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First Test Tube Cell Phone Stable

(Denver) The nation’s first artificially bred cell phone is alive and doing well in incubation here. What this could do to the already burgeoning over-tech industry is anyone’s assessment.

In a prepared statement the proxy parents, God and Country Electronics, of Little Rock, expect that their off-spring phone will “relieve the blur between reality and fantasy, but not too much.”

“We don’t want any of our clients to start thinking,” smiled Dude Hectare, who has most of his teeth still. People who think realize they don’t need our crap and before you know it they stop laying out thousands to satisfy their pop culture egos. They think flashy cell phones make them cool and we don’t want to tip the turnip cart on this one.”

Critics of the entire biological explosion conclude that maters are definitely out of hand.

“Things started to go south around the time the Sumerians learned to talk with strings and tin cans,” said the Hectare…or was it when Napoleon discovered s party line in place at Waterloo? I can’t recall the GPS coordinates.”

Readers may recall that these same inventors recently patented a wooden, windowed comfort station that would in theory grace Scenic Views all over Colorado. The Pee-And-See is self-contained and never needs emptying. Custom ocean and night sky views are available. Flat terrain, night travel, chuckhole consultation and epic highway construction are in the sights of a bevy of planners.

Sadly these innovative boobs took a cowardly night flight to avoid creditors, social ostracism and banishment from the local chamber of commerce.

“Another failure won’t stop us!” said a principle as he did mobile gymnastics on main street before skidding across the border into the abyss.

-Tommy Middlefinger

“A deeper comprehension of the ocean’s waves cannot be ascertained with one’s head in the sand.”  – Dag Katz

“Thanksgiving in Turkey”

Continued from in front of you


so that Bob (is that really his name?) and I and the kids were pushed down onto the pavement and told to keep our eyes to the ground as the entourage passed by, snaking its way toward Mount Ararat and the grave of the Apostle Paul.

     “Hey, mom,” said little Bennie, “says in this brochure that Turkey is larger than Texas. Is that for real?”

     “No, stupid, it’s just all that jihad propaganda,” piped sister Beatrice from the pruned position. “Where did you get that brochure anyway?”

     “Shut-up bitch,” said little Bennie. “Nobody’s talking to you!”

     “Now kids, let’s try to put our hatreds aside. We’re miles from our hotel and not out of this yet,” said Dad. “These people are naturally friendly and engaging. They just have to get to know us. I thought St. Paul was buried at Lookout Mountain…”

     No, that’s Buffalo Phil, fool,” said mom.

     Finally, and not without more fanfare, the procession passed. The strange men in robes told us to get up and walk to the east and we would find true enlightenment…and our hotel.

     “I wanna see Noah’s Arc,” said Beatrice, “and the ancient city of Troy. What a beat vacation. All my friends in Chicago will laugh at me if they find out I came all the way to Turkey without…”

     “Wait, daddy,” I said to my husband, “isn’t that the road to Istanbul, or is it the road to Constantinople? They must sell ottomans there. I just have to have an authentic Turkish Ottoman or I’ll just die.”

     “What about dinner?” whined Bennie. “We’ve been here three days and I haven’t seen a taco anywhere. Today is Thanksgiving. Where’s the stuffing?”

     “Now Bennie,” said my husband, whose name eludes me just now, “this isn’t America. One has to adapt. Sure, all of these rugheads wish they were in America, the land of the free, but they aren’t. They’re marooned here in Asia Minor…have been for centuries. I thought you liked the filberts in barley sauce that mom cooked up last night.”

     “I want pizza,” screamed Beatrice much to the chagrin of a large angry crowd that had now gathered, blocking our exit from behind one of a hundred mosques that crowd the cobbled square. “I hate filberts!”

     “And where is the football!” demanded little Bennie. “Don’t these Tartar savages know that it’s Thanksgiving?”

     “I hate tartar sauce too,” mumbled Beatrice, “and Kurds and whey…

     “Stop!” cried daddy. “Look a fez stand right out here in the middle of nowhere. I think we should all take home a fez as a souvenir from this lovely trip. Say there sahib. How much for four fezzes…is that the proper term? Yeah, four…and don’t try to screw me. I’m an American and I have rights.”

      At that he pulled out a U.S. fifty which the man selling the fez hats quickly grabbed and stashed in his robe. He smiled and then let go of the hats.

     “Those hats look stupid,” said Beatrice, and for once her little brother agreed. We must have looked quite the sight wandering down those snarled filthy streets, sipping a Raki looking for some familiar signs of home.

