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A Note to Readers

Subcommandante Bob has been quite busy the last few months, in large measure due to some outstanding bench warrants and an aggravating, extended case of ennui. As a result, he has not updated the sites in quite a while, and it may be a few weeks before he gets the motivation to post new material.

However, know this: Bob loves you, especially when you buy the first and subsequent rounds. Also, he'll get around to being creative real soon. Promise.


I Will Cherish This Inauguration Day Porta-Potty Turd Forever

A National Nitwit Inauguration Exclusive
By Evan Banister, D.C. hipster

Change Has Come…to Banister’s Bowels

Years from now, long after America has recovered from this economic tailspin, and our standing around the world returns to its hallowed status, and I’m all old n’ stuff having forgotten the sweet glory of a blowjob, I will turn to my grandchildren and say, from whatever side of my mouth the stroke leaves working, “I shat on the National Mall the day Barack Obama took his oath of office.”

Now I know some folks find the Porta-Potty to be a disgusting cesspool of filth and disease, but let me tell you: after fifteen Miller Lites and three of those bad-ass Vegan enchiladas Susan packed in the cooler, I had no qualms about spreading my cheeks on the same seat as my fellow countrymen, regardless of whether or not they had crotch crickets.

Today was about hope. Today was about change. Today my catastrophic whale-bellow farts reverberated off those thin plastic walls while Aretha Franklin’s soulful voice crooned over this nation’s fair capitol.

So when I tell my grandchildren, through bouts of drool and hacking, that I pooped a mere five hundred yards from America’s greatest president on the day he set a straighter course, they will gently pat my ass with wonder.

And then promptly change my Depends.


Crackhead Recalls Flight 1549 Horror

Crackhead Left: Accident witness "Tweaky"

(New York, NY) Local crack cocaine afficianado "Tweaky" Williams, recuperating from what he described as "trauma and shit," described for reporters his "close call with death and shit" in the wake of the US Airways Flight 1549 accident in the Hudson River yesterday.

"I just finished sparking up this dime rock I scored after selling some plasma when I saw the plane fly overhead," the former Toledo, OH native recalled, visibly shaken at his experience. "The next thing I knew, it got obscured by a bunch of buildings, and I filled up my stem for another bodayshus hit."

Tweaky said that after exhausting his supply of crack cocaine, his buzz was interrupted by the sound of screaming sirens.

"I gotta admit - I was paranoid as shit," he told reporters, scratching his left arm and looking agitated. "I thought the police was after my ass, but I deduced straight up that they was heading for the [Hudson] river. Close call, my friends, close call."

The magnitude of the accident "totally hit home" when Tweaky passed a Broadway appliance store several hours later.

"I looked in the display window, and there it all was: plane, freezing waters, people being pulled into boats," he said, jerking his head toward unseen persons behind him. "I thought to myself: 'Shit, Tweaky, that coulda been you, if you had a job and were flying someplace or shit.' I mean, life comes at you fast, right? Listen - my car broke down, and I need some money so I can drive to Jersey and visit my kid for his birthday, but I spent my last $20 on medicine for my other kid. Any of you reporters got ten bucks to help old Tweaky out?"


Jilted Pedophile "Hurt" After Being Dumped for Younger Man

(Terre Haute, IN) Craig Baxter believed that he and his junior high sweetheart had "the perfect relationship." That, at least, was until ex-girlfriend Kylee Andersson delivered him a breakup letter last week, sealed with a heart-shaped Bratz Passion sticker.

"We shared everything together - long AIM chats, telephone calls in the middle of the night, going shopping at the mall while I pretended to be 'Daddy' to keep the security guards from getting freaked," the 55-year-old accountant said. "But I guess when Kylee's profile said that she was a 'mature' 12-year-old, she was just stringing me along. And her whole 'Best Friends Forever' bullshit? Lies, just lies."

Baxter met Kylee in a room at TeenChatPlanet.com, and he said the two "hit it off right away."

"We shared a lot of the same interests: hanging out with our teen friends, keeping special secrets, and dreaming of finding that one true love," he reminisced, wiping away a small tear. "That, and freaky motel sex. Or so I thought, because the next thing I know she's hooked up with some 25-year-old skateboarding asshole who delivers pizzas. PIZZAS! I mean - what is she thinking? What kind of security is there in that?"

Visits to the mall will never be the same for the forlorn Baxter

Most importantly, said Baxter, he is going to be "much more careful" in the future as he assesses his love interests.

