To The Staff of Naked Ladies Magazine

It is with a heavy heart that I announce that this will be the last issue of Naked Ladies magazine.

When my father founded Naked Ladies in 1969, he was a trailblazer. There were magazines, of course, but none that featured naked ladies. He saw an opportunity and he went for it. Naked Ladies was born, and finally, discerning gentlemen could see naked ladies on paper and not just in person.

He was a pioneer. And he put naked ladies and Naked Ladies on the map.

Over the years

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, Naked Ladies proved its journalistic merits. We interviewed presidents and senators, not to mention a Who’s-Who of Hollywood elite, extraordinary trendsetters, brilliant visionaries, esteemed scholars. Donald Trump.

The best writers in the world longed to have their name appear in Naked Ladies. A byline in Naked Ladies told editors and readers the world over, “this writer was good enough for Naked Ladies.” It was a foot in the door to writing for the best publications in the world. Even ones with just articles.

And then, of course, there were the naked ladies of Naked Ladies.

We had so many naked ladies! That’s exactly what you would expect from a magazine so-named. But we took it to another level! The ladies were nakeder. Ladier. We set the bar. If a lady was going to be a naked lady, she wanted to be a naked lady in Naked Lady magazine.

We were the pinnacle of naked ladyness. If a lady didn’t qualify for our glossy pages, she would have to settle for being naked in low-brow publications like Sexy Ladies, Pretty Babes or Humpstorm.

We had a long run. We brought joy to pubescent teens and barber shop waiting rooms. We offered the educated gentleman incisive, informative articles and, importantly, naked ladies.

But times have changed.

The Internet has gotten people accustomed to everything being free. Especially naked ladies. I can’t tell you how hard it is to convince Joe Sixpack to spend several dollars of his hard-earned money on a paper copy of Naked Ladies when he can see naked ladies for free on the web. Even on his smart phone! Are they the high class naked ladies that Naked Ladies offered? No

, not at all. They’re just naked ladies!

And these ladies? They’re not just standing there, naked. Not at all. They’re moving and talking and doing all sorts of things the naked ladies of Naked Ladies would never dream of doing! Unclassy things! Things I didn’t know were possible for naked ladies to do. I thought ATM was a machine you get money from. I know nothing.

The truth is that in the age of the Internet a publication like Naked Ladies is no longer a gatekeeper. Any lady can be naked for a broad audience. They simply don’t need us.

And clearly, people want to see a lot more than ladies just being naked these days. For a publication called Naked Ladies, the writing is on the wall.

We had a great run. We will remain in the history books. But, the world has changed. The demand for Naked Ladies is only a fraction of what it once was. We have to adapt to survive. It’s time to “modern up” as Sarah in accounting said.

Do not be alarmed! This does not mean you’re out of a job! We’re adapting, not shuttering. We’re finding a new voice and a new audience. One that isn’t looking for naked ladies.

I sincerely hope all of you will stay on board and help with the launch of our new venture, Typewriter World.

In Retrospect, Our Town Seal Might Be Slightly Racist


Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins

Just FYI, some guy I pulled over for speeding said the town seal on our squad car was racist. Just looked at it and it looks like a white guy choking an Indian.

Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

Holy crap! I never looked at it before. What the hell is it?

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins

That’s what I mean. I kind of agree with the guy. It definitely looks like a white guy choking an Indian.

Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

Is he a black guy?

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins


, he’s an Indian.

Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

I mean the guy you pulled over.

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins

No. Why?

Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

…White cop from Whitesboro… in car festooned with white guy choking Indian… pulls over a black guy… looks bad all around.

Just asked Margaret to look up the town seal thingy.

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins

OK. I’d like to give this guy an answer before I send him off. BTW, got another $140 for the town’s coffers! Lowering the speed limit to 15mph was genius.

Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

Thx! Margaret says it depicts a friendly wrestling match in the 1700s.

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins

There were Indians in Whitesboro?

Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

I guess? Maybe before Hugh White settled it.

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins

The more you learn! OK, I’ll tell the guy it’s just wrestling funsies.

Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

Margaret says they would wrestle the Indian then take his shirt. That’s why he doesn’t have a shirt.

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins

OK. Weird.

Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

Then they’d take his pants. And moccasins.

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins


, Norman. That’s not wrestling. That’s just taking his stuff!

Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

You’re right. He’s totally strangling the dude! How did no one notice this? SMDH

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins

I’m just going to tell the guy it’s a friendly wrestling match. Pretty sure he won’t argue because I stopped him 20+ minutes ago.

Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

Tell him the white guy was gay.

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins


Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

For diversity? Never mind. Let me know what he says.

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins

I think he bought the friendly wrestling thing, but he wants to know why our traffic citations are adorned with swastikas.

Fm: Mayor Timmins
To: Sheriff Hawthorne

WTF, seriously?

Fm: Sheriff Hawthorne
To: Mayor Timmins

OMG! Never noticed.

Panel Report: Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell

From the onset, the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell policy established seventeen years ago under the Clinton Administration has been controversial.
Over the last several years this panel has analyzed the policy and conducted thorough observations of militaries all over the world. The panel has come to the conclusion that the policy is outdated and needs to be modified by all branches of the armed forces, with the exception of the 223rd Tactical Heterosexual Artillery Brigade, for obvious reasons.
Reasons we should alter the current policy:

  • Of NATO’s 26 member nations, 22 currently permit openly gay individuals to serve. France has gone so far as to demand that all their soldiers be bi-curious in the event of a long siege.
  • In the European Union, only Greece forbids homosexuals from serving. This strikes the panel as weird because they have an island called “Lesbos” and all the famous ancient Greek military guys were super gay. Especially Transvesticles.
  • Russia and China outright forbid homosexuals from serving, so when we go to war with Russia and China we’ll be able to rally gay troops by pointing and saying, “Those guys hate your freedoms and your alternative lifestyle. Charge!”
  • In the seventeen years the policy has been in effect, over 13,000 members of the armed services have been discharged. These are soldiers who were trained at great expense to the taxpayer and who we will need to shoot at other people when the Mayans attack in 2012.
  • Numerous studies have offered conclusive proof that air-to-ground missiles are deadly regardless of the sexual orientation of the launch-button-pusher.
  • People should probably be used to the idea seeing as Gomer Pyle, U.S.M.C. aired over 40 years ago.

Benefits of altering the current policy:

  • The Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy runs the risk of inciting gay soldiers to be like Oscar Wilde and say outrageously witty things to their superiors. This is not good for discipline.
  • Assuming they live up to the stereotype, gay soldiers will make the barracks more comfortable by color-coordinating things. We also believe they have access to discounts on scented candles that the heterosexual community does not.
  • While their straight counterparts are off-base getting drunk and impregnating Okinawans

    , gay soldiers will use their weekend passes to quietly go antiquing.

  • When observing enemy troops via Predator drone, it’d be cool to have someone in the room who can come up with hilariously caustic comments about their wardrobe, like those guys on the Bravo network.
  • The United States Government could sell Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell to the Las Vegas tourism bureau, and recoup some of the cost of discharging 13,000 perfectly good soldiers.

Panel Recommendations:

  • We recommend not kicking gay people out of the armed forces unless they insist on running around in chaps when they’re supposed to be sniping the enemy.
  • We recommend coming up with a catchy name for this new policy of not caring about the sexual orientation of soldiers because all governmental policies need a catchy name. Some ideas:
    Operation About Face.
    Let’s Just Focus On Killing The Bad Guys, Then.
    OK, But Not In The Humvee.

Avatar: True Facts

  • The entire film was created on a MacBook Pro with a pirated copy of Adobe After Effects.
  • This is Sigourney Weaver’s 73rd reprise of her role as a woman in outer space.
  • Unbeknownst to the audience, the film peppered viewers with very, very subtle political messages.
  • At nearly three hours long, the film is like suffering through six episodes of Two and a Half Men.
  • The indigenous people of Pandora were designed to resemble James Cameron’s cat Fluffers.
  • The Na’vi dialect has even more apostrophes than Klingon.
  • If you were to pit people who taught themselves Na’vi against people who taught themselves Klingon, no one would win because they’d all be losers.
  • James Cameron’s original title for the film was Dances With Wolves, But In Space.


