Controversy surrounds unofficial beauty pageant held this weekend at Kagawa Sushi Bar

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Ernie Boch, Jr. is in the hot seat yet again, this time for hosting what appears to be a false Miss Massachusetts beauty pageant in an attempt to pick up girls.

Boch, who is the CEO, president and spokesman of Boch Enterprises, is the son of the late car czar, Ernie Boch, Sr., as well as the frontman of Ernie and the Automatics, the groundbreaking blues rock band, which features two former members of the multi-platinum selling band Boston.

According to eyewitnesses who were in attendance, a beauty pageant was held by Boch at the Kagawa Sushi Bar in Quincy Center, under the guise of the official 2010 Miss Massachusetts USA State Pageant.

"I knew something was wrong right from the start," said Joaquin Sacramento, of Squantum, who provided sound effects for the event. "I'm not sure how, but I knew. Maybe it's because the whole thing took place at a sushi bar. Or maybe it's because almost all of the signs were handwritten in Boch's unmistakable scrawl. But I like to think it's because of my keen detective skills, which allow almost no detail to go by unnoticed. Trust me, if there's something amiss, I always catch it."

It was later revealed that Sacramento's wife of over thirty years has been having an ongoing affair with his own brother since the summer of 1986.

Taking the advice of his attorneys, Boch offered no comment on the allegations against him, however, found himself unable to hold back both smirks and giggles whenever somebody made direct eye contact with him.

As the beautiful and talented contestants lined up to make acceptance speeches for awards that did not exist, Boch made his getaway through a secret escape hatch in Kagawa's backroom, where he was apprehended shortly after by responding officer John Steele and arrested for impersonating a pageant host.

Boch is currently being held on $500 bail, which he has so far been unable to post.

If convicted, he could serve up to three years as a used car salesman at a competitor's dealership of his choosing.

What is the real story behind the free television set found this weekend on Putnam Street?

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of a cell phone in Merrymount

A free television set was found on Putnam Street over the weekend, causing many residents of the area to wonder what might be wrong with it.

The impressive 20" RCA television set was found by local man-about-town, Stanley Rhubarb, who, after staring at it for nearly an hour, decided that it must be too good to be true, causing him to immediately alert media sources regarding the situation before darting off into the patch of wilderness behind Central Middle School.

"The sign says that the TV is free," Rhubarb told reporters. "But why?"

Rhubarb then went on to describe in great detail several theories he had, each of them more mind-blowing than the last.

He was then sedated by a nearby doctor, who, after a series of very specific medical questions, finally admitted that he was "not technically a doctor."

It remains unclear at this time as to where this man went, although some have speculated that he, too, darted off towards the patch of wilderness behind Central, where he was then given a black leather jacket and raised by Del Tufos.

"There's no such thing as a free TV," Rhubarb added, as he casually looked over his right shoulder. "If these people think I'm gonna lug this thing all the way to my apartment and plug it in, they got another thing comin'. Stanley Rhubarb may not be the brightest bulb in the bucket, but at least I know what time it is."

At this point, there is no further information known regarding this mysterious television set, nor are the circumstances from which it came about known.

Rainy weather washes away city's dirty little secrets, but not quite all of them

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of a cell phone in Wollaston

High winds and incessant rainfall continued to plague the Granite City this morning, washing away its dirty little secrets, leaving behind nothing but a small handful of miscellaneous items, such as heroin needles and empty nips of cheap vodka.

Seriously, though, stop doing fucking heroin. It's getting ridiculous!

Broken-down privileged bitch waits over thirty minutes for tow, demands answers

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Gas up your tow trucks, keep your phone lines open, and clear the roads, because when Tina Driscoll's car breaks down, it's everybody's problem.

Breaking down on Adams Street early yesterday afternoon, Driscoll made a call to Blue Hills Towing, of West Quincy, demanding prompt and professional service.

An only child, Driscoll is no stranger to expecting things on time or early.

From the lighting in Baxter's Pharmacy to the temperature in the National Amusements theatre in Randolph, almost nothing seems to go Driscoll's way, often times ending with a long list of verbal and written complaints, which almost always go ignored.

Driscoll, a former runner-up for Quincy High School's Class of '93 prom queen, currently works as an assistant manager at the Dress Barn on Granite Street.

But as the minutes passed on, nobody came, leaving Driscoll with nothing to do but sit on the front bumper of her 1996 Ford Mustang and call friends to complain.

After approximately 35 minutes, tow truck driver Jared Armstrong arrived, ready and willing to assist Driscoll in all of her roadside needs.

Armstrong was last in the news after a Gorilla Biscuits t-shirt caused several Wollaston youths to mistake him for a woman, ending in one of the most awkward rape scenes this city has ever seen.

"That's a fucking decent breakdown," remarked Armstrong, who then got Driscoll's vehicle started with a set of jumper cables and a side dish of elbow grease.

Starting her impressive 3.8 liter engine and darting down Adams Street at the daring speed of 46 miles-per-hour, Driscoll casually flipped Armstrong off, angered by his inability to provide her the sense of self-worth she has sought after for so long.

As for what the future holds for Tina Driscoll, no one can be sure.

We can only assume that she will spend the entire weekend in dirtbag bars, dancing with boys who are barely of age, wasting all of her money on mixed shots with clever names, high stakes, and dangerous consequences.

Elderly man celebrates 100th birthday by dying

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Joe Montenegro isn't your typical elderly Italian man. In fact, he's no longer even a man. By now, he's nothing more than a rancid, rotting corpse, buried six feet underground, right where he fucking belongs.

Suffering a massive coronary while picking flowers behind Roxie's Market, Montenegro was pronounced dead at 8:37am this morning at Quincy Medical Center.

Montenegro turned 100-years-old today, finally fulfilling his lifelong dream.

Neighbors remember Montenegro as the type of guy you could count on, some even going as far as to say that he was a kind and gentle man.

Montenegro, whose last name is pronounced exactly as it appears, was a veteran of the Second World War, receiving an honorable discharge after sustaining a shrapnel injury to his left leg. An injury that would plague him until his dying day.

In the early mornings, Montenegro would take long walks on Southern Artery, waving to the morning commuters as they passed.

In the afternoons, he would eat hot dogs and stare at people from a bench.

After sunset, however, he would stay in and watch VHS porn at an ear-splitting volume, all while housing staff and orderlies struggled to get past the seven deadbolts on the door to his Brackett Street assisted living home.

"Joe was a great guy," remarked Ronaldo Sanchez, who works as a janitor in Montenegro's apartment complex. "People just weren't able to get passed his habits after dark, that's all. It was just too much for some people to handle. Sometimes, when he was in there doing his thing, he would scream at the top of his lungs. Other times, he would end up squeezing his penis so hard that he would be hospitalized for weeks. I mean, don't get me wrong, I loved the guy like a father, and I was sad to see him go, but, when it comes down to it, I'm glad he's dead."

Montenegro is survived by his two daughters, Marie and Isabella, as well as sixteen granddaughters, a mentally disabled cousin, and his barber, Roy.

