ederal authorities are weighing criminal charges against the Dateline NBC staff members who blew up the Wakasakpie River bridge in Delmont, Wisconsin on Sunday, despite claims from NBC that the terrorist act was merely part of an investigative piece on homeland security. NBC is calling for all charges to be dropped in relation to the incident, which caused over $10 million in damage and left seven dead in the small Wisconsin town.

“In our view, we do not believe we are in violation of the law, because it was not our intent to cause mayhem or destruction,� said NBC News President Neal Shapiro. “Those were merely inevitable side-effects of blowing up a crowded midtown bridge. We were just testing the system.�

According to the video footage shot for an upcoming episode of the NBC News program, staffers received little resistance while rigging the bridge with enormous quantities of high-powered explosives. The lax security did not mean the production was without its difficulties, however, as curious locals were constantly asking “Whatcha doin’?� and a nosy Wisconsin state trooper had to be tied to a large boulder and pushed into the river after being knocked unconscious by Dateline NBC staff members.

“It really makes you think,� said victim Dennis Tyson, nursing a severed arm. “If reporters could do this, just imagine what the bad guys could do if they had a whole crew of people and NBC funding behind them.�

As part of a Dateline NBC special report titled “Achilles Heel,� the investigative piece succeeded in exposing security loopholes in this northern Wisconsin town, as reporters were able to destroy the bridge after telling local authorities they were in town to tape a fictitious segment entitled “Who Has All the Beanie Babies?� Authorities authorized the crew’s presence after recognizing Dateline NBC reporter Sara James, and then being pistol-whipped and corralled into a back room at gunpoint.

These latest journalistic terror actions came on the heels of reports earlier this month that several ABC reporters successfully smuggled 15 pounds depleted uranium into Los Angeles from Jakarta, Indonesia. Although it was unclear what the arrested reporters had intended to do with the uranium, industry observers unanimously agreed that a domestic thermonuclear explosion would have been awesome for ratings.

The events in Los Angeles and Wisconsin have led some federal officials to suggest that the greatest threat to national security may currently be domestic investigative news shows. Unconfirmed reports have staff members of ABC’s 60 Minutes changing cars on an hourly basis in an attempt to foil increased federal surveillance efforts, so that they might still bring America a special report on why Harry Potter is so popular.

NBC heads have yet to say how the arrests will effect their plans to fly three hijacked airliners into rival ABC’s network headquarters as a test of national security on the upcoming season finale of Dateline NBC.

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 born dead.�

Soon after the atom bomb was envisioned, it became clear that nuclear fusion, not fission, was a quicker path to realizing Teller’s vision of a “real fucking ass-wiping, holy shit tit-ripping weapon of ball-waxing mass destruction.� Teller quickly took to the idea.

“Yeah… fuck yeah! We’ll blow their asses out through their teeth, the commie fuckers!� Teller enthused.

Teller’s enthusiasm and foul-mouthed pursuit of such a bomb – he called it the “Motherfucker� – won him the title “father of the H-bomb,� a term he thought was “fucking stupid.� The first one-megaton hydrogen bomb was exploded in 1952, blowing the living shit out of a stretch of desert in northern Nevada.

“Gotcha, cocksuckers!� Teller was heard to scream in a westerly direction when reached with word of the successful test.

According to family sources, Teller died in Stanford, California last Tuesday, in a “shitty little room� that “smelled like horse piss,� tended by “frigid dyke nurses� intent on stealing his “goddamned meds� and devouring his “motherloving soul.�

“Hell’s bells, I don’t know what the hell they were thinking when they invaded that fuckin’ hellhole,� were Teller’s last words, dropping his trademark H-bomb several times in reference to the Vietnam War. “We’re gonna kick the runny shit out of those brown bastards like it was a fuckin’ sport, Jack.�

Teller’s dark worldview was thought by some to be caused by his experiences with the communist revolution in his native Hungary in 1919, in concert with the rise of Nazism in his adopted home of Germany in the 1930’s.

“Nazis? Fuckin’ pricks,� Teller once said of the Nazis, fucking pricks. Biographers have marveled at Teller’s apparent knack for living through the shitty side of history, though many who knew him argue that he would have turned out the same either way.

In one of his last recorded interviews in 2001, Teller seemed to lend support to President George W. Bush’s plans to once again pursue the “Star Wars� Strategic Defense Initiative, an improbable missile defense system of space-based lasers, when he responded to the reporter’s question with an affirmative “Goddamn!� But those close to Teller stress that this was also the same way the late scientist answered the phone, so that conclusion might have been premature.

No one wanted it to come to this. Sure, if you checked with Arvelyn, or my other ex-wife, several of my children, or anybody on the commune staff, a number of them may have wanted it to come to this. But no one I like wanted it to come to this: A duel to the death.

I have besmirched the name of Boguslaw Sadowski, and it's no small feat to besmirch his name, given he's a dirty red con-man, heartless thug, and general bad cookie. But the time for words has passed, at least until we resume the slander trial. I for one won't wait that long. The duel is ten days from now. One of us will be dead by the time that trial rolls around, making it a lot easier case for the other guy. Though the survivor will get stuck with court costs, that's no free lunch.

The besmirching in question began two days ago, when I came home to find Boguslaw Sadowski in my home, talking to my wife in that unintelligible Russian blather they both know. Mob boss and Sting-lookalike Yogi explained to me Boguslaw would be moving in for the next few forevers, or until he could find his own place. Well, something snapped in me, good people, probably a couple of lower vertebrae, and I lost another inch in height. That I'm used to, but being made a fool of in my own home, and being completely aware of it, that's something I'm not. As if to make things worse, I noticed Boguslaw, talking to Felchyana still, make the international hand symbol for asshole, which I won't share with you decent folk here.

That was it, I was incensed. I grabbed the nearest thing I could and threw it at the mad Russian, a bucket of confetti I keep on hand for emergency purposes. At first Boguslaw was delighted, then he realized the intended insult and was driven into a mad rage. He threatened to cut off the fingers of all my living children in response, which I laughed off—if he's got that sort of time, good luck to him, right? Then he decided it was more effective to pick me up by the ankles and hang me out my own window.

Well, I've been hung out windows by better than he and didn't bat an eye, but the insult of doing it to me in my own house, in front of my non-English-speaking wife, and revealing my unsightly ankles to the whole world. Boguslaw Sadowski made an enemy for life that day, good people, and the difference now is I told him to his face. I slapped him with a glove I keep for duel challenges, and it left quite a welt, being a rubber surgical glove. I then pulled it taut and snapped it in his face, and his eye has been bandaged ever since—hopefully that will effect his aim quite a bit. Since we are dueling in ten days, as I aforementioned.

You all know I am not afraid of death, when it is happening to someone else. In this case, though it comes for me, I will stand proud against it. Boguslaw Sadowski may fire an endless barrage of bullets in my direction, though technically that will be against all the rules of the duel, and I will not falter. If he tries to kill Felchyana and Camembert and Lee, I will not weaken. If he kills my ex-wife Arvelyn I may even send him a nice thank-you note and an FTD bouquet. But whatever happens, no matter how logic argues with me, I will not back down from this challenge.

For I have been insulted with an obscene hand gesture by a man who barely speaks the language, good people. And some things defy common sense. Rok Finger are one of those things.

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