Peacekeepers 2: Tactical Observation for the Xbox

The much-anticipated sequel to Peacekeepers: Prompt Deployment expands the franchise from bureaucratic decision-making to all-out observation with binoculars.
Realistic, indecisive AI • Responsive binoculars • Blue hats • Sound design
Can’t understand what Ban Ki- moon is saying half the time

At the end of Peacekeepers: Prompt Deployment, players left an eight-hour committee meeting wondering “What next?” Well, I’m happy to report that Peacekeepers 2:Tactical Observation picks up from that exact point and answers the question in no uncertain terms: “I don’t know. Let’s watch and see.”
At the game open the player finds himself (girls don’t play video games) in an immersive world of realistic bureaucracy coupled with a can-do spirit that’s kept in check by the special interests of the Security Council.
While locked in intense negotiations with the Russians and Chinese, the player must make concessions that allow the Russians to freely annex the Republic of Georgia while the Chinese censor Google and execute dissidents. This is done by pressing the X button repeatedly for 27 minutes. After those and other concessions have been made and Sino-Russian obstacles removed, an agreement is reached that UN peacekeeping forces will be sent to the troubled region of Sudanistan. This fictional nation, which is based on current events, has been struggling under a civil war and the cruel oppression of a theocratic government that is not Islamic.
After issuing a resolution condemning Israel for something, troops are dispatched to the region – and that’s when the fun really starts.
From high up in your tower you can scan the horizon with some of the most realistic binoculars in any video game to-date. The binoculars can zoom in and out, focus and be stored in a dust-proof box, just like real binoculars. Want to see what’s going on over to the left? Just push your controller’s left stick to the left. What about to the right? Just push your controller’s stick to the right. If you’re so inclined, you can keep turning to the right until you’ve gone a full 360 degrees – allowing you to see everything around you!
The developers have gone to great lengths to recreate what you might see in your binoculars. It might be a rusty car. A sheep. An old boot. Perhaps a shrub. Ooh! Did you just see gun-toting militiamen? Nope, it’s a group of happy school children carrying an easel.
On the odd occasion when you do see something truly out of the ordinary you have the ability to either watch it or look somewhere else. If you watch it, you’ll be asked to file a detailed report which will then be placed in a manila folder. In one instance, I thought for sure that I was watching several people being executed by government paramilitary forces. I used the right trigger to phone my superiors who repeatedly asked me if I was sure that’s what I saw. When I hung up, there was no trace of the gunmen or victims – if there even were any – so I focused my amazing binoculars on a feral dog I saw rummaging through highly detailed trash. Again, the designers spared no expense.
One of the things I like most about Peacekeepers 2 is that you don’t have guns. I mean – sure

, you have guns (if you select the third-person viewing option you will see one slung over your shoulder) but you don’t actually use them. They just exist to try and deter bad behavior. The game design is so detailed that if you turn the right way sunlight reflects off of your constantly-shouldered rifle.
In the end, Peacekeepers 2: Tactical Observation is the most realistic first-person non-shooter on the market. With two games under their belt already, the developers have such a head start on the competition that it’ll be a miracle if anyone else manages to break into this genre. We’ll see how Activision fares in 2011 with the release of Recalled from Duty: Modern Troop Withdrawal.

Disappointing Erotica

His warm tongue traced around her navel before heading south to flirt with the thin lace of her panties. She bit her lip. This was the moment she had been waiting for since she first laid eyes on Carlos at the hotel pool. She moaned with anticipation, running her hands through his dark hair before asking him to leave. She had to get to the airport by six in the morning and found fatigue unbearable.

And now here she was, standing before a total stranger as he ran his hands up her legs and toward her inner thighs. It was beyond exhilarating. Her heart was in danger of bursting. She began to sweat and tremble. Her lip quivered. Would he discover her explosives-laced underwear? Because Allah would be pissed.

Lucas slowly caressed her breasts, which is what he called her two cats because he was terribly educated.

“Oh my God!” panted Jamie, “Oh my God! Oh. My. God!”
She gasped for air. Never before had she felt such incredible

, overwhelming pleasure. Her hands clenched the arms of the recliner as she gave herself unto the Lord, thrilled that she had stumbled upon Pat Robertson’s 700 Club as opposed to that crap with people selling antiques.

His back arched, his eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a moan of sheer pleasure. The acting teacher, who used to be on a huge sitcom back in the 70s, said it was very convincing.

With raw fury, Brenda tore Vick’s shirt open and ran her hands over his muscular, olive skin. He kissed her violently – twelve years of pent-up passion unleashing itself that very moment. She loosened his belt, unbuttoned his trousers and lifted her skirt. Only the judge’s gavel could make them realize they were violating courtroom protocol.

