The Last Word

Issue #466

July 2013

The Last Word is back! (Circus Vargas, Circus Vargas!)

Lemuel Cabarrus, the father of democracy
What American historical figure casts the longest shadow for students of democracy? George Washington? Abraham Lincoln? Curtis Stigers? If you guessed Lemuel Cabarrus, you’ll be driving home in a shiny new car! Lemuel Cabarrus was the greatest personal success story in recorded history. He didn’t have much schooling, but he majored in determination! Lemming—as his parents called him—was born in a log cabin in 1850. Throughout his youth, Lem was known for his erratic behavior. A childhood friend recalled that once, after losing a game of marbles, a young Lemuel expressed his frustration by loudly snorting—releasing a column of mucus that dangled from his nose. As the other neighborhood children looked on in disgust, a smile of satisfaction grew on Lem’s face, as the mucus continued to swing from his left nostril. In his autobiography, Life As I Know It Has Been Booger-Eatin’ Good , Cabarrus boasted that he marched home for breakfast with the strand of snot still exposed. Upon being told that the supply of maple syrup was low, he allowed the mucus to descend onto a stack of pancakes that had been prepared for him.

Remembering this impressive experience, Lemming went on at the age of 13 to become one of the youngest inventors on the American frontier. He removed a wheel from a broken wagon, built a platter to go underneath, and created a device that he dubbed the Green Machine. The Green Machine worked like this: The wheel would lay flat on the platter, while a hungry soul placed their plate of flapjacks thereon. Then they would hover above the wheel as they turned it, as a shaft of mucus would drizzle from their nose onto their breakfast—like syrup being poured from a pitcher. Yum! By the time he reached adulthood, Lem received an inheritance from his grandfather and spent the entire sum to start Cabarrus Green Machine Works—a company that mass-produced his keen invention. Unfortunately, America wasn’t ready for the Green Machine. Within a few years, his company was bankrupt, leaving him a penniless wreck. But did Lemuel Cabarrus give up? Of course not! He’s Lemuel Cabarrus, dammit! A local morning newspaper gave him a job selling papers on the street. Sales were slow, and Lemming’s finances—and that of the newspaper—languished. But eventually, the Cabarrus instinct for innovation kicked in. Instead of merely yelling when each new issue came out—which only woke the townsfolk and turned off potential customers—Lem would play the part of a dour grump scoffing at the latest news events. He fancied his character as an early Archie Bunker. But he wasn’t quite as talented of an actor as Carroll O’Connor was. One morning, Lem opened up a fresh edition of the newspaper and began bellyaching about the latest happenings. “Aw, that damn William Jennings Bryan, can you believe that guy?” he said to a man sitting at a train station. “Free silver’s an oxyboron, you know. Guys like you and me don’t want nothing that’s free.” The passenger ignored Lemuel’s tirade, but the air was thick with the fumes from a nearby cough drop factory. As Lem gasped for air, he sought shelter in an empty garbage can. In an attempt to keep warm, he lined the can with the newspapers he was selling. He fell asleep inside the trash can, and the paper went out of business that day because its entire press run was wasted keeping Cabarrus toasty. Not one to be discouraged, Lemuel looked for new opportunities. He’d never been much of a political bloke before, but he started to believe his character’s blandishments against Bryan’s populism. One afternoon, Lem was sitting on a park bench and began chatting it up with one of the locals. Lemming fumed about how if mill workers didn’t like their meager pay, they should move to another town where “the market” would pay them more. In his mind, if a person didn’t succeed in life, it was their fault. America’s the freest country in the world, by golly, and if you failed, you were a communist and a burden on the beleaguered taxpayer. He declared that if somebody wasn’t satisfied with their lot in life, it was fine if their favorite politician would visit them and “buy them a hamburger”—but they should forget about any large-scale government action to help them. Government was here to serve solid people like Lemuel Cabarrus—who invented the Green Machine, don’t you know! The man he was talking with liked what he heard. It turned out the fellow was the president of a local college. He needed a real “go get ‘em” type to serve as the head of the science department. Lem was just the man! Not long after Lemming settled into his new career, a scandal broke. Lem “borrowed” a buggy that belonged to the college and claimed it was for his proposed cotton candy vending business. His excuse for taking the vehicle was suspect, for authorities found the buggy in his back yard with the wheels removed. It was propped up on empty Hungry Jack boxes. A canopy made of flour sacks protected it from the elements. But—as is usually the case for a staunch conservative like Cabarrus—everything came up roses for him in the press. Front-page editorials admonished readers that they just didn’t understand a born genius like Lemuel. In 1914, this media praise encouraged Lem to throw his hat into the ring for the election for state representative. A Republican, his campaign slogan was, “Put a Lemming in the legislature!”