Local man goes on frantic search for Internet

Article by Beak Wilder and Brunk Edwards / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

A Whitman resident known only as No-Internet Andy has just put in for his two-week vacation, claiming that he will not rest until he has found the Internet.

Holding a "members only" press conference in the Monponsett section of Hanson, No-Internet Andy vowed to reporters that he would soon find the Internet and harness all of it's uncanny power.

Claiming to have never once actually come into contact with the Internet, No-Internet Andy spoke quite fondly of the global system of networks, claiming the desire to overcome his no-Internet status has given him a new purpose in life.

The search was preempted by a stop at a local corner store to buy $15 worth of protein bars and twelve cartons of Muscle Milk, which No-Internet Andy believed would help him immensely in his quest.

Loading a sleeping bag, three hundred yards of highly resilient nylon rope, and a flashlight into the back of his truck, No-Internet Andy performed a final check on the air pressure of his tires before waving goodbye to no one in particular.

"Farewell," he said, as he peeled off at the smooth crawl of a wounded mongoose. "I shall find the Internet and bring it back to my hometown of Whitman. And when I return, we shall all be instant millionaires. From the hungry locals at Venus Cafe, to the lonely Keno players at the Office, we shall all embrace the Internet, making each and every website we visit our own."

Having made it only six feet from his original starting point, all four tires of his 1976 Jeep Cherokee then exploded due to massive over-inflation, causing him to spin wildly out of control, colliding with a newlywed couple on a tandem bicycle.

"Don't wait for me," No-Internet Andy could be heard saying, as the Whitman Police carelessly tossed him into backseat of a cruiser.

No-Internet Andy will be charged with two counts of driving to endanger.

In accordance with new South Shore law, he will be arraigned tomorrow morning at Quincy District Court, where it is expected he will then be introduced to the Internet via the Norfolk County Correctional Center in Dedham.

Man who won two free Friendly’s Fribble® shakes has sketchy past, reports say

Article by Brunk Edwards / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

A 25-year-old South Quincy man who called local newspapers after winning two free Fribble® shakes from Friendly’s was later revealed to have a history of fraud.

The man, Jaime “Haircut” McGoo, alerted the media yesterday after claiming he won a free Fribble® shake at the Friendly’s Ice Cream parlor in Wollaston by correctly naming the artist playing over the restaurant’s radio station.

According to McGoo, the group in question was C+C Music Factory.

Amazingly, McGoo then contacted the media again to declare that he had won a second Fribble® shake in the same contest by correctly guessing that only one employee of the establishment had understood the movie Mulholland Drive.

Holes in the story began to appear almost immediately after Friendly’s manager Richard Angry was reached by phone.

Angry repeatedly denied the existence of any such contests and claimed that a person matching McGoo’s description was escorted out of the restaurant with “extreme force” for stealing bananas from a freezer.

This is not the first time McGoo has been in the news.

In 2002, McGoo, who then went by the name Awesome Lemieux, was arrested after claiming to have found former President Ronald Reagan’s corpse buried in Wollaston Beach, using a pair of X-ray sunglasses.

In 2000, he was reprimanded for using an expired Thomas Crane Public Library card to fake his way into getting an elderly discount on an infamous Newcomb Farms “Early Bird” special.

McGoo also has multiple, longstanding lawsuits against the owners of the Norwood-based New England Comics for “psychological damages” after reading a stolen issue of “The Death of Superman.”

Predator seeks exploratory committee for possible run in 2010 Massachusetts Gubernatorial Election

Article by Beak Wilder and Heather Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Just when you thought it was safe to talk politics in Massachusetts, a fucking alien assassin with infrared vision decides to run for governor.

Predator, who is perhaps best-known for his groundbreaking, eponymous action film, has long since been involved in behind-the-scenes politics, having privately endorsed George W. Bush in both elections, and most recently, donated the maximum amount allowed into John McCain's failed presidential campaign.

Predator, whose birth name is Fred Calloway, announced his interest in the upcoming election yesterday afternoon, during a last-minute press conference in the fire damaged section of the Quincy Center strip.

Interested and uninterested parties alike gathered amongst the charred remnants of Taso's Pizza to listen to the Predator's mind-numbing 90-minute speech, in which he declared that he would shamelessly ride the coattails of fellow co-stars-turned-politicians, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Jesse "The Body" Ventura.

But, if the Predator is elected, what would that mean for the Bay State?

Some say that the Predator would work tirelessly at repairing Legislative-Executive relations. Others say that he would simply destroy us all.

"This is just absurd," remarked Wolf Sheppard, an out-of-work news anchor who occasionally moonlights as a waiter at Grumpy White's. "There's no way around it, the Predator is making a run for governor because he has already seen two idiots from his first film move on to become political figures. But what are his qualifications? Do we really want a governor who's going to be running around this state with a plasma weapon and a mouth that looks like a mix between an eagle talon and a grizzly bear's vagina? I'm not sure about you, but that just seems unnecessary. The guy never even went to high school, for Christ's sake, nevermind college. If you ask me, the Predator is unfit to lead."

Sheppard's body was then tossed an amazing thirty-seven feet into the glass face of the Good Health Natural Food store, where a massive chest wound the size of a beach ball then appeared in the area that used to be his chest.

"Want some candy?" asked a strange, distorted voice from the rooftops.

Both incidents were deemed to be "unrelated" by an Officer Nico Haylen, who, after sneaking several nips of Jameson, urinated himself in a nearby alley.

As of now, Predator has yet to officially declare his candidacy in the upcoming gubernatorial race, although expert analysts predict that he will do so before the end of the month, as it is a well-known fact that all extraterrestrial life forms prefer to make things official before month-end closing.

Gays allowed in Quincy churches? Wait, really?

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of a cell phone in Quincy Center

In a shocking turn of events, it appears that gays are not only allowed to walk past churches these days, but are also allowed to go inside them.

Gays, who are known for the hit songs, "Y.M.C.A." and "We are the Champions," have long since been the subject of public misunderstanding, yet critically acclaimed by fancy New York big shots for their ability to outdo almost anyone when it comes to making a giant fucking spectacle of themselves.

This recent discovery has both supporters and detractors of homosexuality voicing their opinions, but none more than those of the Catholic Church, who, historically speaking, have been known to get worked up over pretty much anything.

Reverend Sherman Beaudoin of the St. John the Baptist Parish in Quincy Point expressed disapproval at the discovery, blaming gays for almost everything.

"The Bible condemns homosexuality," Beaudoin said. "For a church to condone it is a most disgraceful act, but to embrace it is even worse. If these churches had any idea what gays were capable of, maybe they would reconsider their position on this. By constantly falling for fake links on the World Wide Web, I have seen far more than I have bargained for, although I have no intentions of describing what it is I have seen. But take my word for it, it was utterly abominable."

Unable to cope with the thought of what actually goes on behind the closed doors of gay men, Beaudoin then casually tossed himself in front of a speeding 221 bus, causing his body to explode like a watermelon after a thirty story fall.