     “I have to pee,” said Bennie.

     “We need to find a halkevi, or house of the people. Surely they will have indoor facilities…

     “And cleanliness,” I crisply quipped.

     “And a make-up mirror,” added Beatrice.

     “And some good old American toilet paper,” smiled Daddy.

     “We could ask someone,”  I said melodically, swept up in the worldly banter of a man I no longer knew.

     “None of these bozos talk American,” said Bennie

     “Turkish isn’t so hard to learn,” said Dad as he wagged his finger at a would-be thief. “The Turks borrowed many Arabic and Persian words during the Ottoman Empire, then Kemal Ataturk changed the whole shootin’ match over to the Roman alphabet in 1928.”

     “How does he know all that?” whispered Beatrice in my direction.

     “Daddy was once a Middle East expert in of the Bush Administrations, dear,” I explained.

     “It’s worthless information about a country that prefers figs to cranberry sauce, olives to pumpkin pie…”

     “Shhhhh,” Bennie. Here come the mashed potatoes!”

     As I looked up I saw thousands of men in the street. There were Turks from Ankara, Turks from Izmir, Turks from Cyprus. All were working together pushing a massive vat of freshly mashed potatoes, thinly veiled in Seljuk mohair, toward the largest of the mosques to the east of the square.

     “Wow, dad!” said Bennie.

     “Where are all the women?” asked Beatrice.

     “Maybe they do celebrate Thanksgiving in Turkey,” I flinched.

     “Look, kids. Look! It’s the march of the turkeys,” said Dad. “Look, honey, their coming this way. It’s going to be a wonderful holiday just like I told you. Honey? Honey? Hey, kids, where’s your mother?

     “Oh, she was forced into that black Mercedes by two Turkish men who have been following us since yesterday,” said Beatrice.

     “What? Forced into a car? gasped Daddy.

     “Relax, man she’ll be back for dinner,” said Bennie.

– Luanne Julienne

Ms Julienne is a free-lance writer who lives in a ostentaciously large house in Connecticut. In addition to writing travel articles she raises amphetamines, which are then sold to collectors in New York at what is perceived as a healthy profit. 

Former Latin American Dictators to Monitor Run-Offs

(Panama City) A hand-picked junta comprised of retired South and Central American despots will be on hand to see that any and all 2004 election recounts are conducted on the up and up.

     Chosen by the Supreme Quart and approved by influential officials both major parties, the former Latin dictators will act only in an advisor mode. Their official function will be that of observers, although insiders in Washington and elsewhere suggest that years of expertise in the arena of vote rigging and intimidation will be increasingly visible as recounts are tallied.

     Opinions, expediency and a hands-on philosophy as to the political system in place will surely float to the top of the electoral puddle,” said one Congressional source who helped initiate the plan. “Frustration with the slow process could dictate conduct in back parlors and smokey rooms from New York to Buenos Aires.”

     Among the observers are the former bosses in Chile, Argentina, Venezuela, Nicaragua and Panama. Former leaders who are currently being courted by the State Department include security personnel and executive level counterparts from Paraguay, Guatemala, Peru. Bolivia and Guyana. All are former generals. The names of these powerful men have not been made completely public for fear of reprisals on the part of those “who would do harm to the democratic process”, according to unreliable  government sources.

     Although at first shocked by the development the American public has come to grips with the arrangement and gone back to sleep. Critics fear the Republicans, who most resemble Latin American dictators, will have an unfair advantage in the recounts.

     “We’re darn lucky to have men of this capacity here for our little election squabbles,” said one leading Republican senator who won a seat in 2000 by 3 votes and is currently embroiled in an even closer race this year.

     “We better get this campaign over with or I’ll never spend any time of the floor voting for archaic measures and manipulating my colleagues,” he laughed. “This year I spent 80% of my time campaigning and 20% serving in Congress. I can assure you that won’t happen if I get my party’s nod in 2008.”

     Certain “basic” amenities will be provided the former Latin strongmen during the run-offs. In addition to meal and hotel per diems each will be allowed to bring up to five body guards and several social secretaries. The presence of machine-gun toting military attaches and bullet-proof limousines will attest to a good faith gesture on the part of the United States.

     “We think that the inclusion of these “decorated election counselors” will provide the impetus to smooth and legitimate elections,” said another Congressional source, who demanded animosity. “Besides, they can only play golf for so many days in a row.”

