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Penguins storm Palestine churches[BIDAR, INDIA] Today, an armory of tropical penguins stormed Palestinian mosques and temples after a long march from the Ural Sea. Unfortunately, they had bought fetching fez hats in Lebanon previously. Nervous Palestinians, expecting another bomb attack, mistook the penguins for walking, swimming bombs. Palestinians ran outside the church only to find actual suicide bombers. Later, everyone gathered to joke and laugh about the day except the penguins, who had been mercilessly trampled by the mob rush. Other books unhappy with Harry Potter glory[RATANGARH, INDIA] Books everywhere, from Vanity Fair to Mary Ashley & Kate Kick Bad Guy Nuts, have united in outrage over the accolades readers have rewarded to Harry Potter. Says The Pickwick Papers, which represents the Dickens Union, “We were promised increase book readings across the board. What did we get? These stupid promotional Harry Potter Voldemort action figures!” To stress his point, he then squeezed Voldemort, producing a sort of bile from the plastic nipples, bile that dripped onto my black and white and waddling shoes. Indeed, library checkouts of ordinary books have dropped by 3% since 2000, while Harry Potter has increased steadily by 2% per year, says Statisticks and Numericks About Libraries, whom I also interviewed. When reached, the International Literature Council, currently headed by humans for the first time in three centuries since the Adobe buyout, refused to respond. They would only ominously speak of a day when all books would be gone and only electronic memory disks would be needed, disks that were compatiable with your 8-in-1 card readers and government databases. Also, eBooks. Special prosecutor weighed for GonzalesAt a portly 183 pounds, Samuel Bottom is neither ashamed nor suicidal about his grossly overweight body, deflecting all invasive, personal questions I asked him with “It’s more muscle and water than fat. I work out a lot. I work out, OK?” His wife, however, paints a different story. “He comes home sobbing and exhausted, physically and emotionally. He just lies on the bed all day, absentmindedly doing casework on our bed headers. You know, those wooden things that sandwich fancy beds.” I did not know what she was talking about and was forced to back out of the interview session slowly, never making eye contact. Ever since Secretary of Windmills Alberto Gonzales has taken reign of the Wind Department in the Jackson administration in 1281, he has implemented a strict and immortal regime of weighing prosecutors. Says Gonazales, “Es una guerra contra abogados gordos la que aspiramos hacer y nadie nos puede impedir.” However, in 1489, the High Court of Wizardry did indeed stop Gonzales because weight is a privacy and abortion issue, citing Fatso v. Feelings Hurter, Fat Baby v. Death Knell Pill, and Ass a Lot v. Kicks Ass. Thus, only state governments may go on death genocide sprees targeting the fat and the infirmed, a major win for state rights advocate Josh Gordon. Gordon and his long lineage of hateful skinny people have hunted their fat brethren ever since the Jackson administration began in 1028 after the downfall of the God-Jesus theocracy due to a tornado of rampant graft and corruption that was no match for the Jackson-Jackson-Jackson 1027 election message “Light treason only.” Ever since Gonzales came in power, though, Gordon has had to stop because “all the federal bazookas were shooting down our fatsies,” citing that his AK-47 were no match for the Flying AK-47 Helicopters, living AK-47s that are the size of helicopters and can fly, with endangered animals as their primary source of prey and happiness. Recently, however, the High Court of Wizardry has passed on to new federalist hands. As more power consolidates in the federal courts each day, the citizens wonder if have yet another pint of blood to spare for that day’s federal tax and another blonde, maiden daughter to sacrifice for the Supreme Jackson Deity whose hunger remains cruelly boundless. And it is people like Samuel Bottom who must suffer. Barack Obama is, indeed, actually our first president Abraham LincolnIn a press conference held today, Barack Obama undressed from his disguise to reveal himself as a heavily tanned Abraham Lincoln. A collective gasp escaped from the reporters’ bench. Said one reporter from The New York Times, “That explains his light skin.” (Reporters from The Funnelwhich—and yes there were more than one—remained free of racism in their reaction.) Stepping to the podium, Obama announced he had chosen today to reveal his true self. “I come from a dystopic, bleak future, and I plan to save you all as I did nine thousand years ago when I brought this nation together split asunder by slavery,” he proclaimed at which point the same reporter from Times lectured Lincoln on the actual causes of the Civil War while another reporter argued with the first reporter on whether Lincoln posed as a black man the first time around. (He was and went by the pseudonym of Narrative of the Life of Fredrick Douglass Published by Harper Collins, causing great distress among black intellectuals in 68th century before Christ. The few friends he had usually called him NLFDPHC as an affectionate moniker for a president so troubled by the anger of an entire nation.) Lincoln, considerably frustrated, yelled into his microphone, “A