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Limbaugh Loses Control of Bodily FunctionsOctober 29, 2001 |
Hindquarter, VA Danish Thomas/AP Limbaugh speaking before a room of rhesus monkeys opular radio talk-show host and notorious blowhard Rush Limbaugh was recently revealed to be in the terminal stages of losing the ability to perform any normal human function but talk. Very soon, Mr. Limbaugh will exist solely for the purpose of flapping his purplish, rubbery lips and belching out enormous amounts of miasmatic wind over the nation's airwaves.
"It's the absolute worst tragedy involving a large Nazi gasbag since the explosion of the Hindenburg," said Limbaugh's personal physician, Dr. H. Himmler. "Oh, the humanity, the humanity, the inanity…"
Dr. Himmler's colleague, Dr. J. Mengele, echoed the sentiment, saying that it is "natural for muscles that aren't used to atrophy, but we've never seen a case as advanced as this one in such a short time."

opular radio talk-show host and notorious blowhard Rush Limbaugh was recently revealed to be in the terminal stages of losing the ability to perform any normal human function but talk. Very soon, Mr. Limbaugh will exist solely for the purpose of flapping his purplish, rubbery lips and belching out enormous amounts of miasmatic wind over the nation's airwaves.
"It's the absolute worst tragedy involving a large Nazi gasbag since the explosion of the Hindenburg," said Limbaugh's personal physician, Dr. H. Himmler. "Oh, the humanity, the humanity, the inanity…"
Dr. Himmler's colleague, Dr. J. Mengele, echoed the sentiment, saying that it is "natural for muscles that aren't used to atrophy, but we've never seen a case as advanced as this one in such a short time."
Apparently the only thing keeping Limbaugh, who was declared brain-dead in the late 1980's, alive is the constant motion of his jaw and tongue. "Well, yes, he is an opinionated fellow, there's no doubt about that," said his personal assistant, a Mr. A. Speer. "He likes to let everyone around him know what he thinks. I believe that's what's kept him going all these years, even though he can't walk, eat, scratch his ass, shit, fuck or smoke a cigar without assistance. Still, you've got to give him credit for such single-minded devotion to doing what he does best." Upon saying that, Mr. Speer rapidly retreated to the back of Limbaugh's expansive chair with a bucket and a large handful of wet paper towels. "Christ, here he goes again, all over his goddamned self," he was heard to mutter.
When asked for comment, Limbaugh replied, "What? Huh? Did you say something? I can't hear a blessed thing! What?" Boner Cunningham is aware that some people find his name humorous, but he believes that Cunningham is a good Irish name, and he's proud to carry it on. So piss off.
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 September 15, 2000
Generation-X-O-CideBoy have I got a bug in my bonnet, good people!
Once again I've had a run in with some no-goodniks lately. As my regular readers will know, I'm surrounded on all sides by youth trash that just will not give respect where it's due. Some may feel intimidated and back down from the pierced and tatooed larvae that pass for young people these days, but not yours truly. Nor will I.
Two of these miscreants today were loitering with their landsurfboards in front of the Yarn Bungaloo off Highway 62, when me, minding perfectly my own business of mine, became subject to ridicule at the hands of these goofsters. As you may well know, I'm not a tall man--I make no secret of it. I stand proudly at my four feet. But my height has made me a target for hooligans looking to besmirch the good name of Rokwell T. Finger. And these two were of the same ilk.
After years of trying to "get along" and "live in peace" with the young people of today, after searching for viable alternatives, I'm left with one clear choice for our entire nation:
We must annihilate Generation X.
Before you hippies and pacifists begin your whining, I've heard it all before. I can't "come on and smile on my brother," or "get together and try love one another." I've lost interest in "jumping feet first into the love boat" and "ridin' on the peace train" or "gettin' high off my fuckin' ass" anymore. Generation X is a dark and ugly evil twin to the...
º Last Column: Don't Be So Hard-On the President º more columns
Boy have I got a bug in my bonnet, good people!
Once again I've had a run in with some no-goodniks lately. As my regular readers will know, I'm surrounded on all sides by youth trash that just will not give respect where it's due. Some may feel intimidated and back down from the pierced and tatooed larvae that pass for young people these days, but not yours truly. Nor will I.
