National Nitwit

(New York) Apple CEO Steve Jobs expressed a "rush of emotions" when he learned of the high level of initial orders for the company's new iEnema, a product that provides consumers with the first colonic irrigation device that also combines iPod and cell phone functions.

"I have to admit: my first thought was that this was like dumping millions of R&D right down the toilet," he said. "But after thinking about it in a deeper fashion, I realized that colonic patients don't have much else to do while waiting to expel the contents of their bowels after an enema."

The Apple iEnema includes a 2 megapixel camera, 8 GB of internal flash memory, and holds up to three quarts of enema solution. The iEnema also comes with a douche attachment for female users in need of vaginal freshening.

"We have already uploaded obvious song choices for consumers, like 'Shake Your Booty' and "Doin' Da Butt,'" noted Jobs. "But our ultimate goal is to provide the finest in audio and communications accessories for patients, especially those with chronic cases of fecal obstruction. If you are looking at several hours of bowel-stimulating enemas, you can pass the time listening to Nickelback or some other equally-purgative shlock."

Jobs added that the Apple iEnema comes with standard colon hydrotherapy accessories such as sanitary, disposable speculums and gravity-fed rectal tubes.

"But let's face facts: some users are sort of wild and freaky, and the iEnema is not just for colonic health," he chuckled. "So you can program Luther Vandross, pour yourself a glass of wine, and sit back and enjoy hours of orgasmic rectal saturation, immersing yourself in the heady sensation of intestinal void."

Labels: Apple, colonic, iEnema, iPhone

A National Nitwit Guest Editorial by Sgt. Ian Rowling
United States Army

Rowling giving an Arab teen water to rinse her deflowered lady business

As a rigorously trained Army sergeant, I know this conflict in Iraq is growing more and more unpopular every day. With over 3,500 dead soldiers, untold stacks of dead Iraqi civilians, the astronomical waste of tax dollars, and no discernable end in sight, most Americans are probably wondering just what this war, as the old Edwin Starr song goes, “is good for.”

Well, my friend, let me tell you: sweet, sweet Arab pussy.

You’re probably thinking this is a crass summation of the death, destruction, and human suffering manifest in this protracted international conflict, but I need to ask an important question—have you ever felt the warm, moist box of a sheepherder’s daughter slide so perfectly over your cock that it felt as if God himself specially crafted it for your slightly left-leaning purple-veined howitzer? Thought not.

Or have you ever broken some brown vixen’s hymen over a mule’s back while her two snot-nosed younger brothers look on in terror at her bare breasts, which have only recently developed into meaty C-cups? Check and mate.

As civilians, you’re only getting one side of the story, and with all due respect, it’s the California liberal bring-our-boys-home-now version. Which is far from the truth indeed if you fall asleep every night, as I do, to the gentle weeping of a tenth grader who only moments earlier had your Johnson, balls-deep inside her puckering snatch.

So you see, this war is good for something after all.

Labels: Arab women, Iraq, Iraq war

Left: Still image of freed coke fiend Paris Hilton

(Los Angeles, CA) In what has been described as the end of a "long, dark nightmare," dozens of LA-area coke dealers expressed euphoria over the release of heiress and party girl Paris Hilton.

"Look - it's more than the fact that she can Hoover up eight to ten ounces of blow a week," said 'Tino,' a longtime pharmaceuticals rep to Hilton. "This chick has the ability to pay on time, and in cash, unlike certain **cough** Sizemore **cough** people I know. That, plus she doesn't try to screw you out of money with the old 'twenty-over-a-wad-of-ones' bullshit like a certain actress with the initials LL."

Dealers across the city noted sales increases of between thirty and fifty percent within hours of Hilton's release.

"Oh yeah - we are moving some serious Bolivian marching powder today, my friend," said 'Little G,' a fixture on the Hollywood party scene for over a decade. "We figure half is 'get out of jail' presents for Paris, while the other half is for clubbers who hope to get her stoned and nail her near the grease barrels out back of Club Les Deux."

Contacted by National Nitwit, sources in Columbia noted that production has been in "high gear" for two weeks to meet the pent-up demand.

"Without a doubt - there has definitely been a rebound effect from the 23 days Paris Hilton was locked up," said 'El Traficante,' a major cartel representative. "We saw a fifteen percent drop in wholesale prices right after they announced she was jailed, but we have more than made up for it with a near-doubling of prices in the last week. Hell, this puta alone can quaff up more flake than Robert Downey Jr. and Tony Montana on a three-week bender in a spider hole with a cell phone and an unlimited Platinum card."

(Washington, DC) Rising prices and declining incomes caused US consumer confidence to drop to its lowest level in six months during May, according to a survey of DC-area hookers.

