Nude Pictorial of Angelina Jolie
by John Stuart Cleavage
Terminus: So now that I’ve got your attention, I must say that Ms. Jolie has in fact died of
syphilis gangrene. I know this a sad day, but being the perverts we are, we did the pictorial anyway. Click
here for the nude, deceased photos as taken by our own Jean-Luc Grand Pierre!
Also, click
here for pictures of a decapitated Prince William being tossed naked off a tall building onto a pile of putrid herons, click
here to receive a Braille transcript accounting the June 12, 2004 mutilation of the body of Christina Aguilera by a nude Wolf Blitzer, and click
here to download a 20-minute snuff film featuring Lindsay Lohan, and the Vicar as Police Constable Rouge Denali Fitzfaggot VIII. And of course, click
here for pictures of me, naked and parachuting off the Grand Caynon into a vat of human dung, with hilarious consequences. (Hilarious Consequences played by Dustin Hoffman.)
An Apology On Behalf of the Metopian Picayune
by Frosty The Prevaricator
Picayune HQ at Mercury City: We here at the Metopian Picayune would like to apologize for the story by our youngest reporter, John Stuart Cleavage. We realize that what he did was in very bad taste and we apologize to everyone in the world for what he did, and also we wish that we could beg for your forgiveness and maybe perhaps allow him to achieve some sort of purgatory, and that we really are truly sorry and he will surely be punished, probably with just a slap on the wrist but hopefully we can give him a minor fine or at least a half-a-percent pay cut.
Well I’m afraid that’s all I’ve got to write really. There’s no story here, no jokes, or satire, or political commentary from me today. I’m so upset at Mr. Cleavage’s story that I just cannot bring myself to write anything at all today. That reminds me of another time when I was really upset. You see, my favorite football team, the Blandenton Otters, were up against the New Berlin Nazis for the champeenship, and it was a really exciting game, in fact they went into double overtime with score still tied 6-3, when suddenly I got a phone call.
Well it turns out that it was my boss, Willie Wankah on the phone and he wanted me to go into work today. He made up some lame excuse like how I should go in because it was my scheduled day to work, and I said to him, I said, I said, “Fuck off,” I said and I smiled, winced, and converted to Shit Muslimism. It was about this juncture in thyme when I heard the Simon and Garfunkel song “Turn, Turn, Turn” and I started singing along and I had just gotten up to the part about rending when suddenly there was a knock on my door. I awoke with a start, not only had I been dreaming, but I’d been dreaming as well.
Well anyway I went over and I opened the window, and there stood the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen that had no ears and wheels where her legs should be. Well, I asked her what she wanted and she said “peace on Earth” so I’d said, “yea, I’d like a piece.” At this point she pulled out a revolver and shot at me, but I quickly dodged the shots and retreated back into my house. Unfortunately the strange person would not leave my doorstep, waiting there with her gun to kill me if I ever came out of the house singing show tunes. Well, for quite some time I just cowered in fear, sitting in a cupboard. I lived in fear for nearly a year before she finally gave up and died of bacterial meningitis. This, for me, was the turning point.
It was then that I finally was able to leave the house and go pick up my roller skates which I had left on lay-away since about 1962. I was on my way when I passed a Sheetz. I figured fuck the roller skates and the casual sex; I’m going to get a Pretzel Melt. So I walk inside and there behind the counter are Simon and Garfunkel, singing “Turn, Turn, Turn.” I was so shocked that I had a sudden near-fatal heart attack. As I went into full cardiac arrest, I fell backward into a shelf of hypodermic needles (at 50% off retail price) and they began plunging into my spine. I woke up three years later in Atlantic City in a hospital bed with a male prostitute. I turned to him and said, “Tell me we didn’t.” He replied, “I’m afraid so” and exploded, spewing his guts all over the room.
And
that is how I became the man I am today.
An Apology for The Apology
by John Stuart Cleavage
Mercury City: I would like to apologize for the apology on behalf of myself, my fellow employees, and our CEO, Arath, the god of grease-proof paper. The song “Turn, Turn, Turn” was in fact done by The Byrds, and not Simon and Garfunkel. Simon and Garfunkel did “Scarborough Fair.” Thank you and Arath bless you
all.
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