Klauss Gerhardt, the abstract artist and long-time failure, known simply as “Klauss,” loves when Twitter gets so bogged down with traffic that he can't post a message. It allows him the opportunity to, “see the beauty that is the fail whale.” Twitter's "fail whale," a giant whale being lifted out of an ocean by a small flock of tweeting birds, appears when the site is overrun, and is so popular it's on T-shirts and even tattoos. The icon -- which Twitter users call the "fail whale" because the creature appears only when the site has failed to load -- has gained a cult following as the social media site grows at breakneck pace.

Twitter, which lets users post 140-character micro-blogs, saw a 1,374 percent jump in unique visitors between February 2008 and February this year, up to 7 million from only 475,000, according to Nielsen NetView. With all of those new Twitterers, fail whale sightings and site crashes seem more frequent.

"I love that it is growing to the point that we will no longer be able to micro-blog,” explains Klauss, “we will only be able to sit, and watch this adorable whale; but also this thing that represents the Herculean tasks that we sometimes go about from day to day. I have the image tattooed on my hush-hush places, and, like Andy Warhol,  I intend to re-interpret the image in all my future artistic endeavors.”

Klauss is not the only Twitterer to feel this way. Bill (mr_bill on Twitter), a 36-year-old San Franciscan, has organized parties in honor of the whale. The most recent, held in California in February, was attended by more than 300 people, including Yiying Lu, the artist in Australia who created the image. Bill, whose fail whale parties have featured an aquamarine martini in honor of the icon's color, said the whale's popularity comes from the idea that failures are worth celebrating and learning from.

"We're all trying to do a lot of things that seem pretty impossible," Bill said. "It's nice to identify something positive with those failures."

Paul Paulson, long time friend of Klauss, and serial failure, attempted a similar “fail whale” party on the East coast, but tragically it was a complete bust.

“OMG, I felt like Jimmy Fallon on his late show!!!, “explains Paulson, “awkward, anxious, unable to talk to anyone one-on-one.” It seems that the group updates that intended to crash the system were not working. “We were all doing the usual things,” reveals Paulson, “you know, trying to take that 'What are you doing?' question literally, and put very inane things in our updates every, like minute, but we just couldn’t get the glorious whale to show itself!  I was tweeting friends that couldn't attend (manic, CP, CW, TW33), and was really trying to push my own boundaries with witty “speed” updates, because I’m in training for next years Shorty Awards (The year's best producers of short* content 140 characters or less, on Twitter). I couldn’t BELIEVE that I didn’t win anything this year, but the whale has taught me to keep at it.”

It seems that Twitter is adjusting to the new “fail whale” obsession.  Twitter co-founder Biz Stone wrote in a statement to CNN, "We have made amazing progress from a technical perspective as far as accommodating this rapid growth goes and will continue to improve system and subsystem performance moving forward," So will Twitter’s advancements break up this new cult of complete failure junkies?

“Not at all,” opines Klauss, “We have failed. We must learn from failure. We must embrace our inner whale, and begin again.”

“Oh, we’ll see more and more of the “fail whale” in the future,” states Paulson, “ Celebrities are adding to the site's mainstream popularity, school’s in England are replacing studies about WWII and the Victorian Period with Twitter classes to expand communication! Imagine tweeting your teacher a 140-character book report on Moby Dick? I would love it!! People talk. That's what we do," continues Paul, "We're social creatures. We're kind of wired for this. We’ll overwhelm the system again. It’s only a matter of time before the “fail whale” will be a constant. If at first you don’t succeed…you know?"

The fail whale's account on Twitter has more than 2,265 followers. A Facebook group dedicated to the whale has more than 4,400 members. The whale has spawned art and merchandise, from coffee mugs to baby clothes.

Mickey Rourke, who recently made a comeback of epic proportions in the Wrestler, has found himself wrestling new demons now that the Golden Gates of Hollywood are again open, and flush with opportunity.  “Sometimes all you’ve got are your dogs.  So I’d like to thank my dogs,” said Rourke during his acceptance speech at the Golden Globes.  Well it seems that Rourke’s dogs are his top priority, and may also lead to being his greatest downfall.

On the night of Saturday March 27th, Rourke and his companion Jaws (a Chihuahua), found themselves feverishly canvassing the Greater New York Area in search of a delicious doggy dessert: Frosty Paws.  This special snack can be just as addicting to dogs as Frozen Yogurt is to the fashionably health conscious downtown hipster-and the quest for it, can turn a sleepy Saturday night into a full-on melee.  That is exactly what happened to the former Pope of Greenwich Village in his old movie-making stomping grounds just three nights past.

“Everything was OK until he realized we were out of The Frosty Paws,” said Rupinder Swaminathan, proprietor of The Beasty Feast on Washington Street in Manhattan’s Far West Village.  “He just started walking around and moving his fingers through his hair… and pacing.  He was very upset.  I tell him, ‘no Frosty Paws today…tomorrow … Frosty Paws. Come back tomorrow.  We are closing.’  He just went crazy… just like that … crazy.  He started to empty out bags of dog food and screaming nonsense.” 

Mr. Swaminathan continued, "He was saying, 'I can’t live in your golden palace Tully…I can’t fuckin’ live here,' over and over again… he was repeating.  He said, 'I’ve been everywhere man don’t you get it? I’ve fuckin’ been everywhere.'  Then he looks over and sees my dog Sammy, and he turns around real slow, staring at my face and says, 'I know you’ve got some fuckin' Frosty Paws in here bro.'  Then he started to race towards me.  That is when I became frightened for my life."

It was only when Rourke accidentally stepped on the tale of Mr. Swaminathan’s cat, Pepper, a full-bodied Tabby, that he seemed to surface from his spell of rage.

Realizing that he had injured an innocent animal sent him reeling.  “Mickey began to weep almost instantly.  It was kind of touching to see his love for the helpless beast.  That is when I saw in him what everybody else sees in Mickey Rourke: a winner.”

Rourke stumbled out of the Beasty Feast weeping as he collapsed onto the sidewalk staring at Manhattan’s elite arriving in town cars for a night of debauchery in the meatpacking district.

“And there he was crying with the headlights in his eyes, and he was saying 'I fucked up…I fucked up.'  He grabs my hand and looks at me in the eyes… holding his little doggy, and he say’s  'I love you Brother… Brother I love you … I’m sorry, it’s just the fuckin’ Frosty Paws man,' and he got himself off the ground and walked away.  That was it,” explained Mr. Swaminathan.  “I do love him.  He’s not afraid to say he is sorry.  Mickey Rourke is a True American.”

Whether they are his demons, or the demons of his dogs, we hope that Mickey and Jaws finally found some Frosty Paws and settled down for the weekend.

 (MP) - Computer terminals around the world are on red alert in the wake of the discovery of China’s new “Ghostnet” malware. The network can not only search a computer, but see and hear the people using it.  However, Analysts in China are dismissing claims that nearly 1,300 computers in more than 100 countries have been attacked. "This is purely another political issue that the West is trying to exaggerate,", a Beijing-based strategy and military analyst, told China Daily, a state-run newspaper, “ what we do in our own borders is of our concern. Although the Dalai Lama must be discredited, the West can be assured that there is no espionage into their government, there is little to learn from them. However, Scott Baio…from him there is much to learn.

