Liquor Expected to Top $25 Per Gallon by Summer
WASHINGTON (DPI) - It looks to be a tough time for American drinkers when they
hit the bars for the vacation season, with liquor prices
poised to hit record highs. The average price for call brand
liquor is currently $19.50 a gallon, about $1.50 below the
all-time record hit last May, according to the American Binge-Drinkers
Association. Furthermore, ABDA says liquor prices are at their
highest level in months and still rising, and that light, sweet crude alcohol
could get as high as $150 per barrel, up from about $96 currently.
"Thanks to OPEC, it looks like U.S. drinkers will be paying new
record high prices again this year," said ABDA spokesman James Beam.
(Reported by Tristan Fabriani)
Drug Trafficker's TV Career Gets Boost From Prison Stay
Bridgeport, Conn. (DPI) - Connecticut drug trafficker, Carlos
Jimenez, released from prison Friday, considers his
60-month incarceration the best thing that ever
happened to his television career. Flocked by
reporters and photographers trailing Jimenez back to
his New Haven apartment, Jimenez described his
development deal with NBC for a new reality show, The
Dealer, and the various magazine proposals awaiting
him. "People like a survivor," Jimenez said. "A
felon returning from prison to start a new life of
fame and fortune is just the kind of feel good story
people want to see." Jimenez later brought members of
the press samples of his stash to thank them for their well-wishes.
(Reported by Slick Sharkey)
Pope Expected to Rise From Bed By Easter
Clinton Slept With Interns So Elder Bush Wouldn't Have To
Martha Celebrates Freedom With Raucous Late-Night Beating of Her Gardener
Wonder Woman's Plane Forced to Land After Colliding With Flock of Invisible Geese
Quentin Tarantino to Direct/Star In/Fuck Up C.S.I. Episode
Mounting From the Rear Is NOT Anal Sex
A guest Probeatorial
by an Offended Baboon
Given the number of photographers who for some reason seem to like
nothing better than snapping hundreds upon hundreds of pictures of us
baboons engaging in intercourse, I'm figuring there's hardly a human done
breast-feeding that hasn't seen what baboon sex looks like. Evidently, it
looks a lot like what you Homo sapiens call "butt sex."
Look, I understand you all are not the quickest primates on the savanna,
but let's just get this one thing straight: I'm a male baboon, and we
baboons, like the vast majority of mammals, mount our females from the
rear. It's how Natural Selection worked it out -- we can procreate while
keeping an eye out for predators. But trust me -- we're putting the key in
the lock, as it were, no matter what your bizarre human minds may want to
think we're doing.
I won't even bother asking you to explain why you would ever even want
to do what you seem to think we're doing -- I learned long ago that the
Homo sapien mind is way too brutal and twisted to expect a logical
explanation. But we baboons are not like that at all, and I'd appreciate
it if you'd clear that up in your own heads at least.
One more thing: don't knock grooming until you've eaten a few hundred
ticks and fleas. Them's good eating.
(Transcribed by Ishmael Alighieri)
Friday 11th February
Monday 21st February
Nerves still shot from visit to the Moder family over the weekend, to pay
the first official courtesy call to Julia Roberts Moder and her lovely
husband, Hildebrand, now that they have the twins, Armagiddeon and
Farfignugen. The babies are blobs, as all young babies are, fair play to
them, but the mother is charged with the pheromones of motherhood, if
that's the term I want. Her cook, her butler, her driver, her bodyguards,
her scullerymaids, parlormaids, housemaids, handyman, poolman, security
guard are as quiet as can be to weather the storm that is Julia. R. Moder.
She tears through the house, shrieking like a Disney villain. They try
to melt into the wall, to will themselves invisible. They commend their
souls to God.
"Moth, I didn't get a Godiva box from you on Valentine's Day!" she spits during
the air kiss at the door. "No bouquet, not a goddamn thing." "Apologies,
dearheart. I was occupied in my mind by an Argentine socialite who favors
white halter tops last month. Do you not find that now that you are a
mother, no one notices you? That's what my mother always said."
She said nothing in answer, but kicked her waiting manicurist off her
stool as we walked by. Harder than usual. The poor woman bore it though,
the feudal spirit shining through once again. Mexico must be a great
I was asked to hold the ghastly children. I tried to get out of it, but
there it was: first one and then the other let loose a volley on the
gabardined Moth shoulder. Imagine two month old macaroni and cheese in a
Tupperware container put in a Cuisinart with the stuff that gathers at the
bottom of trash bags after the cleanup of a riotous party. Then imagine
the smell. Saville Row staggers beneath the effects of such youthful
vitriol. I laughed it off with a godfatherly wave of the hand, but I am
planning my revenge. The next time I visit this queen of the silver
screen, I will visit the dog pound and adopt the one with the most
virulent diarrhea for the day. Every Moth has his day.