Two of these miscreants today were loitering with their landsurfboards in front of the Yarn Bungaloo off Highway 62, when me, minding perfectly my own business of mine, became subject to ridicule at the hands of these goofsters. As you may well know, I'm not a tall man--I make no secret of it. I stand proudly at my four feet. But my height has made me a target for hooligans looking to besmirch the good name of Rokwell T. Finger. And these two were of the same ilk.
After years of trying to "get along" and "live in peace" with the young people of today, after searching for viable alternatives, I'm left with one clear choice for our entire nation:
We must annihilate Generation X.
Before you hippies and pacifists begin your whining, I've heard it all before. I can't "come on and smile on my brother," or "get together and try love one another." I've lost interest in "jumping feet first into the love boat" and "ridin' on the peace train" or "gettin' high off my fuckin' ass" anymore. Generation X is a dark and ugly evil twin to the generation of children America should have raised. Perhaps the good ones are spirited away, in a dimension where we all wear goatees and sleeveless shirts and we are the bad ones, not them. I've seen as much on a documentary on The Learning Channel, but that's not the point. The point is that if we can't get our good kids back, the bad ones must be obliterated for our own sake.
I will no longer stand idly by while our children stand idly around. They are vicious taunters and intolerable smarmy pissants with no respect for anyone. I watched all my friends go to war and some didn't come back. I didn't even get to see some of them off to their deaths since they were of ill health and couldn't trek to Canada to see me before they headed out to war.
If you want to talk about despair and gloom, let's talk about the '60s, you little shits. The horror of long-haired freaks and high beatniks running around loose. Christ, there were even some years I couldn't visit my summer home in Watts. Generation X knows nothing about terror. I've been there. I've had several friends who've described it in detail.
There is only one remedy for a troublesome generation. Instant death! I call on the president to take action and wipe this ugly smirk off the face of America, once at least half of them have procreated to replenish the species. Then again, from what I understand, we may have to go ahead and de-funct the ass of that generation immediately as well. º Last Column: Don't Be So Hard-On the Presidentº more columns
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|  March 4, 2002
Let the Games BeginThere's nothing quite like a global controversy to really bring an Olympic Games to the next level. Every Games worth its wound full of salt has at least one memorable knee-whacking or equestrian sex scandal to its name. This year the brouhaha has been all about the pairs figure skating championship that saw the Russians Anton Sikharulidze and Elena Berezhnaya take the gold over Canadians David Pelletier and Jamie Sale, in spite of the fact that Sikharulidze tripped over his own untied shoelaces and his partner farted loudly when she was lifted over his head during the routine's finale.
Scandal raged when allegations surfaced that French judge Marie-Reine Le Gougne had been coerced to vote for the Russians after the Russian judge threatened to single-handedly conquer France. This prompted the French government to double their defense budget and send Le Gougne, a neurotic housewife who always votes for her janitor husband in political elections, the cryptic message "GIVE RUSSIANS SEX". Unfortunately for the Canadians, and possibly the Russian judge, "sex" is also French for "six" and Le Gougne misinterpreted the message by giving the Russian figure skaters a perfect score. The Chinese and Ukrainian judges also voted for the Russians, reportedly because Chinese and Ukrainian people think farts are funny.
Topical as such scandal may be, it's hardly anything new. We need look no further than the Summer Games of two years ago to find the last Olympic...
º Last Column: Don't Be So Hard-On the President º more columns
There's nothing quite like a global controversy to really bring an Olympic Games to the next level. Every Games worth its wound full of salt has at least one memorable knee-whacking or equestrian sex scandal to its name. This year the brouhaha has been all about the pairs figure skating championship that saw the Russians Anton Sikharulidze and Elena Berezhnaya take the gold over Canadians David Pelletier and Jamie Sale, in spite of the fact that Sikharulidze tripped over his own untied shoelaces and his partner farted loudly when she was lifted over his head during the routine's finale.
Scandal raged when allegations surfaced that French judge Marie-Reine Le Gougne had been coerced to vote for the Russians after the Russian judge threatened to single-handedly conquer France. This prompted the French government to double their defense budget and send Le Gougne, a neurotic housewife who always votes for her janitor husband in political elections, the cryptic message "GIVE RUSSIANS SEX". Unfortunately for the Canadians, and possibly the Russian judge, "sex" is also French for "six" and Le Gougne misinterpreted the message by giving the Russian figure skaters a perfect score. The Chinese and Ukrainian judges also voted for the Russians, reportedly because Chinese and Ukrainian people think farts are funny.
