Angelina Jolie on Vacation, Adopts Own Child

Angelina Jolie while vacationing in the poorest regions of Thailand still accessible by paparazzi, press, and camera wielding reporters. Spotted a beautiful white child in the arms of a poor dark skinned care-worker that she felt compelled to have as her own. She notified her publicist, who relayed the message to her own assistant, who contacted his manager, who when hearing of the adorable child cooed, and sent out a press release that his cabana boy e-mailed to a lawyer, who then faxed the papers for adoption to Angelina's Blackberry, which was in the pocket of her vacation planner.

As well as being a vacation from her hectic movie star life her visit here was part of Angelina's work as a goodwill ambassador to the United Nations High Commissioner. The honorary title is always given out to self righteous rich persons to accent their smugness. Other persons holding the title include Madonna, Bono, and Sally Struthers. Brad Pitt does not appear on the list, but is on a separate list created by straight men that love macho movies that feature Brad Pitt, but swear they are not gay.

Unbeknownst to Miss Jolie the child was actually her own. The care-worker holding the child was Guadalupe Morales-Feliciano, an undocumented worker from Columbia that works in the Angelina's house and has so for the past two years. Guadalupe had lost the camera loving couple and their entourage in the crowded market when Angelina spotted her across the street. Angelina immediately began to ask the stunned less than minimum wage earning woman about the child's parents. "Is this child an orphan? Do the parents live in squalor? I must save this child." the women dating one of Peoples sexiest men alive spewed. Guadalupe responded that the mother was a well off movie star that rarely sees the bastard child because she is always out of the country. Shocked, Jolie stated that just because the mother was well off did not make her an ideal parent and this child's needs were not being met. "You can't do that! You don't understand! This child is yours." The onion smelling immigrant shouted. "I thank you for seeing things my way. I would like to offer you a job also, in my home taking care of this child." the ample breasted star added.

Angelina's publicist, managers, assistants, photographer, stenographer, catering staff, hair stylist, food taster, stunt double, and lookalike that were traveling with her, dared not correct the big lipped star in her error. They all gushed that she was doing the right thing and that the other children she rarely sees will enjoy a new playmate. When asked about the mix-up Brad Pitt mumbled "Lips...lips...big soft lips...pillows...breast like pillows. Pussy! Pussy so good!" he was yanked away by the hand and Angelina scolded him about talking to the press.

Later at a press conference Miss Jolie stated that adopting the child proved rich people don't always make the best parents and can be just as negligent as poor ones. "It made me sad to think that this child was born to an unwed mother who we could not even get in contact with because she was so removed from reality. I am positive I did the right thing." Angelina stated as a small brown child was led onto the stage. Miss Jolie said this child had no parents and no one celebrated his birthday. She gave him a birthday gift of diamond encrusted Nike Air Jordans as Mr. Pitt lifted his shirt to expose a well maintained washboard-like stomach. The crowed cheered and cameras flashed as the couple donned over-sized sunglasses, stunning mink coats lined with panda fur, and left the press room. Outside the mega-stars entered a platinum plated, ruby studded, air cooled yak drawn carriage that took them back to their luxury suite in the poor nation. Later they dined on Kobe beef and monkey brains which they threw at the hotel walls because it was not cooked to their liking.

Alfred Hindsight Huxtible Celebrity reporter.

Michael Richards Thrown Out Of Community College Classroom

Michael Richards began his first day in a cultural sensitivity class today at a Los Angeles Community College. Arriving twenty-two minutes late, carrying a briefcase, and appearing to be in black-face he stumbled into the classroom after swinging the door open violently to applause.

Michael is most well known as the hipster doofus "Kramer" from TVs Seinfeld. Later he starred in The Micheal Richard's Show that had a short stint on NBC. Recently after a racial outburst at a comedy club, his publicist insisted he attend the course to show the public he does not hate "the blacks".

When Professor Bryant asked why he was late, Mr. Richards stated that he was up all night due to a certain roasted chicken dining establishment which had placed a large neon sign directly outside his window. This coupled with not being able to use his favorite Afghan kept him up all night, the Afghan was still being dry cleaned at a discount family rate as I write this. Several dark skinned persons questioned Michael's skin-tone as not being natural and offensive. He responded to them by telling a story of how he has a "glow" to his skin from using a tanning bed. Because he isn't getting sleep at home he dozed off in the bed and obtained this very rich dark skin-tone.

Students were told to present themselves before the class and explain how racism has affected their lives in some way. Mr. Richards, when at the podium, told a long meandering tale about his friend Bob Sacamano being a "person of color" and they hang out all the time. He further added how once he was arrested for suspicion of being a "pimp" due to a large colorful fur coat he was wearing "this one time". When students mentioned that no one had ever seen Bob to verify his race, Micheal slipped on nothing and fell behind the podium. He grabbed at the chalkboard and pulled it off the wall as Professor Bryant approached and told him to return to his seat.

Mr. Richards was allowed to remain in the class until he began to smack his desk and shout. Apparently he thought one of the students looked like Joe DiMaggio and was trying to get his attention, but the unidentified man was "like stone". He was unaware that the baseball legend had passed away in 1999. The students told "Kramer" to leave the room for causing too much disruption. As the Seinfeld star picked up his briefcase to leave a student asked what was in it and Michael replied "crackers" in a high falsetto, then exited.

Tippy Toothtaint Jr.
Central American Div.

Letters between friends

April, 2002

Dearest Friend,

It has been a fortnight since we last corresponded and whilst cleaning my garage I came upon an old shoe box of fond memories past. There were various items within, but one that peaked my interest and guided me to send you this letter via carrier yak. With that said I ask the following question of you my most esteemed and well traveled friend.

It seems I have come upon a quandary and I need the help of an expert to solve a scant dilemma I am now entwined. From my own personal garbage pail collection, answer me, lord of the garbage pail, how can Bony Tony and Unzipped Zach be the same guy?

Your old mate,

Sir Winston Alexander Hamilton George Wheezy Jefferson Otis Hardbone VI

P.S.
I have that waffle iron you wanted back. It’s in the garage. Just come get it whenever.


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June, 2002


Dear PAL,

It has been quite some time Sir Hardbone, but although the Himalayan bouncing ferret has had three menstrual cycles since we last wrote it does not mean you were out of line to do so now. Old friends are like fine wines, they turn bitter and loose their flavor just as you and I have mate.

Anyway, all the "Kids", as I refer to them, are identical twins given up for adoption and raised apart due to their horrible disfigurements. The collection was started when a Doctor Ernie Sullen started chronicling medical afflictions of twins in third world countries. He had such a bounty of specimens and sketches that he decided to market them as children’s trading cards. Hence the different names but matching afflictions. You know your inquiry into this matter has aroused and peaked my interest in the Kids once more! I will now go back to looking for a 456c a rare card "T Bag" the so called Hones Wagner of the garbage pail kids...No more time to diddle about, there’s work to do old mate! If you have any leads let me know old friend.


Truly,

Dr. Duke Buckinald Fenton Archibald Stevens III, Esq.