Jury Duty Tips

We’re blessed to live in a country where each and every individual (not you, felons!) can participate in the justice system. A trial by a jury of our peers is one of our inalienable rights, and serving as a juror is not only a privilege but a civic obligation.
That said, sometimes jury duty can be a dreadfully tedious ordeal that you’d really like to get the hell out of – like if the trial will last over a month and is about rich people suing other rich people over a bent building.
Here are some helpful tips:

  • Declare yourself a sovereign republic. Tell the lawyers you are not subject to the laws or jurisdiction of the United States because you are a country from the skin inward.
  • Approach the lawyers and ask, “Where the guilty one at?” This should result excusal on grounds of bias and/or grammatical malfeasance.
  • Tell them you’re part of a daytime improvisational comedy troupe Mission Improv-able that will suffer hardship if you’re not there to provide base swears and crude scatological references.
  • Rock back and forth mumbling

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    , “Man, I wish Carrot Top could see this.”

  • When the attorneys ask if you can be fair and impartial say, “For $40 a day? Pick one.”
  • Hold a quarter and keep referring to it as The Decisionmaker.
  • Tell them you will be fair and impartial as dictated by Starfleet legal code.
  • Frighten every attorney in the room by suggesting this could probably be resolved through binding arbitration instead.

Victim Impact Statement

On December 18, 2008 the defendant, Michael Feeney, made a decision that ended the life of Darvin Suggs. His terrible actions cost me my brother, and it cost my other brother a brother as well. It cost my sister a brother, and my step-sister a step-brother. It cost my mother and father a son, and my father’s brother a nephew. It cost my cousin a cousin and my cousin’s fiancée Brenda a future cousin but not by blood relation. Darvin’s tremendously overweight girlfriend lost a boyfriend who loved her for reasons not related to her bigness, and his parole officer lost a valued parolee who treated every mandatory appearance with the utmost respect. It also cost Darvin’s roommate a roommate, and his paintball team, The Swastikas, a most valued and energetic paintball player who loved more than anything to hide in pine trees.
Mister Feeney’s callous action has changed our lives forever. Every time I walk by a remote-controlled helicopter I say to myself

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, “That is a remote-controlled helicopter, very much like the remote controlled-helicopter that Michael Feeney purposely flew into the face of my brother Darvin, knocking him into a gully.”
Even not-remote-controlled helicopters no longer bring me joy like they once did, as I look up at them and say, “That is a helicopter which utilizes the same laws of physics and aerodynamics as a tiny, remote-controlled helicopter, much like the one that Michael Feeney purposely flew into the face of my brother Darvin, knocking him into a gully.”
Every day I experience painful reminders of my loss, which reach into the wellspring of my heart with the coldness of a snowball-encrusted hand. These reminders, like an eye-dropper of arsenic in the punch bowl of life, cause me great pain. Especially on Sunday. Every Sunday, hungover beyond belief, I would walk to Quiznos with Darvin by my side, wondering why Quiznos didn’t have an apostrophe. On the way we would pass Flash Dancers, and when we did Darvin would ask me why they call it a “gentleman’s club” since it was a bunch of old men staring at some girl’s hoo-hah. I would shrug my shoulders and he would point out that he thought gentlemen were supposed to wear top hats and hold doors for people. Since Darvin’s been gone, every walk to Quiznos reminds me of these lost words that echo in silence in the back of my head, reverberating off of the memories of the words that once were but are no longer. Darvin’s words, once piercing and audible like a triangle instrument struck by a metal rod are now muffled and inaudible, like a triangle held by hand because the little string thing fell off.
When you sentence Michael Feeney, I hope that you will take into consideration the fact that before he showed any remorse for what he did, he was laughing. It was only immediately after he realized that Darvin had fallen into a gully that he began to totally wig out. Only then did he assume the role of man who’d just piloted a remote-controlled helicopter into his best friend’s face, knocking him into a gully. In the moments leading up to that, though, he was having a great laugh.
I know Michael will have to live with the fact that he helped a gully kill his best friend via remote-controlled helicopter. I hope the memories of this will knock on the door of his consciousness like a Jehovah’s Witness coming by with copies of Watchtower magazine.
I hope that Michael gets the maximum sentence allowable by law and that, as he writes a check for $212, payable to the town of Dinkins, he understands the gravity of what he has done. If it may have any effect on the sentencing, I believe the Court should know that Michael constantly defaces posters by blacking out teeth and drawing strategically-placed penises.