Cabarrus won the race with a smashing 50.01% of the vote. There was of course no need for a silly recount. In his one term in the state legislature, Lemming wrote and passed one of the most enduring laws on the books: the Right-to-Libraries Act. This law gives large property owners the unlimited right to use libraries and other public establishments without having to pay a cent in property taxes to finance them. One must only present a copy of the deed for their property, and—as long as it’s worth at least $800,000—public buildings must open for them even in the overnight hours when they’re otherwise closed. As an additional benefit, the no-longeroppressed property owner is protected from their tax dollars being used for overtime pay for those big, mean, scary public employees. Plus, free hors d’oeuvres and a live band are available upon request. Recently, this law was cited by 2 local judges when they ruled in favor of the Tea Party in their lawsuits against the library. Now that’s democracy and choice, Lemuel Cabarrus style! Before then, people used to think democracy was about free speech and a free press. But the Lemster sure set ‘em straight, didn’t he? After retiring from politics, Lem lived off lucrative speaking engagements. Before his death in 1928, he became a fixture in the new medium of radio. As he lay dying, his triumphant last words were, “The Green Machine defeated the Greenbacks!” As he drifted off to meet his maker, he once again smiled his trademark smirk of satisfaction. Some historians now believe Lemuel Cabarrus made up his humble log cabin origins. But that’s ridiculous. We all know no right-wing politician would ever lie about their modest background. LEMUEL CABARRUS AIN’T REAL! Get a grip!

Broken toys and other joys!
Recently I goed to my mom’s house to sort through old toys I haven’t played with in 30 years—as if I was going to play with them now. I arrived with a sense of dread, because I was worried that some old papers I wrote as a youngster would fall into the wrong hands before I could catch them—thus sparking a sibling war. But it turned into an amazing day full of nostalgia! The playthings we found fell into these categories: • • • • • Toys that were still in working condition. Toys that were ruined because there were pieces missing. Toys that were ru because somebody had crushed them. Toys that were ru because they ran on batteries and had stopped working. Toys that were just plain ru!

One of the most memorable toys in our stockpile was an exciting board game called Bermuda Triangle. This game has a huge magnetic cloud that sucks up players as they ship goods across the sea. It seemed to have all the pieces intact, but I noticed something amusing. I found that I had once taped labels to each of the little boat pieces to denote a Sesame Street character because there weren’t enough players and we had to play against phantom Muppets. One of the green boats was labeled “OS1” for Oscar the Grouch. Yes, one of the yellow boats was labeled “BB1.” I was sorely disappointed at the condition of some of our other toys. Destroyed for no reason. Ruined, scotched, demolished, no damn good. A toy helicopter had been crushed to shards by having heavier items stored on top of it. The same goes for a model ambulance, whose wheel was hopelessly broken off. I was so proud when I put together that ambulance, and some baby went ahead and destroyed it. On several occasions during our toy sort, when we found a broken toy, my mom lamented, “Aw, it broke!” That’s right, Mom. It broke. It was once so full of life, but now it’s a

