightfully-imprisoned black man, appeared Friday in the same courthouse where he killed three people on March 11 in Fulton County, Georgia. Asked to enter his plea by a very timid judge, surrounded by trigger-happy bailiffs and police, Nichols pleaded "déjà vu" in his case.
While his attorneys very politely reminded him he could only plead "guilty" or "not guilty," though "not guilty" seemed an extremely unlikely choice, Nichols laughed off his odd feeling of having been through it all before.
"Sorry," the very large former linebacker told the court, as they listened with wide eyes and trembling lips. "It's just like, wow, I feel like I've been here before in some way. I have this whole memory of struggles with officers and gunfire and—anyway… guess we should get to trial and stuff. So, who's the misguided people who are going to testify against me?"
The judge, who asked not to be identified or even revealed to the suspect, addressed the court from inside a large crate he or she had hauled up behind the bench, and suggested they put off the proceedings and gave the prosecutors a chance to build up a rock-solid case against the defendant—who, the judge acknowledged, certainly may very well not be guilty, for all we know.
A little more than a month ago, the gigantic nasty African-American Hannibal Lecter wrestled out of custody of court officers, secured a gun, and shot three people, including a judge, before making his way outside for a spree of carjackings and hostage-taking that eventually ended in his arrest. Numerous charges were added to Nichols' already long list, which included rape, aggravated sodomy, and false imprisonment, the charges of the previous trial where the convicted badass attacked the court. It was the second trial on the charges for Nichols, after the first trial ended when the jury couldn't come to a decisive verdict.
"Boy, I feel like quite the ass now," admitted one of the holdout jurors from the first trial, who asked to remain anonymous out of embarrassment and fear of possibly being killed. "I owe a few of my fellow jurors some apologies now, that's for sure. Back then I sure didn't think him capable of rape and kidnapping, but now that I think about it, I was worried about him leaping into the jury box and bludgeoning me to death. I just assumed the two were mutually exclusive."
Court officials took no chances with Nichols this time, bringing the besuited behemoth into court in leg irons, shackles, and wearing a global positioning device on his ankle that would self-destruct upon walking out of the courthouse area. For extra safety measures, the gray suit Nichols wore was also packed with gunpowder by deputies and a twenty-foot fuse trailed behind him, just in case he tried to make another break for it.
Bailiff Vigo Metzel was in charge of Nichols' secure transportation to and from the courthouse.
"Some of us wanted to give him one of those half-hockey masks to keep him from eating people, but we thought that just made him look even more terrifying. No one would want to be on the security detail then. Besides, no one would volunteer to put the mask on him."
When questioned as to why anyone would want to defend a client with so much stacked against them, including verifiable security footage from the very court where he's going to be tried, Nichols' attorneys, who also asked not to be identified, said that even though it was unlikely Nichols would go free, they wanted Nichols to know definitively whose side they had been on in the event he ever breaks out again.
In the meanwhile, Nichols has privately told his attorneys and the prosecution that he only made his escape attempt from the courthouse in March so he could find the real perpetrators of the crimes of which he was accused. If he had found them, Nichols said, he certainly would have killed them, too. the commune news tried a similar chaotic courtroom breakout, but when it failed, we were forced to pay the traffic violation anyway. Shabozz Wertham claimed for the first time ever he didn't want to play the race card in this case, and in fact wanted to stay as far away from the big scary black man as he could.
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 August 5, 2002
Crapping Out Like a Vegas Fat ManThe summertime is the number one time for partaking in America's favorite pastime: collecting mosquito larvae in the wild and using it to make homemade jam and preserves. With us today are two people who should need no introduction, mosquito breeding habit expert Dr. Lipton Cloff and homemaker to the stars, Nancy Van Hummelstein. Hey you two, was it you guys I saw pulling into the studio parking lot together in that red convertible with the Irish clogging music blasting?
NVH: You bet, Stu. We've been partying for three days and haven't slept in over a week.