-------------------------------------------------------------

October, 2002


Dear Old Chap,

Ah, once again bested by the king of kings, lord of lords of the garbage pail kids. It has been so long, some would say too long, others not long enough, since I have broken out my GPKs, as the better informed call them, and felt the gentle brush of foxy Francis, or Haley's vomit, against my tender nipples. In my glee I forgot the cardinal rule of the GPKs, they're siblings. I bow down to you, hopefully a tongue-lashing is not in order, but if one is, I accept it wholeheartedly, Sundays are best for me. As for your question, about 3 years ago, while attending a convention about exotic dancers who look like the burger king guy, I had overheard a story of a child who had a cousin who heard of this guy's brother, who had herpes, but also his brother-in-law's mailman had once delivered a letter that was thought to be addressed to his neighbor, but came to him instead, that read of an Amazonian explorer who, whilst in the jungles of Africa, had known of a tribe who had seen the elusive 456c GPK known as T-bag, while on a 2B visa visiting the united states for a GPK trade show. I believe I still have that kid's number, and if you play your cards right, and make 17 additional phone calls, and a trip to Africa, you may get to see the elusive 456c, or at least hear a story about it.

By the way, the note you sent me via rabid carrier mongoose made me laugh until my ass slightly jiggled. That humor is why I was proud to donate one of my testicles to you after you lost both of yours in that barn fire.

Whole Heartedly Yours,

Sir Winston Alexander Hamilton George Wheezy Jefferson Otis Hardbone VI


------------------------------------------------------------------------

March, 2003


Dearest Comrade,

As a card holding member of the GPK-Fanclub I would wonder how one could forget the most basic of the GPK's lore. Speaking of tongue lashings old chap, one is most likely due to you, but I haven’t the time nor the energy to administer it at this juncture. Now back to more pressing matters. I was at my Monday massage and happy ending, when I realized that upon reading your note, sent in a bottle stuffed in the ass of a blind messenger bear, I too was dumbfounded by the rareness of the card. I finished my happy ending with a joyous eruption, thanks to your donated testicle mind you; I remembered how I lost that beanbag.

While researching for the Amazonian explorer in the wilds of Africa I overheard two Binti warriors speaking in tribal clicks that they heard from another tribe three rivers up and one dung pile over, that someone intercepted a smoke signal meant for a loved one, she misread a puff and in a jealous rage began ritualistically raping the men of her colony and castrating them. I being one of those men, and hot on the trails of the Amazonian, stumbled into the tent of this woman and in her rage. It consumed me the ramshackle home oozed sexuality just as I do. My passion overtook me and I humped her all night long. She clicked in my ears as I tongued the enormous loops that were left of her earlobes. In my passion and release I did not even notice the loss of both testicles and even the nice gesture to burn the wound as to seal it and not even a trickle of blood. My friend if you do get a chance I beg you to try it, those women are born of Mother Nature herself.

But, I digress, I never found the elusive "T-Bag" card, yet I did get a good tip from the brother of a man who contracted anal warts, who’s half-brother-from-another-mother that was treating a case of herpes, whose mother was in the same doctors office as I, that she once knew a man that had such a card. For the small fee of buying her twenty-seven cats food she would provide me with the address of said man. So I will be venturing forth on my quest to find the elusive 456c! Oh wish me luck chum. I hope you can join me in this adventure and by the by; who is winning the beard and mustache championships this year?

Fully Erect,

Dr. Duke Buckinald Fenton Archibald Stevens III, Esq.

P.S.
Toss out that waffle iron chap. I fried up some Musk Ox testicles on it to make a cologne. You don’t want to use that or even have it in the house. And if the cologne arrives in the mail call poison control, it will burn your flesh.

------------------------------------------------------------------


June, 2003



To Whom That May Be Aroused,

What glorious stories of testicular slaughter you conveyed! I thought it odd, old chap, that whilst lathering up together in a makeshift lavatory in the middle of the Gobi back in our north African expedition to determine if the Pigmy's penis size is indeed that of the average man despite their African descent, when my eyes accidentally befell on your genital area. I hadn't noticed but a slight horizontal burn line where both sacs once laid, but now only a solo ball now slung, next to an empty skin sac that gravity had tenaciously taken its toll against. The evidence was paltry of your story of a glorious night of bestiality in a barn in the English countryside that was rudely interrupted when the farmer came bout to find you violating not one, not two, but three sheep at once! I had doubted a man could simultaneously violate three at a time, but alas, with a mouth and a hand, I once realized its possibility. I once thought you were tit-over-arse and made up the tale. But I digress. The farmer, when faced with the evidence that all 120 of his flock were indeed violated that very night, decided to burn the lot, and join the priesthood, where sexual encounters are easily encouraged. My friend I must ask, now that I know the story of the loss of your bullocks, did this barn encounter occur?

That being solved, I felt I should disclose the irony of the fact that whilst you were losing both of your goolies I was just two dung piles over from the very spot you were at. I had met this fabulous Mandingo woman, the most prized possession of her tribe due to the fabulously enormous breasts. The breasts were not the reason for her esteem mate, but it was the tremendous sagging of her breasts. They hung to the point that her nipples actually dragged on the hilly terrain. I met her as the dust flew, due to my recent triumph at the World Beard and Mustache Championships in Staffordshire I had the confidence of a well-hung musk ox. She sensed my testosterone peaking and quickly dragged me into a makeshift hut made from straw picked out of elephant droppings. As I had her arse-over-elbow, pleasing her like her tribe mates never could, the tribal chief sneaked into the hut and ceremoniously removed and ate my taint in one fell swoop, for he felt by eating my powerful taint it would enhance his potency. I quickly finished, ran from the hut and smoked the first fag I could get my hands on. Then placed the fag on my now taintless taint to stop the bleeding, and went back to ravage that fabulous Mandingo once again.

Sincerely,

Sir Winston Alexander Hamilton George Wheezy Jefferson Otis Hardbone VI

P.S.
I thank you for the waffle iron information, but alas it was too late. I have had quite the week at the intensive care unit for my intestinal problems after having cooked up some chicken tenders on previously stated tainted waffle iron. One good thing is that my tapeworm finally lost it’s death grip and I am eating for one again after twenty-two years!

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

November, 2003


Dear Hardbone,

Oh you truly are rich old mate! To wit! Such a caper as the one you unfolded on my monocle-clad eye did strike a memory in my old noggin.

Tis true of the barn fiasco, but that was merely the first instance I lost my god given sperm producers. Twas true I was doing research for a Novel I penned at the time that went on to be an underground smash titled "Every Sexual Experience Out There and How to Pull Them Off." Under my pen name Archbishop Winston Theodore Bunsun Wrathchild Tildon Spinestien, MCXII.

That night I was performing an orchestrated 3-way with those animals consisting of a rusty-trombone, Dirty Comanche, and the ever popular Salty Pirate. In my haste I lost control of my performance and accidentally gave my furry lover an Angry dragon and this is what alerted the Farmer. The rest is all true. I did finish the novel and was shunned by the regular blokes that don't indulge in beastiality, yet I could not find sturdy enough women to uphold to me rigorous work ethics. Although some Samoan women will suffice in a pinch.