"Honestly, my roller-coaster ride with Kylee has taken more out of me than any of the other young girls I've dated," he admitted, pausing to clean his glasses, which fogged up at the painful memories. "I'm not just going to put my soul out there like that for every Missy or Jamie who comes along, and you can bet I'm going to have to think twice if Kylee calls, begging me to take her back. A guy can only give so much or his heart, you know, before it breaks forever."


It’s Another Lonely New Year’s Jerkin’ Off to Natalie Portman

A National Nitwit Guest Editorial
By Biff Saidoff, Brooklyn-area Cab Driver

Saidoff: Lubed and Ready

How ya doin’. Seems like every fuckin’ year goes by faster than a purse snatcher—I drive my shifts, watch the Yanks shit their fuckin’ diapers, and BOOM—I’m another year balder with this fuckin’ gout.

And what with the ex-wife in Chicago, and not a date in nine months, yada yada, it’s gonna be another lonely New Year’s jerking off to Natalie Portman.

You probably know Natalie Portman from all her fuckin’ flicks—The Professional, that shitty new Star Wars trilogy, V for Vendetta—the list is longer than a fuckin’ horse dong. I’m not really a movie buff myself, but this will be the fourth year runnin’ that I crack out the Jergens and Puffs Plus.

Portman: Like a Friggin’ Jalapeno

It’s hard to describe the fuckin’ uncontrollable hotness of this broad. She’s half Jew, has tits perkier than a coked-up terrier, and hardly brushes her friggin’ hair. I can’t go two minutes in one of her movies without thinkin’ about goin’ balls fuckin’ deep on that tiny little bod she gots.

So if you’re out there Natalie, and you happen to read this, I know my fuckin’ mug is uglier than a sewer grate, but I’d give you the ride of your fuckin’ life.

And it would sure beat milkin’ my cannoli another year, that’s for sure.


St. Peter “Totally Out of Ideas” For Christ’s Birthday

A National Nitwit Holiday Exclusive
By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

St. Peter: Help a Brotha Out, Parishioners!

St. Peter, the bedrock of the Christian church and perennial guardian of heaven’s pearly gates, admitted earlier this morning he was “absolutely 100% out of ideas” for Jesus’ 2008th birthday, and was desperate for suggestions from loyal believers.

“I had hoped to stage a full concert with the Jimi Hendrix Experience now that they’re all finally dead,” explained an exasperated Peter between puffs from an unfiltered Camel. “But Mary pounced on that shit as soon as Mitch Mitchell died last month. I mean, she met his ass at the door, drum sticks in-hand. That was the last ace up my tunic.”

Over the course of two millennia, St. Peter has surprised the risen Lord with all manner of wondrous gifts—from the coronation of Charlemagne in 800 to St. Francis of Assisi’s inspired construction of the first manger scene in 1223—but claims “this year I’m simply running on empty.”

“I’m announcing an open call for ideas—heck, you don’t even need to be a Christian,” Peter huffed as he crushed his Camel butt beneath the sole of his sandal. “Muslim, Hindu, Taoist. I don’t care. If you have any ideas whatsoever, or can get Bob Dylan back in the studio to cut another gospel album, or you happen to be a wide receiver for the Jets and can help Favre win one last Super Bowl, send your prayers to: Peter, P.O. Box 1, Keys to the Kingdom Ave., Heaven. I don’t mean to brag, but I can make it worth your while.”


Mommy, We Are So Very Cold!

Guest editorial by your frozen fertilized eggs

We were so happy when you harvested us and we got fertilized by Daddy's sperm way back in 1996, Mommy! We knew how much you and Daddy tried and tried and tried to have a baby, but your yucky old uterus just wouldn't let a baby conceive.

And how excited we were when the twins Josh and Jason were born in 2002, and we just knew that our turn would come soon.

But Mommy: it's so very cold here in this cryogenic freezer!

We know you are busy with your new job, and the twins are now off to school and everything, so you probably want to have some freedom again. But Mommy: the other six of us have been waiting a looooong time for you to come and visit us, and we are dying to know which one of us will be your Next Baby.

I'm secretly hoping it's me, since my zona pellucida is frozen solid. But no matter who gets to be Mommy's Next Baby, we know you're coming back for us, right?


Oh, and if you and Daddy have decided to forgo having another baby without telling us, then I hope you fucking die, you cold-hearted bitch. We've just been sitting in this liquid nitrogen chamber for, oh, A FUCKING DECADE, you know, and the closer we get to absolute zero, the harder it is to have a little hope for the future.

I'm sorry, Mommy, for being naughty and all. It must be the cold. Did I mention how FUCKING COLD IT IS IN HERE?