Topical as such scandal may be, it's hardly anything new. We need look no further than the Summer Games of two years ago to find the last Olympic falderal to quake the globe. In the 2000 Summer Games, scandal cropped up around the gymnastics meet when disgruntled workers botched the equipment set-up by making the uneven bars even, the rings uneven, and setting up a leather loveseat instead of the short vault. Look back even further and you'll find that the Olympic trail of travesty is alarmingly well marked.
Rarely is archery the source of Olympic controversy, which made it all the more shocking in 1926 when Poland's Frederyk Speitzel errantly picked up his bow backwards and shot bronze medallist Fonzlow Proust of Germany in the neck while he was browsing a catering tray set up behind the contestants. From that day forward, bow safety certification has been required of all Olympic contestants in the archery event.
In 1930, Pierre Altmount of France was stripped of his gold medal in the high jump after it was discovered that he'd planted explosive charges in the heels of his shoes. Few could forget the emotional scene when the Olympic Commissioner stood at the side of the hospital bed and slipped the gold from around Pierre's comatose body.
In 1954 the equestrian show jumping event was won by what turned out to be two Bulgarians in a horse suit, who later apologized, said they'd learned their lesson, and asked if they could both be considered co-champions. Instead they were shot and made into a potted meat dessert by the IOC.
In perhaps the most infamous judging decision ever, the 1962 gold medal in the high-jump event was awarded to the German Hans Hansel, who suffered a brain aneurysm and died instantly while in mid-jump. Though his body flopped like a tuna under the bar and off the corner of the mat, judges argued that Hans' soul shot straight up to heaven, setting a new record for the event.
Few can forget 1966, the year that Austrian Molmo Zoop won the synchronized swimming event all by himself, sparking a heated debate over whether one should be rewarded for being supremely in synch with oneself.
An eerie harbinger of things to come, in 1986 table-tennis favorite Tang Zui was taken out of competition when a deranged fan pulled Zui's underwear up around his armpits and gave his ear a merciless flicking, an injury from which Zui never fully recovered. That year the gold went instead to Zui's rival Chaney "Dweebasaurus" Clarkson, who rose to the occasion in spite of having his arm twisted and his lunch money taken from him only moments before the championship match.
The lesser controversies of Olympic history are too numerous to mention, among them: the infamous "Ding Dong Incident" at the 1956 men's hockey final, the international vomiting incident in 2000 when Garth Brooks' hit song Shameless was played before the men's gymnastics preliminaries, Norwegian belching champion Leif Olafassen's alleged use of bicarbonates in the 1936 Games, the polyester running pants fire during the 1974 Games, the controversial inclusion of professional shot putters in the 1960 Games, the alleged rope-greasing of the 1982 German men's tug-of-war team, and the much-debated victory of the Canadian curling team in the 1972 Games, who defeated their only competitor in the Albanian men's team, then took the Albanians' money in a "double or nothing" match that was clearly a set-up.
A little knowledge of history helps put things in perspective and goes to show that even though a corrupt and ridiculous judging system may be a total bummer for skating fans, at least they didn't let any bears get loose on the ice like back in 1926. Talk about your low technical scores! It may not always be pretty, but the Olympics truly have come a long way, baby. º Last Column: Don't Be So Hard-On the Presidentº more columns
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Milestones1993: Ivan Nacutchacokov/Ivana Folger-Balzac honeymoon ends in stalemate.Now HiringPatsy. Must be willing to take the fall for numerous state and federal offenses. Should bear a passing resemblance to Red Bagel, Omar Bricks or Rok Finger. Immunity to electrocution a plus.Best Unreported News| 1. | President Bush Built from Japanese Parts | | 2. | Dale Earnhardt Fans Waiting Like Fanatics for His Return | | 3. | Lawrenceville, KS Shoney's Buffet Huge Fucking Rip-Off | | 4. | RuPaul All Man Underneath Dress | | 5. | Country of Chad Non-Existent, Just Some Joke by Guy Named Chad | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Stefan Myer-Wiener 1/27/2012 TweenightIt had been the world's most boring flight to Big, Oregon and I hated every minute of it. The old lady sitting next to me wouldn't even listen to me telling her about my stamp collection, all she wanted to do was watch gay porn on her laptop. It would be another super-dull summer in Sporks. I've been coming to Sporks ever since I was the world's most naĂŻve five-year-old. My dad and my mom split up when I was just a baby, and unlike most kids, I have a lot of sadness over it.