So having lost my man bags in that old barn and all my research animals gone I went to Africa, and a short trip to the Mustache and Beard Championships, where I did place second due to a minor mishap that turned my Fu-man-chu into a goatee ironically. I could have told the judge to sod off if I had the mind to, yet you won fair and square mate. Where was I...yes, I went Africa for the GPK card and a new set of testis. The fertile lands there are home to the Musk Ox who's scent will drive a woman mad with lust as you experienced and I do envy, for after hunting the beast and having his large bulbous eggs implanted I only had them for one night when they were lost again. If you will note the ramblings of my previous letters sent via carrier animal of some sort.

Old chap the stories we have shared are quite an adventure and if not for the pigmy stenographer, who does have a rather large member as do all their kind (as we found out) that I employ we would never remember do to the amount of sangria and special Gobi herbs we smoke to take away the pain of our loss of various body parts. We shall have to enjoy another piss in a makeshift hut sometime in the coming months or better yet a rousing game of battleshits is in order! Yes! To wit! I have enclosed five dollars for you to play power ball for me. I will send the numbers later via carrier calico kitten.

Thusly,

Dr. Duke Buckinald Fenton Archibald Stevens III, Esq.

Dick Cheney Recharged On Campaign Trail

Vice President Dick Cheney was on the campaign trail stumping for republicans during the build up to midterm elections when he was seen losing his vigor and power earlier this month. Sweeping across the bible belt delivering his encouraging speeches about Americas greatness due to him and the republicans was taking it's toll on him. He sent out an uplifting message of peace and economic prosperity for himself and his fellow multimillionaires to a crowd of spectators that seemed very well fed, yet lacked good dental hygiene. Cheney reminded us we are at war with ruthless killers that never rest, but it seems he is the sort of ruthless killer that does need a good rest now and then. Some staffers mentioned taking Cheney to an undisclosed location to allow him to recharge before heading to the battleground state of Ohio. With the energy built up from a appearance in Tennessee wearing off they decided to recharge the Vice President on the road.

An all black eighteen wheeler, with no markings pulled along side the motorcade. Some ramps lowered from the rear and Mr. Cheney's Suburban drove up into the attached trailer. I asked some volunteers what the Vice President was doing in the trailer and they simply stated "recharging". Further investigations proved that he was indeed recharging inside the vehicle. This was a mobile undisclosed location unit outfitted with a special charging machine designed for Dick Cheney only.

Inside the trailer hummed the electronic beast that powers Cheney and keeps him fully charged for thirty days to follow the cycle of the moon. The White House Official Portable Power plant and Emergency Recharger supercomputer also known as W.H.O.P.P.E.R. is what fuels the dedicated man. This intimidating green hunk of engineering blinked with several lights and diodes on its terminal as it sits on a twelve foot by six foot base.

I could see through the porthole on the unit Mr. Cheney was naked, connected at his neck and anus to thick power supply cables, and suspended in a deep red liquid. "The liquid is a mixture of cherry kool-aid and blood. This keeps his sugar levels right and his cravings for blood to a minimum while out in public." stated a campaign worker. When asked why the man would need to be submerged in such a mixture she flatly replied, "The Vice President is half vampire and half machine." She then went on transferring names to a criminal database from a list of registered Democrats. A man in a white lab coat and thick round glasses told me this startling fact "Several heart attacks and hundreds of blood donors later we got the right blood. It's not like the movies, sure he is immortal, but his body has taken a beating so we add new parts on. That's where the robotic parts come from." I was shocked at this and wanted to know which blood keeps him up and running full of hate and contempt. "We narrowed it down to African blood from children under eight years of age. We have to secure the blood for him because of his hectic schedule and the tears of humans will make his skin boil and rot. Also the sound of a child's laughter sends him into a rage."

After three hours in the W.H.O.P.P.E.R. scientist say he is ready for another round of fear mongering, gay bashing, and sending his heartfelt message of bigotry and hatred across our glorious nation, that is at war.

I was puzzled about a lot of things that were easily answered by Tony Snow at a White House briefing later in the day. "Vice President Cheney is a hybrid human being and a 'day-walker' if you will, that's why he doesn't burn up in the sunlight like Condoleezza Rice." answered the mouthpiece as another reporter asked, "Is it true he also has AIDS, sickle cell anemia, and craves women with large round apple shaped bottoms because of the African blood coursing his veins?" Snow raised an eyebrow and offered "The vice president does have sickle cell anemia and full blown AIDS, but not like Tom Hanks in Philadelphia. More like Magic Johnson's aids, you know the happy kind. As far as 'apple bottoms' as you put it, that's absurd all men naturally crave them."

Sweating in my brown four piece suit I asked, "Is there any truth to the rumor Mr. Cheney is a zombie? It is noted he regularly eats human brains, aged thirteen years." Mr. Snow fired back, "That's a silly question. Vice President Dick Cheney likes to eat healthy and human brains provide a lot of protein and calcium for a man his age. Besides, he is half vampire half cyborg not a zombie. Honestly, if the questions are not going to be serious then the press conference is over for now." I let out a relieved sigh and left the press room.

Story submitted by Robert "Bob" McHenry reporting from
the campaign trail just before he crashed his Cutlass Supreme
into a tree, spilling his coffee and killing him.

A letter to my old love, Clarice...

Baby, I love you, but...

I know your are a sassy hot headed gal that grew up in a bad section of town and that you can mouth off now and again, I love when you yell and your nose is all squished up. Baby, I love you. You don't take disrespect and I stand in adoration of your firecracker mentality. Never doubt how much I cherish moments to defend your honor. You are my life, my world, the sun revolves around you baby, and I delight in your presence. You are my God. I worship you and your pussy is my Garden of Eden. Your clitoris my forbidden fruit, I love to savor that fruit. I want to be the vegetarian of your vagina. I would carve your name into my arm with a pencil to show you my love, my love.

I am in adulation of you even when a girl at the bar bumped into you spilling red bull and vodka on your Steve Madden pumps. I know you wanted the entire bar to hear you explain how this tart had ruined your lovely shoes and your feet. I love your feet they are so delicate and soft like an orphan's skull, I lust for them even splashed with a energy boosting beverage. And even as her large male companion asked you to calm down and you didn't, I knew that fire in your eyes is what attracted me to you. He needed to know his woman was not of fine standing. Just because he was an ultimate fighting champion doesn't mean he shouldn't know. I am sure the wine you splashed in his face proved your point, oh how you relish wine, but not as much as I relish you. So what if he called you a slut, he doesn't know you only had sixteen other partners last year, one being a woman. I love that you are so exclusive and all mine. I love how you always prove your point, you never give up, your tenacity is only second to my madness for you.

He lifts me off the ground with a well placed punch to my sternum, my body is yours to rapture as he ruptures my liver, I love you. The hip replacement actually helps me make love to you more tenderly, God I want to fuck you. You telling him he is in big trouble as my facial bones crush into my eyes isn't helping, but means I yearn for you no less. The body cast he puts me in only proves to make me want you more. A paper mache barrier that can't hold back my deepest emotions, of love. It was right of you to take him out to dinner so he could apologize. I know you were probably deep in discussion of our affection at three in the morning when I tried to get ahold of you. It's nice that he still calls and comes over late when I am not there, but know I wish I was there my buttercup.