According to a Cambridge report, titled, "The Snooping Dragon: Social-Malware Surveillance of the Tibetan Movement," the discovery of GhostNet grew out of suspicions that the office of the Dalai Lama had been hacked. "GhostNet is capable of taking full control of infected computers, including searching and downloading specific files, and covertly operating attached devices, including microphones and web cameras," explain the report's authors, Shishir Nagaraja and Ross Anderson. “The Dalai Lama’s staff sent a foreign diplomat an e-mail invitation to meet the Tibetan spiritual leader, but before the Dalai Lama's people could follow up with a phone call, the diplomat's office was contacted by the Chinese government and warned not to go ahead with the meeting,"

The Cambridge report goes on to explain that, “Hackers gained access to computers in the Dalai Lama's office by tricking computer users into downloading attachments in e-mail which had been carefully engineered to appear safe. The attackers took the trouble to write e-mails that appeared to come from fellow Tibetans and indeed from co-workers. This was how they were so easily able to get to Mr. Baio,” the Chinese government has since confirmed, “he had responded to an e-mail from former girlfriend,  Erin Moran, in regard to a “Joanie Loves Chachi” re-make."

Song Xiaojun shows no discomfort when explaining China’s fascination, and constant surveillance, for the washed-up celebrity. “Need I tell you the list? Pamela Anderson, Beverly D'Angelo,Nicole Eggert, Erika Eleniak, Heather Locklear, Denise Richards, Nicolette Sheridan, Brooke Shields, Svetlana Von Fleeden Fleiden Shlooden Shloden-Leibowitz, and of course, Liza Minnelli. China loves beautiful and trashy women," Xiaojun continues,  "but we are not a handsome race. Charles is not in Charge when it comes to his looks either. We have listened into his web streams, read his e-mails, followed his click through analytics. How he moves from Aveda.com, to Manicattack.com, and arrives at his own IMDB page gives us great insight into what makes him desirable. We have learned very much.”

When pressed to comment, Baio responded, "Of course I feel violated. But…my IMDB ranking has gone up 232% this past week.” And, as a direct address to the Chinese that are following him, Baio says, “No, I’m not the best-looking guy in the world, but if you have an attitude like you don't care and you have something to back that up, like money or fame, it's a beautiful thing. It’s that simple.”

So, keep listening China, and the rest of the world may just start to tap into your system of information.

Just when you thought it was safe to go out in Red Bank, along came “The Perfect 10’s”.

"Being pretty isn’t easy.  Being pretty, smart, effective in the workplace, and a great girlfriend while maintaining a level of hotness that most people would call a “10” is nearly unheard of,” said Susan Teledonkiss, a 37 year old former Prom Queen and unofficial Cougar-in-Denial.  A self-proclaimed singer, songwriter, scientist, cat owner, and employee of the month at Barbizon Beauty School since they started the program in January, humility comes to Teledonkiss effortlessly.  “It takes dedication.  You might not make a lot of friends being a Perfect 10, but that's just what life is like when you're hot and...like really, really smart. You know what I mean?  I don’t get lonely though, because a lot of times I’d rather hang out with myself than someone less attractive, and not as smart.  But sometimes a girl needs to know that there are others out there like her, and it’s OK to be perfect. So, I decided to start a club where I could find Perfect Girls just like me.”

The candidate search for The Perfect 10’s Club brought Susan to Buena Sera, in Red Bank New Jersey.  Buena Sera is a much-heralded Italian Restaurant with red velvet chairs, plush leather barstools, dark mahogany tables, and elaborate chandeliers.  It prides itself on being super sexy.  The bar at Buena Sera is well known for its large collection of cougars, men with great hair, and an array of rich cologne and perfume that could rival a night on the town in Milan.

As I arrived at Buena Sera to meet Susan, I was greeted by a portly gentlemen with a thick nose, multicolored tight sweater, a great tan, and an air of superiority that one would expect to receive in such a super sexy environment.  When I asked where I might find Miss Teledonkiss he pointed upstairs to the bar area.

Susan was sitting at the corner of the bar wearing a tight, red, low-cut dress advertising the upper regions of her areola .  With her platinum blonde from-the-bottle look, and her steely blue eyes, she sat sipping a vodka cranberry.  She seemed to enjoy sharing her fairly-new silicone filled breasts with the bar crowd…so I joined her.

“I came in and sat down, ordered my drink, and he just gave it to me.  Didn’t ask for money or anything,” Susan giggled, referring to the bartender “it’s fun being me.”

As we sat at the bar, Susan scoped the area for potential cohorts of hotness.  Her stealth approach was reminiscent of a lone wolf quietly looking down upon a room of lesser beasts. The sipping and staring lasted quite some time.

“Not much going on here tonight.  Looks like I’m the hottest one in the room…again.”

As I looked around the room, there were plenty of smiling women with firm fitness club physiques enjoying their drinks, and laughing with friends.  Sure they were a bit older, but most likely former prom queens themselves.  So I decided to ask Susan why she thought these women were unworthy of joining in her quest for a Club of Aryan Smoke Stacks.

She began pointing out the imperfection in each of the individuals mingling in the bar area,” too fat…weird face…just eewww,” and so on. It looked like she wasn’t going to find any pals at Buena Sera, so I paid for my drink...Susan put on her coat, and I proceeded to walk her out.

“Excusme… excusme… SirI” I turned around to see that it was the bartender calling out to me.  “Yes”, I said. 
“The drink.  Aren’t you going to pay for it?
“I thought I did”
“No.  I meant the one for the lady”

I looked at Susan, and she immediately stormed over to the bar in a huff, and paid for her lone vodka cranberry. Turning from the bar she walked past me, brushed her hair off her shoulders and descended the staircase to the door.  I guess she was headed over to another Red Bank hot spot in search of free drinks and hot friends. 

When I caught up with Susan via email the following day, she apologized profusely in regards to her abrupt exit. "I don't usually do things like that. It's just like really, really hard sometimes when people give you mixed signals like that bartender. He only made me pay for that drink because you showed up. It's not your fault or anything :) Guys are just weird like that. So do you plan on doing a follow up story on "The Perfect 10's"?  I've taken my cause to the internet and am beginning to meet a lot of women who are just like me.  We're even looking into starting our own social networking site with the help of entrepreneur, Roger de la Soul.  Wish me luck :)."

We wish Susan the best in her cyber search for women who can't let go of their glory days. Hopefully she'll find all the validation she's ever needed to continue living her life as one of The Worlds "Perfect 10's".

(MP) – Bill O’Riley, host of the O’Riley Factor on the Fox News Network has become well known for his emotional outbursts, and his inflated sense of self.  So it comes as no surprise to learn that Bill is blaming it on tight underwear and Kenny G.

It seems that O’Riley who was partial to wearing boxers for most of his adult life, has revealed that his wife, Public Relations Executive and former girlfriend of Flavor Flav, Mauren McPhilmy, began purchasing BVD briefs for him in the mid 90’s, because she found the fit more aesthetically pleasing.  Around the same time, Mrs O’Riley also became a huge fan of Smooth Jazz Heavy Kenny G, and would demand that Bill dance through the house slowly wearing only his tight BVD briefs and black business socks as the musings of the whimsical Kenny filled their home.  Emasculated and humiliated Bill began to take it out on co-workers and even super market check out girls.

“Bill is a little bitch.  He always comes in here buying his little granola bars and whatever else.  I bet he likes wearing those tight underwear.  Probably likes Kenny G too,” said Amber White, Manager of the Food Emporium Grocery Store in Manhattan. “He even yelled at me once because we were out of sour patch kids.  Freak. ”

In an on camera breakdown, even more shocking than the well known, “We’ll do it Live”, video that has been ubiquitous on the internet, O’Riley let loose on Noam Chomsky in front of his other guest London Marriot: "hey look, you think you’ve got it so tough, huh?  My penis is slammed into my pants like a pancake, and I can’t get the Andrea Bocelli and Kenny G concert in Tuscany out of my god damned head.  Spend some time in my pants pal.  Let’s go to commercial.”

After the commercial break, he apologized to Chomsky, Marriot and the American People for his bad manners.

