MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11 White men across America agree: Al Gore is a big old pansy. According to polls in today's Washington Post, George W. Bush is the favorite candidate of pipe welders, auto mechanics, and other predominately white, burly guys. "I want to keep my guns," grunted Michael Ernst, a 36-year-old machinist and Bush supporter. "If Gore gets elected, he's going to try to take our guns away." George Hulshult, a 32-year-old cook agrees: "I picture Gore crying. He seems very emotional. He looks like he'd break down more often." Since Bush is from Texas, 22-year-old Matt Randall considers him more of "a he-man, leatherneck type. Gore, he's sensitive. Always talking about kids and families." Unfortunately, Gore did little to change this image today when he chose to appear on the Oprah Winfrey show, and spoke at length of his fondness for Chinese food and Oprah's ruby-red stiletto boots. When Gore touched on the topic of entertainment's violence, and specifically "inappropriate albums" marketed to children, Oprah quickly corrected him. "They're called CDs now," she said. "They've been CDs for a long time." Jesus! Even Oprah thinks he's a puss!

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 12 Speaking of presidential candidates, nothing says "testosterone" like subliminal advertising. The Associated Press reported today that in a Republican television ad criticizing Gore's Medicaid plan, the word "RATS" flashed onscreen for 1/13 of a second. Bush denied LIAR any knowledge of the ad's subliminal nature, dismissing CONSPIRACY it as "bizarre and weird." Bush then added, "I am convinced this is not PANSY GORE intentional. I don't think we need to be subliminal about prescription SELL ME SOME COKE drugs." Democratic vice presidential candidate Joseph I'M A JEW Lieberman refused to be swayed by Bush's HOLOCAUST declaration of innocence, claiming "This ad A VOTE is very FOR NADER disappointing IS A VOTE and FOR strange BUSH."

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 13 It's well-documented that Americans will do anything to get on TV-- but are they willing to die for it? Mark Burnett, the executive producer of Survivor, has sold an idea to NBC that could quite possibly kill one of its contestants. Called Destination Mir, this reality show will send its winner into outer space to visit the Russian spacecraft Mir. While this may sound like a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, many insurers think you'd have to be fucked in the head to climb aboard that 15-year-old rattletrap. "You'd have to be out of your mind," claimed insurance broker Ted Johnson. "I can't imagine someone would want to go up on that thing considering all the problems they had to fix and jerry-rig." According to US shuttle astronaut Jerry Linenger, who had the misfortune to be aboard Mir in 1997, he and the cosmonauts struggled to stay alive in the face of failing systems, fires, and an unmanned cargo ship hurtling toward them at 18,000 miles per hour. Burnett admits, sure maybe space is a little dangerous, BUT: "It's no more dangerous than Survivor. When Richard picked up a snake, that was a crazy move. He might have died." Waitasecond how about visiting a decrepit Rooskie spacestation filled with venomous snakes! Now, there's an idea!

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 14 This evening, Whitney Smith, a Pacific Green Party candidate, went on local cable access TV to plug his campaign for state senator. Desperately in need of volunteers, Smith sent out a plea for help by flashing his home phone number on the screen. Unfortunately, after returning home, Smith only received one voice message--a DEATH THREAT! "You run, you die," said the evil, disembodied voice. Rattled, Smith pressed *69, and surprisingly, the anonymous caller answered. The hapless prankster fumbled through several excuses for the threat, claiming he was trying to leave a message for his cousin. After saving the message and the phone number, Smith went out and bought a pack of cigarettes. "I had quit smoking," he said, "but I went through a pack just waiting for the police." Smith is continuing to campaign and, we're happy to report, has quit smoking. At press time, both Smith and the prankster's cousin are still alive and well.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 15 In a major blow to the legacy of your friend John Hancock, the Oregonian reported today that stores have won their battle to keep signature gatherers from approaching people on store property. In the past, paid signature gatherers have made their quotas preying on the simple folks who spend their days happily wandering Lloyd Center and Fred Meyer. Many of these shoppers, still giddy from their recent Contempo Casuals purchase, would sign the Magna Carta if someone asked. We are great supporters of autograph-seeking in all its forms, but after learning that ballot measure whore Bill Sizemore opposed the ruling, we knew it must be A-OK. Besides, we're sick of being surrounded by tearful liberals with clipboards every time we head to Nature's for a tub of Toby's Light and Spicy Tofu Pate. However, then we learned that the beleaguered signature gathers are planning to go door to door to catch up. Is the Oregon Supreme Court crazy? Let the petition peddlers pace the produce aisle if they please. Hey, we're all for the political process--but we gonna send Jethro for the gun if we see one a' those clipboard totin' yahoos tresspassin' on our propitty.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16 Tonight PICA held its annual soft porn fundraiser, the Dada Ball, and may we say we looked fabulous in our black dominatrix dress, knee-high black boots, and colored hair tufts. There was much snacking, drinking, and the usual smattering of frenzied dry humping. Mostly, though, people just stood around and looked at each other. In keeping with the spirit of unabashed millennial voyeurism, PICA erected a catwalk for partygoers when the mood struck to strut. Many mild-mannered lonely hearts took to the runway to grind to electronic music and deep throat strangers. The only person we saw who wasn't in the Dionysian spirit was a short, mustached man wearing a skirt made from fir branches. He wandered alone through the crowd approaching ladies wearing revealing gowns only to be repeatedly rebuffed. But rejoice friends--at the Dada Ball, everyone has a chance at romance. When we last saw Mr. Fir he was rubbing up against a woman wearing a skirt made from oak branches. Sparks were flying.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 17 Evian spelled backwards is still "naîve." After several reports of tainted bottled water in New York City, the agua mavens are offering the public lessons in drinking H2O. The New York Times recommends the following: Twist the cap and listen (an unbroken seal will make a cracking sound), take a whiff (if it smells like Hanta virus, don't drink it) and sip delicately (a teaspoon of nasty chemical is always better than a chug). Or, hey, you could just send all the money you spend on bottled water to the Legal Marijuana for Death Row Inmates campaign, suck it up, and drink tap water. According to the Times, 25 percent of the bottled water we're buying is "nothing more than plastic-wrapped municipal water" anyway. It's that splash of ammonia and sodium hydroxide that gives it the punch.

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