But not all residents agree with Beaudoin, some even speaking out in favor of gays.

"Who cares if gays go to church?" remarked Mark "The Big Deal" Harmonico, a Montclair resident who owns a small dog and season tickets to the Red Sox. "Let those little bastards come if they want. What are people afraid of, that they're gonna dress better than us, teach us some sweet dance moves, and befriend our wives?"

Harmonico then performed a series of hand gestures and shoulder shrugs, each further confirming that he couldn't care less about gays in churches.

"It don't matter to me," Harmonico added. "Gays are just like regular people."

Harmonico then walked off into the general direction of the mythical East Quincy, secretly wondering what man he would go down on if he absolutely had to. After approximately thirty seconds of deliberation, he settled on Orlando Bloom and went about his day, somewhat less confident that he, too, was not gay.

Illegal aliens celebrate passing of health care reform with record-breaking Corona sales

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Illegal aliens throughout the city are celebrating the passing of President Obama's health care reform, which will provide universal health insurance for all of America, regardless of race, sex, religion, or legal status.

This new bill will provide health insurance to even illegal immigrants, thus rendering the term "illegal" fairly meaningless.

All throughout the South Shore, the strange celebratory traditions of Mexicans can be seen, from extravagant pig roasts, to mariachi music ensembles, to parades of El Caminos with 13-inch, gold plated, wire spoke wheels.

"This is a proud day for my people," spoke Hernando Jiménez, an illegal immigrant who works part-time salting corn cobs at Murphy's Twin Shamrocks. "If I hurt myself while working under-the-table, I am covered. If I pull a muscle while masturbating to a Salma Hayek movie, I am covered. Even if I just don't feel like working one day and decide go to the emergency room and just sit there, I am covered. And the bill is up to you. It is the taxpayer who will suffer, and I who shall reap the benefits."

Jiménez then dropped his pants and began relieving himself in a nearby mailbox, wiping his dick and balls off with the American flag.

"I love this country," Jiménez added, as he disappeared in a cloud of rice and beans.

But as the dust settles and those who are most effected by this change begin to voice their opinions, it appears that opposition is far from absent.

"There's no such thing as free health care," barked Roger Snapcase, a self-proclaimed "hardworking man" from South Quincy. "At some point, somebody has to pay. And you know who it's going to be? It's gonna be the hardworking American who's been busting his ass and paying taxes his entire life with nothing to show for it. And for what, so some lazy piece of shit who doesn't even belong here can get the same benefits as me? Fuck that shit. We didn't win the war at Alamo so this shit could happen. Free health care is a bunch of bullshit. What's Obama gonna try to pull off next, world peace? Go ahead and try it, brother man. But if there's one thing I'm completely sure of, it's that world peace can't be done. It just can't exist."

It was later revealed that the Battle of the Alamo was not actually a war.

Baby puncher arrested in Quincy Police sting operation, shows no signs of regret

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Quincy Police arrested Seymour Chumsford, of Quincy Point, yesterday as part of an intense sting operation, charging him in a recent rash of baby punchings that had been occurring over the past three weeks.

Chumsford, who is no stranger to jail cells, was last in the news only two months ago, when he attempted to blame Toyota's current recall concerns after his mid-nineties Corolla accidentally backed over his wife's face a total of twenty-six times.

The first reports of these baby punchings began in late-February, when Juanita Cabrera, a mother of twelve, called Quincy Police, complaining about a man who approached her in the Walmart parking lot, punching her baby directly in the face.

Two days later, a similar call was placed into Quincy Police headquarters, followed by twelve more throughout the eighteen days that followed.

"This guy wasn't just punching babies," remarked Officer John Steele. "He was punching them as hard as he could. Some of these babies took shots to the face that would knock out a grown man. This guy deserves whatever he gets. In my eleven months as a police officer, this is the most disgusting act I have ever seen."

Speaking against the advice of his court-appointed attorney, Chumsford showed no signs of regret, even reiterating several times that he had no intentions of stopping.

"I will punch them all," Chumsford told reporters. "Every last one of them."

Chumsford then stared directly into the eyes of a nearby jackal, causing it to dart wildly into the street and begin mauling the face of a newborn baby girl.

Chumsford will be arraigned this Monday at Quincy District Court.

First annual Blood for Blood Beach Party shut down by authorities, cancelled indefinitely

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

The city's first annual Blood for Blood Beach Party came to an abrupt end yesterday afternoon, as authorities were called in almost immediately due to multiple injuries, noise complaints, public displays of soullessness, and bare knuckle fistfights.

Blood for Blood, the seminal Boston hardcore band, known for local favorites, such as "Piss All Over Your Hopes and Dreams" and "Paper Gangster," was last in the headlines after several injuries at a benefit show at the United First Parish Church in Quincy Center earned them a three-week ban in the Granite City.

The event, which was intended to go into all hours of the night, had been set up by the mayor's office earlier that day in celebration of the warm weather.

Having initially been unable to attain the services of the band, itself, the city decided to instead start off by playing their celebrated first album, Spit My Last Breath, through Wollaston Beach's brand new Bose speaker system.

This, of course, proved to be "just too intense" for those in attendance to handle.

"The people of Quincy love Blood for Blood," spoke mayoral aide Joe Schlopp, as he soothed an impending shiner with a bag of frozen peas. "If you don't believe me, go visit the Quincy Medical Center emergency room."

All throughout the emergency room waiting area, Quincy residents bled onto the floor, each of them waiting their turn to be stitched up and repaired.

"It was one of Quincy's better beach parties," remarked Officer Nico Haylen, whose unorthodox uniform of camouflage shorts and Blood for Blood shirt told the tale of a man who has very little to hide. "I wish we didn't have to cut it short. If it wasn't for receiving over a thousand complaints in under three minutes, I would have turned my cheek to just about anything. But this job comes with responsibilities, and once in a while, you just can't ignore that. Not that I was able to get much accomplished, anyway. I didn't even have my gun with me. It weighs me down when I'm dancing. No, we had to pull a pretty spicy move for this one. We called the big man, himself. At that point, he was the only one this city would listen to. So, we got Buddha to go up to the Ruth Gordon Amphitheater and address the crowd, urging them to cool off and settle the fuck down. It cost us ten grand just to get him to do it, but who knows how much it saved us in inevitable property damage."

Erick "Buddha" Medina, addressing the angry crowd yesterday evening at the amphitheater.

"As soon as Buddha told the people to go home, the entire city complied," commented DJ Steve Stennehy, who provided record scratches for the event. "I don't think this city will be having any more hardcore-themed beach parties, though. At least not for a while. I think it's pretty obvious that Quincy's not ready to handle something like that. We were flying today, but a little too close to the sun."

As of now, the mayor's office is reporting that the annual Blood for Blood Beach Party festivities have been cancelled indefinitely.

