olice announced Friday that they had apprehended a suspect in the murders of up to 10 killings, the notorious BTK killer, as DNA evidence may prove. The alleged BTK killer made no confirmation of his accusations, but did call national news media “fuck ups� who couldn’t even “get a simple three-letter name right.�

The suspect, Dennis Rader, blasted newspapers and television media for screwing up the killer’s chosen name since the earliest days of the first BTK victim. Between 1974 and 1986, or possibly even as late as 1991, the BTK killer (BTK standing for “bind, torture and kill�) compiled 8 victims, with two more potential victims being examined by police, and went through at least 6 public name changes as the media attempted to pigeon-hole the serial murderer.

Upon the death of the first four victims, an entire family, early pioneering journalists attempted to name the perpetrator “the Family-Size Killer.� When the next victim was discovered, three months later, the media hoped they had a serial killer on their hands, and dubbed him, “The Wichita Stabbing Strangler.� City officials glowered at the negative publicity, and demanded they change the name. Newspapers were in favor of “The Jayhawk Stabbing Strangler,� while news media won out with “Mr. Poky-Squeezy.� Upon the serial murderer being confused with a local birthday party clown of the same name, they changed his name again to “The Country-Fried Killer.� Around the same time, police confirmed letters being sent to them were likely from the perpetrator of the crimes, requesting the title “The BTK Killer.�

Even then, the news media fucked it up. A typographical error on the police memo lead to the killer being called “The BK Killer� for the rest of the year, and scared off many people from eating at all local Burger Kings. Other residents, who received their news from the radio, were misinformed about the “The DQ Driller,� and stormed area Dairy Queens to dig in to the new treat.

Angrier, even more irate letters arrived for the police and national media, all in caps, with the name “BTK Killer� underlined, and specifically noting the meaning of the letters in very contrary language. Some broadcast news outlets then, possibly on purpose, released the name as “The Beady Cake Killer.� Allegedly pissed off, the perpetrator sent even more contrite letters to police and the media, using some especially nasty words that rhyme with “rocksuckers.�

The BTK Killer continued to have trouble with his public name over the years, as media outlets alleged different meanings of the BTK notation, including “Bloody Tick Killer,� “Brown Taint Kicker,� “Bottled Tar Keeper,� “Billionaire Testicle Kruncher,� “Black Titty Kisser,� “Barmaid Toasted Kelp,� “Bunched-Toe Keds,� and “Blacula Tossing Kid.� Some even speculate the BTK Killer ended his string of murders when he did because he was sick and tired of being confused with Wichita tire merchant Birchfield Thomas Kinnear. This reporter was then asked to quit speculating and leave the police press conference if I had nothing worthwhile to contribute.

Suspect Rader did address the subject of the BTK Killer’s many names, while not admitting any connection to the murders themselves.

“Birchfield Thomas Kinnear? Please,� said Rader, in a statement released by Wichita police. “That makes no sense at all. If the BTK Killer was Kinnear, why the hell would… whoever he is… call himself that? If he murdered Kinnear it would make sense. And probably the only reason he wouldn’t have gone ahead and done that, not that he didn’t think about it, was he didn’t want to be forever confused by a callous, forgetful, illiterate industry of news people.�

Rader had been sought by police for questioning about the crimes, and was pulled over in a routine traffic stop when the police found his car parked illegally on the shoulder as Rader spray-painted the words “It’s Bind, Torture, Kill! IDIOTS!� on a Motel 8 billboard. The alleged murderer, however, refused to explain how the killer could stand having a name as redundant as the Bind, Torture, Kill Killer.

rap-art lovers of New York have had their chicken salad shat upon this week with the news that their beloved The Gates of Central Park, a conceptual-art project by French artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude consisting of 7,500 orange gates strewn throughout the famous park, may be in jeopardy. A lawsuit filed by Microsoft headcheese Bill Gates over copyright issues would have the famous art-things torn down from their current location in the park, then re-erected on Gates’ front lawn.

The enigmatic uberdork Gates first attempted to purchase the art installation earlier this month, after seeing it on USA Today and screaming “I want those things!� to the various electronic henchmen whirring about his family’s high-tech Medina, Washington home. But despite being the world’s richest man, and crying like a little girl during the negotiations, Gates was unable to sway the money-hating French.

At first, Gates reacted to the snub by ordering Microsoft engineers to build a replica of The Gates on his lawn. Unfortunately, several of the gates crashed during construction, killing three itinerant laborers. Gates then turned to his current lawsuit, which he hopes to win in the name of the nameless Mexicans killed in that frustrating tragedy.

Surprising all and completely wrecking the commune betting pool, the rismurfulously wealthy Gates granted this reporter access to his heavily fortified Redmond home, which is rumored to hover five inches above the ground at all times to cut down on worm noise, for an exclusive interview.

