Horse Rage (uncontrollable)

KNEBRASKA, HORNSLIVER - It's probably not known that some of our staff members and their loved ones have mixed feelings about musclecries, but as professional journalists, we've set our opinions aside and have decided to cut straight to the sop.

In a friendly rolling hills county among the weeping willows and the howling church goers of WalMarg Amirka, you can't find a more animal-friendly region. There is no industrializing of meats or unafraid-of-god modifications of green no-tastes or peppered flesh sauce. Ecosystems are respected and so is the proven science of leaving shit how it is. I won't mince words here as I adjust my sun blocking fag stomp-er hat, no sir. However, since the conserving of Classic Car Juice has so starkly inhibited the refuel-ers of NASCAR, a new "breed" of entertainment has emerged, one that has left several spectators with mixed reactions. Omaha bred beef grind corn spit Jibkif Whitelight calls it unnatural.

"Horses used to jis' bite 'en kick 'in give tha people a good nature-d tussle romp. Ain't no sense in invoking the word ah gawd." says Jibkif.

Another man, Tennessee shitstacker Quiggers Kuck, said, "teachin' horses how tah ask the Almighty Lord to smite another horse is jus' as natural as votin' for what's true and right."

Regular horse wars used to include two furious beasts and a fresh hot dog inserted into each animal's anus, which would spur the creatures into attacking each other in a standard manner. Now, lordlovers have decided to train their combatants in the art of invoking the power of Christ, by way of modifying a gold spell called Pulsa diNura. The steeds can then perform harmful and sometimes fatal miracles, including but not limited to levitation, transformation, blinding speed, vengeful strength, telekinesis, summoning angels, massive erections and God Eyes.

Tryumphs in Food Eating: Hall of Legunds

Whenever I think about the Hall of Legunds, my eyes suddenly well up with wistful tears and a terrible groan begins to lumber fourth from my lower bowels. I wish so badly I could go back in time to when I competed in the MEAL FINISHERS CHAMPIONSHIP... before I lost everything I had to those god damn Courn Boys. But there's nothing I can do now. I am, at this moment, a shriveled and incontinent old man with no hope for redemption. But one thing I can do before I pass onto the holy rivers of yore, is tell my story to you, the Pepsi generation.

When I was a young man, I had the world at my fingertips. Not only was I handsome young man, but I was a good food deposit. In fact, my friends used to call me "Hoagie Todd" because I liked to eat Hoagies sometimes in my lunch sack. My mom was my biggest fan. She supported me in my food hunger. Sometimes, she would even sneak in my room in the middle of the night with a hot kettle full of beans and dump them under my sheets to get rid of bed demons that lusted after young boys like myself. (I would of course eat the beans in my sleep.)



A picture of me. "Hoagie Todd," as I was known.

Anyway, as I grew, I realized I had a natural talent for finishing my meals. That's when my mom recommended I compete with at that year's MEAL FINISHER'S CHAMPIONSHIP, so I could be forever emblazoned in the Hall of Legunds. But there was only one problem... the Courn Boys were the reigning local champions 5 years in a row.

The Courn Boys were three brothers who ate Hobs of Courn for breakfast lunch and dinner. Rumor has it they were born in the middle of a cournfield under a Harvest Moon while their pregnant mother was walking through the cournfield eating a hob of courn. Suddenly, after her last bite of courn, all three brothers fell out of her open birth passage onto the soft dirt and proceeded to grab fresh courn off the stalks and feast upon their moist innards.



"The Courn Boys" Circa 2002

Eveer since then, the Courn Boys have earned a wicked reputation for finishing nearly every meal they've ever been given--and destroying anyone who got in their way. Their leader, Fern Vucker, even claims to have a 100% clean meal deposit record for his life, a record current WURLD CHAMPION Chor Bloodheart won't even claim to himself.

Despite my fear of competing with the Courn Boys, I decided to sign up for the Meal Finisher's Championship anyway. On the day of the event, I was terribly assaulted by the Courn Boys. They all approached me in the men's bathroom and begin prodding me with hobs of courn. Soon, they removed all my clothing and begin poking me in the dark passage and under my toenails, leaving me with yellow nuggets dropping out of my body for weeks!