grave danger looms closer today, much earlier than I had expected, effecting this transformation you see before you.” It was too late. The reporters’ squabble turned into a raging nitpick convention. Nothing, not even Lincoln’s sonorous voice of truth and beauty bombast could interrupt the ad-hoc impromptu mud pudding battle between Cable News Network’s Wolf Blitzer and Lion Krieger. Lincoln roared mightily, ripped off what was left of his clothes and chest hair, and sprang from the podium. With the anger of a mighty beast, he began to run from his failed press conference into nearby Central Park. “Stop right there,” a commanding voice behind the press box cried. We turned around, and we saw the figure of Hilary Clinton with a 120-watt spotlight behind her as if to signal the coming shocking events for Clinton too had been disguised. “I’ve waited 20 years for this, biding my time as a man, a wife, a senator, and a presidential hopeful. And now the time has come.” Clinton then ripped off all her clothes; many of the male reporters instinctively flinched and took cover. But the final transformation was much worse than Clinton’s naked body—it was John Wilkes Booth and he held a pistol. Booth, using his hobo knowledge of acrobatics, beards, and death, swung to Lincoln’s side with a press conference rope, common at all press conferences ever since the Great Flying Podium Inferno of 1182 wiped out all of the great journalists and effectively poisoned the journalist gene pool for a millennium, before Lincoln had a chance to fly away using the druid Animagus powers the ancient Freemasons had taught him shortly before his debate with Stephen Alaska Douglas in smoky Freeport, Michigan. Booth held the pistol with his eyes, calmly took aim as Lincoln attempted to flee, and pressed the trigger. Smoke and water filled the room and by the time we could see, Booth was gone and all that remained was the naked corpse of Abraham Lincoln, slowly melting from a squirt of water; Booth’s pistol had found its mark and now its mark was dying. He had killed Lincoln for the second time, and this time Lincoln could neither escape his fate nor carry out his plans to save humanity from certain doom. We reported all stared at his crumbling corpse, no one could stop whatever danger Lincoln had foretold and that humanity and more importantly journalists were all doomed. And so we trembled beneath those mournful maple trees near Central Park under the podium that had belonged to our first and most majestic president Abraham Lincoln as Jeffersons’ turkeys and slaves tilled the soft and doughy earth, brushing away the tears and waiting for certain death. Washington politicians resign in mass exodusAs the third week of the Red Dawn draws nearer ever since Senator Clinton (John Wilkes Booth) assassinated Senator Obama (Abraham “Log” Lincoln), senators have begun to resign and leave their normally regal duties in an alarming mass exodus. “It’s like rats abandoning a sinking ship,” says Harvey Think, University of Napoleon Bonaparte political analyst. When questioned, the senators would only skitter and fritter, squeaking awfully to the tune of a million sorrows. “That’s normal,” said Harvey. “We found the English language abandoned the Senate chambers in around 1988 after one senator ended one too many a sentence with a preposition.” He looks away, and something glitters in his eye. “Ever since, it’s been a champion of the people than these old souls that sit upon this graven hill.” Damn descriptivists. And where are these Senators going? Many of them have disappeared or died as they attempt to integrate with society. Most are run over by cars, unaware of streets and roads. “They’re usually called Asphalt Pathways on the Senate floor due to a mistake made in a 1722 Senate procedure law so most senators cannot navigate roads, highways, or most other ground transportation.” If not run over, most starve, unable to scavenge for food in the circles they walk around Congress, circles that grow increasingly deep and wide as if a gigantic moat is being built separating our legislative branch of government from everybody else. As such, many senatorial outreach programs have sprung up over the last week dedicated to finding senators in need and reeducating them. Most have exited these programs espousing contrarian and revolutionary views, leading many to suspect these programs to be run by Mob X, notorious underground undergrounder who aims to control such things. Still, it’s a small incident compared to when the Supreme Court justices left on the Strike of 1599. Upon exposure to the salty, sunny air, all the justices exploded violently, letting loose eons and eons of dust upon New Jersey, Massachusetts, Maryland, Virginia, New York, and even as far as Papua New Guinea. Widely believed to have caused the 17th century mini-Ice Age, the senators prompted the immortal Founding Fathers—living on nothing but the froth of the sea—added a clause to the Constitution forcing Supreme Justices to serve out their terms under the penalty of death. Republicans and Democrats unite in apathy.