DLC: That's right. And I'm high on some rancid larval peyote. Please excuse the condition of the green room.
Happens to the best of us, Lipton. Okay, folks, before we strap on the hip-waders and get our egg-siphons ready, we're going to check with our lawyers to make sure we won't be on the hook in case Dr. Cloff goes buggy on us out in the field and has to be put down. We'll be right back after this commercial break:
Boy Ricky, your dad sure does love nuts.
You're not kidding, Joey. Mom says she and dad had to go to three different marriage counselors because dad couldn't keep them out of his mouth.
Really? Wow Rick, I though that all had something to do with your dad's affair with Mr. Humbertson.
What?
This just in: A New Jersey toddler has been indicted for...
º Last Column: If Pigs Could Fly I'd Wear a Tin Sombrero º more columns
The summertime is the number one time for partaking in America's favorite pastime: collecting mosquito larvae in the wild and using it to make homemade jam and preserves. With us today are two people who should need no introduction, mosquito breeding habit expert Dr. Lipton Cloff and homemaker to the stars, Nancy Van Hummelstein. Hey you two, was it you guys I saw pulling into the studio parking lot together in that red convertible with the Irish clogging music blasting?
NVH: You bet, Stu. We've been partying for three days and haven't slept in over a week.
DLC: That's right. And I'm high on some rancid larval peyote. Please excuse the condition of the green room.
Happens to the best of us, Lipton. Okay, folks, before we strap on the hip-waders and get our egg-siphons ready, we're going to check with our lawyers to make sure we won't be on the hook in case Dr. Cloff goes buggy on us out in the field and has to be put down. We'll be right back after this commercial break:
Boy Ricky, your dad sure does love nuts.
You're not kidding, Joey. Mom says she and dad had to go to three different marriage counselors because dad couldn't keep them out of his mouth.
Really? Wow Rick, I though that all had something to do with your dad's affair with Mr. Humbertson.
What?
This just in: A New Jersey toddler has been indicted for having an inappropriate sexual relationship with a Guy Smiley Muppet doll. Reflections of a Goocher is there with the live interview:
SU: Toddler, what are your thoughts on the police's handling of this case in regards to your personal civil rights?
NJTWHBIFHISRGSMD: cruncha crackers moo says cows.
SU: Very well. Would you care to comment on the controversial sexual orientation of the domestic partners Muppet Bert and Muppet Ernie?
NJTWHBIFHISRGSMD: yoshu and the hey bert! ha ha ha
SU:Thank you for your time.
I'm sorry folks, due to unforeseen circumstances, circumspection and circumcisions that's all the time we have this week. Let's have a big hand for Nancy Van Hummelstein and Dr. Lipton Cloff, who will be around to answer your questions after he comes down out of that tree and can be convinced that he's not the letter "G". Let's also hear it for Jason and the Argonauts, who played a great set while we were at commercials. Thanks everybody, drive safe and remember: if you can't think of anything nice to say, go join a book club. º Last Column: If Pigs Could Fly I'd Wear a Tin Sombreroº more columns
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|  February 23, 2004
A Love Powerful Enough to Destroy the WorldNancy, sweet Nancy—the heart and soul of my existence. I would say you are the wind beneath my wings, but using such a contrived cliché to explain our love would make me vomit blood. You are not mere wind under silly bird wings, or I suppose bat wings or angel wings. You are a concussive force of destruction, 300mph winds that could drive straw through a brick wall.
It's no joke, Nancy. My love for you is so strong I sometimes feel like it will overcome me. I am not unlike Frodo, carrying a burden too big for such a small insignificant midget to handle, continually tempted and in danger of being overwhelmed by the power of the one true ring that is your love. All of that describes my affection for you, except for the implied evil I may not have ruled out quick enough.
Yours is no simple love I could slip in my back pocket and forget about, least of all because it is not a real tangible object. Your love is constantly on my mind, except for when I'm at work or in the bathroom, and it occupies my every other waking thought. That's got to be a good 65% of my day.
