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Father of H-bomb Dead at 95

September 15, 2003
Standford, CA
AP
Teller, of the huge fucking eyebrows, says “goodbye,” jailhouse-visit style
N
oted American physicist Edward Teller, known as the “father of the H-bomb” and the “swearingest man alive,” died Tuesday of acute pulmonary pneumonia. He was 95 fucking years old.

“That guy said ‘Hell’ more than any man alive,” remembered son Arthur Teller. “And we’ll miss him.”

Outspoken and influential in matters of national defense, Teller enjoyed a long career in pushing for bigger and badder ways to blow the United States’ enemies into a mist of lukewarm spittle. In 1939, Teller encouraged Albert Einstein to inform President Roosevelt of the “awesome fucking power” of nuclear fission. Teller thought the splitting of an atom’s nucleus could be tapped to create a weapon that would “make our dickless enemies wish they’d been bo...Read more...


World's oldest New Yorker now just some nobody dead guy

Report: Guns inappropriately classified as food by oil-for-food program

Martha Stewart defense makes witness into decorative tea cozy

Canadian court upholds right to spanking, confesses to being naughty



January 7, 2002

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Airplane

"I remember it just like it was yesterday, the summer that my brother Goose and I spent trying to build our own airplane. We had it on good authority that none other than the Great Gildersleeve himself would be making a public appearance in St Louis in a month's time, and we weren't about to consider the option of not being there. We begged mom and dad for weeks, but they failed to realize the importance of this event, or the relative insignificance of the 36-hour drive to St Louis. Perhaps if we'd had Stephanie on our side we could have turned the tides, but she was strictly a Fibber McGee girl and she distanced herself from the negotiations, most likely because she was angling for a new bike for her birthday. So it remained for Goose and I to find our own means of transportation to St Louis, and a homemade airplane sounded as good as any.

Our first prototype was a simple model consisting of an old mattress we found in the garage with a red racing stripe painted up the side. And it may have gotten the job done if it weren't for Goose, who was scared by a bee when we were hoisting it up onto the roof and let go of the mattress-plane early, which slid off the roof and into our neighbor's pool. Similar was the fate of prototype number two, an old garbage can tied to a pogo stick, which slid down the roof while Goose was climbing in and ended up putting a big dent in the hood of Dad's car. Goose caught pure hell for that mishap, and I had to join the 4H Club just...Read more...


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August 5, 2002

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Take a Tip From Me

A common question crosses many people's minds when they're scowling at credit card slips in dimly lit restaurants or digging deep into their trouser pockets for a few bills, some spare change and a condom wrapper to toss onto the table at the completion of their meal. Why, for God's sake, did I just tip the guy who brought me the wrong drink twice and left a chunk of his dreadlock skirting around in the bottom of my bowl of soup? And come to think of it, why do I tip waiters at all? I certainly didn't tip the guy who unclogged my toilet with his bare hands or the guy who fucks my horrifically obese wife for me, so why get all philanthropic on somebody for carrying your Diet Slice fifteen feet? A perplexing question, indeed.

The custom of tipping dates back to the Roman Empire, a time that truly represented the Dark Ages of food service. Waiters were surly, sub-literate and prone to having volatile tempers. Diners frequently ate entire meals they did not order out of fear of raising the waiter's ire. The situation came to a head when the Roman Emperor Claudius requested a saltshaker when dining one night and the waiter responded by vomiting down the Emperor's shirt. Claudius had all of the waiters in Rome beheaded that night, and that incident inspired the Roman populace to spontaneously begin tipping their servers out of fear over what kind of scoundrels had been dug up to replace the executed national wait staff. At the time, a small bribe to one's server was...Read more...


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Milestones
1853: The snorkel is invented, leading indirectly to the conception of commune reporter Lil Duncan several years later. STD specialists from the CDC would eventually send a robot back in time in an attempt to prevent this chain of events from occurring, but tragically this move caused the Short Circuit franchise of films in the 1980's instead.
Now Hiring
Midwife Crisis. Not entirely sure what this is, but the guys thought it would be funny. So
 Hmm. Uh
 well, if you have experience delivering babies in a dramatic and dangerous fashion, then I suppose you should dust off your résumé. No freaks please.
Best Shakespeare Film Adaptions
1.Romeo and Julian
2.Hamlet Strikes Back
3.A Midsummer Night's Rave
4.Tougher than Leather
5.Richard III: Richard Goes to Hell
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 Francis Delgardio
5/27/2002
The Heist Planned Over Coffee
"Listen, you fruits!" grumbly Rufus Dent barked to his motley crew. He was beginning the plan, as all the fruits assembled immediately understood with the order, "Listen, you fruits!"

In the crowd was Dickie Dicks; Eddie "Lumbar" Kickenback; Black Tony; and Tony. All were the best at what they did, except for the leader Rufus Dent, who was second best behind some guy who was in prison.

Dickie Dicks was the safecracker. He could hear a pin drop a hundred miles away, which really became distracting for him as a safecracker. There was no safe he couldn't get into, and if he got locked into one, there was no safe he couldn't again get out of. This will come in very useful around the last 40 pages of this novel.

Eddie "Lumbar" Kickenback was a...Read more...

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