Above average temperatures become cat-alyst for purr-fect beach day for local felines

Article by Beak Wilder and Brunk Edwards / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Clear skies and summer-like temperatures paved way for a perfect beach day today, especially for local feline, Leo-Hector, who was last in the news after receiving the prestigious 2009 Outstanding Quincy Citizen of the Year award.

Eschewing warnings from local police to “stay the fuck off of the beach” after multiple shark and falcon attacks were reported, Leo-Hector and dozens upon thousands of cats arrived to catch some rays and frolic about.

"Quincy is probably the only city where you'll see more cats on the beach than people," remarked Mayor Thomas Koch, as he struggled to maintain consciousness after an impressive four Reuben sandwiches. "Some of the finest cats in the country can be found here. It's just a beautiful city, and a truly amazing thing to be in complete control of. God, it's fucking nice out right now! This is unbelievable."

Gathering driftwood, the four-legged furballs managed to erect a crude bonfire, which amazed and delighted all who witnessed it’s fiery fury.

With only teen drinkers and a raw sewage spill dampening an otherwise perfect day, the cats relaxed into a state of well-being, far beyond what any mere mortal could ever hope to achieve in our otherwise miserable, pointless lives.

Local funny man found beaten to death at 62

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Henry Blood, a self-proclaimed funny man from Hough's Neck, was found beaten to death behind his Babcock Street home yesterday evening, authorities say.

Blood, who is most renowned for his ongoing gag, in which he pretends to eat a sandwich made out of a cantaloupe and two pieces of white bread, had just celebrated his 62nd birthday only two days prior, and had been getting his yard ready for an "insane barbecue" this upcoming Saturday.

"He had a lot of enemies," said Juanita Garcia-Blood, his wife of nearly thirty years. "He was constantly working on new material. The people in this neighborhood didn't seem to get his jokes. If you ask me, it could have been anyone."

While authorities have promised swift results, there are no leads at this time.

"As of this moment, we have virtually nothing to go on," remarked Officer Curtley Giraffe, a seasoned veteran who has patrolled the streets of Hough's Neck for over a decade. "What we have here is a guy who used to like to crack wise with people, an entire neighborhood that wanted to see him dead, and a murder scene that's so rigged with gags and props that nobody will even go near it."

Taking a moment to regain composure after stepping on a hidden whoopee cushion next to Blood's beaten and mangled corpse, Giraffe continued. "This is insane."

Authorities are asking anyone with information on Blood's murder to please come forward. There are no current rewards being offered at this time.

Hundreds of dollars in damage to Quincy's historic Souther Tide Mill caused by ridiculous storm

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Hundreds of dollars in damage were caused to the Souther Tide Mill on Southern Artery during the past storm, the mayor's office is reporting.

As told, the torrential rain and fierce winds had blown some temporary boarding off the 200-year-old structure, allowing those in the homeless community to penetrate the mill's entrance and once again turn the historic building into a haven of bum sex, binge drinking, gang rape, and puking contests.

"The structure of the mill is still sound," the mayor told reporters.

The mayor then went on to explain a series of tedious and wearisome plans the city has for the mill, which can basically be summed up by saying, "$130,000 in community preservation funds have been approved to make the mill look better."

But what do the hundreds of dollars of new damage to the Souther Tide Mill mean for next year's budget? Some say that it will have little, to no, effect on our daily lives. Others, however, aren't quite so sure.

"I would be inclined to say that this will devastate us financially," spoke Beverly Labia-Smacker, an all-day Craigslist lurker from Germantown, whose ability to forecast future budget concerns is about as good as her ability to marry a man whose last name will not make hers ten times more ridiculous. "Where is the city going to get these funds? Seriously, where? We're talking about over a hundred dollars here. I don't have that right now, do you?"

Labia-Smacker was then knocked unconscious as a passing motorist deliberately threw an unopened can of Campbell's Chunky off the back of her head.

"Hey, Labia-Smacker," the motorist could be heard, as he drifted by at an anxiety-inducing 3 mph. "Why don't you go smack a labia, you fuckin' douche!"

Labia-Smacker was then brought to Quincy Medical Center, where her previous statement of not having over a hundred dollars was discovered to be true, causing doctors to do nothing but stare at her in anger while the back of her head bled at the speed of an upside down gallon of milk.

For more information on the Souther Tide Mill, please call Mayor Thomas Koch.

Jury deadlocked in case of erratic pizza delivery driver Chupacabradapolous

Article by Brunk Edwards / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

It was announced today that a jury of 12 remained deadlocked in the case of an erratic pizza delivery driver who was charged with failing to deliver a single correct order in the span of a year.

The case, The People of Quincy vs. Bip Chupacabradapolous, first went to trial in the fall of last year, after Mr. Chupacabradapolous was citizen’s arrested by members of the Merrymount community on September 20th and brought kicking and screaming to the steps of the Quincy Police headquarters.

He was charged with 4,037 counts of incorrect pizza delivery orders, 1 count of driving with only three wheels on his car, and 1 count of painting his bare feet to look like he was wearing Converse All-Stars.


Chupacabradapolous, moments after installing a couch and wall in the front seat of his car.

Head juror Teddy “The Goddamn Animal” Reilly told reporters that, although the jurors had reached a guilty verdict months ago, their long-held deliberation was the result of the court’s impeccable ability to feed them “pizza pies at any time of the day.”

“Plus, they have On Demand on their TVs!” yelled Reilly, while consuming multiple slices of boiling hot mushroom and green pepper pizza.

Judge Betsy Lollipop gasped in horror at the sight of a Daddy Long Legs spider before returning her attention to reporters questioning the validity of a trial that has consumed local court resources. “This is America, baby," she responded absentmindedly. “Who am I to judge this poor bastard?”

Meanwhile, Mr. Chupacabradapolous valiantly struggled to lift his head off the floor of a long since forgotten jail cell ten stories below sea level, where he has remained without food or water for the duration of the trial.

Coastal flooding creates hostile conditions for residents, some so poor, others so black

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

Coastal flooding and harsh winds have created hostile conditions for many Granite City residents, some of which are so poor and so black.

All night long, flood warnings from the National Weather Service in Taunton have dominated television screens, urging locals to stay inside and wait out the storm.

But who suffers most in these times of troublesome weather?

Is it the otherwise trustworthy weather reporter, who will no doubt be blamed for the destructive winds, hard rain, and damaged property? Or is it the careless neighbor next door, who smokes cigarettes, uses microwave ovens, and refuses to recycle, paving way for events such as this? Top researchers say that it is neither of these, for as usual, it is blacks who will suffer the hardest fate.

"Historically speaking, blacks have had a pretty tough go at things," remarked Dr. Alan Ripple, former head of Quincy College's now-defunct medical department. "From Germantown, to Grafton Street, to the Little Compton section of West Quincy, lower income black families are the ones who will suffer the most. When the Wollaston levees broke, thousands of residents were forced to leave their homes, some of them taking to seek shelter on rooftops until rescue teams could take them safely to Veterans Memorial Field. My heart goes out to these families. I just can't help but to think that this tragedy could have somehow been avoided."