     Infamous Latin dictators such as Manual Noriega, Generalissimo Raul Machete, Carlos Torres Bloode and Baby Doc Duvalier were not invited to the recount since they are in jail in Miami.

     While acting out the drama of the democratic process the former despots will stay with George W. Bush at either the White House or in the executive bunkhouse at his sprawling Crawford (Texas) ranch.

-Kashmir Horseshoe



Are you visiting our world this fall? If so here is a preferred

selection of attractions even you won’t want to miss!

PEA GREEN CONSERVATORY RUINS – This architectural prototype once housed the infamous Pea Green Kazoo Orchestra and was the scene of the last pancake breakfast attended by William McKinley before his untimely assassination by an anarchist in 1901. Over the years, the orchestra played before such music lovers as King Edward VII, Talulah Bankhead, Oliver Heaviside, J.P. Morgan, Joan Crawford, and last but never least…Thomas E. Dewey who remains buried six feet under the rhythm section.

WORLD’S LARGEST MARTINI – Located off Highway 135 near the former Rockey River Resort Complex. This 700-foot cocktail was erected after the first Heeny Tick Festival in 1907 (or was in ’08?). It requires the constant attention of some 130 full-time employees just to keep the thing cold. Funding cuts over the past few years have discouraged operations in the winter months when most thirsty residents switch to brandy or schnapps anyway. Official records estimate that it cost $6500 dollars per day to keep the facility open and that takes into account the low cost pretend water generated power plant that was built with state lottery money in 1989. Guided tours are available on the half hour with a minimal admission fee of $12 (non-imbiber) and $175 (full services). A massive martini pipeline, that could supply some six counties with the beverage is on the drawing board and may be completed by Rockies’ season. Just for kicks don’t miss the Old Timer Vermouth Mill located just three miles east of Olive’s Gift Shop at Big Ol’ Grandma’s RV World.

SAGEBRUSH HOLOCAUST MUSEUM – This eerie monument seeks to honor the native sagebrush that is destroyed by bulldozers and asphalt each year. It was located in Peach Valley as of last night.

HISTORIC MOTEL ROW – Located in Gunnison, this historical district has been completely restored and preserved for future generations. Many of the structures are available by the night or week but summer rates are never reasonable. Take a walk back into the past as some of these motels were built as early as 1956. Park at Parlin and proceed west until you see the flashing lights! Self-contained RVs welcome. Sorry but due to the ineffectiveness of the Gunnison Hysterical Society the landmark LaVeta Hotel, once perched on Boulevard Avenue, no longer exists.

SLATE RIVER WHITE BUFFALO RANCH View the rare white buffalo, an animal considered sacred by the Utes. No set hours. Either the buffalo are there or they are not. Watch the illegal parking on shouldered Highway 135. Located between Almont and Jack’s Cabin adjacent to the Roaring Judy Trout Internment Center, which is closed to the public Monday through Friday and on weekends.

FASTEST TRAFFIC LIGHT IN THE WEST Located at the intersection of Main and Townsend in Montrose. Wagon trains passing through this valley in the early part of the century are still waiting to negotiate this stretch of road. After you enjoy a visit to this signal be sure to stop at the Slowest Traffic Light in the West located one street north.Snap a picture of the dumbest left turn lane in North America.

JURASSIC LEACH FIELD – This ancient collection of dinosaur dung can be enjoyed by taking Highway 50 to Whitewater then turning west into Unaweep Canyon. Proceed along Highway 141 past the Umetco nuclear sugar beet processing plant at Snyder Flats and on to the Pablo Escobar Landing Strip at Castro Draw. Cut back southeast on the dirt road to Tenderfoot Mesa and listen for poorly sponsored tap dancing. Since the remains are not totally petrified, forest rangers caution visitors to hold their noses, wear old shoes and carry ample fly swatters in their vehicles. (Please clean up after your dog).

TOOTHBRUSH RECYCLING PLANT – Located in downtown Novocain next to the Halitosis Toothpaste Tailings at the mouth of Stale Breath Gulch. See thousands of discarded toothbrush handles being forged into alarm clocks for export to the Far East. The bristles are melted down and turned into second-rate AstroTurf. We suggest one avoid this massive dental display while Lauren Boebert is in office. She and her entourage have this attraction circled and have tied up all motel rooms within a radius of fifty miles.