useless shell. And how did some of our toys lose their parts? We found a jigsaw puzzle composed of a map of the 50 states, but North Dakota was missing. How do you lose a big state like North Dakota? And how in the Wide, Wide World Of Sports did we lose so many instruction manuals? I remember some of our toys getting ruined decades ago, but my family members acted surprised recently when they found them in shambles. Some had been deliberately destructed for supposedly noble purposes. According to legend, my mom had once punched out some frames in a View-Master disk about national parks because they were too scary for us tiny tots. And why do we have a set of View-Master disks for The Waltons? Looking at View-Master reels about Grandpa Walton losing his life savings when the bank goes out of business must have been a real wet blanket. Even my Skedoodle was ru! Some toys were spotless because I never played with them—because I was too old for them when my folks got them. Why would I want to play with, say, a Care Bears plush bathtub toy labeled for ages 1 to 3 when I was 19? As for the toys that were in good shape, kids today just won’t be interested in them, because these toys have nothing to do with video games or Pokémon. But we’ve been trying to sell ‘em anyway. In my day, we were satisfied with the things we had. When I was sorting the toys and found one that was in good condition that I wanted to sell, I said, “Pass.” I kept saying it again and again for the same toys, because my mom was in such disbelief that a 40-year-old man would want to sell his old toys. Surely some good toys were thrown away in the confusion. Then there were the books. Not everybody shares my knack for thrift and preservation. One day when I was about 12, a page fell out of an old French-to-English dictionary that we had and got torn in half. Shortly afterward, I planned on taping it back together and putting it back in the book. But before I had the chance, my mom found one of the page halves, wadded it into a ball, and threw it away. I was aghast. After this book turned up during our toy sorting expedition, it was likely garbified altogether—for it was ru. My mom insisted I take home some of my old toys for safekeeping. She thinks I have unlimited storage space. During our toy sort, I stumbled upon that Scribble Pad that my mom claimed 30 years ago to have thrown away because someone had scrawled a number on each page. As you know, I’m a guy who cries when perfectly good paper is wasted. Squandering paper gets the tear ducts flowing! So I had to rescue the Scribble Pad before anyone else saw it—because I knew it was going to be consigned to el garbajo otherwise. I smuggled it into my box of goodies to be taken home. I also ended up with statements from My Very First Bank Account. This account had no withdrawals for several years, until one day in 8 th grade, when I had to withdraw almost the entire contents to pay for things my school falsely accused me of breaking—liars they are. Then of course there’s those famous last words: “We can’t keep this.” Yes we can. But if it’s ru, let it become compost to nourish the materials that will someday become the playthings for the next generation. Broken toys have a spirit that should live on.

PRISM? How about PRISON?
Recently, one Edward Snowden blew the whistle on PRISM—a disappointing, unconstitutional, antidemocratic government surveillance program. The NSA began carrying out this electronic wiretapping dragnet in 2007—under the reign of dictator George W. Bush—and it’s continued under President Obama. Let me be clear: As disappointing as PRISM is, I do not support Obama’s impeachment. Unlike with the war criminal Bush, I’ve yet to see any sign that Obama’s involvement is direct enough to be grounds to impeach. But the PRISM scandal should damn sure result in prosecutions and stiff prison terms for other high-ranking officials. Plus, “BUSH DID IT TOO!!!” is never a good

excuse. Under PRISM, the NSA spies on e-mail, file transfers, and other Internet communications—in blatant violation of the Fourth Amendment’s protections against warrantless searches. (This is in addition to the earlier illegal phone eavesdropping program that Bush also had a direct hand in.) If federal authorities don’t drop the hammer on PRISM, the states must. Perhaps the person they should start with is National Intelligence Director James Clapper. Clapper was appointed to this post by Obama, but he’s actually a hangover from previous administrations. Among other blunders, Crapper lied to the Senate back in March when Ron Wyden asked him if the NSA collects data on Americans. Clapper replied, “No, sir.” That was a lie. Not just any old lie. Clapper lied at a Senate hearing. Later, Crapper tried to justify his fib by saying it was the “least untruthful manner” of lying. Presidential administrations have gobs of leeway in justifying questionable government actions. That’s muchocuz so little was done to enforce the Constitution in previous years that any statute that authorizes unconstitutional activity but hasn’t been explicitly struck down is viewed as real law. It’s just like how Bill Clinton couldn’t be impeached for advocating the right-wing idea of public school uniforms. But you can certainly go after public officials who had a more direct role in carrying out a program and knew it was illegal— especially when they lie at a congressional hearing! Dianne Feinstein’s defense of PRISM is preposterous. What does she say about Snowden’s whistleblowing? “It’s treason,” she grunted. No it’s not. Go look up treason in your Charlie Brown’s Cyclopedia. Psychotic Howdy Doody impersonator Mitch McConnell—Kentucky’s longest-running joke—chimed in too and demanded full prosecution of Snowden. PRISM is usually written in all-caps like it’s an acronym. But for some, this scandal should result in PRISON—which ought to stand for Privacy Reigns In Some Other Nations. (It’s like the acronym I devised for BAILOUT: Buncha Affluent Imbeciles Living Off Us Taxpayers. It took me less than a minute to come up with that!) In the meantime, we need to repeal the right-wing Patriot Act—a tool in the arsenal of every government snoop. Now another chapter in the PRISM scandal is unfolding: Google has written to Attorney General Eric Holder asking for permission to publish the number of NSA requests and FISA orders they’ve received. When you have to ask permission from the government to publish something, that’s mighty miserable. I sure as shit didn’t ask Janet Reno before starting The Last Word.