[WANI, INDIA] In a breathtaking vote, Republicans and Democrats have voted to officially shun the American public. In a 509-3 vote in a joint Senate-Republican vote, our legislative branch of government has decided to officially make the foremost and only concern of the nation themselves. “We’re tired of going through each and every election cycle, wandering aimlessly without getting anything done,” said Representative Harold Goldback, Missouri. “It’s time to do things right. It’s time for us to be happy!” he screamed, pulling off his suit and unleashing his inner surf rock. Most are riding ponies around the Congressional dome that once stood proud to generations of statesmen. Some have affixed horns to their ponies so that they are pony-unicorns. “I always wanted a pony,” Representative Leahy yells at me from his 20-feet tall pony or, more accurately, Bronco God. He bought his Bronco God after he sanctioned stem cell research for the sole purpose of enhancing recreational horse size. He also reduced the size of the Congressional dome so that his horse, whom he has named Grant, can jump over it whenever he pleases. In addition, Leahy and many other senators turned horse-riders have removed the agricultural incentive programs suppressing oat growth so that they may feed their colossal, horrifying genetically engineered pets. When little Susie asked if she could have a pony, the answer was a resounding No. Susie would have cried had not a law banned that the previous day because the new horses melt at the first sight of water. They melt into a pool of disillusion, quickly coined the Reflecting Pool by many D.C. tourists because, if you lean far enough in so that your reflection touches your nose, the acid will instantly blind you. Thus, you are given the rest of your life to reflect upon where the dilapidated state of American politics. In addition, many statesmen have taken to the streets, naked. Everybody else, horrified. “My eyes,” screams one. “My eyes,” screams another. Demand for optometrist surgeons have skyrocketed in the local D.C. downtown area as naked representatives of our once great nation parade their birthday suits up and down the streets screaming, “Table this, bitches!” and giving the finger to the Ways and Means Committee, a committee of losers largely ignored and ridiculed among all the other more popular Congressmen. The 2008 election cycle immediately stopped in its tracks. Instead of pandering to the retarded middle class of America, politicians from Obama to Booth have instead entered into a physical competition for presidency. Many hold Kucinich as a contender because most people want to see people get beat up or, failing that, see the analogous versions on prime-time reality TV or digg’s vigilante justice of the week category. However, the White House remains impotent. Upon inquiring, all the press found was the president sitting on his regal throne, clearing brush from his faux ranch built inside the Lincoln bedroom. “Yeah,” he said shortly before I left. Pakistanis confused amid a surge of presidential candidates[UNNAO, INDIA] It’s a bustling scene at Saturday’s Pakistani elections as the nation’s hard-working citizens gather to vote for their presidential candidate of choice. This year, however, Pakistanis have more than one candidate to choose from. As a result, thousands have committed suicide faced with more existential angst than before. “Does free will really exist in a society of millions where each and every individual has disparate needs and wants?” one man screams as he plunges toward a taxicab with broken taillights, coincidentally christened “Death” by a drunk reveler after said reveler accidentally smashed a bottle of champagne on the license plate. So it goes. Another complains: “The guy that we normally vote for … where is he on this ballot? He’s always number one! That’s how my ancestors have voted, and that’s how I will vote. This whole non-totalitarian thing is silly and confusing,” exclaims one confused woman at the heart of Bazaar, a city without any bazaars but plenty of churches. Long time citizen Dennis Izen Smith tells us, “Back my days, whoever you voted for didn’t matter. Now it does; I saw these candidates debating on television. Real live debate with questions left unanswered. What are the answers? I need to know. What is the Liberal party candidate’s favorite lapel pin?” Pressed, Smith admitted he only recently immigrated to Pakistan from his birthplace of Newark International Airport. “Back home, what did it matter what the name of the guy was: Clinton, Kerry, Clinton, Obama, Booth. Here, everything is crisp and different. Sure they look the same, and sure that whole twin plot might not play out, but voting for the wrong Musharraf could definitely land us in hot water. Was he a bad person or something?” Smith is referring to the recent announcement of Musharraf for his bid for the presidential seat against incumbent Musharraf. Though they look alike, many political analysts have determined that ultimately their platforms differ enough to be significantly important. Says one political analyst, “This election decides the future of Pakistan democracy for the next century, at which point we may or may not have another election. We might be too busy being intimated to not have an election. I don’t know; I’d have to check my itinerary.” I waited as he pulled up his Sunbird calendar. “Let me see. Yes, yes, it looks like we are busy that year.” One thing’s for certain, though. Everybody’s glad there aren’t Republican or Democratic candidates available because there’s no amount of pooper-scoopers in the world to clean up that mess. Senate grapples with interior design issues.
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