"Oil prices have risen recently, helped by tensions between the west and Iran, while equities suffered a nasty plunge earlier in the month," noted longtime Southeast DC streetwalker 'Mystery.' "The threat of lower business investment and the housing market slowdown are part of the equation, too, but basically? These are some lowdown dirty fuckers who think the economy is in the sewer."

"Chastity," a hooker who frequents Chinatown, believes market instability plays a role in the downturn in consumer confidence.

"Apprehension about the short-term future has suddenly cast a cloud over consumers’ confidence," she said. "The recent turmoil in financial markets coupled with the run-up in gasoline prices may have contributed to consumers’ heightened sense of uncertainty and concern. That, plus my man Tino has been shaking down my clients for protection money and shit."

Both hookers noted a rise in economy-related behaviors in their clients.

"One of my regulars shows up with a used condom and expects me to put that rickety shit up in me," said Mystery. "And when I tell him that's gonna be an extra tip, he about had a heart attack on the front seat. I tell you - with the turmoil in subprime mortgages and with core inflation levels above the Federal Reserve’s preferred upper limit, we're pretty much fucked out here."

Labels: consumer confidence, DC, hookers, prostitution, Washington

(New York) Capitalizing on the success of their marketing program for the Fourth Meal - "the one between dinner and breakfast" - Taco Bell executives announced plans for the creation of Fifth and Sixth Meals.

"This isn't, you know, rocket science here," said Taco Bell President Greg Creed. "Training customers to eat extra meals just means more profit, and besides - we've never really figured out what to do with all those leftover refried beans and diced tomatoes from the other meals."

Creed said that the Fifth Meal will be known as "Restore-hurl."

"Pretty basically, this meal is to replenish the stomach after the Fourth Meal," he noted. "The Fourth Meal is usually wolfed down after a night of heavy drinking at the bar, and within minutes winds up on the parking lots of the businesses next door to Taco Bell restaurants. 'Restore-hurl' puts energy back in the system after the violent expulsion of the Fourth Meal."

The new Sixth Meal, said Creed, has received the tentative moniker of "Splatter-Batter."

"This will help late-night partiers whose mad dashes to the john at 6:00 am have caused dangerous reductions in electrolytes, carbohydrates, and intestinal lining," he said. "Splatter-Batter gives you the get-up-and-go you need to - well - get up and go again."

Labels: Fifth Meal, Fourth Meal, Sixth Meal, Taco Bell

Left: The Founding Fathers would probably own Chevrolets without noise control devices

(Pittsburgh, PA) Annoyed by what he described as an "unprecedented assault on freedm of expression," local car enthusiast Faszfej Buzikurva announced that he is forming a group of like-minded car owners to fight the city of Pittsburgh's muffler laws.

"I grew up under communism, so I know a thing or two about repression," said the naturalized Hungarian immigrant. "No longer should we let some of these politicians who are taking away our simple constitutional rights away let this country fall. All the pinheads who vote for these petty laws that take away American freedoms should be put on trial for treason."

Buzikurva said that his 1967 Chevy Impala with a modified 396 Turbo Jet V8 engine was a "symbol of freedom."

"These roaring manifolds represent more than just the audible byproduct of internal combustion engines, dammit! This, my friend, is the music of freedom! Freedom of expression and the right to live free in a free country," he bellowed over the revved engine. "Ignorance is all I can say to those who believe that street machines are public nuisances. These little cry-babies whining about the noise have no idea what freedom is all about."

To Buzikurva, engines are an intrinsic American symbol of freedom

Americans, added Buzikurva, do not realize the "gradual erosion" of their civil liberties, and this caused him to form ARMED (Americans for the Removal of Mufflers and Exhaust Devices).

"If we don't stop this legislative insanity then we will be overrun by the goverment, and the land of the free will be torn from our bloody hands," he said. "If these people had lived in the past, they would have been shot down by Hitler or Stalin, standing in line obediently oblivious to state power and mowed down like stupid sheep. Today it's mufflers, but tomorrow they will come for you and your children."

Labels: ARMED, Chevrolet, Hitler, mufflers, noise pollution

Guest editorial by Man in Bed, Hungover

Sure, they're cute, and yes, they have pretty songs. On most mornings I would be sitting on the deck, latte in hand, and enjoy the music of the morning.

But I've got a hangover, and I've about had it with these cock-sucking songbirds.

If I could stand I would walk to the closet, grab my .22, and shoot every last one of those chirpy-ass bastards. Then I would cut the heads off their carcasses and run them through metal spikes, planting the bloody bird-heads around the house as a warning to any other motherfucking birds who might want to serenade me.