Poo Wars!
“The pee and the poo (snap snap)...The pee and the poo (snap snap)...The pee and the poo, pee and the poo, pee and the poo (snap snap)...” —to the tune of the theme from The Addams Family Feces is regarded as a serious matter the world over. Whether it’s spelled poo, pough, or poux, bowel movements elicit endless fascination in any language. It’s the universal language of poo! Cape Town, South Africa, is now the site of the Poo Wars—the local media’s name for a series of protests prompted by inadequate sanitation. Bags of feces have been dumped inside local government offices as part of the protests. Raw sewage was thrown at a politician. At least 180 people have been arrested in the uprisings. Many locals are angry at having to share outdoor toilets because of the lack of indoor sanitation. This has led to unhygienic conditions. In regard to the discarding of poo at the government offices, one activist who was arrested said, “We are emptying our toilets there because our toilets have smelled for 3 months.” There were plans to dump bodily waste at the entrance to the provincial legislature for the second time in a week. Nations go to war over pee and poo. It’s just a form of appreciation.

GOP group fined for hiding donor’s identity
What’s worse than a Republican? A Kentucky Republican!

As a Kentuckian, I know what the modern Republican Party is capable of—none of it good (and much of it violent). This story is just the latest example of the fart-like bouquet of scandal that has surrounded the Kentucky GOP for decades. In 2011, a far-right group called Restoring America backed failed Republican gubernatorial candidate David Williams. Not unlike Williams himself, Restoring America was laughed at by many. It was laughed at like laughing was going out of style! Restoring America was bankrolled primarily by one Terry Stephens—Williams’s father-in-law at the time. It pissed away its gabillions of dollars on radio and TV ads supporting Williams. Now the group has been fined $4,500 by the Kentucky Registry of Election Finance for trying to shield the identity of this lone major contributor. I guess it really wasn’t much of a group. It was just one rich guy. In the meantime, we’re watching the GOP scandal in northwestern Florida in which a county office containing the completed ballots for a special election was burglarized—since the right-wing media wouldn’t follow up after the GOP was caught falsifying Benghazi documents.

What happened to the first 465 issues?
Where’s our first 465 issues? In the toilet. But seriously. New readers are probably wondering why this issue of The Last Word is labeled #466. Welp, this is just the first in the new generation of The Last Word. This zine was around for years as a free publication before reappearing as the side-splitting comic book that it is now. This is no longer just an adventure. It’s a career! I even joined the union (seriously)! So read it and peep!

Indiana, the most honest state
I dig what our friends north of the river do when they name their school districts. Next time you visit Indiana and pass a school bus, peep the name of the school system. Notice it’s not called a “school board” or any bland name like that. Instead it’s called a “school corporation.” Take the Lawrenceburg Public School Corporation or the South Dearborn Community School Corporation, for example. How’s that for truth in advertising? It’s honest because schools have become like Big Business. They exploit labor and they institute policies that serve no purpose but control. Indiana may be honest in calling its schools “corporations”, but the schools themselves are as corrupt and as hierarchist as in the rest of America. It’s true in urban, suburban, and rural areas alike. Across the state in Gary, the Gary Community School Corporation has come to disappoint the city’s hardworking families. I’ve made it a sport to pick on suburbs, but folks expect better in a real city like Gary. People are moving back to the cities not just because there’s more and better jobs, but also because it’s a break from the suburbs’ suffocating statism. But the people of Gary are filling websites with complaints about the city’s schools. One parent said recently of one of the schools, “Teachers are constantly yelling and hitting the students!” Another said a principal “runs the school like a prison” and won’t even let students talk at lunch. Indeedity-doodledy, the school manual on the district’s website says this: “Corporal punishment shall be administered in an objective manner and in such a way that no permanent injury can result.” They paddle kids? In 2013??? In another unconstitutional affront to the civil liberties of Gary’s schoolchildren, the school district brags about requiring students to wear uniforms—in a public school. Then the school district has the nerve to waste taxpayer money on an advertising campaign to get kids to come back after they’ve switched schools because of this tyranny. But I can’t pick on just Gary when some other “school corporations” in the Hoosier State are just as bad. Over in Anderson, a family sued the school district because it required uniforms—and the school had the unmitigated gall to try making the family pay the school’s legal bills. No wonder they call ‘em “corporations”: It’s because they think they have more rights than people!