While most residents appear calm at this time, Glenroyal Smoothshave did not.

Smoothshave, a former welterweight boxer from the hard side of Merrymount, expressed disgust at the situation, claiming the Wollaston levees had been poorly designed by the Quincy Point Panthers cheerleading squad.


Glenroyal Smoothshave, the absolute angriest motherfucker this city will ever know.

"I'm sick and tired of this shit," Smoothshave screamed. "Why weren't the residents of this city alerted with enough time to conduct a proper, timely evacuation? Why in God's name would a city hire a cheerleading squad to design a levee? And why the fuck were a shitload of black people sitting up on rooftops? If that was white people up on them rooftops, there would have been a helicopter for every single one of them. But no, the black man's gotta stay up on the rooftop all day and piss and shit in front of news cameras. If that was Elvis up on that rooftop, they would have raised the Titanic to go get him. If that was Justin Timberlake, Obama himself would have picked him up in a goddamn canoe. Even if it were Steve Zahn, or somebody like that, the motherfucker would have been there for six minutes, tops. Like I said, I'm sick of this shit. I'm about to get medieval up in this bitch. Who the fuck gets their flood warnings from Taunton, anyway? That is some straight up bullshit."

Smoothshave then darted up Hancock Street at the speed of an angry bulldog, causing Houston, Texas rap artist, Scarface, to cross the street in fear.

There is no word yet as to why Scarface was in Quincy, although it is expected that he may be researching the area for his upcoming film, Mo' Crazy Ridiculous.

For updates and warnings on today's weather, please watch the news.

Local nutbag demands special treatment during St. Patrick's Day holiday, threatens hunger strike

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

Mark Doherty, the Dorchester native who occasionally wanders into the Quincy city limits, has stirred up headlines yet again, making threats of a hunger strike unless a contract is drawn up no later than noon tomorrow that states that all Boston bars must provide him free beer during the St. Patrick's Day holiday festivities.

These demands, which vaguely imply that drinking free beer during Irish-themed holidays are part of Doherty's "religious beliefs," have already begun to receive much criticism from those with a high-ranking social status in the South Shore.

"This is bullshit," remarked Abington ironworker and former Quincy mayoral candidate, Tom Turkolio. "This kid just doesn't wanna pay for beer."

Turkolio then dropped to the ground and began performing a series of perfectly executed abdominal crunches in one of the most overly masculine and unnecessary acts of showmanship this city has seen in years.

"Who cares if this Doherty kid doesn't eat until noon tomorrow?" he added, as he wiped a single bead of sweat off his forehead with three One King Down shirts. "That's not even twenty-four hours from now. It's not like he's gonna die from it. And even if he did, what's the big deal?"

But as the hours pass, complaints about hunger pains have already begun.

"I'm fuckin' starving, dude!" Doherty told reporters. "I wanna go to Mickey D's so bad right now, but I can't. Hunger strikes are wicked hard."


Mark Doherty, making a giant fucking spectacle out of some gold plated rings.

While supporters of Doherty's St. Patrick's Day proposal make their presence known, most others have decided to ignore the insane request.

"Who does this guy think he is, Craig T. Nelson?" barked Mayor Thomas Menino, whose following sixteen minutes of dialogue was ruled completely indecipherable by all those who were forced to listen.

John Eire, owner of the Eire Pub on Adams Street, expressed frustration over the request, as well as a general sense of disdain for anyone who supports it.

"It's hard enough to make a living these days," Eire said, as he vigorously polished the frame of a signed Ronald Reagan photograph. "How am I supposed to run a business when I got people like Mark Doherty demanding free beer? In all my years here, this has got to be the most ridiculous thing I have ever witnessed. Back in 1983, President Ronald Reagan came in here for a photo op. It was funny to watch all those liberal Irishmen kissing some big time Republican's ass, but this one takes the cake. If the city approves this guy's request, I'm gonna stick a .45 caliber handgun in my mouth and blow my fucking brains out."

Tired of making the same empty threat every time something didn't go his way, Eire instinctively looked away, alone and defeated.

As of now, Boston has yet to make any official decision on Doherty's request, nor have they acknowledged the demand as being anything other than ridiculous. The deadline remains at noon tomorrow, where it is expected Doherty will be alive and well, although showing slight signs of fatigue.

Read: The Not-So-Dangerous Mark Doherty (Blast Magazine)

Area man deems Red Dog "uncommonly smooth," arrested for public drunkenness

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of an AT&T Samsung camera phone

An area man was arrested yesterday evening for public drunkenness, after attempting to climb to the top of the Quincy Police radio tower.

As of now, the man's name has yet to be released, although he is rumored to be related to the powerful and influential Del Tufo family of Merrymount, whose political connections in Quincy are surpassed by no other.

Having been caught red-handed, rescue teams were called in to retrieve the man, who blamed Red Dog's tantalizing blend of two barley malts and five varieties of hops for the incident, claiming the first sip of the American-style lager was so uncommonly smooth, he should not be to blame for any of his ensuing actions.

There is no word yet on how many more sips the man consumed, although experts believe this number to be somewhere in the thousands.

"The smoothness of Red Dog is not common," remarked JoJo Dancer, mysterious man of forbidden desire, last in the news after a feud with Revere's Joe Chaos almost devastated the already shaky relationship between the North and South Shore. "While one cannot deny the fact that Red Dog is a premium beverage, I do not believe that this should give anyone a free pass to do whatever they choose, no matter who they may, or may not, be related to."

It was later revealed that Dancer does not participate in the consumption of alcohol, making his words meaningless in a city that does not sleep.

The man will be arraigned today at Quincy District Court, where he is expected to plead "uncommonly smooth" to all charges.

Smoking chimp's novelty wears thin due to bad attitude, house-clearing cabbage farts

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Willard Wilcox, the lovable smoking chimp who stole the hearts of Quincy residents after rescuing elderly citizen, Ruby Meyer, from a speeding MBTA bus three years ago, has worn out his welcome in the City of Presidents, reports say.

Wilcox, who is known as "The Iron Eagle" to friends, has since developed reputation of being troublesome, snotty, and hard to deal with.

"Willard used to be my go-to guy," spoke Gary Gray, a local shoe repairman and one of the last remaining defenders of the rotary telephone. "He was my wingman, my co-pilot, my best fucking friend. You have no idea how many girls you can get when you have a smoking chimpanzee next to you at all times, it's uncanny. But he's different now, in almost every way possible. He's got this shitty attitude about him that just makes you wanna ring his little neck. And the fact that he's on a diet of strictly cabbage makes for some of the most vile farts I have ever had the displeasure of smelling. They're disgusting."

Wilcox, who resides in a South Quincy bungalow, has not only burned through a large list of friends and loved ones, but is now smoking over two packs of cigarettes a day, developing an unhealthy, and often annoying, case of chronic cough.

Lighting one of his signature Winstons, Wilcox casually flipped off reporters, refusing to make any comment on this article.