Psychic Pediatrician

My two-year old son has been waking in the middle of the night in an absolute hysterical state, shrieking and completely inconsolable for 10-30 minutes. This has happened for several days in a row now. What can we do?
Your son is suffering from a past-life memory of his participation in the Battle of Hastings

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, 1066. In a cowardly panic he broke ranks and fled for the treeline but was mortally wounded by a Norman archer. Then combined shame at having abandoned his English counterparts and the pain of bleeding to death under a willow are the source of his tears. Try soothing him with gentle rocking motions and see if you can’t get him to remember the time in 1738 when he was a jovial Parisian whore.
I keep telling my daughter she’s smart and beautiful and can be whatever she wants when she grows up, but I want to make sure I don’t make her overly confident to the point of cockiness. How much praise and coddling is too much?
Giving your child a healthy dose of self-esteem is normal – and very important to her future development and happiness. You’ll know when you’re overdoing it. That said, she’s going to develop horrible whole-body eczema when she’s 8 so don’t tell her she can be a model.
My daughter refuses to sleep with the lights off and is absolutely terrified of the closet door being open – we have to show her repeatedly that it is closed or she’ll keep calling us into the room. Any suggestions?
She is right to be afraid of the closet. It contains the tortured spirit of a newlywed lumberjack who fell from a pine tree and died alone in the forest.

2008 Letter to Shareholders

Dear Shareholders:
It should come as no surprise that 2008 was, by far, the toughest year our company has seen. Like most businesses we suffered as a result of the unprecedented economic downturn. When we began to see the dark clouds forming on the horizon in early first quarter we hoped we might somehow be impervious to the storm. Unfortunately the reality is that in times of economic hardship people cut back on the purchase of man-panties.
While we remain hopeful for 2009

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, we do have to consider that it may take some time to regain the momentum that we lost in 2008. In the first quarter we watched our sales double, only to have both pairs returned to us within the 14-day period. Shortly afterwards the investment banks began to topple and people’s concerns focused on their families, jobs and money. That, plus the fact that we were in the midst of a presidential race meant that the idea of silky, feminizing man-panties was the furthest from peoples’ minds than it has ever been.
In an effort to stay ahead of the game we’re using this downturn to our advantage. While our sales may have stagnated, our enthusiasm for man-panties remains unabated. When the economy turns around and men in the United States have dropped their apprehension to the gentle caress of our lacy product, we will be at the forefront. In multiple colors, too, including Ivory, Taupe and Nacho.
Like a little boy in an orphanage who sees a well-dressed couple eyeing him, we remain enthusiastic. We go into 2009 stronger than ever, eager to seize the market, and no longer basing our business model on the ability to do wheelies.
I thank you for your support.

If Hitler Hated Disorganized Closets Instead of Jews

The assertion that the lost War was the cause of the German collapse is a lie! No, this military collapse was itself the consequence closet clutter, which even in peacetime, plagued the German nation. The diminution of the Germanic instinct for closet organization had for many years begun to undermine the national foundation, and especially the Will to Storage, of the people and the Reich.
It is idle to argue which races were the original representatives of human culture and hence the real founders of the concept of uncluttered closetry. All culture, art, science and technology that we see before us today – and especially well-organized closets – are almost exclusively the creative product of the Aryan. He is the Prometheus of mankind from whose bright forehead the divine spark of organizational genius has sprung, to be rewarded with properly matched and drawered socks, trousers ordered by season, a belt rack, and mastery over the other beings of this earth.
Whoever really and seriously desires that the idea of the People’s State should triumph must realize that this triumph can be assured only through a militant restructuring of our closets – its strength grounded only on the granite firmness of an impregnable and firmly coherent closet-organization programme, preferably directed by a homosexual.
A nation that understands the profound essence of its struggle and feels itself to be the purest embodiment of organizational savvy, will with almost mathematical certainty some day emerge victorious. The Motherland shall inevitably win her rightful position on this earth if she is led and her closets dutifully purged and organized according to the same principles.

One People! One Land! Color-coded Containers!