I know it’s ironic for an alumnus of the hopeless Campbell County Schools to expose another state’s disorganized education system, but in a constitutional republic, it’s our duty. The Campbell County Schools consistently tried to justify its authoritarianism by saying it was a conservative suburban community, and that its values needed to be enforced. That was an unacceptable excuse. Why should Americans in any state tolerate public disregard for constitutional freedoms at all? America depends on openness and investigation—qualities that transcend state borders. “YOUR SCHOOL DID IT TOO!!!” isn’t a good pretext. This article focuses on Indiana because the situation there had gotten particularly out of sorts—so much so that the state’s Republican school superintendent Tony Bennett (not to be confused with the singer) lost reelection last year in an upset. When Bennett’s Democratic challenger took the post, Republican lawmakers threw a sore loser shitfit and demanded changing this post so it was appointed by the governor instead of elected by voters. Bennett was then hired by the state of Florida to run their schools—a state known for Nazi-run school districts like Polk County, which recently arrested a student over a science fair experiment. But the Polk County scandal had a happy ending: The arrest generated so much outrage that the student received a full scholarship to the U.S. Space Academy. In a nation known for broken schools, no other state that I know of is quite as upfront as Indiana is in calling school districts what they are—“corporations.”

Tea Party plays ass fife
In response to a right-wing letter that appeared on the Cincinnati Enquirer ’s website, I opined: “The way these Tea Party types misuse Revolutionary War rhetoric is like if they played a fife with their butt.” And I bet they do. Everybody is steamed at the Tea Party lately. On the website of the Lexington Herald-Leader, another user wrote in regard to Mitch McConnell: “I would literally write-in Cookie Monster for US Senate before even contemplating a vote for that crooked schmuck.” I’m sure that for the next 16 months, we’ll be seeing ads like this...

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Cashbox, don’t you walk so fast... (a poopyism)
What would an ish of The Last Word be without a good old-fashioned poopyism—a surprise-ending story that received surprisingly little mainstream coverage? In my youth, I was always chart-watchin’ with Casey Kasem and Shadoe Stevens—at least in the years when they used Billboard’s genuine Hot 100, the most authoritative music chart in the beeswax. Honestly, does

anyone ever cite the top 10 from Solid Gold for chart stats? One of Billboard’s main competitors was Cashbox—whose print edition is now defunct, though an Internet-only version later cropped up. Cashbox’s downfall came as the magazine was rumored to be controlled by organized crime. It was widely believed that the Mafia rigged Cashbox’s music chart. You’d think the Mob would have more important things to do, but it’s a strange world out there. Anybip, something weird happened on the Cashbox chart in 1992. Anyone who was still paying attention to Cashbox may have noticed that an obscure Wayne Newton album cut from 1976 titled “The Letter” bolted onto the chart. In fact, it went all the way to #1—even though hardly anyone had heard it, and it didn’t appear on any Billboard chart. It was on the Cashbox chart for 31 gigantic weeks. It also hit #1 on Cashbox’s country chart. The idea of a Wayne Newton tune hitting #1 in 1992 was preposterous enough. I knew pop radio like the back of my butt in 1992, and I never heard of the song. There’s only one conclusion: It sounds to me like the Mafia was just throwing their weight around. Who else would pay to place a forgotten, years-old song at #1 on a nationwide music chart without any statistical basis for it? And why else would the Mob do it except to showcase their power and influence? I can’t see what else would be in it for them. The real question is: Why did they choose an old Wayne Newton cut? I can just picture a bunch of Mob guys sitting around a table in a smoky room talking about what Wayne Newton song they wanted at #1. Will it be “Daddy, Don’t You Walk So Fast”? How about “Years”? What’s next? Will we see FreedomWorks buying #1 hits for Pat Boone?

Professor quits over condoms and vomit
If you thought things were funny, then it’s a roll-onthe-floor heehawer at Northwestern University in Evanston, Illinois. Student behavior at Northwestern’s School of Medicine has gotten so mischievous that an adjunct professor is now quitting over it. “The used condoms tend to show up in the back yard, actually,” the professor said. “And the vomit, the beer cans in the hedges. I think they horse around late at night.” The beer cans horse around late at night?