"Willard Wilcox is dead to me," remarked DJ Silent Partner, a spicy little pickle from the mean streets of Squantum. "I don't even know him anymore. The last time I saw him, it was like we were never even friends. I looked into his eyes and I saw nothing. And I'm not the only one. His family has written him off, his job at the Adams Cleaners let him go, and both of his roommates have moved out. He's alone in this world, and he has nobody to blame but himself. That monkey is a piece of shit."

Aside from being the Ides of March, today marks the first day that Wilcox will not be invited to the annual Moondog Day celebration on the Squantum peninsula.

"Last year's festivities had to be cut short because of Willard," DJ Silent Partner continued. "The people of Squantum wait all year long for Moondog Day---it's one of our favorite holidays---and that little chimp had to go and ruin it. I can't even begin to describe the smell of four pounds of cabbage after it's been broken down to a gaseous form in the bowels of a primate. After he let a few of those motherfuckers rip, everybody just started to get their shit together and head home. We couldn't stay around him any longer, it was just too brutal, too intense. Keep that shit on the other end of Quincy. At least that's my take on things."

The Quincy Scallion would like to wish Moondog and all of his devoted followers a safe and prosperous 14th annual Moondog Day.

Listen: Moondog and the SQ Revue (MySpace)

Beaten man vows to get appearance back by summer, loses all feeling in right arm

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Christopher Plastic, an out-of-work dental assistant from Hough's Neck, may be broken, but is far from defeated, his family says.

Plastic, who was beaten within an inch of his life outside of the Hofbrau yesterday evening, shows very little signs of surviving the incident, although promised his friends and family that he would be back in full swing by summer.

"Christopher is a very strong-willed man," said Irene Jefferson, a volunteer worker at Quincy Medical Center, who has been teaching Plastic to breathe on his own again. "But physically, he is very weak, even before the beating. The doctors say that it's only a matter of days, but he seems determined to hold on longer."

Jefferson then applied a small layer of topical ointment to Plastic's right eye, to which he instantly recoiled, letting out an ear-shattering scream that could be heard throughout the entire hospital floor.

According to doctors, Plastic will never regain feeling in his right arm.

He will undergo major operations on his left arm and both of his legs throughout the weekend, although the outcome of these are uncertain at this time.

While doctors show very little hope for Plastic, he remains optimistic, even going as far as to renew his season ticket holder status at Fenway Park.

"If I had to guess, he'll probably die," his mother told reporters. "But the hope inside him will live on. Even with the odds against him, he has yet to give up that hope. He told me this morning that he would take me to the Chantey in Marina Bay for my birthday, which is in August. I know it's probably just bullshit, but, being a Leo, it was good to see that he was still thinking of me."

Controversial investment consultant takes old bag of bones for entire life savings

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Like many old hens before her, Ruth Payne-Train, a retired widow from Quincy Point, thought she knew a good deal when she saw one.

What she didn't know is that Gerard Pembleton, an amateur investor from the working class section of Hospital Hill, not only didn't have her best interests in mind, but had absolutely no idea what the stock market even was.

As reported, Mrs. Payne-Train was approached by Pembleton, a regular at Sam's Restaurant on School Street, sometime last month, and was convinced to hand over her entire life savings, which, according to her, was somewhere in the thousands.

Having decided to invest everything in Pembleton's "High Risk No Profit" fund, Payne-Train began showing record losses almost immediately.

"I thought that young man was a professional," Payne-Train commented. "I thought he knew what he was doing. And now I'm broke. I can't even afford an early bird special at one of the most fairly-priced breakfast establishments in the city. Somebody out there ought to do something."

Payne-Train then stared deep into the empty bowl she had been provided at her local eatery and began to contemplate her life as a whole. It was at that moment that she realized she had never felt true love.

Payne-Train, who currently resides at a senior citizens center at 1000 Southern Artery, will be forced to move by the end of this month.

"Look, I made a mistake," remarked Pembleton. "A really big one, I know. I feel horrible. Everywhere I go, I hear people talking about the stock market. I see people making it big, creating a little nest egg for themselves. All I know about it is that I want in, and this old bag of bones has a few bucks she can throw my way. What was I supposed to do, say no? She seemed interested, like she might have even known what she was doing. I thought that maybe I could learn from her."

Pembleton then stared deep into the seared edges of his morning rib eye and added, "Who knew what an important lesson I would learn?"

Pembleton, who has a history of murder, will be brought up on charges of impersonating an investment consultant, faulty business practices, larceny, racketeering, and conspiracy to commit financial fraud.

Tons of animals “going crazy” in Wollaston backyard, concerned callers claim

Article by Brunk Edwards / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Reports flooded into the Quincy Animal Control’s head office last night, warning of a possibly “massive animal brawl” occurring in the backyard of a Wollaston home.

The first of these calls was received at 9:04pm by call center employee Rhonda Lutty, who described a frantic woman’s voice screaming about a “bunch of animals going nuts in a backyard.”

“I couldn’t quite make out what was going on,” recalled Lutty, a morbidly obese female from the Montclair section of Farrington Street. “The woman said something about animals getting out of control, but then she was drowned out by what sounded like a lion roaring into a megaphone.”

Lutty’s titanium lawn chair then abruptly gave up and collapsed in on itself. She was fired mere moments later on the grounds of being “physically ridiculous.”

As it is a well-known fact that the Quincy Animal Control’s head office doesn’t bother to record their messages, it is scientifically impossible to go back and analyze the call.

Neighbors near the site of the disturbance, which is being kept secret until the commotion dies down, were reluctant to divulge any additional information.

“There was a ton of bats swooping around over there,” said Peanut Buttersworth, as he waved his arms in the general vicinity of everywhere. A senior citizen who spent the better part of last night sleeping on his roof, Buttersworth went on to add, “Although it’s not easy for me to see what’s going on since I wear two pairs of sunglasses at all times, I distinctly heard a kangaroo, an octopus, a prize-winning bulldog, and at least several million ants battling for supremacy.”

Body of Great One Killer victim found in Faxon Park, "not a big deal," authorities claim

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

A major breakthrough has been made in the case of the Great One Killer, the serial killer who began murdering women in Quincy last summer and is still at large.

Authorities were alerted earlier today, when a group of local shitbags found what appeared to be the body of a young woman, interrupting the lunch break of responding officer, John Steele, who, after making a giant spectacle out of watching his Thanksgiving sandwich get cold, pronounced the victim dead on the scene.

The body was found in Faxon Park, a common dumping grounds for murder.

"This is not a big deal," Steele remarked. "What is a major deal is that I just wasted six bucks on a freezing cold sandwich."

Steele then casually tossed his sandwich into the air and fired six rounds into it, creating an explosive mess of cranberry sauce, mayonnaise, homemade stuffing, whole wheat bread, and oven roasted turkey breast.

But not all was lost with this discovery, as a mysterious cell phone photograph was found on a phone just next to the brutalized body of the victim, who, according to eyewitnesses, was "definitely a prostitute."