Trump’s Latest Masterpiece

“Have I Told You How Wealthy I Am?” is the latest in a series of books by Donald Trump that attempt to make sure everyone knows that he is very, very rich and he is great at business.
Based on the introduction – which begins “Dear Steven Haverson,” – it’s obvious that the book is primarily geared toward Mr. Steven Haverson of Cold Springs, Maryland. The wealthy, wealthy Mr. Trump, who is extraordinarily good at business, became aware that Mr. Haverson was possibly the only person in the United States currently unaware of how rich Donald Trump is and how fantastic he is at business. The incredibly well-off, successful businessman set out to right that wrong with this book.
As Mr. Haverson will soon learn, Donald Trump is a testament to the American dream. Starting with only $300 million dollars, Trump pulled himself up by the bootstraps and managed to build a massive empire encompassing everything from real estate and vodka to polyester shirts and a magazine that forgets to pay its writers.
Building on the foundation established in all his previous works, Mr. Trump makes a convincing argument for why he is the richest, greatest businessman in the world despite being handicapped with a permanent grimace and disconcerting hair.
By the time Steven Haverson finishes this masterpiece, he will realize that there is no industry that Mr. Trump, who very good at business, is not capable of tackling. Everything he touches turns to brass.

72nd Irrational Response Force

02/03/08 – 0128 hours
IRF came under small arms fire while en route to new encampment site in Flajaba. Determined that fire was coming from a hilltop NW of position. Ordered Alpha company to flank while Bravo made a nest from twigs and discarded water bottles. Made PFC Ramirez “King for a Day” and set fire to what looked to be a tool shed.
02/08/08 – 1440 hours
Insurgent mortars landed SSW of encampment. Directed artillery toward suspected enemy position. Had Charlie company develop a patent for a new machine that spanks cats.
02/11/08 – 1020 hours
Made enemy feel like they weren’t accomplishing anything by pretending to enjoy incoming small arms fire.
02/12/08 – 1322 hours
Ambush. Ordered Sgt. Scales to shush everyone in a 3km radius.
02/15/08 – 2244 hours
Skirmished with insurgents outside Flajaba. Told them Men Without Hats would be playing a free concert and they weren’t invited. Established a perimeter of billboards containing Charlie Sheen anecdotes.
02/18/08 – 1723 hours
More mortar fire from NW. Had squad build mouseholes, which are like foxholes but smaller and inefficient.
02/22/08 – 1415 hours
Locals informed us of Qaeda members in a farm 6km from our base camp. Established what we hoped would be a renowned restaurant in an attempt to lure them with our signature truffle fries.

Take Your Debtor To Work Day

07:33 Pick Adam up at his East Village apartment. I remind him he owes me $800. He says he’s got a check coming in today. Wants to take a taxi.
07:59 Arrive outside the office. Adam says he doesn’t have any cash for the taxi until he hits an ATM. Sees a Starbucks across the street and says he has a gift card he got for Christmas.
08:14 Adam’s gift card only has 37 cents left on it, forcing me to front the remainder of his venti mocha. “Venti” means “large” in Starbucksese.
08:20 Adam wants to “take a quick look” at Murray’s Bagels because he’s heard they’re legendary. Takes a quick look. Asks me to order a garlic bagel with smoked salmon while he runs to the Chase ATM.
08:32 Adam returns outraged at Chase because there’s no money in his account. Insists they made a big error they’re going to pay for. Reminds me a check should be coming in today.
08:44 Arrive at office.
08:58 Adam is bored.
09:17 Adam calls Chase customer service to sort out his account and demand answers.
09:23 Adam receives an answer: He forgot he’d written a check when he impulse-purchased Rock Band for his Xbox.
11:40 Starts asking if I have lunch plans.
12:10 Reminds me it’s lunch time.
12:50 Really wants to go to lunch.
1:08 Adam heard BLT Burger was good. Says lunch is on him, courtesy of his Visa card.
2:02 Lunch at BLT Burger was good. Adam’s Visa card is declined.
2:22 Adam calls Visa to demand answers. Outrage trails off and becomes humility. Apologizes for bouncing check.
03:30 Adam asks when we’re leaving.
04:01 Adam asks when we’re leaving.
04:32 Adam asks if we can leave now.
04:59 Adam wants to leave.
05:15 Adam begs me to leave.
05:36 Adam hails a cab even though we were waiting for the cross-town bus.
06:02 Arrive at Adam’s apartment. Has no cash but offers me a Metrocard that “might have a fare or two on it.” He suggests I tip the driver well because his English was perfect and we should reward that.
06:05 Adam’s mailbox contains an announcement about the Barney’s warehouse sale, the latest Time Out New York, and an urgent letter from American Asset Recovery. Adam is outraged and insists there should have been a check.
06:06 Adam asks what I’m doing for dinner.