I'm sorry. What can I say?  I know I'm an asshole.  It's hard.  I'm trying to please my wife sexually, and at the same time losing my way.  I'm not a rapper.  I don't like smooth jazz.  I like long walks, country music and porn.  I'm a regular guy...really I am. It's just tough..."  After a weighted silence in which O'Riley sat still staring down the camera, he took off his microphone and exited the sound stage.

We are unsure if Mr. O’Riley will continue his pursuit of a career in journalism, but we can only hope his wife allows him to listen to cooler music, and that finds the right fit downstairs.

(MP) - Everyone’s friendly neighborhood hero has been under the gun this week, in not one, but two reports out of Millard, Nebraska. The first called for a Spiderman comic book to be banned from the Norris Elementary School for it’s sexually explicit content. The comic is part of a popular new series about the loveable web-head, and Donna Helvering, head librarian of the Millard School District, said it's been in high demand.

“Each book that lands on Millard library shelves goes through a thorough selection process,” explains Helvering, “We look at books, as far as age-appropriateness, we look at books for readability and we make sure that we're buying books that are appropriate for all our kids,"

However, not everyone agrees. Physha Svendsen, a mother actively involved with her four children's educations, believes comic books like the one in question hold little literary value, and that the one her 6-year-old son brought home is not age-appropriate for students and wants it removed from the library.

"It has a lot of sexual undertones in here, as far as sexuality goes," she said. "They can learn this through any other place, but it's not something I allow them to learn, in my house at least."

Ironically, this has lead to the recent deluge of reports coming in to the Manic Press offices in regard to the recent arrest of husband to Physha - Bjorn Svendsen.  Apparently, the school district is required to form a committee, evaluate Physha’s complaint within 30 days, and reach a consensus about whether to keep the book on the shelves of that library. In the interim, Svendsen said she plans to hold on to the book that her son brought home while the review process takes place. That book seemed to have an unexpected effect on the couple, as reports came in from all over Millard, in regard to loud moaning and crashing noises coming from the Svendsen’s home.

I came back from getting’ some jerky, and I done got see Spiderman runnin’ with his dingus danglin’ in the wind!” explains an eye-witness who wished to remain nameless, “I mean, I’ve seen some sick shit on that there, internet, thing-a-ma-jiggy! Like this one video, where this super hero is wearin’ fuckin’ women’s underwear! Super Man Thong I think it’s called? Not for me. Must be some fuckin’ faggots that made that shit. Anyways, Spiderman comes runnin’ naked as the day he was born out that there house, and a woman wearin’ a red wig came runnin’ after him with her titties flappin’ all out there. They were nice titties, but her cooter was more like my sheep dog Rufus than that little clean dog on them Taco Bell commercials. All of a sudden, they just stopped, dropped, and fucked! I couldn’t believe it!”

The police officer who responded to the call, was too late to catch them in the act. It was reported that Physha quickly ran away. But authorities did manage to corner Bjorn, and were able to arrest him after a twenty-minute stand-off. “We were careful with him,” tells Officer Farhar, “we thought he was on something. When we finally were able to question him, turns out he just got all sex-crazed from some comic book that he and his wife were reading in bed. The worst kinds of calls for us are ALWAYS domestic ones.”

Manic News tried to reach Marvel, Inc for a response concerning their most popular hero, but a spokes-person for Avi Arad, CEO of Marvel Studios, said that they have no comment on just how “sexy” Spiderman truly is.

In the mean time, the Millard School District still has not decided the fate of the book in question.

(MP) - "When March Madness approaches you need an excuse ... to stay at home in front of the big screen. Get your vasectomy the day before the tournament starts. It's snip city." This is the Oregon Urology Institute’s radio spot that has been picked up all over the country. The March Madness vasectomy special is the brain child of Dr. Neil Baum: urologist, author (he's written five books), and amateur magician!

Dr. Baum offered up to 20 outpatient procedures to men in the days leading up to the big basketball tournament. The offer included a bag of frozen peas, a copy of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, and a free pizza delivered to your house. “The motivation,” explains Braum, “ is that men can engage in the luxury of being able to have uninterrupted time to watch a national sporting event without having to take out the garbage or take the kids to music lessons. They'll have time to recuperate.” The special got so much publicity that hard-partying, trust-fund celebutard Brandon Mavis was spotted entering the institute.

Mavis, dressed out of season in his favorite Meat Shorts from the Weird Clothing Company (which he has been quoted to say are “f-ing carni-vicious man!”), has been in the news due to his latest sex-scandal. Mavis was arrested for publicly fornicating with a woman with a ScreamBody bag strapped to her face. The hot new alternative to video taping themselves, they would later squeeze it back in the privacy of his own hotel room, releasing the vocal elations, and masturbating on opposite sides of the room. “This is the fad for this irreverent generation. It’s healthy though,” explains Dr. Jesse Jamison, Mavis’ personal therapist, “there’s nothing wrong with sexual exploration. Brandon just needs to be careful.”

“I’ve been up in there, dropping knowledge and nut in chicks all over the world, “tells Mavis, “my dad told me that either I get married, with a pre-nup of course, or I make sure there’s no unforeseen seeds of mine, incubating in any oven somewhere. So, this deal sounded good. I can bag as many chicks as I want without any repercussions. Oh, and the peas thing sounded like a bonus.”

What Mavis is referring to are the benefits that are part of Dr. Baum’s special offer. “The magazine was something to keep them occupied and to enjoy during the recuperative period,” explains Braum, “and the peas are to prevent swelling after the procedure. The frozen bag of peas are placed on the genitals where it nicely conforms to the area where they had the procedure. Anything will work. It could be ice cubes in a Ziploc bag, but that can be cumbersome. Peas are anatomically adaptable.”

So what did Dr. Braum think of Mavis’ erratic decision to have the procedure performed? “It's the most effective method of contraception and the least expensive over the long run. Many men want to have the procedure done, but are scared. I wanted to try to entice men to have a vasectomy, make it convenient for them and motivate them to proceed. I think Brandon is becoming aware of his indiscretions, and growing into a responsible adult.” And what does Mavis think about this transformation into adulthood? “Yea, I guess, but I just love my hoops, man. Don't want to be bothered. Go Huskies!”

(MP)- As if it isn't difficult enough to pick out a breakfast cereal at the supermarket, the decision just became that much more complicated with the addition of Kim Jong Krispies: the official morning meal of North Korea.

With a powerful dictator as its namesake, the Kim Jong Krispies brand has been finding its way onto shelves across Europe and North America.

“We intend to raise this violation of the Cereal Council resolution, if this continues, in our supermarkets,” Secretary of State Hillary Rodham Clinton said Wednesday. “This provocative action in violation of the WCO (World Cereal Orginization) mandate will not go unnoticed, and there will be consequences.”

“There has to be a better way for cereal proprietors to be able to share the marketplace, and that includes Sociopathic Dictators,” said Shannon Bonfonsis, Director of Marketing for the General Mills Corporation, and Secretary General of the WCO.  "Strong arming brands off the shelves, and at the same time isolating yourself from the Cereal conversation is not helping anyone."

The main concern for members of the WCO is the positioning of Kim Jong Krispies on the shelves.  In a deal struck with the Wal-Mart Corporation, Kim Jong’s brand was able to secure real estate on the second shelf up from the bottom, which is approximately 39 inches in height, and also the average height of a four year old child.

“This is a cereal…in attractive packaging …with professional graphics, and vibrant hues of color represented on both the front, and back of the box.  The cereal itself is yet again bright in color, and is in the shape of a Nuclear War Head. We have reason to believe that this will be very appealing to children between the ages of three and seven,” explained Philip Wentworth COO and Brand Director for the Kelloggs Corporation.  “I mean it’s got a good chance of blowing Frosted Flakes right off the map.”