Or the time at a movies when some rather joyous colored persons were making some poignant observations about a woman going into a room they obviously knew was a bad idea. You always consider others, so selfless that's why you shushed them. I know you and other patrons needed to hear the movie, but I could follow it. My eardrums are honed with the powers of love, love for you. As they descended the staircase and you said I didn't appreciate their loud mouths, I thought of kissing yours. Her beautifully airbrushed nails, like tiny portraits, that put severe gashes on my cheeks and sent you to go retrieve a manager made me want to paint a picture of you nude. You look so good naked. He was a teenager and not ready for what he saw, my eye dangling by a thin string of optical nerve. It's OK baby, you had the best intentions. I was given two eyes for a reason, to give one up for my passion for you. Thanks for getting the junior mints while you were out there pumpkin. I love you more than depth perception. You always did like chocolates.

There is thirty-five stitches in my head, but there wouldn't be enough thread to stitch up my broken heart if you were not with me, I love you. Baby, losing my testicles to that woman's high heel is fine with me because I know you didn't want kids anyway. You are the boss and I am devoted to you, baby. That woman had no right to take that parking spot anyway and her viewpoint on abortion plastered all over her car in bumper-stickers did need pointing out it was wrong. Funny how those types carry guns, the bullets in my abdomen are a testament to everlasting love. A love that lingers on like when you are the last to leave a cocktail party. Baby my love is like a cockroach after the apocalypse it will never die. I love you sweetness, but for the sake of my last kidney please stop getting my ass beat.

Your loving boyfriend,
Buckinald Stevens III, Esq

Area Man Charged With Filing False Police Report.

Shinebone, Alabama -- Christopher Lamb, was arrested for filing a false police report stating he was beaten in the parking lot of Hooters, a dining establishment best known for its scantily clad waiting staff and savory spicy wings. Christopher was behind the eatery when he was allegedly assaulted by and unknown assailant. While seated in his Ford Festiva, balancing his checkbook, the transgressor reached through the open window and beat him about his genitals. "In long hard strokes. He really roughed me up good. He was a pro, cupping my scrotum and not using too much pressure on the shaft." he stated flatly. "I was balancing my checkbook when these powerful hands came in and accosted my private area. He might have been frightened by the size of it, put that in there, in your report." He told Detective Jimmy Shootsblacks. When asked if he saw any witnesses Mr. Lamb replied "I didn't see anyone, or even Angie who gets off at 11 p.m. and comes out to smoke at 10:12 every night, nice gal. She said I was a 'sweetheart' and that she said 'I am her nicest customer', but I didn't see her or anything." His hands shuffling in his front pockets adding, "Did she mention me? How I was doing? Anything at all?"

The area was in plain sight of where some waitresses say they take their smoking breaks from the fire exit door, behind the building they could see the car clearly and did not witness any persons other than Chris. "He was shuffling around in there, I didn't look real hard he's always out there." Said Angie Wyatt, she then went to deliver some delicious spicy hot wings oozing with flavor and a side of blue cheese dressing.

The man claimed to have just been beaten when some patrons saw him sweaty and frantic in his car. Wiping sticky delicious BBQ sauce from his face a witness stated that he and his lady friend were on their way out to their car when they saw the man struggling. "Yeah, he was having a fit or something, eyes rolled back into his head and teeth showing" said the lady friend as she snapped her gum and adjusted the drawstring on her stone washed jeans. "He looked shocked when he saw us and started yelling about an attacker that ran off into the woods." The patron said through his tobacco chewing. "Seem kinda funny if ya ask me."

Police were tipped off at the false claim when Christopher gave the description of a man in his mid thirties, Caucasian, brown hair, wearing khaki dockers and a members only jacket, a mole on his left cheek and a tattoo of a snake on his right arm. Virtually describing himself, a sketch artist picture further proved the point.

Police Chief Ralph Wiggum stated "There was some chaffing on his genital shaft and a little Victoria's Secret Garden Romantic lotion, but no signs of struggle. We found it odd that an attacker would only assault his bathing suit area and then not even take any money. No checkbook was found in the car." Investigators are calling the vehicle a "makeshift apartment" and think the suspect was making the scenario up. "We are investigating further based on some new DNA evidence found in the parking lot, in the Festiva, on Mr. Lamb's jeans, in the air conditioning vents, and covering a good portion of the dashboard." The chief did not answer any questions about the bowling ball sized stains, stating "It's not looking good for Mr. Lamb right now. We are going to piece this together and find out just what really happened." he then left the room.

Buckinald Stevens Esq. III, East coast Bureau

Serial Killer Reflecting On Choices In His Life

Mediocre serial killer Al Hines recently revealed that he may have come to a turning point in his life. Telling Guns 'n' Necrophilia magazine, "I need to stop wasting time and get things moving" Al, a native American Indian, is suspected in the killings of three families over a four year period. The victims where beaten with a blunt object and the children propped against a wall to be an audience for the killers deviant sex acts. Shards from nearby mirrors where placed in the eyes of the dead women when he fornicated with them. The husbands head (severed) was placed nearby to be a spectator also. His hair thinning and pursing a bottle of miller lite to his embarrassingly shabby pencil mustachioed lip, he told me his troubles.

Having intercourse one night Al reminisces "While looking into the shards of glass jammed into her eye sockets I didn't like the reflection I saw looking back at me through the puss, tears, and blood." Further adding "normally my blood soaked body glistening in the moonlight would give me pleasure allowing me to ejaculate into the corpse, but this was different. I tried fucking her eye socket, but the friction was not right. I was frustrated and attempted her nostril and after severely tearing the area I couldn't maintain my erection". He then shyly turned away and looked down at his handmade moccasins.

The real problem wasn't the less than desired friction provided by puss and eye juices but merely Al himself. He was thirty, unmarried, working a dead end job for a grocery store, and living in his fathers shed. He sought a hobby to make the mundane work days pass quicker and remove the pang of a boring existence. "Sneaking into houses, bludgeoning, getting rock hard abs, and necrophilia I am good at, damn good, but I can't make a living at it. It's just a hobby." He tamped out a cigarette. "It was like I saw my failures in that reflection. The severed head on the dresser, possibly the cunt's husband, seemed to have a smirk like he knew I was a failure at life. I had to shove his severed penis in his mouth to drown out the laughter."

"I'm thirty now and think, where's my life gone? I could have been better, why didn't I pay attention in school. My dad would tell me it was either the military or college as he sodomized me. I went to community college to get him off my back, no pun intended, but I wasn't serious. If I only knew then what I do now." He mused. "Why couldn't my parents have been wealthy so that I could follow my dreams. So many kids just get to do what they want and I am forced to work a menial job day in and day out. I have real talent and they just are lucky. I might go back to school and finish my associates degree." The murderous man noted.

Al was three credits short of the liberal arts degree he worked eight years trying to achieve. His co-workers always told him he had talent and he was wasting it there at the grocery store, but the Union wages were good and he got two fifteen minute breaks and a half hour lunch. Jan Quigly, a dairy department employee offered, "If the guys got a dream he should pursue it, just quit it's that easy. I mean, you should learn from your mistakes. Life is too short." then he carefully sliced a sesame seed bagel so as to not cut a finger.