No, our love, mine for you and you for me, though I have yet to see a column expressing yours in such a way, our love is the strongest force nature has ever known. If it were a knife it could split open the earth to its very core and allow the hot magma within spill out into space. It would have to be a big knife, of course, but that's basically implied. It is a love more...
º Last Column: On the Vindication of Stockcar Car Racing º more columns
Nancy, sweet Nancy—the heart and soul of my existence. I would say you are the wind beneath my wings, but using such a contrived cliché to explain our love would make me vomit blood. You are not mere wind under silly bird wings, or I suppose bat wings or angel wings. You are a concussive force of destruction, 300mph winds that could drive straw through a brick wall.
It's no joke, Nancy. My love for you is so strong I sometimes feel like it will overcome me. I am not unlike Frodo, carrying a burden too big for such a small insignificant midget to handle, continually tempted and in danger of being overwhelmed by the power of the one true ring that is your love. All of that describes my affection for you, except for the implied evil I may not have ruled out quick enough.
Yours is no simple love I could slip in my back pocket and forget about, least of all because it is not a real tangible object. Your love is constantly on my mind, except for when I'm at work or in the bathroom, and it occupies my every other waking thought. That's got to be a good 65% of my day.
No, our love, mine for you and you for me, though I have yet to see a column expressing yours in such a way, our love is the strongest force nature has ever known. If it were a knife it could split open the earth to its very core and allow the hot magma within spill out into space. It would have to be a big knife, of course, but that's basically implied. It is a love more powerful than anything ever covered on the weather channel, even tornado hail.
If our love were funk, the whole world could get down to it. It would blast through speakers and rattle every window on earth, as if booming from a 2,000-mile long lowrider.
I am thoroughly convinced our love is the strongest thing in the universe, like the Hulk arm-wrestling Mr. T. It is like the pungent smell of paint thinner and that perfume you bought from Lazarus that one time, you remember which one—you kept complaining you couldn't get it off for a week. It is more than that powerful. But this is all good, because who wants an average love? A textbook love, with boring pictures like Leave it to Beaver's parents. You ever notice how they slept in separate beds? What was going on there?
Yes, I don't exaggerate to say our love may be the biggest thing the universe has ever known. Or perhaps I do, just a little, but our love is well worth embellishing, it is that cherished to me, and probably you—haven't heard a lot in response lately. But our love is so good, we don't need to parade it around town like our neighbor with his convertible Chrysler. Ooo, I'm Jack Hamilton, I can afford a convertible, well, who cares, Jack? Your love with that girl who comes over on Friday night is only Friday-night love, and I have a love so strong in can occupy 8 days in the span of only 7. I'm not sure how exactly it works, if it squeezes extra seconds in-between or adds the extra hours at the end of the day, but it does just that.
Unfortunately, our love is susceptible to lying. Not my lying, because I swear I thought those earrings were real diamonds when I bought them off the guy. We both totally got taken. But I don't expect you to simply take me back on the basis of my proclamation here, I just want to get together and you can hear my side of the story. It was a pretty shitty Valetine's Day for me, too, Nancy, having to sleep in my car because you got more than a little pissed off. Still, I don't hold a grudge, and you've had time to realize some of those things you said about my penis were quite out of line. Truce? º Last Column: On the Vindication of Stockcar Car Racingº more columns
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Quote of the Day“If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it must be Microsoft's new Futuretron 3000 Duck Simulator. That's almost a duck!”
-Rodney CheesesteakFortune 500 CookieWhen kicking out at opponents this week, aim for the nuts—always a good strategy. It's time to let that baby shark go home to its mama; it's been two years and you've got to take a bath sometime. Look forward this week to a final showdown with your mortal nemesis, Weezer. But watch out for the Rentals to intervene.