The big question on the minds of the WCO members is, how did Wal-Mart allow such a gross violation of WCO standards to occur? 

"Amber Waves has been on shelf two since the inception of the WCO. Now, we’re on five.  We’re losing our grip on creating healthy children. Shop Rite, Food Town, Super Food Town and Pathmark are all in compliance. Frankly, the Food Town stores are refusing to carry the Kim Jong brand at all, and Shop Rite has only agreed to carry a limited supply through the end of the school year.  The only issue has been Wal-Mart.  We are all really shocked,” said Abner Greensteen, Spokesperson for the Granola Miles Group, (creator of the Amber Waves cereal series).

Bruce Thistlewaite, Public Relations Director for Wal-Mart declined to comment from Wal-Mart headquarters in Bentonville, Arkansas yesterday .

Greensteen is worried that we are sending the wrong message to our children by making communism, nuclear war, and cereal rich in sugar and preservatives, a part of our morning routine.  But as long as Kim Jong Krispies keep flying off shelf number two, another truck from Bentonville will be on its way to deliver fresh morning missiles to America’s children.

MP- Memorial Day weekend, the unofficial beginning of summer vacation at the Jersey Shore, is just two months away.  We can almost always count on an action packed display of  tanned, toned, beautiful people from parts unknown (Staten Island) trying to make memories they can pass onto their kids, and discover romantic connections they can hold onto forever.

One such individual, Donnie Massengill, is doing something a little different this year to prepare for a successful summer at the Shore: calf implants.

In an increasingly competitive environment, Massengill feels that a new set of robust calves will give him the edge he needs to bring the ladies to their knees.

“I’ve been workin’ out all year.  Mostly upper body cause I like to watch myself when I’m getting’ my lift on,” explained Donnie. “But I haven’t been able to get my calves goin’.  I blame my Dad cause he’s got small calves.  Not that he’s not ripped though, cause he is.  He’s a great fuckin’ guy, and I’ll fight anyone right now who says he isn’t.  It’s just his calves…they’re small.”

Donnie told me that his purchase of a pair of sailor white Capri pants are what inspired him to get his calves in top form.

“I was at Express Men in the Monmouth Mall, and I saw these things.  I knew I had to have ‘em.  I mean I was gonna look so good in these! But when I put ‘em on…I saw...my calves looked like linguine.  I knew at that moment, I had to fuckin’ get implants.”

There is only one problem:  Donnie is short on cash.  In an effort to raise the capital, Massengill has been placing ads on Craigs List, and sleeping with his mothers friends from the beauty parlor for cash. "I don't mind bangin' old ladies.  They love that shit.  It makes 'em feel special to get it from a good lookin' guy like me; especially when they know it's for a good cause," said Donnie.

When we asked how fund raising was going in areas other than the beauty parlor fund, he had this to say: " I mean Craigs List has some stiff competition with all the little kids lookin' for livers and stuff like that, so I might look into offering my personal services online too."

Donnie scheduled an appointment with Dr. Moishe Rosenbaum of Marlboro to perform the surgery on April 17th.  “Ya gotta go with a Jewish Doctor for this kind of stuff.  They really know what they're doin'," Donnie said.  He does not seem concerned with raising the necessary capital in time.  "If worse comes to worse, I'll just make my Dad pay for it.  After all, how can he resist this face," stated a peculiar looking demure Donnie.  Massengill, a devout Catholic, purposely scheduled the procedure after the Easter holiday. " My Mom would whoop my ass if I missed Easter for my calves, ya know?”

We’ll be sure to keep our eyes out for Donnie at the Shore this summer.  He’ll be hard to miss with his bright orange tan, sailor white short-man-pants, and his brand new clean-shaven bulging calves.  Go Donnie.  This summer’s yours!

(MP) - Possibly the biggest tour of Michael Jackson’s life is going on currently, and even that is causing controversy. The tour is not a big budget, grand, highly technical, incredible show that will culminate for ten nights at the sold-out O2 Arena in London. The real tour is the worldwide publicity exhibition of treasures from Michael Jackson's Neverland Ranch; treasures Jackson is claiming were never approved to put on-sale.

Jackson filed a lawsuit in early March, claiming that he had never given permission for the sale of many "priceless and irreplaceable" items. Some of the items in question are his famous jewel-encrusted gloves, a black fedora, a couple of MTV Video Music Awards, and Emanuel Lewis. The auction house, Julien's Auctions, fired back in court papers, saying that “Jackson's representatives had been deeply and enthusiastically involved in the sale for many months, until a sudden reversal last month.” Jackson’s spokes-person responded, “there is absolutely no way that Michael would have signed off on Emanuel. He loves Emanuel. Perhaps they misunderstood and meant to take the house that Michael had built for him on Neverland Ranch.” The house in question is a miniature ten-bedroom mini-mansion that the diminutive Lewis occupied.

"To say [Jackson] hadn't intended for these items to be auctioned was disappointing," Julien told the Daily News. "I can't disclose where we're at [legally], but I know everything's definitely well documented from our end. In a sworn statement, Julien claims that one of Jackson's employees met with him at a local McDonald’s, and tried to strong-arm him into canceling the auction, warning him that he would be in danger "from [Louis] Farrakhan and the Nation of Islam" if he didn't comply. “They told us that Farrakhan would free Webster in one way or another.”

In court documents filed in response to Jackson's fraud lawsuit, Julien reiterates that the “singer's estate asked him to take the Neverland treasure trove off its hands and that all the items were toted away under the close supervision of Jacko's employees—who were also involved in writing press releases and approving the auction-catalog cover art. They even gave us the photo that showed Emanuel’s best side,” continued Julien, “a photograph they thought that he looked the cutest in – before he got fat and bloated.”

As the court battle continues, the tour of the exhibit reached New York City, and is on display at the Hard Rock Café. When unloaded, it was found that Emanuel Lewis had mysteriously disappeared from the contents of the valuables. “I don’t know what happened to him,” explains Vincent Carbonarra of Mobile Manic Safes, “little guy just vanished. Got me!” Enthusiastic buyer Roger De La Soul, owner of Water Bar, stated, "The auction was estimated to  make up to $20 million dollars; however, without Emanuel Lewis, the block's value has diminished considerably."

(MP) - There is an old saying that when your friend loses his job - we are in a recession; but when you lose your job, we’re in a depression.  “I never had a job to begin with, so who gives a shit, right?” exclaims Jeanine Menthol, who is currently the focus of the next season of Bride-asaurus on ManicTV. “You only live once, ya know? You can’t take it with yous?” Menthol, the newly engaged mother of two, was asked how the economic downturn will effect her, “I swears, this is gonna be, like, the best summer ever!  We’ll just go to the Xanadu!” 

No, not the Xanadu that is filled with muses, music, and magic. Not the Xanadu with electric light, smoke, and roller skates. Somewhere in the swamps of Jersey, a red, yellow, green, and aqua pleasure-dome is rising out of the weeds.  This summer, Xanadu, the largest (4,500,000 square feet) and most expensive ($2 billion), mall ever built in the U.S, and third largest in the world, will open it’s doors for business. Once plagued by financial malfeasance by the Mills Corporation (the SEC formally investigated the Mills Corporation for executive misconduct and accounting errors), the troubled developer sold their stake in Xanadu to private investment firm Colony Capital to finish the job. The monstrosity will house: 165,000 sq. ft. indoor skiing and snowboarding facility, an 18-screen movie theater; fashion retailers such as H&M, Guess and Zara; and Cabela's, an upmarket fishing, hunting, outdoor apparel and equipment outlet. Adrenalia, an extreme-sports store, is slated to have an indoor wave pool, and the mall includes a skydiving simulator. Xanadu will also offer rides on a 286-ft. Ferris wheel that is sponsored by Pepsi. Is this excess just obnoxious amidst this economic downturn?