"I know my friends mean well, but its not that easy. I can't just quit my job at the grocery store, I have bills to pay. If I save up enough to pay off my camero then I can live off whats left. It might take a year or so, but I can try to make a name for myself doing what I love. Murdering families and then fucking their dead bodies. I know I am no Gacy or Dahmer, but I can try."

His demeanor frightened me. Never before had I witnessed such a brazen display. The fire burning in his black as coal eyes was terrifying, yet astonishing. This man was committed to doing something great and I know he would succeed. I hope he inspires others to achieve their own goals. I know I will be taking a course on basket weaving. A craft I gave up years ago and have wanted to attempt again someday.

That someday will be today.

Special report by Forensic Gynecologist and Relationship Specialist
Dr. Giet Heir Don, III. with contributions from Motivational Speaker
and House Scrabble Champion Peter Brackish.

Richard Dean Anderson in Near Fatal Car Crash.

Sacramento, CA- Beloved television icon Richard Dean Anderson was involved in a near fatal car accident late into the evening this past Wednesday. His vehicle, a Buick skylark, lost control when a tire blew and caused the vehicle to spin out of control stopping on its roof after several perfectly executed barrel rolls. A long trail of gasoline lined the highway and slowly made its way to a tossed cigarette butt that was still burning. Mr. Anderson, trapped by his seatbelt, looked with panic at the trail, which crept towards the cancerous fire source.

Onlookers thought quickly and stopped to assist the trapped motorist, as they approached they noted his C-level celebrity persona as that of televisions MacGyver. A loveable character, who was afraid of heights, never used guns, and was known for getting out of many sticky situations with common household items the layperson would never consider other uses for. One would be savoir exclaimed “Wow! It’s fucking MacGyver! Dude you can totally get out of this. I saw you disarm a nuclear bomb with a paper clip.” Some grunts were heard from the car “No way he once stopped an acid leak using a snickers bar, did you see that episode?” The other would be rescuer added. As the two argued over the most inventive scheme that the character had escaped from Mr. Anderson regained his bearings “ Will you help me out of here please!” Richard begged. A fire truck and EMS team arrived as the two bantered about Air wolf and then back to MacGyver. “No he worked for the Phoenix Foundation!” The first man shouted, “He was always after Murdoc, that was his nemesis!” The second retorted. The two men clutched each other’s arms and began to scuffle. The two landed blows as they rolled down the embankment.

“Please, I beg of you, my arm is broken and I need you to cut me out of this car before it explodes.” The former "actor" pleaded. The firemen surrounded the overturned car and almost began to heed the action heroes calls. “Shit you’re MacGyver! Is this a stunt? Are you going to use a banana and some dental floss to get out of this?” Said the man from behind his oxygen mask. “NO! I am not fucking MacGyver! I am a normal person. Get me the fuck out of here!” The trapped three-named man shouted frantically. “Damn, you better hurry MacGyver, that gas trail is about to hit that cigarette butt.” One medical technician noted, as he took a bite of his subway sandwich. “For the love of God! Cut me free!” there was a long sigh from the man in the overturned car. “Ok, ok, I ate my banana and left my slinky at my house. I can’t get out without that slinky so you will have to fucking do it!” The fading sex symbol screamed. Reluctantly they cut the seat belt and freed the washed up star.

Several rescuers later stated that they were disappointed that MacGyver did not have his slinky with him because they would like to have seen him escape the predicament. Others speculated that the A-team would have gotten out of the car with some other device and possibly B.A. Baracas would have put the seatbelt in a choke hold and broke free. “Fucking right! Colonel John “Hannibal” Smith would never fail in a mission. MacGyver is a pussy.” Mumbled an EMS technician as he closed the ambulance doors.

Brandino Sudo, East Coast Bureau, on location, with additional
Television references provided by Ernie Cunningham known “nerd”.

Bush names Cap’n Crunch as new Secretary of Defense

Washington D.C. - President Bush in a turn from his previous backing of Donald Rumsfeld abruptly switched his stance and named a new Secretary of Defense at a press conference today. “In the wake of recent events, we are - I (long pause) uh, have decided to, err ah, name Cap’n Crunch as or new Secretary of Defense.” stumbled the President. “I have or have known to-- I seen he is a strong man that will uphold the values of this great country. In his work against the Soggies: Sylvester, Snyder, and Squish he never wavered or lost focus, (long pause) he stayed the course and um...he works hard ok. He beat those Soggie evildoers until they gave up and have not been seen since. He, we--the Cap'n will be a great asset to the fight on terror.” The first man stated as he wiped drool from his chin. Laughter broke out in the conference room until secret service agents removed those chuckling and placed them in custody.

“Mr. President, how can this country trust a man that has never received a promotion after decades of service in the military or even been awarded a medal?” A reporter for the Boston Bugle asked as she scribbled on his notepad and adjusted the card in his pompadour that read “press”. “Now that’s a good question, good one, really.” the President's eyes shifted for a duration of time “Well, he is a Cap’n, and that says a lot. It takes time to get to Cap’n and this is the next step for him. As for the medals…he has some big yellow buttons and they are nice. I will look into the medals I am sure there is some.” chewing the inside of one cheek and raising an eyebrow he concluded.

Many still shocked at this revelation and wondered if Cap’n Crunch was even a real person and possibly if so could be actually in the military at all since he is a known homosexual. The speculation soon ended when Mr. Bush introduced a small man wearing a bright blue blazer and a Napoleon style hat in matching blue. “Mr. Crunch, heh…heh, Cap’n I mean. We here--I am honored to have you on our team, heh.” The President muttered. “Thank you Mr. President. I would like to say that I am honored and would like to answer your questions that the Presidents writers handed out before the press conference. I hope I remember all the answers.” Stated the new Secretary.

“Mr. President was there any other candidate you considered before picking a beloved children’s cereal icon?” One reporter blurted. “Sure, I spoke with General Mills and of course Colonel Sanders, but both declined on grounds of being too busy with other matters, that Sanders fellow makes some darn good chicken, heh. We like it on the ranch in Texas, thats where I grew up you know.” Bush replied. “What about the roof of my mouth?” A reporter from The Los Angeles Gazette shouted from the far left of the pressroom. “Your fighting with the Soggies left my cereal too hard and would destroy the roof of my mouth every morning!” He added. “No comment. I think we’ve had enough of this press conference.” Mr. Bush stated, and then proceeded to escort The Cap’n out of the pressroom.

A secret service officer grabbed the reporter, slung him over his broad shoulder, and removed him from the press conference.

Jack Habenhoffen reporting Washington D.C. div.

Endangered Talking Bear Found Near Death.

PETA the outspoken animal rights group claims that a talking bear name Yogi was in serious, but stable condition at its compound this week. A spokesperson said the emaciated bear was left in this state due to the Bush administrations abuses of national parks and the fact that there is less and less "picinic" baskets for the bear to eat. The picinic baskets being the main source of sustenance for this type of bear, an endangered species only found in the declining forests of Jellystone National Park.

