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American Airlines: 'Christian' Pilot a Goddamned Nut

February 16, 2004
Fort Worth, TX
Snapper McGee
God sheds his grace on a departing American Airlines flight, unless it's just a simple sunset, but let each draw his own proof of deism.
No shit," promised American Airlines spokesperson Lindy Burger. "The pilot in question was out of his ever-loving mind. A fuckhead of galactic proportions. His inventive swearing was unfortunately mistaken for a Christian dogmatic rant."

American Airlines packaged the clarification of the incident with a passive-aggressive apology to any Christians who were stupid enough to mistake the pilot's announcements as endorsing any particular religion. Actually, the apology was about 75% aggressive and only 25% passive, judging by the wording and an elaborate passive-aggressive formula M.I.T. scientists worked out.

Burger, consenting to an interview in her office, as long as we kept the door open, explained it was American Airlines policy to allow pilots to swear in the...Read more...


Dow drops low enough to stare up Mickey Rooney's ass, says stock dude

Kerry a threat to gun-owners; gun-owners a threat to everybody else

Affleck pregnant

Sudan peace plan calls for Led Zeppelin song about Darfur



July 21, 2003

Click for Biography

Volume 47

Dear commune:

Who pooped on the commune’s parade lately? Talk about a bunch of sad sacks and down-about-the-facers! What this gang needs is some crisp, refreshing lemonade! What could be better than liquid refreshment on a hot summer day? Nothing! So why not buy some lemonade today? Only five cents a glass, while supplies last!

Sincerely,

Bobby Turner
The sidewalk outside the commune offices




Dear Bobby:

Listen kid, if we wanted any of your fucking lemonade we would have bought some already instead of sending Ivana Folger-Balzac downstairs to kick your pitcher over and break your sign in half. Can’t you take a goddamned hint? It was bad enough you had to ruin our mornings for weeks straight, sitting outside the commune offices with your puppy dog eyes and pathetically large quantities of unsold lemonade, riddling our already-riddled hearts with guilt. Can’t you understand that the commune staff members work hard for their money, and five cents (though it may not seem like a lot to you with your freewheeling, ass-deep-in-lemons lifestyle) is actually a week’s pay for some of these people? Apparently not. So you’ve seen fit to torture our hearts further with your sorrowful refrains of "Doesn’t anybody want any lemonade?" sung to the tune of "Bohemian Rhapsody" all day and night. And now, with the letters and voice mails!

Knock it off kid, our answering service is on the...
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May 17, 2004

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Midgets Aren't All They're Cracked Up to Be

From the first day I pulled Nevil out of my duffel bag and locked him in the trophy case in my living room, I thought that I was pretty damn clever for acquiring a midget. I pictured all kinds of everyday tasks that he could perform for me; it would be like having my own butler, only puntable and hilarious. Who wouldn't want a comically undersized sidekick to make their bed, brush their teeth, or stand in for them as a real life stunt double in situations they personally didn't want to be associated with, like work, paying taxes, going to jail, or being gang fucked in a dark alley by a group of Hell's Angels hopped up on PCP?

Fate, it seems, has a cruel way of twisting your dreams into reality.

It seems like I cater to that fucking midget more then he ever waits on me. For the longest time I couldn't even take him on a walk through a decent neighborhood without him darting off and humping somebody's front yard gnomes. I can't count the number of times we would've both been arrested if it weren't for my quick thinking, drop-kicking Nevil into the hedges and soaking up the accolades from homeowners who thought I'd just saved their landscaping from some kind of demented, randy troll.

Eventually I had to solve this problem by stealing one of those remote control shock collars. It didn't seem to be doing the trick at first, if anything the shocks just got Nevil excited, but after I replaced that pussy-assed 9V battery with a Sears DieHard...Read more...


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Milestones
1969: Rok Finger is deeply offended by the sights at Woodstock, which has little if anything to do with his favorite Peanuts character.
Now Hiring
Trombone Player. Follow Bludney Pudd around office playing hilarious "wahnt-WAHNT" everytime he does something pathetic. Overtime guaranteed.
Women Other Than Christina Ricci We Want Chained to Our Radiator
1.Original Wednesday Addams, Lisa Loring
2.Landlady—You spend the night there and tell me it's heating just fine
3.Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen (still count as one)
4.Diana Rigg, circa 1968; or now, what the hell
5.Anybody but that hippie chick protesting for radiator rights I got now
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 Roland McShyster
9/16/2002
Howdy Doody, America.


I'm sorry folks. That was just a pathetic attempt to sound upbeat. I should give you people more credit than that. We all know where we find ourselves, plum in the middle of the doggy-style days of autumn, a movie wasteland so barren that even the dead horses look bored. And that's no small challenge. Luckily for me, the less time people spend in theaters, the more time they spend writing letters to Ask Roland, except for the select few primates who actually try and write to me from inside the theater, so I end up with illegible butter-stained napkin letters crumpled in my mail box, covered in ants and other sundry vermin. I get less of those now, which is the one thing I like about the Fall. So let's delay no further and get to padding this...Read more...


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