Larry Siegel, president of Xanadu doesn’t think so, “It’s not like people aren’t looking to recreate. They are.”  However, with consumer spending dramatically reduced, and the American mall on life support, the International Council of Shopping Centers predicts that “73,000 stores will close their doors in the first half of 2009.” Retail expert Burt Flickinger III, managing director of Strategic Resources Group, projects that as many as “3,000 shopping centers nationwide could go under this year.” So just who will visit this un-aesthetic (it's surrounded by weedy wetlands, decrepit factories, shipping containers and railroads) fun-palace in East Rutherford, NJ? 

“People that may not be able to rent that house at the shore or pay a few hundred bucks for a three-day pass to Disney,” explains Siegel, “but they can come here and spend $100. We’re counting on people like that, people like Ms. Menthol.”

"I think it's great! I don't think that we have enough malls," says Ms. Menthol, "Yous knows, shopping is good. My two little girls can both ski and swim in the same day, and me and Abraham can shop and ride the Ferris Wheel. Plus, it's like a billion acres, so I can find a place to smoke, like, anywheres."

MP- There isn’t a family in America who hasn’t been hit by these tough economic times.  While most businesses are suffering, one New jersey psychologist has found a way to capitalize on a new disease he is calling TARP (troubled assets relief program) Fever.

World Renowned marriage counselor, and founder of TARP Fever Workshop, Dr. Jesse Jamison, feels optimistic his client base will be happy and healthy during this financial crisis with the help of his trademarked two step program.  “People need to allow themselves not to feel guilty.  If they have the money to shop at Bergdorff’s, or lunch at Nobu, or buy that Kate Spade bag they should do it-and do it as quickly as possible. “ 

We sat in on one of the workshops, and were able to speak with Francine Magdalano,  wife of Barry Magdalano, local entrepreneur and orthodontist, and proud mother of one Jo Jo Magdalano, a boy, age 16. “Listen I know lot’s of people have lost their jobs, but I don’t know any of them.  Kids keep coming in to get their buck teeth fixed all the time. I do feel sorry for the out of jobbers, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna stop wearing all my good stuff and living the good life.  Why should I? Like Dr. Jamison say’s step 1: get over it, step 2: buy something.”  Francine seems to have a good handle on things, and we wish her the best of luck in her pursuit of making herself happy.

Jamison went on to mention that he’s been able to fill endless prescriptions for Zoloft, Valium, and Wellbutrin, which will assure him a steady client base for the next six months to a year.  “People like drugs…what do you want me to tell you? “  Jamison explained.  Jamison’s philosophy is a simple one: “buy now, and worry how much it’s really worth later.”  Jamison holds a self generated digital diploma from Hofstra, created by his childhood friend, Paul Stentler. His PHD was a mail order from The Universidad de la Habana, Cuba.

The TARP Fever Workshop meets on Tuesday nights at 7:00 pm, at The Red Bank YMCA and on Wednesday nights at 7:30 pm, at The Jewish Community Center in Deal.  The Coffee and Bagel happy half-hour prior to the workshop is sponsored by Pfizer’s new energy drink, Vibrancy.  In order to participate in the drinking of Vibrancy you must first receive a prescription from a licensed physician.

MP- In an effort to instill consumer confidence, the Obama administration has engaged in what one might say is a very unorthodox move: Executive Producing, The Real Housewives of New Jersey.

Since AIG became AIU, and lines at job fairs across the country have become increasingly longer, we can thank Bravo, Congress, and President Obama for getting behind such an enlightening program. “Not only is it a show about spoiled women with an inflated sense of self-entitlement, it’s also about their children, friends and husbands who share the same philosophy,” said Senator Christopher Dodd of Connecticut. Dodd has spent the past couple of weeks in the hot seat for his last minute insert into the stimulus package, which ensured AIG Executives their well earned bonuses.  He sees The Real Housewives of NJ as a great way to get the country back on track, and is happy Congress decided to invest American tax dollars into such a paramount piece of broadcasting. (The American people will only receive Associated Producer credits, and can begin adding their names to IMDB this Friday March 27, 2009).  "Sometimes all it takes is a little reminder of what you don't have to get you back on the horse again.  The American people are resilient, and nothing pisses them off more than seeing people who have better shit than they do," Dodd explained.

 “We hope that in this economic downturn, people will be glued to their television sets, mobile phones, and participating in live chats at Bravotv.com, regarding their envy for these 5 fabulous women from New Jersey,” explained President Obama. Clearly ecstatic with his move into media production, Obama continued: “Not only is this a good way for 5 women approaching middle age to show off their great tans and fantastic jewelry, it’s a way for the whole family to get together and agree to work harder in order to get a better house at the shore next summer”.

When asked how they felt about being chosen to be a part of such an important sociological experiment the women simply said, I Deserve It , in unison.  
I’m sure we’ll all be tuning in, and hopefully trying to keep up with the Real Housewives of New Jersey.  2009: a great year for investing in American Culture.

So, there I was, in Sankt Poelten, Austria, covering one of the biggest news events of the century. Press from all over the world were on hand to cover Austria’s most heinous case: Josef Fritzl - accused of imprisoning his daughter from age 18 in a tiny, windowless, unheated, rat-infested basement that reeked of mold and lacked warm water, repeatingly raping her in front of their children, three of whom had never seen the light of day. His murder charge arose from the death, shortly after birth, of one of the seven children he fathered with his daughter. The Manic Press Corps had sent me over from the States. I would no longer cover Fresh Off The Field stories of adultery and assassinations. It was to be my lead into real journalism; haunting, gritty stories, the kind that get you recognition for with your peers, the kind that get you your drinks on the house. It had been a long, exciting week in Sankt Poelten, when something occurred to me…I had completely missed it.

I had awoken in my hotel room: tired, dehydrated, raw. I got a call from a cute little Spanish reporter with whom I had been tripping the week fantastic. Her name was Agata, meaning Agatha, meaning “good.”  She rode me like the Orient Express. I wasn’t surprised about her absence this particular morning. It was her MO. She told me she was leaving. The trial was over. Evil had lost. So was I. I tried to piece together the preceding days.

I recalled that after opening statements by the prosecution and defense, reporters were ushered out of the courtroom for the duration of the trial. We were herded into a large marquee reminiscent of a beer tent, flanked by sausage stands and a mobile sweetshop. It had been erected outside the courtroom to accommodate the hundreds of journalists who've arrived here to follow the trial. We were inundated with folders handed out in the press tent helpfully listing gourmet restaurants and fashionable new nightclubs in town and included brochures from the local tourism board. Mayor Matthias Stadler sought to promote his town as a tourism and cultural center, enthusing, "Sankt Poelten has never been in the spotlight like this before, and I hope to use this opportunity to make good contacts with the media for the future.”

At first I was appalled by his desperate declaration. Mayor Stadler was trying to make the most of their sleepy, baroque town's misfortune of being the venue for perhaps the most grotesque trial in Austria's history. Then it hit me, she hit me. I saw her in the tent area with a beer in one hand, and a huge sausage in her mouth. I was done. Agata and I hit it off immediately, and all of a sudden the pamphlets and nightclubs began to look enticing.

We would make a point to check back in with the Press tent. We would get updates, and sound bite testimonies from second hand sources like, “I am deeply sorry with all my heart for what I have done, but I cannot go back and change it,” and, “I had a very difficult childhood. My mother didn't want me. I was beaten.” Things of that nature. I noted that he was a textbook socio-path. Right out of an awful John Douglas profile book, equipped with an evil lair, and a bad childhood. The updates to my main office in the States were general and placating. I would write the whole thing at the end. It would be great. They trusted me.