"This poor animal was forced to eat his life mate to survive until this point" the spokeswoman cried out shaking her fist in the air as her armpit hair protruded from her tank-top made of hemp. A separate funeral was held for the smaller pygmy bear whose casket contained only a small blue bow tie, the larger bear had eaten every bit of his little friend "Boo Boo" as he called him, including the bones. "I was starving, what else could I do? I am sorry little buddy, but I had to, I loved you." The skeletal bear sobbed.

The Jellystone park has been wrought with controversy every since it was found to be a haven for homosexuals back in the late 1980's. "There was so many picinic baskets before that. After those men came in people were scared to come to the forest and have picinics and go swim leaving them unattended." After the homosexuals came poor Yogi said he had to feast on "old used condoms and anal lubricants." The PETA spokeswoman, shifting back and forth on her thick ham-hock thighs, further added "We pumped three gallons of Anal Ease from this talking animals distended belly along with thirteen lamb-skinned condoms." A less professional reporter at my left giggled and mused "been there done that." from behind his over-sized sunglasses, faux-hawk, and sensible cardigan. When asked for comment spokesman for the makers of Anal Ease, Tusk "sticky fingers" Branson, neglected the Yogi situation, but stated they stand behind their products "We at Anal Ease only wish to provide the best lubricant to gays and regular people alike."

One man, Ranger Smith, was visibly excited, almost aroused, that the bear was almost upon his deathbed. "Serves him right! Stealing all those picnic baskets, that's what drove the people away!" he shouted as he raised off the ground, arms stiff at his sides, legs out, and steam coming from his ears. "I hope that fucking bear dies! Fucking goes to hell and dies!" he screeched from his comically large mouth, showing no sympathy for the last of his kind animal.

PETA task force members where gathering information to arrest the Ranger pending an investigation into his actions as Senior Park Ranger at Jellystone.

Buckinald Stevens III, Esq.---Los Almamos Div.

Optometrist found guilty in providing faulty news stories.

Florence, NY. Dr. Jan Quigley was found guilty today of fraud in the case brought against him by the optometrist union. “I am just glad this is over. He is an old worn out man that feels people only should use one eye to see," said prosecuting lawyer Buckinald Stevens III, Esq. as he stroked his handlebar mustache, puffed on his cob pipe, and made his way from the courthouse.

All the controversy stems from a series of news stories about how the monocle, a popular eyepiece from a bygone era, was on the comeback amongst the younger generation. All produced by Dr. Quigley and directed by the elusive and sought after Juan Luc Cokenbawls. Known for his work in the underground cinema, this was his first foray into the world of American news programming. “I dint know what was aboot, but he pay me an I dew et,” Mr. Cokenbawls said while wearing only a suede trench coat and a mock turtleneck.

The news “stories” depicted many teens partying and having a good time. Most of the teens had a monocle of some design on. The emphatic reporter a stubby man, with a British accent, and wearing a gaudy sweater despite the beach scene, went on about how only the coolest kids were donning the eyewear. “My monocle is Abercrombie and Fitch!” one scantily clad female exuded. One perfectly chiseled teen fumbled with an old pair of glasses and complained they would make him look like a nerd. The British man then handed him a monocle saying, "What if I could give you something that would not only help you see better, and make you look cool, but will make you smarter." "I don't know it's probably expensive," the almost male model like teen sadly replied. "Thats where you're wrong, you little bugger! See because it's a monocle it's half the price of glasses here try it!" The dainty man handed over the eyepiece, that when placed over the teen's eye never budged, to which the he proclaimed. “This is rad!” and gave a jerky thumbs up to the camera. "Amazing!" The Brit replied.

The Optometrists union representative stated the reason for the case was solely because the monocle was damaging to the eyes, for only having one eye with perfect vision will impair the other and to promote this as the "way to be" is just criminal. "It's an abomination! To wear one eyeglass when respectable people have two eyes! Might I add that Mr. Quigley does not even wear a monocle and often appears in public wearing shirts with the top button left loose and will even wear white socks! Hardly a man to be setting standards!" an angry Union trial lawyer blurted at the courthouse steps.

Dr. Quigley was using the faux news stories to promote his failing business. A small shop in the lower east side named “Monocles, Monocles, and Monocles”, “I needed to drum up some business, for some reason people just don’t wear these anymore, aside from smarmy psychologists, one-eyed people, and ventriloquist dummies.” After hearing the verdict the doctor said that after he is released from prison he’ll make an infomercial staring television's Peter Falk. “Everyone loves Columbo!” he shouted and he has taken away in handcuffs

Jiminy Slits reporting, New England branch apprentice of Buckinald Stevens III, Esq.

SBD Transmission at all time highs among teens.

Hoboken, NJ. A new study out today from the Study Company that Studies Useless Studies to Benefit Only Those That Take Studies and Find Them of No Importance indicates that SBD transmission among high school age teens is increasing at an alarming rate. SBD, as defined by the Houston Medical Journal, is a silent, but deadly noxious emission of pungent gas from a person and or animal that sneaks up on the victim, but has no audible portion to forewarn of its introduction to the environment, thus making it fall into the category of whoever smelt it dealt it. These can be emitted at anytime, anywhere, and violate many persons.

Several teens at George Jefferson High retold stories of how they were stricken with SBDs. “Yeah, I was like, just standing in line for lunch, and got a nose full of the most horrid smell. It was like (explicative) had (explicative) on someone's (explicative),” said one teen. Other stories included a person so brazen with his SBD transmissions that he would crop dust the cafeteria. Upon further explanation, the Houston Journal had no reference, a crop dusting is when the SBD is discharged and the flatulator then walks through an area with the odor trailing behind him, much like a plane spraying a field of crops with pesticides. “That fat (explicative) Greg always does that, he stops and you know he is blowing his brown horn, then walks away laughing to himself,” said one lunch-goer.

I did get the chance to experience this as Greg entered the cafeteria and did just what was described to me moments before. I was shocked to see him standing at the far end of the eating area, still laughing, and I was in a haze of sweaty, almost terrifying air, so thick I could have taken some and dipped it in my tea. I questioned Greg as to why he did this and he replied, “There was a telegraph from Fort A-hole to Commander Nostril announcing the arrival of a General Shat I had to deliver.” I did not understand the exchange and left him to consume his tater tots.

The School Board organized an awareness movement in the school to help combat the issue. There was a class given to those that signed up and free butt plugs were offered. Many parents objected to the school handing out anal acoustic stopping devices. “If you give them butt plugs then it's like you are saying it's okay to float air biscuits!” an angry mother shouted from her Ford Expedition emblazoned with NASCAR bumper stickers. “You should be teaching them to abstain from farting in school, not how to do it without repercussions,” she added.

Some students have adopted this method. Anthony Arledge, a well-groomed student and member of the honor society, stated, “I just hold them in all day because I care about my fellow students and am not selfish like the others." He went on, "Sure my stomach hurts like I ate a ten day old slovaky and washed it down with some expired milk that a goat puked in, but I can wait until the end of the day to do my business at home.” He gripped his stomach at this point and said he would have to go into his bathroom. I overheard a long rattling release of choppy air, almost like a fifty caliber machine gun expending its ammunition and a muffled voice tell me something to the sort of Anthony having let go of more than just some built up air. Not wanting to consult the Journal yet again to find the definition of a "shart" I ended the interview.