"As with all the other murders, a Dunkin' Donuts Great One cup was found within the general vicinity of the body," explained Officer Nico Haylen, who has been working as lead detective on the case since last July. "What was different about this time is that the victim still had her cell phone on her, which is unlike any of the prior dumping spots we have seen. After recharging the minutes on the victim's Boost Mobile---which I had to do using personal funds, I might add---we found a multimedia text message from a blocked number, asking the victim to meet her in a small passageway behind the Village Driving School in Wollaston."


The mysterious photograph, which shows a black pentagram tattoo on a man's back.

"The important thing here is that it appears to be only prostitutes," Haylen continued. "The respectable men and women of Quincy are safe for now, which is why we have not pursued this case to the degree one might have expected. What worries us is that there is a fine line between a prostitute and a common whore, especially at night. We are asking all sluts and whores in this city to please refrain from wearing provocative clothing, at least for now. It's not even summer yet. This really shouldn't be a huge deal. But, like everything else in my life, I'm sure it'll become one. How do you stay safe in this city? Try to not suck any dicks for OxyContin, for starters. That'd be a pretty safe bet. Other than that, just watch your back. If you see someone lurking in the shadows, just play it cool. You know our number."

Authorities have asked anyone with information as to who the man in the above photograph is to please call the all-new Great One Killer tip line at 617-GR8-1KIL, which will be up and running sometime within the next two weeks, after Officer Nico Haylen returns from his annual vacation in Barbados.

Arrival of New York rockstar has less than favorable results, disastrous consequences

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

International rock sensation, Rick Ta Life, found himself in yet another sticky situation, when a merchandise table mishap turned into an all-night hostage situation at an independent all-boys boarding school in Squantum.

Life, who is currently the frontman of New York Hardcore bands, Comin' Correct and 25 Ta Life, is best known for the hit song, "Wise to Da Game," as well as the epic modern rock anthem, "Keepin' it Real."

To date, Life is the only rock artist to ever receive a multi-platinum status from the RIAA for a homemade demo cassette.

The incident occurred when Rick Ta Life showed up at the all-boys school, in an attempt to make sure that each student was "staying true to the scene."

Being unsure as to what scene he was referring to, Life immediately began selling the students a shitload of his personal merchandise collection, ranging from t-shirts, records, demo tapes, and a limited edition goose down Maximum Penalty comforter, which is estimated at a value of approximately three dollars.

"That was the moment everything changed," said one student, whose parents asked this his name not be mentioned in this article. "Nobody wanted to hand over three dollars for a goose down comforter with some band that they've never even heard, and Rick just couldn't accept that. He kept screaming gibberish, it was hard to understand. He escorted every student to the cafeteria and placed the entire school on lockdown. After that, the authorities were called with his list of demands. But they had no idea what he was saying. Like I said, it was absolute gibberish. No matter what, though, he remained true to his roots the entire time. That much was sure. Pride, unity, brotherhood, respect; these were the values that Rick kept with him, no matter how out of control the situation became. After a while, it became the only thing we could actually count on for sure."

It was later revealed that Rick Ta Life, at one point, rode a horse.

A photograph taken on that fateful day when Rick Ta Life rode a horse.

"Blah! Gugh! Nyah! Nyah!" Life told authorities, in what became one of the most confusing conversations since the infamous 5-way conference call between Bob Dylan, Tom Petty, Mark Knopfler, Richard Butler, and David Gray.

Sneaking off unnoticed, a ragtag group of rebellious and mischievous boys formed a pack, determined to defeat Life once and for all.

Somehow, after conveniently becoming equipped with several semi-automatic weapons, the group of young rebels were able to overthrow their captor, proving that they, too, were wise to the game.

Upon receiving confirmation that their safety was now guaranteed, authorities rushed into the school, firing bean bag guns at anyone who stood in their way.

"It was one of our better raids," confirmed Officer Nico Haylen. "Anybody within my range got at least one bean bag to the face. It was a dream come true. And nobody except us was armed. That was the great thing about it. There's something so exhilarating about rushing into a building and knowing that the only one who's going to get hurt is everyone but you. I must have hit Rick Ta Life in the crotch about sixteen times. That guy's gonna be keepin' it real with an ice pack on his nuts. You think he makes weird noises on his albums, you should have heard this shit. He sounded like a Chinese family in a fucking garbage disposal. Good times."

Rick Ta Life will be arraigned tomorrow morning at Quincy District Court, where he will face Judge Jack Kelly on charges of kidnapping, terrorism, and general tomfoolery. He is expected to plead "@#$%" to all charges.

Recent scientific study shows mayor still fat

Article by Beak Wilder and Brunk Edwards / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

A recent study conducted by experts shows the excess baggage wrapped around Mayor Thomas Koch's body is going nowhere fast.

The study, which entailed a dozen scientists looking directly at the mayor's face for as long as they could, took approximately thirty-five seconds, and ended with all twelve participants resigning from any future dealings with the city.

As for what these recent findings mean for our city, no one can be sure.

"There was nothing scientific about this study," complained Dr. Juan "Bleeding Gums" Fernando. "All I did was look at some dude and confirm that he was fat. It really wasn't that hard. And the fact that his dress shirt was custom-made from an old Papa Gino's tablecloth didn't help. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that the blazer he was wearing was made out of potato skins from Grumpy White's, but, I would hope that's not true. That would just be too bizarre."

Dr. Fernando later confirmed that the word "too" should, in fact, be italicized.

"Look, I'm not trying to tell the people of Quincy how to vote," Dr. Fernando added. "But maybe a guy whose cologne is just watered-down marinara sauce spliced with a dash of catsup isn't the right man to be running an entire city. Especially one with a $226 million dollar budget. I mean, just look at the guy. He's about as tall as my 6-year-old daughter, he's built like a Chevy Astro van, and, to be quite frank, he looks like he has the sexual integrity of Ed Gein."

While several residents spoke in favor of the mayor, most others did not, some of the more pathetic ones going as far as to make fun of him on their blogs.

"Mayor Koch is a disgrace to this beautiful city," remarked Dino Bland, a wealthy investor from an undisclosed section of Quincy. "Men hate him because he nags like a woman. And women hate him because they are repulsed by his small shoe size. No matter how hard he tries, the man just can't seem to catch a break, yet still he leads. Like the plump, little boy-king he is, he looks down upon us, sitting in his snake-skin high-chair, judging us like the politicians of old. Empty your pockets, Quincy. The boy-king is hungry. Oh yes, he is very hungry, indeed."

To learn more about Dr. Juan Fernando, please visit the World Wide Web.

Google Maps incident causes citywide panic

Article by Beak Wilder and Brunk Edwards / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

An incident on Google Maps has caused panic in the streets of Quincy, resulting in multiple injuries and at least three deaths.

The incident began when area man, Raddo Slawbowski, noticed that his father could be spotted doing yard work in a Google Maps screenshot of his house.

As with almost anything else in this city, the discovery of this incident led to an immediate citywide panic, eventually peaking with an explosive military attack on a remote research center in Marina Bay, which experts believe was mistaken to be Google's North American headquarters.