Hemberton College Bulletin

Barrett Chandler (Business) tells us “I eventually settled down and found myself a wife, but deep down I’m still the same intolerable, misogynistic prick you remember.”
Sheri Rubenstein (Communications) just finished her ninth screenplay and sent it to Warner Brothers to join her other eight screenplays in a pile of screenplays in a landfill of screenplays outside of Los Angeles.
Denton Fleckhart (Business) says that being chosen “Most Likely To Party On!” in 1988 was an honor he never forgot. “I now have cirrhosis,” he writes the Bulletin, “you’ve killed me.”
Devon Barnaby Sharpe (Communications) wanted to let alumni know about his small part on Law & Order and hopes they don’t see his recent appearance on To Catch A Predator.
Tiffany Fleck (Business) now believes she played hard to get for too long and regrets dumping Michael Haye (Communications). “I think my ovaries are turning into dried husks,” she writes.
Brad Leslie (Business) wanted to say hello to old friends and let them know that varsity lacrosse made him gay. He says to look him up if you’re ever in a steam room in Minneapolis.
Tyra Honniger (Drama) writes in to say she and Bruce Klein (Business) had a bouncing baby boy – causing much distress in his marriage to Maggie Burnham Klein (Law ’90).
Winner of the Hemberton College Drama Award, Marvin Kreiss (Theatre) writes in to say that breaking in to Broadway is “much tougher” than he imagined, and that in retrospect anyone could have won a Hemberton College Drama Award.
Stephan Mycock (Music) tell us that he’s finally grown comfortable with his name, now that he’s changed it to Stephan Meisner.
Kate Dooley (Education) writes, “I have stopped using the word wimmin because it was really quite absurd.”
Griffin Bartley (Business) was barely noticed by anyone during his four years at Hemberton and, ironically, was killed by a tree he barely noticed on Route 4 in Hemberton.

Excerpts from Almost Wise

ALMOST WISE: My Four Years Not Being Inducted Into The Trevisani Crime Family
Later that week I was summoned to a meeting with Louis “Chops” De Luca. It was there I learned that I would soon not be inducted into the mob.
Endrizzi disappeared for good soon after – presumably whacked by his own crew on orders from Napolitano. Of course I wouldn’t know as I was never inducted into the mob, but that’s what I heard from Benito “My Barber” Fanucci.
I knew being in the mob takes its toll on a marriage, but since I hadn’t been inducted I began to wonder if maybe she was just tired of me.
Every Thursday they’d gather in the back of Alberto’s for a grand dinner and meeting. There, one could bring up any grievances he wanted to have addressed. I intended to bring up the fact that I hadn’t been inducted into the mob, but I wasn’t in the mob so I wasn’t invited to Alberto’s for a grand dinner and meeting.
With the flood of arrests and prosecutions I began to consider going underground until things cooled off. Then I remembered that I had not been inducted into the mob, and continued sweeping.
It had been only three years since I was not inducted into the mob, so Gotti most likely did not perceive me as a threat. I was still safe.
It’s all about being respected, feared, connected. To stroll into a joint and have folks eager to make you happy, to want you to like them – that’s what it’s all about. So I hear.
If Tony Buccho had one passion in his life it was The Sopranos – the fictional show about the real mob that I had not been inducted into.
He looked me straight in the eye and welcomed me to their “family.” I was immediately inducted into a booth and honored with unlimited refills of bread and salad.

Hair Club For Mensa

Why Hair Club for Mensa?
Hair Club for Mensa can help you feel better about your appearance as well as let everyone know how smart you are – thus tackling two crushing insecurities at once.
How do I qualify?
To qualify for Hair Club for Mensa you must score in the top two percent of the general population on a properly administered IQ test. And you must be balding.
When should I contact Hair Club for Mensa?
As you know – because you’re so very intelligent – the average human head has 100,000 hairs on the scalp. Hair loss becomes noticeable after you’ve lost about 50% of your hair. Therefore, using simple division you no doubt understood as a toddler, you should call us when you have about 50,000 hairs left.
Why am I balding?
The proper question is, “What are the reasons I am facing Androgenetic Alopecia?” and the simple answer is genetics and aging. The more complex answer is in the 812-page scientific study laden with big words which you’ll receive after joining Hair Club for Mensa. Leave it on your coffee table to impress a woman, should one visit.