Brandino Sudo Sudonews East Coast Bureau with contributions from
Flatulence aficionado, Hubert “The Brown Trumpet” Rectumberg.

Son of Sasquatch Captured on Manhattan Beach

Manhattan Beach, CA - What scientists believe to be the seed of Pacific Northwest enigma Sasquatch was found yesterday in a bright yellow, rio cut, Versace banana-hammock speedo meandering down Manhattan Beach early yesterday morning.

Alarmed beachgoers were shocked to see the hairy beast, which apparently was on vacation in the Los Angeles area. "It scared the hell out of me and my kids," stated Dennis Finney, "he ran by yelling 'nanu, nanu', made my kid drop a load in his pants."

Authorities surrounded the beast with firearms drawn, only to have slurs directed at the officers. The beast spoke perfect English, and was deemed the son of Sasquatch, for he stood only 5' 7", whereas Sasquatch is estimated to stand 7' 4". Los Angeles Police Department sniper Loyd Christmas stated, "He started into this crazy comedy routine, making silly references, doing some robot-clock thing with his arm. Starting talking about how he had a three way with Woopi Goldberg and Billy Chrystal once after some homeless benefit. Real crazy stuff."

The beast was captured after a poly-carbon, Teflon coated gore-tex net was catapulted onto the animal. The creature was thrown into an animal control van and taken into custody, where it was summarily shaven, only to shockingly reveal former cokehead, and comedian, Robin Williams under the blanket of mangy, matted hair.

Noted Zoologist H.M. Hammy Pennypacker stated that the relationship between the Sasquatch and Mr. Williams may not be so far fetched. In his early studies, Hammy found that while on a family vacation to Yellowstone National park in the fall of 1950, Robin's mother wondered off into the woods to escape her manic husband’s frantic babblings, and was indeed kidnapped by the elusive man-giant. She emerged from her woodland vacation impregnated and told no one of what went on. This was all revealed in the video will of Mr. Pennypacker shortly before he passed away of severe anal and intestinal damage received from a male silverback while living 3 months in a gorilla suit during mating season in a South American rain forest.

The removal of the hair, which was believed to have weighed in the hundreds of pounds, is being taken to a local sweatshop to be processed into wool coats for poor Alaskan children. The unidentified 11 year old Guatemalan manager of the shop stated, "I bet we can get 6-10 coats just off the back hair alone."

Police spokesperson Harry Dunn stated, "He didn’t even ask for an apology. Apparently this happens every time he goes to the beach. Usually he calls ahead to warn everyone."

Pete Sudo, Sudonews, West Coast Division, with contributions from noted world explorer Sir Francis Bartholomew Winston Randolph Rockefeller Raleigh Longbone, XIV.

Iranians Acquire Atomic Capabilities

Woodbridge, VA-Iranian-American relations took a sharp decline this past weekend when Iranian born Payam Auld Shabeen performed a flawless Atomic wedgie on a bewildered American vendor at a local mall. “I thought they were years away from this”, a shaken onlooker said. To the surprise of many fellow patriots, it seems that the Iranians are way ahead of the pace in such areas of foolishness.

A wedgie, as defined by the best selling novel on foolishness entitled “How to Have Homo-erotic Fun at Parties and Social Gatherings”, is when one person takes hold of another’s underwear from behind and pulls them at an extreme rate of velocity vertically. This causes the underwear to wedge in the persons anal cleft and causes discomfort. To become atomic, one must possess the power to pull the waistband up over the head of the recipient and separate it from the underpants completely.

Apparently there was a disagreement at the Your Name on a Grain of Rice kiosk. Payam did not understand the reasoning for the service. “This towel head was blurting out some craziness about ‘Why would I want dis? Tis too small to see’ I told him put a lid on it!” Payam then abruptly turned the man and reached into his waistline while shouting, “You tink so!” and proceeded to perform what historians will note as “the most intense four seconds of the young, prepubescent, pimply-faced, virginal teenage employee of the kiosks life.” The Atomic wedgie was pulled off with such skill and finesse that onlookers felt phantom pains in their on ass cleavages. “It burned so bad I’m sure my ass cheeks look like a loose meat sandwich right now”, said the boy. He asked his name be withheld for unknown reasons.

Biff Benchpress, a renowned meathead in many circles and a twenty-year veteran of wedgie warfare, commented, "for Payam to display with such arrogance and prowess in the wielding of his atomic powers, he has certainly made the world notice his standing among all meatheads. Payam is a force not to be taken lightly." Asked why he did not intervene, Biff responded, "I was in shock, and when Payam said 'Now it’s a fucking necklace!' I could not move." Biff later confided in me that he had yet to ever actually pull off the atomic wedgie. A tear slowly rolled down his cheek as he stated how he only managed to get the undergarment to shoulder level before the elastic would give out. Biff was given a dishonorable discharge and is now on disability, suffering from what he called ass-elbow.

Sir Smitty Brick, IV, M.D. of Harvard School of Skylarking remarked that after the incident much was learned about the state of foolishness in Iran. "Before this, we thought their foolentologists were merely capable of purple nurples, bismarks, and of course severe Indian burns, but now we know that they are right in line with all the superpowers", said Sir Brick, as he puffed on his pipe and adjusted his twill blazer with corduroy elbow pads.

Payam was later seen in the food court standing in line at the Panda Express, yelling about the curry. As the employees at Panda Express hurriedly gripped their waistbands, Payam was asked how he learned the technique. He turned nonchalantly and simply stated, “I watch a lot of Seinfeld.”

Brandino Sudo, Sudo news, East Coast Bureau
Follow up reporting by Pete Sudo, Editor-at-Large , West Coast Bureau

Stripper Found Attending Local Community College

Boulder City, NV-Stunned patrons of the Beaver Hole Gentlemen's Club, a locals only nudie bar on the outskirts of Boulder City, were stunned to find out that clothing removal technician Christy Clitoris was indeed attending a local community college.

"She always said she was just stripping for college, but hey, they all say that", stated long haul truck driver Buford "Bonecrusher" Johnson, who is said to have dropped thousands of one dollar bills on the stage, just to have Mrs. Clitoris pick them up, hands free. Upon review of the ample evidence supplied by Sudonews, Mr Bonecrusher was upset, emphatically stating, “If I knew that money was going to college, I would have never given it to her."

Chris McQuinn, one of her classmates at the college, was suspicious of Mrs. Clitoris from the beginning. Mr. McQuinn recalled, “Once day she walked into the class in some tight jeans. I thought I recognized that camel toe from a bachelor’s party a couple years back-trust me, it was the biggest moose knuckle I’d ever seen. As I recall, she was twisting off beer caps with that thing.”