“It’s just too much!” screamed Slawbowski. “All I tried to do was get Google Maps directions from the UMass Amherst campus to my own house. This is what happens, technology has turned our innermost fears into reality.”

Clawing his face into bloody ribbons with his bare hands, Slawbowski gurgled a final prayer to the pagan god of wind and cursed the internet into a hellish damnation. Immediately regaining his composure, he was heard to remark, "Ah fuck, who cares,” before casually dialing Yellow Cab for a ride to Quincy Medical Center.

"Life in Quincy is different since the Google Maps Incident," remarked Allston-renowned scientist, Matty Hammers. "Before the Google Maps Incident, the people of Quincy were at peace. They felt free to sunbathe on their lawns. When they wanted to make a drug deal, they just went ahead and did it, without a care in the world. And if they wanted to sit on their front stoop and drink warm beers with nothing but a bathrobe on, that's exactly what they did. But now, after the Google Maps Incident, people know that there is an eye in the sky. Now, they have to act differently. They have to act civilized. And that's not what these people want."

Hammers was last in the news after a fistfight with NewsRadio's Maura Tierney nearly cost him his seat on the Allston Scientist Council.


The Google Maps Incident, where Slawbowski's father can be spotted doing yard work.

"People went nuts," remarked Officer Nico Haylen, who declined to comment any further. "And that's all I can really say about that."

Haylen then stared directly into the eyes of a passing businesswoman, startling her into placing an absolutely impenetrable restraining order on him.

Haylen will face Judge Beverly Reinhold tomorrow in Quincy District Court, where he is expected to plead insanity to a series of charges, each of them stemming from his foolish behavior, horrendous work ethic, and overall lack of common decency.

"If anything, we should learn from this incident," added Hammers, as he applied his signature wax seal to a handwritten apology letter to the Tierney family. "The people of Quincy have shown that they are unable to cope with even the slightest change without resorting to rioting and mayhem. Just because one man's father can be seen doing yard work on a Google Maps screenshot, doesn't mean that we no longer have privacy. With the facts I have been presented, this appears to be nothing more than an isolated incident. But the important thing is that we remain calm. We don't want another Michael Douglas Incident on our hands. Look what happened there. Some guy just happened to pause Basic Instinct at an awkward time and ended up becoming so entranced by Michael Douglas' faith-shattering gaze, that he just loaded up his entire gun collection and started taking people out. I know how it sounds, but it happens all the time. If you don't believe me, Google it."


The Michael Douglas Incident, which led to over thirty deaths in Adams Shore.

While roaming bands of vigilantes were still being sought out by authorities, Mayor Koch’s office issued a public statement advising all computer-illiterate citizens to refrain from having their neighbors print out a copy of the controversial photograph.

Larf Chemoholic, the city's official spokesman on Google images and compulsive user of the “play now” button available on internet jukeboxes, expressed dismay at the incident, but offered advice to those who are still suffering from it’s horrifying mental image.

“Just stay calm,” stuttered Chemoholic, as he spilled half of his boiling hot cinnamon hazelnut coffee onto the bare legs of his secretary. “If there’s one thing I can assure you people, it’s that a still shot of a man wearing cut-off jean shorts doing some yard work is nothing to riot over. Stop killing each other.”


A previous press photo of Chemoholic, which was deemed inappropriate for minors.

Nervously staring up at the sky, his face obscured by shadow, as an ominously approaching asteroid loomed toward Earth, Chemoholic uttered a final comment before fleeing in a bulletproof 1996 Ford Taurus.

“This picture is the least of our problems now…”

Thousands apply for mediocre jobs at Quincy's new BJ's Wholesale Club

Article by Beak Wilder / Photos courtesy of the World Wide Web

Thousands of applicants gave it their best shot during a tremendous job fair held for those interested in working at Quincy's new BJ's Wholesale Club.

The new store, which is set to open this spring, will create 160 new jobs.

BJ's Wholesale Club, the Natick-based wholesale shopping conglomerate, known for it's uncanny ability to almost never overcharge for products, has been a staple of Corporate America for quite some time now.

"It was a very healthy turnout," remarked company spokesman Joe Fruitopia.

Fruitopia, who is the co-founder of the since-defunct eponymous beverage line, was the personal inventor of the Beachside Blast flavor, a fan favorite amongst those who like to take it easy and cool off in a scenic coastal community.


Joe Fruitopia, in a 1997 press shot that was inevitably scrapped due to poor reviews.

"It was the kind of range we were anticipating," Fruitopia added, as he casually soothed his inner workings with a tall glass of Pepto Bismal. "People love bargains. And when they hear that bargains are coming to their town, they want in. I've seen this all before, far too many times. It's amazing how much a failing economy can effect how much one is willing to work an entry-level job. I don't think I'll ever get passed that. People are so desperate in times of need."

Stepping back to light a freshly-rolled Cuban cigar with a fistful of hundreds, Fruitopia then faded backwards into the darkness behind him. And as the darkness consumed him, the sound of a child's laughter could be heard, which, after a brief moment, turned into a soul-crushing, blood-curdling scream.

The all-new 85,000-square-foot store will be located on Crown Colony Drive, and is said to be on track to open this April.

Ed Hardy douchebags spotted at Quincy's Club 58

Article by Beak Wilder / Photo courtesy of the World Wide Web

Two Ed Hardy douchebags were spotted at Quincy's Club 58 on Saturday night, causing many residents to wonder what the fuck is next.

Ed Hardy, the Southern California tattoo artist, who is known for his subpar blend of standard flash art and overly obnoxious color schemes, has long since been the subject of public ridicule, even amongst residents of the Granite City.

Having received a "no wear" rule in late-2007, the Ed Hardy clothing has been banned ever since, although many of those who shop at stores, such as Marshalls and TJ Maxx have attempted to bypass this.

"I don't get it," claimed Salton Pepper, a self-proclaimed "expert on clothing lines, tattoos, and social trends," last in the news after causing a 52-car pile-up in Squantum. "I just don't get it. This is absolutely one of the worst clothing lines I have ever seen. And the tattoos aren't even that great. I'm gonna go ahead and say that this is nothing more than another social trend."

While many residents demanded the immediate deportation of the two men, others were unsure of what that entailed.

"I don't even know what deportation means," claimed Ricky McAlvin, a known creep from Montclair, who frequents the establishment to date rape the same three girls every weekend. "I'll tell you what we should do, though: we should take those two dickheads and escort 'em to the Quincy border, and never let 'em back in. That's what we should fuckin' do."

There is no word yet on where, exactly, McAlvin would like to have the two men deported to, although the most likely candidate is Weymouth.

Authorities have asked all Quincy residents to please refrain from attempting to commit any form of street justice against those in Ed Hardy clothing. They have, however, stated that, while it may be impossible to avoid these people at all times, it is best to stay clear of Ford Broncos and Jeep Wranglers that are blasting Social Distortion's "Story of My Life" at an ear-splitting volume.