“Art should be enjoyed by all,� explained Gates from deep within his lair, perched atop the earth’s crust. “And I hardly ever get a chance to go to New York.�

Gates also gave this lucky reporter a tour of this cutting edge techno-hovel, which is completely computer automated with voice activated controls for temperature, ambient music, and air ionification. In addition, the entire house goes apeshit when you say the day’s secret word: “Ziggy Stardust.�

The home is also ringed by a miniature monorail system which delivers food and other essentials to the hard-working frabjillionaire. Looking like a cross between the mechanical rabbit at a dog racing track and the trolley in Mr. Rogers’ house, Gates explained how the monorail system works while he reprogrammed the house’s secret word, due to this reporter’s inability to construct a sentence that didn’t include “Ziggy Stardust� and the resultant epileptic fit suffered by Gates’ dog, Bytes.

The installation of The Gates on the Gates’ front lawn would replace a small placard currently located near the home’s main entrance, which reads “The Gates.�

“It’ll be a bit more high-concept, for sure,� explained Gates, turning a dial to remedy a smell that this reporter certainly didn’t deal. “And I always hated that damned placard.�

The thrust of Gates’ lawsuit lies on The Gates’ visual similarity to the heavily-copyrighted Windows logo, which is some kind of weird little flag thing made of plastic-colored nacho chips. This week’s opening arguments also touched upon the obvious plagiarism involved when the French artists named their epic art installation after the computing pioneer. Gates, whose name is a registered trademark in 397 countries worldwide, has thus far been unsuccessful in applying the same protection in several English-speaking nations, including the United States, where the word also means “a thing to keep in the dog.�

This case is thought to be a slam dunk, however, since Gates has already promised to help the judge install a wireless network router on his Windows PC, a task thought to be otherwise impossible.

When faced with similar challenges to the Gates brand in the past, the Microsoft founder has often struck back with his wallet, including his 1999 purchase of Rodin’s massive portal sculpture The Gates of Hell from the Musée Rodin in Paris. The Gates of Hell currently serve as a thoroughfare between Gates’ home office and bedroom.

No stranger to appropriating popular art for his own uses, Gates drew criticism in 1999 for using the 1977 David Bowie classic “Heroes� to promote some kind of Windows bullshit in a television commercial. Though some were equally critical of Bowie for selling out, most were understanding when it was revealed that the Microsoft honcho had persuaded Bowie by offering to rid his PC of the nefarious Michelangelo virus.

It's another day on the bunny trail. Let's hop this motherfucker onward.

Have you listened to this new grunge music? It's all the rage. It's more real than heavy metal, because these kids are singing about the real pain they are in. It mixes together the noise of punk with the melody of pop. And it commercializes fantastic.

For my money, if you're going to buy a melting cheese, Velveeta is the only choice. There may be others, but I don't care enough to do any research about it.

Has anyone ever thought about how to make peace between the Muslims and the Israelites? Am I the first to think of it?

If there's one thing I'm famous for, it's my colossal temper. I get angry two, even up to three times a year, and can say quite ornery things. Of course, all this is moot, since I'm famous for nothing. But if I were, that would be it.

There is some brand of lunchmeat that makes all the pain of the world go away. I can never remember the name. I want to say Hormel, but that may have just been something I saw on the shelf. A shame. Good lunchmeat.

I have played pool before, believe it or not, and cracked a ball. It's a shame, because I would have won that game, had it not been for my injury.

Have you ever worn contacts? I never have. I tell you now, if they make your eyes bleed tears, I will never wear them. I will not be convinced otherwise of this.

Just a minute—I have left my car running outside. Wait—too late. It hit a telephone pole. I must remember to put the car in park.

Do you believe all these Russian women that want to come to America? They contact American men by email and even marry some of them, just to get a plane flight to the U.S. And yet, they all refuse to talk to me. This is why they lost the cold war. Their standards are way too high.

If I were to receive a prominent role in a Hollywood blockbuster, I would be quite surprised. Not as surprised as the rest of the world, I'm sure.

Mexican food—where's that from again? I want to say Mexico, but that sounds too easy.

Hold on—my car's being towed. That's really quite unnecessary. The telephone pole stopped it well enough.

I wrote to another major market magazine about my attempted UFO abduction, but they have also rejected me. What is so hard to believe about a man fighting off a crew of extra-terrestrials, crashing a UFO into the sea, and swimming the hundred and fifty-mile distance back to shore? I have pictures, but they are foggy.

It turns out Napoleon was quite a short man. Stop me if this sounds crazy—I reason that his diminutive posture is responsible for his mad dash to take over the world. Yes, it may sound a little crazy, but just consider it for a while.

I have never had an out-of-body experience, but I have been caught naked on the neighbor's lawn quite a few times. And I don't plan on stopping. Do you hear me, country sheriff? You don't scare me.

It's my car! Look out!

Sorry. Apparently the tow truck failed to hook it up correctly to the tow bar. On the bright side, the car is now in my living room, so they can't take it away without a warrant. I watch TV.

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