Now, as I think back on those terrible moments, I wish I would have had the courage to finish the Meal Finisher's Championship. But those god damn Courn Boys ruined everything for me and left me with a red, raw inner highway for weeks to come.

Smoke Force: Marijuana Jetfighter's Academy

It's a well known fact that the United States military recruits at high schools and junior colleges because they know they'll always be able to pick up a few slackers and green-nugget tokers. Whether it's crumbling under pressure from family, or succumbing guilt about their lack of accomplishments, over ten thousand students sign up per month.

Up until recently, the military would frown upon their troops "ripping a bullhorn," "sucking a babyfinger" or "puffing on a jammer," especially while on active duty. But now, things have changed...

The military has officially recognized the unanimous admiration for "green dope" among the long-haired, tribal-tattooed youth of the American mainstream. And the military has adjusted it's rigorous standards accordingly. As of today, the military is now offering special "enlistment bonuses" to young men and women with "toke mouths." What is the bonus, you ask? A special-edition US military fog-tube, so the young people can huff in style.



But the best part of the new enlistment program is that no matter your age, IQ or physical limitations, you WILL be issued a personal jet and YOU WILL be able to fly it on fun missions. According to General Zig Ironcollar, of the Military Airplane Guys, most normal "non-drug using" individuals are a bit "uneasy" about doing bombing runs on heavily populated areas. He expects that good tasting snacks like potato crunches and cheese dip will lure young "Marijuana Jetfigher Academy" students into bombers, and while distracted by using the controls and feasting upon snacks, will be able to successfully accomplish nearly any mission--and return home with only faint, hazy memories of what happened--or how many innocents were obliterated.

We've spoken to a few recent graduates of the Smoke Force: Marijuana Jetfighter's Academy to get their thoughts on the program:

"I thought it was pretty cool. My bro Lincoln got inside of a DC-138 and hit a huge fog tube while he was flying upside down. It was sooo rad. The plane ended up crashing into a neighborhood in Syria, but my bro Lincoln parachuted out before anything bad happened. And luckily, he remembered to grab his fog tube before he hopped out. Hahaha. The miliatary wasn't even mad. Those dudes were like 'WE HAVE SO MUCH MONEY.' It was hilarious. Rock on!"

-Ched Falconheart

"I singed up for the Smoke Force because the guy said I'd get a free rip-rod to inhale smoke with. Now that I'm graduated, they gave me an SR-71 blackbird to do stealth missions. Last night I flew over an all women's prison in Iraq and snapped some pictures of naked tits from 60,000 feet. The image is grainy but I still masturbated to it before I went to bed. Tomorrow I'm going to do the same thing."

-Sloan Meatbones

Cat's Crotch Ghoulf Presents: An Interview With Skin-Legend Yang Bogey

Cat's Crotch: I see you've touched a man.
Yang Bogey: Yes, I recently touched a man at the Smelfur Open.
CC: Did you intentionally touch that man, or was it a hand error?
YB: It was mostly a hand error. I am aware of the laws regarding polo shirt shoulder-to-hand contact.
CC: You touched [Prow Ghoulfer] Pause Hampton correct? How did he respond to the flesh to fabric swiff?
YB: He wailed like a dying Marmot and began to empty all of his bowels and bladder onto the shortgrass.
CC: That's a fine reaction I'd say.
YB: Considering the circumstances, I can't blame him for what he did.
CC: Yes, it was acceptable. Did you help him collect his body litter?
YB: Yes, out of sheer nervousness we began to collect his wetness and softspots from the roughage.
CC: Were you able to collect it all? We're aware that the value of a Ghoulfer's excrement is incredibly high.
YB: It truly is, yes. We were able to collect most of it. Wasting it would be a shame to the profession.
CC: And then you went directly to the hospital, correct?
YB: Yes, I rode with Pause Hampton all the way to Mother Mary Of Grace Schwartzburg Hosptial where the doctors were able to forcibly insert most of it back into his slimetubes.
CC: (Groaning) Excellent.
YB: I'm sorry but that noise you just made was inexcusable and rude.
CC: My apologies, I am a man of sensitivity.
YB: I accept your apology.