Student kicked off college board over political views
To hear the American Taliban tell it, you’d think the entire American education system was run by big, scary liberals who are nothing but big, scary liberals. But you don’t think that, because you live in the reality-based community. I’ve exposed before the right-wing bias that pervades our institutions of higher book-burnin’. McCarthyism rules America’s campuses. I know this firsthand after I was kicked out of NKU because of my political views. And we all remember when Ernie “Hey Bert” Fletcher illegally stacked Kentucky university boards with partisan cronies. The situation is especially conspicuous in Wisconsin. Recently a student at the University of Wisconsin-Platteville named Joshua Inglett was nominated to serve on the state’s Board of Regents. But it turned out that Inglett had signed a petition supporting a recall election against fascist Gov. Scott Walker. (Inglett was one of almost one million Wisconsinites to sign it.) So Walker withdrew Inglett’s appointment. From kindergarten through college, America’s schools try to indoctrinate students with right-wing dogma. Plus, The Media barrages

viewers with right-wing propaganda 24/7. This right-wing messaging machine is well-oiled, well-funded, and pervasive. Who’s surprised that the Republicans have their own data mining operation to dig up info about nominees to what are supposed to be nonpartisan posts?

If you want to destroy my sweater...
What would this zine be without an uproarious chronicle of a person crapping clean in their pants? (Or should I say, crapping dirty in their pants.) Someone shit their drawers once back in the ‘90s—but the story is just now reaching us. I guess it wasn’t in the news—though it’s certainly more newsworthy than the IRS “scandal” that The Media obsesses over. All indications are that it’s a true story—but some have tried for years to discredit it, probably because they live in denial and think defecating isn’t something people in the real world actually do. The comic book superhero in this story is a college student who lived just outside New York City. The young man wanted for 2 years to ask a certain young woman at his school out on a date—and finally he did, so they made dinner plans for one Saturday evening. Trouble was, the hapless bloke went out drinking with his pals the night before. He drank like a chimney, he did! So he spent Saturday shitting up a storm. But he didn’t dare cancel the date. While the lovebirds were at the restaurant, pressure mounted in the guy’s digestive tract. To help relieve the pressure, he opted to let loose with a silent gasp of flatulence. But he got more than he bargained for. To keep the young lady from finding out, he spent the rest of the meal leaning on the arms of the chair so he wouldn’t end up sitting in the soilage. His trousers were nice khakis, so the brown stain was bound to show up before long. And it would stink. Luckily, while walking back to the train station, the couple spotted a clothing store. The guy told his date he wanted to go in and look at a new sweater. This was just a ruse: What he really planned to do was buy new khakis and secretly change his pants in the next bathroom he could find. The couple went in the store, and since the men’s clothes were on the opposite end of the store from the women’s, they split up. The young man made sure his date could see him grabbing a sweater, and then he darted back to the pants aisle. He took the items to the counter and asked the cashier to ring up only the new khakis—not the sweater. The clerk was incredulous. But the unfortunate customer meant it: Just the pants. Still following me? The couple left the store and got on the train. The guy immediately dashed to the bathroom on the train with his bag of goodies from the clothes store. The train was moving by the time he got to the restroom. When he got to the lavatory, he removed his shit-caked pants and underwear, wadded them up, and tossed them out the window. They were gone forever. He washed the remaining soil off his posterior, opened the bag from the clothing shop, and found...only the sweater. No pants. Just the sweater. You read that right, toilet people. THE CASHIER HAD MISTAKENLY GIVEN HIM THE SWEATER INSTEAD OF THE NEW PANTS!!! Oops! There was only one thing the guy could do! He shoved his legs into the sleeves of the sweater—and wore the sweater as if it was pants. He could only walk by awkwardly shuffling. That he did. He waited until the train approached a stop, and then he ran out of the bathroom as quickly as he could. The sight of a man staggering down the aisle wearing a sweater as pants was absurd. He bolted right past his date—too embarrassed to explain—and got off the train. He never saw the young woman again. A relationship ruined over crapped-in khakis.

Shit in sink leads to graduation ban
Just when you thought it was safe to open up the morning paper, yet another pooey situation has occurred —this time at Monroe Central High School in Parker City, Indiana. Eight seniors were barred from their graduation ceremony and fined $70 each because of a break-in that involved much lavatory mischief. They broke into the school, strewed toilet paper up and down the halls, tied lockers together, and wrote on windows. Best all, one of them defecated in a sink in a bathroom. Then they posted pictures of the demolition on social networking websites.

Last I heard, the school was still deciding whether to file charges. Still deciding? If I did something like that when I was a high school senior, I’d probably still be whiling my life away behind bars. Those kids’ daddies must be bank presidents to get off so easy.

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