I arrived to the Press tent and almost everyone was gone. The jury had found Josef Fritzl guilty of raping and imprisoning his daughter for more than two decades and sentenced him to life in prison. They found Fritzl guilty of incest, rape, enslavement and false imprisonment of his daughter Elisabeth. It also found him guilty of two assault charges and murder in the death of the baby, one of twins, which died 66 hours after birth. I was told that the eight-member jury returned a unanimous verdict on all counts. I heard that Fritzl, dressed in a gray suit, blue shirt and dark tie, stared blankly ahead and showed no emotion as the jury delivered its verdict. I was informed that my article was due in an hour.

I sat down, and milked one last beer to assuage my guilt. I had to regroup and give this horrible story the attention it deserves. Mayor Stadler spotted me in my solitude (Christ I was the only one in there, he couldn’t have missed me). He sat next to me and asked if I had visited the Austrian Museum of Tin Figures. “It’s a great miscellaneous collectibles museum,” he told me. I said maybe next time. Mayor Stadler's efforts to use the occasion to promote tourism in Sankt Poelten may be emblematic of Austria's inclination to evade the uncomfortable questions raised by the Fritzl case. The number one being: How could this have gone on for so long without any indication? I thanked him and left.

I sat in my hotel looking over my press packet. My notes were barely legible. Agata’s number in Spain was written in red lipstick on Fritzl’s biography and wrap sheet. A wrap sheet that told anyone that looked at it that they should have seen this coming. My press pack was all I had. I had to get this done. I had to give this story justice. I had to report the news. I had to lend it heart. The heart that I didn’t give it all week. The heart that I gave to Agata along with all of my cash and a possible case of herpes. My press packet will remember for me and hopefully allow me to at least keep my Fresh off the Field job. And then, as Mayor Stadler hopes, the press pack will remember Sankt Poelten for its pear brandy and its wine, and its new nightclubs and gourmet restaurants.

Andrew Demarian, 17 of Happague, NY spent this Thursday night the same way he has spent every other Thursday night since he began his 7th grade year at Happague Junior High School in 2004: watching the Tonight Show with Jay Leno. A young man filled with energy, and smiles for all who meet him, Andrew was brimming with excitement because of Jay’s special guest, President Barak Obama.  “I would have voted for him, if I could…but now, I wouldn’t vote for him.  I just want to beat him in bowling real bad”, said Andrew earnestly. 

Andrew Demarian is not your average retarded teenager, he is a three time Special Olympic Bowling Champion. “He’s been rolling around on bowling balls since he came out of the womb”, explained his mother, Alice, a dental hygenist and proud mother of two teenage boys, Andrew, and his younger brother Cal, 13.  The Demarian’s think of themselves as a very lucky American family.  Joe, the Patriarch of the Demarian crew is a welder with the local 218 out of Huntington Station.  The 218 has worked on many large construction projects in the New York Area, including the 2nd Avenue subway, currently under way.  “I’ll tell you one thing: if Obama thinks he’s getting my vote next time around he can forget it.  I’m going with Limbaugh. At least he’s not afraid to say what’s really on his mind.  And one thing that’s never on his mind is whether or not his bowling skills are better than those who lay it on the line every summer in the Special Olympics.  These kids are craftsmen with a hell of a lot more heart than he’ll ever know.  That’s it.  I’m done with Obama”, said Joe.

Deputy Press Secretary, Bill Burton, released the following statement yesterday.

"The president made an offhand remark making fun of his own bowling that was in no way intended to disparage the Special Olympics," Burton explained. "He thinks that the Special Olympics are a wonderful program that gives an opportunity to shine to people with disabilities from around the world.  Also, he is fully aware of the challenge that has been put forth by retarded teenager, Andrew Demarian, and would like to publicly decline.  The President is not one to walk away from a challenge, so he would like to propose a Game of Connect 4 or Parcheesi instead.  The President feels more proficient in the aforementioned games, and would be more comfortable in this type of competitive environment.”

Upon hearing this news, Joe Demarian had this to say.

“Obama can’t spin his way out of this.  There’s not gonna be any Connect 4 or God Damn Parcheesi.  It’s bowling pal.  And if you’re not ready, and you don’t show up to Patsy’s Lanes on the Jericho Turnpike in Woodbury on Saturday night, we’ll know that you’re chicken.  I tell you this, if this guy doesn’t show up for a bowling challenge, how the hell do we know what else he won’t show up for”, yelled Joe, before slamming the door in my face.

As I turned to walk away, I could hear the theme song to the new reality series So Rich begin to play in the background.  And then over the music came a banging at the window.  I turned around to see the 70’s flannel curtains pulled back, and Andrew’s chocolate covered smiling face in the window as he yelled “Obama’s goin’ down at Patsy’s.” He began to laugh and shake his body as excited retarded teenagers do, and then he retreated behind the flannel.

Patsy’s is located at 1636 Jericho Turnpike at the intersetion of Old Country Road, across the street from  PC Richards, and next door to the Arby’s.  There has been no date set forth for the proposed board game challenge, so I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.

(MP) -Time.com is calling all hands to cast their votes for the leaders, artists, entrepreneurs and thinkers who deserve a spot on this year's TIME 100. Conspicuously absent for the fifth straight year is Roger De La Soul of De La Soul Enterprises.

De La Soul is the world’s leading entrepreneur in restaurants, television, social networks, real estate, and commodities. “I just don’t understand how I am not in the running,” explains De La Soul, “I find it atrocious when such a respected and honored news organization submits people like Thomas Beatie – the man-mom, Joaquin Phoenix, and the Twitter guys! I’m bringing people together, not isolating them, aggravating them, or confusing them. My services help people throughout the nation to cope with their everyday stress in their lives.”

What De La Soul is referring to are his numerous start-ups: pickonaforeigner.com, smokeymeatstomach.loaf, Water Bar, Fat Fux, Poop in a Pail, and ManicTV.

  “With my foreigner social networking site,” claims De La Soul, “I try to educate and spread understanding in our multi-cultural world. My Fat-Fux chain of restaurants have saved more marriages than Oprah’s Dr. Phil ever could, and the sheer confidence that one garners from using my Poop in a Pail product is the ultimate tool to boost self-esteem.” Always one to love the limelight, De La Soul has even tried his hand in acting, appearing as himself in his commercial for his ground breaking Water Bar restaurant in Manhattan. “I figure, why not? If Brangolina can go from acting to humanitarian causes, then why can’t the biggest humanitarian on the planet, move into acting?”

Many of De La Soul’s practices have drawn considerable scrutiny over the years, but De La Soul believes that all great men end up under the microscope. “When I was contacted directly by the Dalai Lama, and he was thanking me that my Poop in the Pail product was helping with his non-violent cause for Tibet, I knew I was doing good work. It isn’t easy being the King of all Media, but apparently it’s a lot more difficult to get on Time’s fucking 100 most influential list…unless of course you change genders, sexually assault someone, or bilk billions from people.”

In a surprising turn of events, beloved Afghani Mystic, Sheik Fark Feik Mohammad, makes a stunning admission. Sheik Fark Feik confesses to being involved in a swap of his Casio Cassette Player, circa 1983, with Osma Bin Laden, and his collection of 8 Track tapes and Fisher Price, 8 Track Player, circa 1974. The community leader and long time Taliban associate made the following statement:  "My apologies go out to the Peace Keepers of the World, and especially the people of the United States, for not coming forth with this information earlier.  I am a changed man, and sadly enough I have Bin Laden and his collection of Classic Rock 8 Tracks to thank for it," explained the Sheik. 