Try again later.Best John Travolta Comeback Films| 1. | Pulp Fiction (1994) | | 2. | Look Who's Talking (1989) | | 3. | Blow Out (1981) | | 4. | Staying Alive (1983) | | 5. | Welcome Back, Sweat Hogs (2003) | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY V.D. Whistling 8/4/2003 Harvey Potluck and the Sophomore SlumpUpon entering his second year in Hogwash Military Academy and Magic Technical School, Harvey was very relieved to be returned to this place, which had been the source of much pride and happiness during his first best-selling year.
It was peculiar to think he had nearly not made it at all. A mysterious spell and night of binge drinking of hard liquor had caused him to miss his cab ride back to the Academy. The shame of it all! Dimpleturd would not look kindly at all on a second-year wizard being tardy for his first day returned, particularly one who had thus far proven the hero of a quite enjoyable story, such as Harvey Potluck. But fortune was Harvey's this day, as his friend Phil Stalley pulled up alongside his window to offer him a ride. But Harvey was on the second floor of...
Upon entering his second year in Hogwash Military Academy and Magic Technical School, Harvey was very relieved to be returned to this place, which had been the source of much pride and happiness during his first best-selling year. It was peculiar to think he had nearly not made it at all. A mysterious spell and night of binge drinking of hard liquor had caused him to miss his cab ride back to the Academy. The shame of it all! Dimpleturd would not look kindly at all on a second-year wizard being tardy for his first day returned, particularly one who had thus far proven the hero of a quite enjoyable story, such as Harvey Potluck. But fortune was Harvey's this day, as his friend Phil Stalley pulled up alongside his window to offer him a ride. But Harvey was on the second floor of his flat! Did I forget to mention the bike was a floating magic bike? Don't wet yourself with excitement. Immediately the bike transmogrified into a flying ostrich to avoid a lawsuit from Steven Spielberg, and Harvey climbed aboard. The two were quickly off, bound for Hogwash! It was a dangerous and entertaining trip here condensed for time, but once they crash-landed safely, Harvey and Phil again made acquaintance with their prize chum from last year, Persephone Debutante. Persephone was invaluable the previous book when she aided Harvey and Phil against the evil trick professor Kreskin and defeated the magic handbag and non-matching shoes. In excitement she wrapped her arms around Harvey, bringing him to the floor and pinning him in record time. Phil was down and tied in less than seven seconds, a personal best. Once she had greeted the two, her manner cooled considerably, so that she might maintain her distant uppity bitch persona. "I worried you might not return," she said, trying to hide her joy. Phil farted warmly. "It was merely a matter of making the journey," said Harvey with a smile. "It was a curious thing, though. How is it I should sleep all night and not wake up at the designated time. The alarm clock should have woke me up." "Curious, indeed," muttered Persephone, at which point a monkey chased by a yellow-behatted man crossed the school grounds unnoticed. "Is it simply a curious happening, based on hours of liquor consumption and misunderstanding alarm clock directions? Or is it something more?" "You don't mean… St. Donswort!" questioned Phil. All were quite surprised when Gorgeous Gorge lunged immediately into this book. "Quiet! No one must ever say that name here!" whispered the giant sex dumpling. Gorge was a welcome sight to the youngsters, and his breasts were starting to grow in nicely with the recent estrogen injections. "Hogwash may be full of mighty and valiant wizards, but it is also a nesting place for the evil sort. As evidenced by your last adventure here." "Do you think it possible, Gorge?" asked Harvey. "Could Saint—that is, the unspeakable ultimate villain wizard… do you think he could be afoot once again?" Gorge considered the question, straightening his bra strap. "I hate to think it, Harvey. But where the great evil is concerned, one must never be quick to dismiss such thoughts." Gorge could tell the children were inflamed with worry by the suggestion. He smiled brightly. "But forget about all that! You kids have yet to be properly welcomed back. I know what! Let's go down to the local pub and you can watch me pick up sailors." With tremendous joy they bounced along after the mischievous sex dumpling.   |