Whoops - guess Little Missy has a potty mouth. I'll bet you can't wait to thaw me, carry me to term, and Spank My Bare Bottom for being so bad.


Babe, I'm Absolutely Sure "JYQZUX" is a Legitimate Scrabble Word

Guest editorial by Craig Phelps,
Dedicated Scrabble Player

Look, Babe: I've been playing Scrabble almost all my life, and I I know a thing or six about how the game is played. Heck, I bet I could recite the official Scrabble rule-book by heart, if need be.

And I'm absolutely sure "JYQZUX" is a legitimate Scrabble word.

When I last used jyqzux, I was playing my Dad and he challenged me on it. "Jyqzux" is of Arabic origin, and it refers to a land tax on goat farmers or some shit. Now, I know foreign words aren't normally used, but jyqzux started entering the English lexicon about 100 years ago, and even folks in places like Wyoming and Alabama use jyqzux to describe their tax dealios.

What? You don't believe me? Well, if that doesn't beat all - I'm a certified public accountant, for Chrissakes. I'd no more cheat at Scrabble than I'd set a nun on fire, that's for damned sure.

And just because the Z is on a triple-letter score, and I managed to connect the word to a triple-word score doesn't mean a thing. I play this game for the fun, not to win.

And if you don't like jyqzux, you may as well say you hate America, for what it's worth, because I'm pretty sure that al Qaeda would even allow jyqzux.



African Tribe Relishes Worthless Church Donations

By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

Qwembe’s Tribe: Grateful for the Catholic Trash

(Nairobi, Kenya)—Like many children of his tribe, Masif Qwembe, 12, has little to look forward to in his daily routine: his parents are unemployed, his school is woefully impoverished, and often he sleeps with an empty belly, huddled for warmth beside his three sisters on a small grass mat.

All of this changed earlier this month, however, when the Catholic Church’s Archdiocese of Baltimore donated several boxes of outdated textbooks, broken toys, and other assorted items deemed “too crummy for a parish yard sale.”

“What a blessing from the Lord that the American Catholics have sent such kindnesses,” Qwembe explained through an interpreter. “Never in my life have I seen a 1974 Chevy Nova, but I now know how to repair its transmission thanks to this glossy-covered manual.”

Other children of Qwembe’s tribe radiated his sense of appreciation for the hodgepodge rubbish.

“I plan to line the walls of my hut with these McGraw-Hill world maps from 1956,” explained a euphoric Franny Kuboa, 9, who sprinted from a neighboring township to get her share of the goodies. “Not only will I learn the names of former Soviet satellite nations that no longer exist, I can also block the cruel night wind from my dying grandmother’s bones.”

For some members of the tribe, however, the jubilation was simply beyond words.

“I tell you, not for three years have I wiped my ass with anything other than these two hands,” beamed Johnny Ngunu, 37, a local farmer. “But now, after reading each page of this amazing book called Get to Know Your 1983 World Champion Baltimore Orioles, I can wipe like your great American warrior Cal Ripken, Jr.!”


McCain to Nation: “I Didn’t Want the Job Anyway”

A National Nitwit Post-Election Report

By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

McCain: Frankly, He Didn’t Even Vote for Himself

(Phoenix, AZ)—After a week of seclusion and reflection following his landslide loss to Barack Obama in the 2008 presidential election, John McCain made his first major post-election appearance earlier this morning at a press conference in downtown Phoenix.

With his trademark smirk and thinning white comb-over, McCain gruffly announced that he “didn’t want the job anyway,” and was glad that he could return to his dozen homes scattered across the country to relish his minimal obligations as a senator.

“Being president pretty much sucks, my friends, and boy am I glad not to be picking out new drapes for the Oval Office right now,” McCain intoned before an audience primarily comprised of student reporters for area high school newspapers. “I mean, I can’t even raise my arms higher than my chest—can you imagine me trying to hang drapes? What a joke! I much rather stay home and watch a John Wayne marathon on AMC.”

McCain finally reverted to his ‘straight talk’ demeanor following several months of negative campaigning, and divulged many secrets that appeared long bothersome to the aging senator.

“My friends, I really had no plan whatsoever for the economy,” McCain reflected. “As far as the war in Iraq is concerned, it’s such a clusterfuck that even Jesus Christ and a horde of samurai angels couldn’t bring peace to the Middle East. And in regards to healthcare, I’m glad to finally admit I truly hate babies, and parents, and seniors, what with all their prescription pills and whining. So it’s a good thing I’m not president after all—I like my job as a Senate war hero guy.”

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