As it is, all I can do is lie here and puke in this Tupperware container as these goddamned avian devils torture me.

When I get better, I am going to buy a flamethrower and burn every fucking tree within 100 yards of my house, depriving these winged fuckers of a place to torment me. Then I am going to purchase a 55-gallon drum of industrial-strength rat poison and mix it with bird seed, so I can not only kill these Godless tweeters but also watch them scrunch up their tiny bird-eyes as the warfarin slowly induces fatal internal bleeding, and as they look up at me with their death-faces, I will hollowly laugh like a crazed, homeless quantum physicist.

Until then, you shit-eating winged bastards.

Labels: hangover, hungover, songbirds

Left: "Unappreciated" radio host Merriwether

(Portland, OR) Late nite host Mark Merriwether of KGON-FM grows weary of creating "masterful mixes" that seem to fall on deaf ears.

"The other day I followed Chicago's "Beginnings" with The Doors' 'The End,' but not a single listener called in or emailed to let me know they made the connection," he said, scratching his neck. "It's like I am playing records to an audience of mind-numbed zombies or something. Even my pothead cousin Henry smoking a fat Blunt would have figured that one out."

Merriwether admits that his 7 pm to 12 am shift "ain't exactly morning drive," but notes that there are anywhere from eight to twelve thousand listeners at any moment on the classic rock station.

"Sure, they'll call in for Skynyrd's 'Free Bird' or Aerosmith's 'Dream On,' so I know they are out there," he mused, loading a series of commercials. "But can they put a little thought into what I am doing? No freaking way."


Left: The sound of...nothing

A recent experiment convinced Merriwether of his audience's "collective imbecility."

"I thought to myself: 'Mark, let's make it easy for them,' so I played AC-DC's 'Highway to Hell' right after Zeppelin's 'Stairway to Heaven,'" he said, sipping his coffee and starting a 10-song Music Marathon. "But no. Complete silence. Finally the phone rings, and it's some fucking asswipe asking for BOC's 'Don't Fear the Reeefer.' Dear God, just put a bullet in my head. Right now. Please?"

Labels: classic rock, DJ, KGON-FM, Portland

(Washington, DC) The problem began, said First Lady Laura Bush, when one of the President's children bought him a PlayStation 3 for Christmas.

"I thought it would be nice for George to have some fun and relax a bit," she said, wiping away a tear. "And for a few weeks the PlayStation only got used a little on the weekends. But that was before World of Warcraft, and his difficulty handling Hordes."

President Bush received a copy of the video game World of Warcraft in March, and his wife Laura said that things went "totally downhill fast."

"He started playing that darned game sixteen, sometimes eighteen hours a day," she recalled. "He didn't eat, didn't sleep, and - well - he doesn't seem to remember where our bedroom is, either."

Mrs. Bush said that she has tried "all sorts of interventions" to help her husband with his WoW addiction.

"If I threatened to remove the game, he says he's going to hurt himself, because this is the only thing "keeping him sane" right about now," she said, dabbing her eye with a handkerchief. "He had two panic attacks yesterday and he doesn't know what brought them on, but he could not take his hands away from the keyboard. He was convinced that the only thing that would help him was to keep playing, just sitting there saying: 'surge... surge... surge.'"

Left: Deadly addiction

Mrs. Bush added that the President's condition seems to be deteriorating due to his WoW addiction.

"George doesn't go anywhere, never answers his phone, doesn't sleep much, doesn't even shower. All he eats is junk food and Mountain Dew," she said. "Sometimes now he will stay up for five to six days at a time and then sleep for about one, and then go right back at it again. There is trash all over his game room, on the floor. He stays in the far corner of the room, on a filthy old couch, and keeps trying to get the game to bring Saddam Hussein back to life as dictator, but no matter how much virtual gold he spends, it never happens. It's really sad to see him like this."

Labels: George W. Bush, virtual gold, World of Warcraft

Guest editorial by Frank Jurgens, expert driller

Been reading about all that Alaskan drilling, and I got to admit: I'd sure like to do some of that.

You see, I've never had an Eskimo woman, or, for that matter, an Eskimo man. I did eat an Eskimo pie before, but that was like an ice cream. No drilling.

Yes sir - I'd have a couple of drinks with Uqalik, Tiriaq, or Ujarak and we'd get down to some serious drilling. I'd prefer that they wear something like seal skin or whale blubber, but if they just want to get jiggy in the igloo, that'd be okay, too!

Just so long as I get to drill me an Eskimo.

I've pretty much had every type of human there is - black, white, Mexican, men, women, teenagers - even a couple of Canadians one weekend in Windsor.

But I've never had me an Eskimo.