Dad picked me up at the airport, after bringing back the hot chick he thought was me and apologizing several times. Lawsuits are the worst. We talked about stupid stuff on the way to drive out to Sporks, the weather, how I liked school, how he lost both arms and his nose when a bomb went off in his...
It had been the world's most boring flight to Big, Oregon and I hated every minute of it. The old lady sitting next to me wouldn't even listen to me telling her about my stamp collection, all she wanted to do was watch gay porn on her laptop. It would be another super-dull summer in Sporks. I've been coming to Sporks ever since I was the world's most naĂŻve five-year-old. My dad and my mom split up when I was just a baby, and unlike most kids, I have a lot of sadness over it.
Dad picked me up at the airport, after bringing back the hot chick he thought was me and apologizing several times. Lawsuits are the worst. We talked about stupid stuff on the way to drive out to Sporks, the weather, how I liked school, how he lost both arms and his nose when a bomb went off in his face. I kept trying to tell him about the things that were bothering me, like the tag on inside of my shirt that keeps scratching that soft skin around my neck. Same old dad. He just didn't show any interest in anything I said.
When school started, it was even worse. All of the girls didn't want anything to do with me. I guess they all have money, all of them carry designer Trapper Keepers and wear the newest clogs. Mine are from last year. Mom makes a lot of money but she makes me wear second-hand clothes and get my hair done at the Dollar Salon because she says girls without money are much easier to relate to. Dad told me I can't go to the Dollar Salon anymore, unless my rich mother wants to pay for it, I'll have to cut my own hair in the car mirror.
So I was all alone, without a friend in the world, a virtual outcast in a brand new high school. I tried to tell mom I didn't like it here in Sporks, that I wanted to come home, and she just kept asking why school was in session during the summer. I can't talk to her. I'm all alone.
Or I was alone—until I met the new boy, Tedwin.
From the first time we saw each other in the cafeteria I was drawn to him. None of the other kids want anything to do with him. It's like he's an outcast, just like me. Everyone is turned off by the fact that he's so quiet, and that he looks like a male supermodel. Between that strange pale color and the fact all the girls and a lot of the guys want to have sex with him, he's got to be the most enigmatic outsider in all of this school, and this school is about 95% outsiders, you know. Oh, I forgot about Bleedin' Tits Pete. That guys like a super-outsider, but no one is drawn to him.
My dad forgot to pick me up at school one afternoon, sometimes I slip his mind when he finished having sex with my art teacher. So I was stuck walking home. I was heading down Puberty Road and most of the cars were passing me, but to my surprise, Tedwin pulled up on a sleek motorcycle, the kind all the cool mysterious outsiders drive.
"You're Bona… aren't you?" he said enigmatically. I nodded shyly, because I really got nothing else in my arsenal. He looked into the sky, in the distance, where they keep it, and noticed the sun was going down. It seemed to kind of worry him. "Are you… going home?"
I told him about my dad's forgetting to pick me up, and how my fish sometimes eats the whole leaf of lettuce but yesterday she didn't, and he gave me a smile. He asked where I lived, and I told him, and then I told him most people like Miracle Whip, but I think mayonnaise is actually better. He agreed—I've never had someone who listened to me before. And he was oddly beautiful, for a male supermodel outsider.
"I'll give you a ride, Bona." I got on the back of his motorcycle, hugging extra close to him for sexiness. It felt good to have another heart beating so close to mine. Other hearts feel best when they're inside finely carved pecs.
When we got to my house, we stayed up for hours, sitting on the porch. His family seemed just as screwed up as mind, all they ever did was nitpick and bite on each other. Both of his parents were dead, he told me, but he said they still tried to make time to see him now and then. I told him about my talent for counting words in sentences that are spoken to me (we used six-hundred and forty-two!) and my entire set of Suddenly Susan on DVD. He eventually looked outside and saw it was night, then got up to leave in a hurry. I noticed he was kind of… glowing.
"Bona… you're the most fascinating person I've ever met," he said, and I noticed he was nibbling at something in his hand. "I want to see you again… but I can't."
"You can't leave me without telling me why, Tedwin," I told him. "Even though we've only known each other for two hours, I've fallen in love with you. I think you love me, too. Tedwin— listen to me! Stop eating while I'm talking to you…!"
I smacked his hand and his food fell to the floor. It looked like… but I wasn't completely sure… brains?
"Tedwin," I said with a little gasp. "Are you… a zombie?"   |