The Sheik has been suffering from lung cancer, which he apparently contracted due to excessive marijuana abuse over the last decade.  "I was introduced to the musings of The Grateful Dead, Nils Lofgren, Peter Paul and Mary, Cream, and Richie Havens.  This music changed my life, and led to the exploration of hallucinogenic drugs, and the daily use of marijuana.  The drugs changed the relationships between me and all of my wives. The last years of my life were a re-birth, and I wouldn't change a thing.  My only regret is that I did not come forth with this information earlier, because sadly, I feel it could have led to Osama Bin Laden's capture.  I denounce my past hatred for the west, and travel now back to the earth from which I came."  An emotional Sheik Fark Feik went on to explain that Bin Laden was desperate to make this trade because he knew that technology was changing rapidly, and he would need better recording equipment in order to make contact with the outside world once he burrowed into his hide out, in  eastern Afghanistan's, Tora Bora Region.  Sheik Fark Feik told us that he wasn't interested in the music or Fisher Price 8 track player as much as he was in helping out Bin Laden.  However,  he did admit that he was a fan of The Antiques Road Show, so it did cross his mind that if they happened to come to Kabul, he might be able to cash in on the collection, and player due to their age. So he made the trade.  "It was only a matter of time before I put on Peter, Paul, and Mary's Greatest Hits," said the Sheik.  He expressed having extreme curiosity for the album because it seemed to be the hardest part of the collection for Bin Laden to let go. Apparently, Bin Laden wept as he began to sing the lyrics to, Old Stewball, and then ran off into the hills singing the lyrics of, Lemon Tree. "Lemon tree very pretty, and the lemon flower is sweet, but the fruit of the poor lemon is impossible to eat, lemon tree...he went on like this, you know.  And I could hear him well into the hills, so I had to see for myself."  The Sheik laughed to himself.  "And did I ever see", he said proudly.

The Sheik decided to come forth with his admission because of Bin Laden's most recent calls to jihad concerning Isreal's occupation of the Gaza Strip, and the newly appointed President of Somalia, Sheik Sharif Sheik Ahmed. Upon hearing this recording, Sheik Fark Feik recounts, "I was listening, Sleepy Time, by Cream and having sex with all of my wives.  I told you we all get along really well now-even though I am sick I can still please my women.  So there we were and here comes Bin Laden's voice over the internet.  Yes, I have internet now.  I know it's crazy.  I even spend a lot of my time on my Facebook.  It's a great way to keep up with old friends," said the Sheik.  "I heard him, and I couldn't let it go on any longer, so I've come clean", an impassioned Sheik Fark explained.  He concluded by wishing the world the best in finding him, and offering to be of assistance in any way possible, as long as he was promised some medical marijuana if the Obama administration ended up legalizing the drug. His dealer had apparently done quite well, and decided to move to Crete with his earnings.  Sheik Fark Feik worried that if he continued to go without his pot the music might leave him forever, and he didn't want to die with the music still in him.

After leaving Afghanistan, we continued to pull back the layers of this relationship between the two men. We were able to uncover a connection between Roger De la Soul,  and Al Qaida, for the funding of his latest social networking site, Pick on a Foreigner.  It is now believed that Sheik Fark Feik  made the introduction between Al Qaida operatives and De la Soul as recent as 2006. With this knowledge, we can only guess as to how genuine Sheik Fark Feik was in his confessions.  Was it the cleansing of his soul he was after, or just some sympathy, attention, and hopefully some weed for a sexually underperforming Sheik dying of cancer.  Who knows.  But hey, atleast we know Bin Laden digs our tunes.

(MP) – “Do you love watching nerds kiss? Can’t get enough of long goodbyes?” These questions are the basis of a new social networking site called Nerdykisses.longgoodbyes (http://tinyurl.com/dyukj7). Started by Eugene and Claudia Pembertin in 2008, their quest began as a labor of love via angel seed money through their WoW (World of Warcraft) community. “Our avatars, Trevenian and Persephone, reached out to the Alliance throughout Azeroth, and the Alliance responded,” Pembertin explains, “all of  our fellow night-elves contributed, much like a dowry to our union.”  Pembertin refers to the couple’s actual meeting after falling in love online as their WoW avatars. “We were so excited that we used to film our love for our friends to see all the time,” explains Claudia, “so much so people were actually hooked! Like Ever-crack!”

It does not take a whole lot to divert the attention of today’s Millennials (hell, even the majority of Gen Xers for that matter), but for every new start-up and new social networking sight, the bottom line will always be to monetize the content. In the business community, ROI (return on investment) is how much profit or cost saving is realized, and is sometimes used as a way to grade how well a company is managed. So when the Humans, Gnomes, and Dwarves of the Alliance came calling, the Pembertins had nothing to show them. “They banished us!” explains Eugene, ”these lesser races had the nerve to cast us out! I was desperate!” This desperation drove Eugene to go on a quest. That quest would lead him to the SXSW festival, that quest would lead him to his true desire, THAT quest would lead him to…Felicia Day.  

Felicia Day: actress, producer, writer, editor, serial tweeter, accomplished violinist! How could this siren’s song not hypnotize a helpless Eugene Pembertin? “I didn’t even realize he was gone, “notes Claudia, “one morning I awoke, turned to check if he had to use the bathroom, but he wasn’t there. I called everywhere. I looked everywhere for some information as to his whereabouts…and that’s when I found it.” This buried treasure that Claudia uncovered was a vast collection of photo-shopped pictures of Felicia Day and Eugene in strange WoW costumes, sexually explicit poses (with their heads on porn stars bodies), and crumbled tissues and stiff socks. “I knew then where he was. I can’t for the life of me figure out how he hid this, how he’s become obsessed…how he got his socks so stiff.”

Those answers were found on Eugene’s arrival home, defeated, later that week.  Eugene had gone to SXSW, followed Felicia Day from the shadows like a night-elf, and tried to approach her.  He was blocked by an irate “Dr. Horrible Sing Along Blog” fanatic, who was trying to get Felicia to give him Doogie Howser’s (Neil Patrick Harris) number.  “And then…she was gone.” Explains Eugene, “I thought, at first, that if she would come on nerdykisses, and kiss me, and hug me, and ride on my back like a pony, that “The Alliance” would welcome Claudia and I back; but, I realized that my obsession ran a little deeper.”

Today, Eugene and Claudia are still together, trying to keep their website above water through our current recession. “I don’t know what our future will be,” explains Claudia, “we’re probably going to have to bring in others to kiss and hug on our site, and become more of a distributor of kissing content. We might have taken our show as far as it could go.” And what of Eugene’s indiscretion turned obsession? “Look, I’m not saying it’s easy, I try to gain her trust back every day...day…Felicia Day…sorry. As I was saying, it’s gonna be hard, but I need to rejoin “The Alliance” with my maiden at my side! This is certain.  If I can survive “corrupted blood” at Ironforge, then I can do anything. This is my ‘instance dungeon’, and I’m gonna mine it for all the treasures I can.”

http://tinyurl.com/dyukj7

American International Group, now simply known by their sinister sounding acronym 'AIG', can't seem to escape the hatred of the American people.  After a long week of tongue lashings by President Obama and Secretary of the Treasury Tim Geithner, AIG has found itself squirming yet again, as it finds itself at the genesis of what could be their most serious lawsuit yet: Chuck E Cheese of Paramus vs. AIG.