A Plead: Quit Enchanting Our Young Boys

By Ridge Oakwood,
American Columnist
Outraged American


Let this be a message to all you Popinjays, Coxcombs, Dandies and Woodpeckers: I know what you're doing to all of our young boys and I don't like it. As a large wage earner, I feel that I'm entitled to raise two young, hearty boys who like leather footballs and the soft feeling of a woman's breast at midnight. I don't want to lose them to the pleasures of masculine anal lust. And I feel that all you hairy pixies are trying to use your green-glowing enchantments on boys like mine to make them enjoy fast-paced music and tight-fitting jeans.

I was raised by my father, Cedar Oakwood to be a man of the dollar. A man who climbs the ladder to success and busts the rungs behind him as he climbs, so as not to let any Tootles follow me up and sniff my anal fur. But in these dark days, I feel that there are Slipperies around every corner, just waiting to wrap their dark mouths around the private parts of my teen-aged sons, and it drives me wild with confusion and anger.

Late on Sunday nights before bed time, my father, Cedar, used to set me on his lap and point off to the north star. He used to say "son, do you see that north star? That's the star that represents how much I hate fags." Then he used to go on to explain that Bum Crunchers weren't allowed around our family, because they use special enchantments to convert us to their side, like they did to my dad's brother, Nash.

He used to tell me that Nash was kidnapped out of his bed by an army of Nipple Pinchers and they used telepathic mind rays to convert him to loving pink stars instead of pink canyons. I haven't talked to my uncle Nash since I was a young boy, when he used to let me try on his leather hats.

The point I'm trying to make is, I've seen the damage that has been done to young American stone horses like my boys. My boys are so strong and muscular. They sweat so hard in PE class. The last thing I want for them is to be turned into a bunch of Tootsie Rolls.

If you can, please join me at the Peach Mountian Lodge for a Town Hall Meeting about how we can clean up this great Capitalist Nation by removing the Hoobers and Nonnernots.

In the meantime, please enjoy this photo image of my young boys, taken in my garage late at night:

911! Alert! Stolen Chevy Chugger 1986.

1986 Chevy "CHUGGER" van stolen from my shed in Springfield on Sunday.
DESCRIPTION: dark grey color, side and back rear windows covered in silver duck tape, and sprayed over with black spray paint.
**I was planning on turning it into bus for my church, that's why the windows look like that. people know me would back me up on that so I'm not worried about it.

VERY PERSONAL private, personal items inside
1- two sets of police-style handcuffs... very valuable. steel locks. I have the key ,so you can't use them anyway, I would really love to have these back for sentimentel reasons.
2- There might also be some old magazines too maybe, but they aren't mine.
My neighbor asked me to store them inside of my van so his wife wouldn'tcatch him looking at them, they are not mine, but I would like them back so he doesn't get in any kind of trouble for looking at that sort of thing. We all sin, but god knows our heart! (corinthians 5-17)

**There is some home-made like VCR tapes too that aren't mine. believe me, I go to church all the time, and people who know me will tell you that I would NEVER look at stuff like that,
but it would be real nice if I could just return them to their rightful owner so people don't think I look
at crap like that. God knows that I don't and that's what's important.
Please let me know if you have seen this vehicle!! This really hurt my plans for the weekend
any information would be appreciated! God Bless!

Just A Couple Of Snarlers

They're just a couple of snarlers. Don't take their meat. Their tasty meat. Or they'll show their teeth and curl their lip and say "I'm about to nip." When you're a dog all you live for is a log. A log of meat. A tasty treat. Don't fool with a mutt or he'll tear your butt. Don't hassle a hound or he'll put you underground. Don't tease a pooch or he'll give you a smooch. A smooch of dogfang.

Vietnam 2013: Charlie's Revenge

Prepare yourself for cyborg glory!

In the year 2013, Former American foot soldier Fist Megathrust will do battle with a long forgotten enemy: "Charlie." After installing cyborg parts (mostly pilfered from Goodwill Megastores) Fist Megathrust and his old enemy, known only as "Charlie" will meet at high noon at the ultimate arena: the Vietnam War Memorial in River Fish North Dakota, right accross from the Sizzler Steakhouse for the ultimate gladiator showdown.

