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Clinton Admits the Two Girls He Brought Back From His Oriental Envoy Are Not the Missing Journalists

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Los Angeles, CA – The Ling and Lee families are now claiming that the two women former President Bill Clinton returned from North Korea are not their loved ones. Clinton was initially stunned by the allegations. 

“Laura Ling and Euna Lee are home safe and sound,” insisted Clinton.  “They were treated well by their North Korean captors, and they were both very grateful, to me personally, for their new found freedom.”

Clinton then repeated the words “very grateful” several times while giggling to himself.

When reporters asked why the Ling family is considering legal action over what they are describing as an “emotional rollercoaster,” Clinton stiffened. “Those ungrateful bastards!  I go through all the trouble of wooing those little…all right. I admit it. Mistakes may have been made.  I get a little overexcited when Hillary let’s me leave on a road trip un-chaperoned, if you know what I mean.”

Clinton faltered further as the press conference turned ugly.  He came up with several reasons, one more ridiculous than the next, as to why the misidentification was not his fault.

“After all,” said Clinton, “there was certainly a chance, albeit a slim one, that these women were Laura and Euna.”

At one point during the heated press conference, Clinton said, “I did not have sexual relations with those hookers.”

Mr. Clinton apologized to the Ling and Lee families in a heartfelt poetic speech.

He then asked, “If it’s not too much trouble, could you send the girls back over to my place.  Tell them it’s for their debriefing, but briefs are optional, if you follow.”
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My Facebook Needs a Face Lift

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Dave Atsals

A friend and fellow Discordian, who would like to remain Mickless, recommended we all register on Facebook, and I hate him for it.  I opened an account, a public one, no less, and thanks to Pierce Winslow’s great idea to use public accolades instead of our real names, well…let’s just say I’ve gotten about what I deserve.  NOTHING. ABSOULTELY NOTHING.  Facebook, or no, the expected herds of adoring fans have yet to materialize.  The sexy blonde female stalkers have not overwhelmed my home page.  In fact, I haven’t even had any hate mail.  Nothing, nada, nichts.   Worse yet, despite the endless spam ads assaulting my web searches, the awful truth is: there are absolutely no hot single women in my area waiting to talk to me!  None!  It’s all a lie!  AHHHHhhhhhhhh! Distraught and disenchanted, I turned to the internet to search for my true popularity.  Wikipedia’s search results for Dave Atsals are as follows:

Dave Stalls, my ass.  I’m not a Query either, although I can belt out some show tunes when plied with enough alcohol.

My Google search for Dave Atsals resulted in this: did you mean Dave Astels? A few links to Discord articles also appeared, but who the hell is Dave Astels? Upset by this imposter stealing my thunder, I checked my real name.  After all, Dave Atsals is a sobriquet like all famous writer-folk and escaped convict types use (or even those few people, like yours truly, that happen to be both).   Again, my search revealed nothing—nothing but a few public court related documents. 

I did have much better luck with my YAHOO search.  Dave Atsals, pulled a lot of links to the Daily Discord, and that glory-seeking son of a bitch, Astels, was thankfully nowhere to be found.  My real name was actually linked to an Obituary, not my own, of course, at least I’m reasonably sure. 

I then decided to search the names of some of my friends and relatives, figuring this would make me feel better. WRONG.  The search of my father’s name pulled 30 hits, my mother 10.  Hell, when I searched my son’s name I got 15 pages of listings, and he hasn’t even been arrested yet.  For Christ’s sake my dog’s name got two hits.  Of course, that’s only because he bit my neighbor in the ass.  Sorry about that, Dad.

I then searched for some other things.  Famous Dave did not turn up any related articles, but I did spit out a great BBQ pit place that sounds worth a try, or perhaps a future franchise.  Any investors out there?  They even let kids eat free.  Famous Dave is also a porn star with a 10 inch accoutrement; couldn’t possibly be me (famous Dave falls a little short).

My search for Famous Dave Atsals didn’t even reveal anything in English.  But it did say “DO YOU MEAN FAMOUS DAVE ASTALS?”  Screw him, and, no, I’m not a gay porn star either.

I guess this writing thing isn’t bringing me the fame and fortune I duly deserve.  Plans are now in the work to gain fame the old fashion way, “on the cover of the Rolling Stone.”  I can see it now. I’ll buy five copies for my 10 hits mother.  Of course, the police news section is a far more likely spot to keep up with my antics. 

I did find some relief when I searched for Pokey McDooris, and Mick Zano.  Their names didn’t even pull up links to the Daily Discord. They did pull up some articles about tin cups, cell bars, and front steps, but that’s a whole other article.  Oh, and just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, I get a call from Mick Zano.  Get this, he promoted me to marketing and sales manager about a day after writing this puppy.  Yeah, that sounds like a great idea, marketing manager of the Daily Discord.  Did you mean Daily Dischord?   Screw you, Zano!  Last time I listened to you I ended up with a storage unit full of Betamax VCRs.  There is some good news amidst this pile of ego shriveling horse dung.  Our old marketing manager is now working for Dave Astels.  Good luck with that Davey.  See you in the Obits soon. 

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Archeologist Ignores Disembodied Call of Subterranean Old Ones

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Arkham, MA – When a mysterious summons ebbed from a newly formed fissure in the Earth’s crust, Dr. Sterling Hogbien, of the Hogbien Institute and Boutique, decided, in his own words, to “give it a miss”. The aged archeologist felt that climbing through the nethermost caverns to the ancient tomb of Yog-Sothoth in the heart of the deep-frozen city “just sounded like a bad idea.”  Hogbein asserts that the huge sinkhole formed in his backyard shortly after poring over a grimoire known only as the Necronomicon.  A tentacled god-like beast from unknown Kadath then psychically reached across the void and asked Hogbien if he wouldn’t mind tearing out his own throat and bringing him the ancient text, in no particular order. Hogbein reportedly apologized for any inconvenience, but denied the request on the grounds that he really needed to do some laundry and get to the bank that day. 

“I don’t know why anyone would wade down through the subterranean Black Lake of Ubboth when there are perfectly reasonable things to do around the house,” said Hogbien.  “Some people take this archeology thing a bit too far.” Although, to be polite, he did tell the monstrous inter-dimensional entity, “maybe next time.”

According to Hogbien the hole has since resealed itself.

When asked if he had any regrets about not climbing into what might have been the archeological discovery of a lifetime, Hogbien replied, “You’re fucking kidding, right?”
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DAVID CARRADINE DIES IN HANGKOK, THAIHAND

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Intercourse, PA – Our own Ghetto Shaman is contesting allegations that David Carradine, the former television and movie star, hung himself in an autoerotic- asphyxiation session gone bad.

“He just wasn’t like that,” explains the Shaman.  “Sure he made me wear a clown costume and called me his ‘young grasshopper,’ but otherwise he was a missionary-only man.”

The Ghetto Shaman sends his condolences to the Carradine family and is wondering if he might get his Blood on the Tracks Dylan CD back, “if it’s not too much trouble.”

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