It all began in September of 2008 when CEO Edward Liddy dialed up the Paramus childrens party palace to arrange a private  New Years Eve bash for the Executives and their Wives.  Manager Phil Bandkantzer, 42 of Paramus, answered the phone on that quiet September morning.  "I just remember thinking to myself, this is gonna be great.  They had ordered 100 pizzas and 14 cases of root beer...they even requested DJ Jersey Joe be in attendance.  I mean this was gonna be huge.  Definitely the biggest party we had this year. "  Bandkantzer also went on to reveal that shortly after the AIG reservation he received another phone call from Susan Tunkorfson, President of the Paramus Junior Women's Club, and mother of Rory Tunkorfson, the sweeper for the Paramus Pirates traveling soccer team. Rory was turning 12, and Mrs. Tunkorfson wanted to throw him the party of a lifetimne.  "You see Rory's birthday is New Years Eve, and it's a really tough night for a kid to have a birthday.  It was tough for him as a kid especially with Bob, Mr. Tunkorfson, and I always going out to parties and having fun...and leaving him alone with Consuela. I guess it wasn't really fair. But Bob and I have both stopped drinking, and we go to church now as a family, and I'm really active in the community.  Anyway, we just have a lot of making up for lost time to do ...you know?  And New Year's, Rory's birthday was the perfect time to do it."  Mrs. Tunkorfson was full of emotion and truly seemed to regret her party days of the late 90's early 2000's.  The AIG reservation really seemed to throw their lives into a tail spin.  "I felt really bad when I spoke to Susan on the phone.  Their was nothing I could do, you know?  I mean it's AIG.  You can't cancel on them.  Tunkorfson's were out of luck.  I told them that our Elmhurst store wasn't booked for New year's yet, but she said she didn't like going into the city because she got anxiety.  And that Queens might as well have been Africa to her. She said a lot of things.  She was upset.  I know she didn't mean it, but we're a popular place. It's not the first time I've been yelled at on the phone.  We can't make everyone happy all the time", said Bandkantzer. That was it. The Tunkorfson's would have to try and find other ways to win back their son's affection.

When the frigid night of December 31st finally rolled around, Phil Bandkantzer found himself hustling around the Paramus Chuck E Cheese like he normally would before any large event: blowing up balloons into the shapes of small dogs, filling cups of ice for root beer, and doing a last minute clean up in the sea of balls.  "I always make sure that there aren't any sharp items in there.  And that could be anything, doll's head half bitten off, plastic tip of a shoelace.  You'd be surprised what can cut you", said Bandkantzer emphatically.  After all that preparation for what was to be the largest New Year's Eve Party in the history of the franchise, AIG was a no show.  Bandkantzer brought in the New Year with an anchovy pizza, his favorite, and a tall glass of Root Beer.  Angry, Ashamed, and feeling quite let down by the Insurance Giant, Bandkantzer got into his two door Nissan Sentra with roll down windows and headed to his apartment complex off Route 78 West.  He wasn't looking forward to talking with the owner of the Paramus franchise, notorious business mogul Roger De la Soul.

Briefing De la Soul was a daunting task for Bandkantzer, but he did it boldly over a slice of Chuck E Deluxe while watching the View.  "He lost it man.  I thought he was gonna come through the phone and kill me", Phil said.  Roger De la Soul was unable to reached for comment.  His publicist would only say that AIG would rue the day that they blew off a reservation at Chuck E Cheese.  We were able to reach Hank Greenberg, former AIG CEO, before he left for his last ski weekend of the year in Aspen. "It's ridiculous. It's a very sad thing to see the people that I once worked with treating Chuck E Cheese this way.  Chuck E Cheese has always been a great place for a birthday party.  A great place for the whole family to enjoy.  I've been there myself and enjoyed it.  I think the guys at AIG are going to have a tough time finding their way out of this one."

As the lies and scandals continue to rear their ugly heads deep within this depression of ours, one thing is for certain:  Don't fuck with Chuck E Cheese.

After a long afternoon of cleaning the Barnacles off his Boston Whaler, we caught up with Tucker Carlson and his top siders, in the stairwell of the Dublin House, in Red Bank New Jersey.  Carlson said he was there to for a pint and some of their famous Shepards Pie.  But we can't be sure seeing that there was a Young Republicans luncheon being held in the second floor dining room.  Regardless of his reasons for his Dublin House patronage, Carlson expressed some anger when we asked him about his angel investment into Bobby's Ballet. It seemed to be pulled at the last minute by Carlson and long time local Mortgage Brokering heavyweight, Bingham Coolidge.

  In response to our inquiries as to why the bottom fell out, Carlson muttered before ascending the staircase, "Why don't you ask that partisan hack John Stewart?  Mr. Jackson seems to be kissing his ass these days, just like everybody else."  His random reply has us asking a lot of questions.  Is Bobby Jackson, former Marine Special Forces Operative, being hired out by John Stewart and possibly Stephen Colbert, to take out some AIG executives?  Or, was Tucker just a bit too salty after one too many pre-lunch Guiness at the Dublin House Bar.  We can't be sure.  The only thing we can be sure of is that Carlson did make a hard left into the dining room where the Young Republicans were doing a lot more than tee-totaling.  As we took a peak through the partially closed doors we could see two quite small (it is unclear whether they were indeed midgets or dwarves) leprechaun-esque female strippers dancing on a pile of corn beef as they dowsed themselves with beer.We thought to ourselves, what a waste of food and drink, not too mention, a waste of talented short strippers.

It is uncertain how the rest of the afternoon played out in this small Red Bank Bar, but we can sleep soundly knowing that money was being spent in a local pub, even if it was by the Young Republicans.

The model melee that occurred in Manhattan over the weekend has many of us questioning the priorities of our young girls. With life outside of the classroom turning into a sloppy mess of wasted hours on social networks pining away for popularity, we look back to a simpler time when girls just screamed and fainted in the presence of matinee idols.  When we asked local resident, Mindy Greensteen what she thought of all the hoop-la she had a few choice words for the misguided youth, "look inside ladies...find out what it means to have a uterus.  Don't go trampling your sisters just to become validated by a former supermodel.  Stop using pump hair spray bottles to give yourself that perfect 80's boardwalk volume.  Stop doing your nails in the front seat of your boyfriends hummer trying to look cute, and cover up for the fact that you just performed fallacio on him riding shotgun.  Watch it girls, or you'll wind up with a different kind of shotgun...if ya know what I mean.  Get out and pick up some trash on the street.  Educate Grandma on why she shouldn't clean the house with 30 year old bleach from under the kitchen sink.  Do something decent!  Fight for change!"  There you have it an impassioned diatribe from Citizen Mindy.  Go forth and be brave almighty brethren of the uteri!  But I digress, Mindy actually makes a lot of sense.  The truth is...Well I should say, the big question is: how many of those females were actually model material.  I mean, what our runway-ridden, magazine-maddening culture would deem to be attractive, hot, smokestack-tresses who embodied all the symmetry necesarry to make even the simplest of creatures stop and stare in awe.  My guess: not many.  So, in conclusion, I'd like to see a replay of this day where all the ugly girls stayed home.  That's all here from the news desk for now.  Be good, be healthy, and stop worrying whether or not people think you're pretty.

Roger De la Soul is slowly losing cash in this ever-increasing volatile market place.  The deal he thought that he would be striking with Amazon.com on their new "we'll buy your used video games", from the gaming set, has totally fallen through.  Actually he was just cut out altogether.  De la Soul had it in for the folks at GameStop after one of the executives kicked his ass "literally", in a heated game of squash at the Atlantic Club, in Red Bank New Jersey.  De la Soul hates losing, especially on his home turf.  After nursing his misery in a frozen coconut margarita at the juice bar, De la Soul found himself unable to shake his hatred for the GameStop Executive.  During a drunken phone call to a friend at Amazon, De la Soul had hatched his plan on cutting into GameStop's used gaming business which makes up 25% of their market cap.  Amazon bit, and the deal was in the making.  But as rumor has it, De la Soul's taste for the coconut margarita's, and his inflated sense of self, cut him out of the deal just as fast as the touchdown pass he threw to Amazon.  Only time will tell if GameStop can weather the storm.  However, one thing is for certain: De la Soul will be thinking a little harder about the next idea he decides to hatch under a coconut crushed haze.