A check of the birth and academic records revealed the most shocking point of all, which is that Christy Clitoris is actually her given birth name. Gentlemen's club historian and attorney Buckinald J. Stevens III, Esq., estimated that this is the first time in recorded history that a pole swinger was actually telling the truth. "I have studied many dancer and professional porn actor names and can always find that the names are truly false. Sometimes, like in the cases of Billy Chode and Stacey Blumpkin, they obviously used their middle names in place of their first names. The odd part is that Christy’s middle name is Mercedes, the third most common car based stripper name, behind Lexus, and in the Deep South, Ford F-150.”

When faced with the daunting evidence of Mrs. Clitoris' truthfulness, Mr. Bonecrusher stated, “Okay, she was telling the truth about her college, and her name, but them bodacious titays ain't real. I've seen a lot of sweater puppies, and those dogs was store bought. If you don't believe me, ask my right hand, those jugalicous knockers were pure silicony."

An examination of Mr. Bonecrusher's Popeye sized right arm, juxtaposed against his Olive Oil sized left arm, solidified in Sudonews opinion, that Mr. Bonecrusher is not a stranger to the sweet release. After a Sudonews undercover investigation, which included several lap dances, a couple facial cleavage insertions, and one reach around, it was not determined if Mrs. Clitoris' milkbags were real or not. Sudonews is dedicated to answering this pressing question, and this is just the first in a 16 part series into the validity of the funbags. Stay tuned.

Pete Sudo, Sudonews, Las Vegas Bureau, with contributions from Brandon Sudo, Editor-In-Chief, East Coast Bureau.

Jay-Z: Hardcore Rapper or Momma’s Boy?

Miami, FL - Jay-Z, former hardcore rapper from the Bedford-Stuyvesant section of Brooklyn, which has produced many musical greats, including Clay Aiken, was seen waiting outside a local movie theater bathroom on a hot friday night holding the purse of his beloved Beyonce Knowles, who was heard stating "damnit, I got a turtle head poking out" as she ran into the restroom with one hand covering her bootylicious badunkadunk.

Mr. Z was reportedly "tiffed", in his words, because Mrs. Knowles was making him late as they went into "Failure to Launch", the romantic comedy starring naked bongo playing pot smoker Matthew McConaughey. J Hova stated,” I’ve been waiting so long for the return of Matthew to his roots". The rapper who proclaims to be the greatest rapper alive and croons on such hits as "Girls, girls, girls" was far from the image he portrays on his albums on this movie date night.

Fellow hardcore playas at the movie theater pleaded with Mr. Z to state that he was "Not bitchin out and holding some chickenheads purse." Movie ticket taker Bucky Bell, who was there to see first hand what transpired, overheard Mr. Z saying,"This purse? Nah I just stole this joint, jigga what?". The rapper reportedly spoke in a false bravado and his voice cracked. "H to the Izzo!" he blurted and made an diamond shape with his hands.

The Jiggaman's pussifiedness is evident on his latest single, "Honey I picked up the magnum sized tampons you needed, Jigga Yeah.” The song’s sappy lyrics state “Don't want to stop our roll ‘cause you got that flow, fo sheezy". The single brags about how fast he got back from the store, how super absorbent the tampons are, and how he researched the brand on the internet for his "boo". "This mans street cred is damaged," pouted an onlooker and he added "I don't even think that Beyonce’s ass is bootylicious anymore, it’s just licious in my eyes from this point forward!”

The couple was seen entering the theater late and as the door closed, Mr. Carter proclaimed "I am going to drink a large quantity of Crystal and fornicate with lots of fine bitches after this!” The crowed that had already dissipated paid no head to his words. "That boy is whipped." stated Bucky as he sent a text message booty call to one of his "Chickenheads."

Brandino Sudo, Sudonews, Miami Bureau

Ben Affleck Spotted Leaving Risque Las Vegas Establishment

Las Vegas, NV – Flaming metro sexual and Los Angelean waste of space Ben Affleck, who commonly refers to himself as an actor (why he does, the editors of Sudonews and anyone who has seen his films have no idea), was caught in the wee hours Saturday night leaving a local Las Vegas Catholic church.

Affleck was wearing an embezzled 1970’s pizza-man porno style fake mustache (by Dolce and Gabanna) and a pair of overpriced nut-hugging jeans (by Testicle Embracers Denimwear) as he absconded from the rectory. Embarrassed, and trying to keep his pseudo bad-boy image, Affleck quickly stated,”I swear I’m heading to a strip club right after this.”

Affleck then begged this reporter not to print his appearance at the church, and even attempted to cover his PTLin’ (Praisin’ the Lord) by claiming that he’s researching a movie role. The role was reportedly as a blind Catholic priest/superhero that served at Pearl Harbor and was called upon to destroy a meteor barreling towards Earth by using Tim Robbin’s character in Shawshank Redemption to chisel into the middle of the meteor and plant a thermonuclear bomb. Matt Damon was reportedly attached to play the Robbin’s character, and Kevin Smith to direct.

While clearly a plausible Affleck movie (the editors of Sudonews are working on the screenplay as we speak), this reporter was steadfast in his questioning. Affleck relented, admitting the falsehood, and pleaded, “at least say it was a church of scientology or Kabala, my public relations people say those are acceptable Hollywood religions.”

When this reporter refused, Affleck broke down in angry tears, yelling “Print whatever the hell you want. I gotta go; I have a nail appointment in 20 minutes.”

Reported by Pete Sudo, Sudonews, Las Vegas Bureau.

Dick Cheney Receives Suprise in White House Screening Room

Washington, DC-President George W. Bush once again revealed the “First Organ” to an unwitting guest at the White House screening room by performing the infamous “popcorn trick” on Vice President Dick B. Cheney during a private screening of uber-gay cowboy drama Brokeback Mountain.

To the unfamiliar, the “trick” involves cutting a hole in the bottom of the popcorn box and inserting one’s penis into the box. As the popcorn is removed, one’s member is exposed, and your victim/date gets a surprise.

Cheney stated, “I heard from Donald Rumsfeld that he had tried the same thing during a screening of My Best Friend's Wedding, so you could say I saw it coming, if you know what I mean.” Asked if he gave the President a so-called happy ending, Cheney said, “he is the President, after all. I felt obliged to do it for my country.” When pressed about the size, Cheney simply stated “fairly average, but this guy’s got no balls.”

White House projectionist James Tarry overheard the President asking Cheney if he wanted to see his weapon of mass destruction blast off. Stopped by the media as he entered Air Force One, President Bush commented, “he, he, I stuck my wiener through the popcorn box, and he touched it.”

Product engineer Brandon Brown, who is credited with inventing the popcorn trick during an unusually long dry streak during the late ‘70s, stated that “the most important element is to control your butter to popcorn ratio. Obviously, a certain amount of ‘fake butter’ is needed to ensure lubrication, but too much and the element of surprise could be ended by soggy popcorn. The key is to keep the hand reaching into the box.” There’s definitely a risk involved, but also potential reward. “Sure, I’ve been slapped a few times, but so has my penis,” Brown stated.

Michael Moore was said to be working on a documentary about the White House screening room tentatively titled “All the President’s Mens”. He describes the film as part gay porno, part political thriller, and all homo erotic. “I’m thinking of throwing myself into a three way with Karl Rove,” Moore stated.

Report submitted by Pete Sudo, SudoNews, Las Vegas Bureau.