THE GIANT HOUSE – Located on Ouray’s chic Oak Street, this 700,000 square foot structure was actually larger than the state of Rhode Island before the fire. Decorated with treasures pillaged from an assortment of Third World cultures the Giant House is designed to sink into the surrounding rocks in the event of a nuclear attack. Make sure identification papers are in order upon entering the lush grounds, as custodians are somewhat trigger-happy. Schedule your visit to the Giant House between noon and two and catch some pomp and circumstance with the precision changing of the realtors at the gatehouse of this exclusive development.

These are only a few of the many attractions that await the visitor to Western Colorado. For a complete listing and further information on educational and illuminating tours and packages stop into your local tourist information booth. Tell them you’re Butch Cassidy and you’re looking for a few sticks of dynamite and an automatic teller machine. They probably won’t get it anyway.

CAUTION: Do not heed the advice of seemingly friendly denizens as these reprobates take extreme pleasure in misleading the innocent. Although creative and dramatic in delivery, they will lie to you at every turn causing much consternation and an immoral waste of gasoline. NEVER confront them in their prevarications as they are all well armed, even the children.

– Uncle Pahgre

Shark Attacks Add to Offshore Banking Woes

(Bermuda Triangle) A sudden rise in violent shark attacks had thrown yet another wrench in off-shore banking operations already beset by rising water and even an occasional pirate incursion in the Caribbean.

     The fish seem to have turned more aggressive as the deposits grow. They have been blamed for serious interruption of cash flow and several deaths in the lower berths of this tax evasive banking industry team. In addition many accounts, established as long ago as 1990 have simply floated away due to rising ocean levels, leaving global depositors crying salty tears, holding little more than a soggy bag.

     Then, if this wasn’t already jeopardizing the wavering banking system, pirates have fallen upon particularly flamboyant or audacious accounts and have snatched stragglers as well as very tempting young or wounded balance sheets, making off with millions, according to experts on the water. 

     “These terrorists are the final straw,” said John Me, comptroller at one of the larger offshore establishments. “They have tipped the scale and we are petitioning the federal gov’ment (yeah the same one that we’re ripping off) to send troops.”

     Me expressed concern that the terrorists might soon have nuclear weapons that could be put to use to seize the whole ball of wax.

     “Somebody needs to do something before it’s too late,” he stressed. “We would take matters into our own hands but we’re too busy being rich and greedy.”

      Historically the primary annoyance has always been tiger and hammerhead sharks with ominous fins and a big mouth full of razor teeth. This is not some metaphor regarding fiscal brethren stateside, but cold-blooded, apex ocean predators who have no regard for the thrill of ill gotten gains on the tax block. Now the makos seem to be engaging in regular feeding frenzies. Some experts are suggesting that the frightening fish have come to like the smell of money.

     Swimmers wearing shiny jewelry or splashing around excessively can provoke shark attacks. Generally the fish feed in the morning and at night although an occasional afternoon snack is not out of the question.

     Then the rising sea adds its two cents, washing away accumulated wealth like wee field mice in an epic tidal wave. The result of warmed temperatures on the earth, the high water has seeped into areas thought safe from both natural conditions and government interventions. 

     “Thin of all that money sinking to the ocean floor,” said Me. “It’s enough to make a person crazy,” Me winced, slipping into snorkel, goggles and fins. “All this talk of pirates, sharks and greed makes me homesick for Wall Street” – Fred Zeppelin

Silverton Welcomes Yodeling Academy

(Howardsville UPS) The town of Silverton today celebrated the opening of the long awaited Lake Emma Yodeling Academy. Although the official ribbon cutting was postponed (someone forgot to buy ribbon in Durango) everyone promised to work together for the advancement of the arts in San Juan County. 

     Strict covenants subscribed to by the institution call for the education of no less than 1000 yodelers per year. Instruction will follow in the classic sense focusing on raw talent and the ancient traditions inherent to the art. The classes are open to all ages and scholarships are available.

     Yodeling is defined as singing so that the voice fluctuates between the normal chest voice and a falsetto. It is often associated with the alpine landscape since lower oxygen levels aid in the development of strong, healthy lungs. Mountain goats and wide-open spaces further encourage the yodel. Silverton is rich in both of these elements.

     A series of programs has been slated throughout the summer and fall with a final chorale concert/pot luck at the Grande Imperial Hotel in November.

     “Imagine the surprise when the train is serenaded by hundreds of yodelers as it arrives in town,” said one instructor who learned the art from Jimmy Rodgers. “Hank Williams would have been proud and that says nothing of the von Trapps.”

 – Dinty Moore