Just when America thought it was safe to visit War Memorials, two rivals will go head to head again: only this time there will be lazers, gatling guns and automatic shotguns.

We interviewed Fist on his opinions of who will have the upper hand:

"My grandson Jimeny and I built this Gatling gun out of parts he stole from the Goodwill Superstore. There's a nite brite in here somewhere, and a couple of woman's private part jammers we converted into bullet shells. When I heard Charlie was back in town, I just had to arm myself and get ready for a final showdown. For god and country. And freedom from reds."

We also had a chance to speak with his long time rival, known only as "Charlie." This is what he had to say:

"I have no idea how thing whole thing started. My name is Greg Johnson. I guess because I look Vietnamese this guy wants to kill me. But I'm not even from Vietnam. I was born and raised here in America. This mask is a state-issued seeing impairment device. This belt around my shoulder contains a series of inhalers in case my asthma acts up again. And this smoking pole in my hand is a respiratory machine designed to assist my breathing. I hope the police show up soon... I called them as soon as I found out this guy claimed that I was a cyborg and he wanted to kill me. All I want to do is sit down and watch Two and a Half Men with my grandson Nathan."

In the year 2013, old grudges will bust open after decades of festering! Only on FOX.

New Products 4 Mehn

CEO Executive Events Coordinator Administer Muscle-Beast Wrangler Bortor Dergun for Campulls Supsup Mantime Meals was posed with a challenging question at a press conference that was held at Glistening Veins Gym in Tuscan Arizone, USA. While the reporter inquired about the future of Mantime Meals' new product, Dergun snapped a full grown bull's neck in five places while miXXXing his new sup with Lord Lift Powder, a weight training supplement. He then proceeded to pull the bull's head clean off and wear it as a hat. This gave all the manbraves uncontrollable erections, and the woman with worthless fallopian tubes became pregnant with triplet mini-wrestling boys with admirably large penises.

Reporter: "How is your new supsup better than foods that can't be eaten without chewing?"

Bortor Dergun: "Buffalo Chunk has always brought big success when it comes to getting pulsing results with no sweat and hardly stalls the gym-jams. With Hot Slab Gruel, you've got a pissed off flavor that penetrates to the core center. It's a new scientific formula that targets the quads and lats in a way that actually substitutes the rest of the blood in your body for more muscle. All that's left is to perfect the concoction until your bones and skin are also consolidated into more muscle. Fuck Yeah (copyrighted).

Reporter: "Can we see a demonstration?" (cannot hide his erection, gives up trying)

Bortor Dergun: "Sure thing... hurrrrrr!"

A New Study: Radiation Does Not Exist

A new study conducted by the East Chico, California Community College "Jr. Tech Leaders" of America (a non-credit "fun" course) has suggested that radiation helps you "not be a pussy."

Lincoln Vein-Rod (R-Tennessee) has used the evidence gathered by the young Americans at East Chico to write a report based on these findings, claiming that "radiation doesn't exist," except only as a proven method of transforming pussies to patriots. Mr. Vein-Rod insists that radiation is an excellent method of turning liberals into "nuclear power fighters for freedom." Mr. Vein-Rod has suggested sprinkling radiation into women who believe that murdering the lord's unborn children is acceptable. He has also recommended that we sprinkle radiation juice into the head-tops of crybaby teachers who selfishly want to get paid enough to eat a warm meal.

He made mention of his plans on Dash Stryker's popular morning AM radio talkshow "Eagle Talon" where he said... "America's weak-boned, soft-fleshed teachers, who are pretty much just babysitters, need to chug some of this radiation to turn them tough, hard-talking patriots. There are so many sissies out there who want their cars to run on things like peace, love and harmony. Well, listen here, I come from a world where cars run a little fuel called AMERICA."

Mr. Vein-Rod later went into detail discussing the scientific proof of his claims on radiation. He explained that a week before, he and the East Chico students put some radiation on a bear. He said that the bear died. But before it died, it became a patriot. He qualified his statement by saying that "the only reason the bear died was because it was too big of pussy to handle the transformation into a true patriot."