If the snow blocks are a-rockin', don't come a-knockin', if you get my drift

Yeah, I know, it's kind of shallow for me to be sexually fixated on a person's heritage, but there's just something about eating walrus meat and seaweed that gets me hot.

So, this is my goal. I'll have to save up some money for a trip up to Eskimo-land, but I figure it'll be worth it to do some real Alaskan drilling.

After all, I figure all that cold has got to, you know, shrivel the old drill bits, if you know what I mean. A well-hung guy like me's gotta be a regular freak show, and you can just bet I'll have no difficulty finding reservoirs for the old vertical shaft.

Labels: Alaskan drilling, drilling, oil

By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

Left: Kiss - Sex, drugs, and…vaginal freshness?

(Los Angeles, CA)—Veteran rockers Kiss, who are renowned for their exorbitant stage antics and tireless marketing of fan memorabilia, announced their plans to unveil a unique line of feminine hygiene products by summer’s end during a press conference early this morning.

Tentatively named Kist ©, the line of deodorant sprays, personal lubricants, and misting lotions are accompanied by the campaign slogan “Rock Your Bottom”—an overt reference to their hit “Rock Bottom” on 1975’s Dressed to Kill.

“We felt this was the next logical step,” remarked Gene Simmons, Kiss’s notoriously long-tongued bassist. “After the Kiss mouse pads, Kiss alarm clocks, Kiss paper towels and Kiss boxer briefs, we felt we needed a line of products that bespoke integrity and quality. Kist © does all that and more.”

Left: The former nadir of KISS's commercial exploitation

Simmons—whose new reality show Family Jewels airs Monday nights on A&E—has been accused of shameless self-promotion, and many fans feel this new line of products continues to cheapen a once-hallowed music legacy.

“Man, these guys would sell their own mothers if they could,” huffed Vic Cooper, a Detroit native and lifelong fan. “I knew shit was bad when they started making ‘Kiss: The Novelty Flying Disc,’ but this snatch deodorant crosses a line in the sand. These fuckers are dead to me now.”

Labels: feminine hygiene, kiss

By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

Retro Tees: Talkin’ Bout My My My High School Image

(Washington, D.C.)—Target, the über-affordable retail alternative to proletarian outlets such K-Mart and Wal-Mart, has decided to fully embrace the iconic wonderment of classic rock by selling cheap silk-screened t-shirts to witless teenagers.

Acts included in this unique capitalistic endeavor are luminaries such as AC/DC, The Doors, Led Zeppelin, The Beatles, and The Who, among others.

“Imagine, if you will, a world in which rock band t-shirts can only be obtained from concert vendors, out-of-the-way record shops, and cool older brothers,” remarked Target marketing executive Frank Dondalinger in an exclusive interview with the National Nitwit. “Thankfully, this difficult marriage of due diligence and real fanaticism is over—now any zit-faced poser with a ten-spot can be a walking billboard for a great band they’ve never heard.”

Chris Hitchens, a high school sophomore in the Washington D.C. suburbs, reiterated Dondalinger’s sentiments.


Jim Morrison: Singer, sex symbol, a face on your tits

“Jim Morrison did all kinds of drugs and was cool as shit,” boomed Hitchens as he sloppily consumed a steaming Hot Pocket. “I just got my first paycheck from this summer landscaping job I work with my cousin Steve, and bought like, nine fucking Doors shirts. They did that trippy Stairway to the Other Side song. Anyway, you can bet your sweet ass come next school year I’ll be getting blown in the parking lot by Tina Maxwell. She’ll see me, and my new shirts, and maybe some chin stubble if it grows better soon, and be like ‘Oh Chris, I want suck you off, you’re so mysterious!’ Just like that, brother. Mark my words.”

Labels: classic rock, Jim Morrison, Target, The Who

(Chicago, IL) All Stephen Upshaw wanted to do was take a "tiny step" toward rebuilding his relationship with his estranged father, Mark.

"It had been a few years since we spoke, and I know that he is still pissed about the $10 grand I heisted from his ATM back when I was a raving coke fiend," said the younger Upshaw. "So I sent one of those e-greetings on his birthday. Nothing special, you know, just a little trial balloon."

Upshaw received an immediate response in his Outlook Inbox:

Your server has unexpectedly terminated the connection. Possible causes for this include server problems, network problems, or a long period of inactivity. Account. account name, Server: 'server name', Protocol: POP3, Server Response: '+OK', Port: 110, Secure(SSL): Error Number: 0x800ccc0f

"I'm thinking, is this some kind of weird game he's playing?" Upshaw recalled. "I mean, if you don't want contact, that's fine, but be man enough to say so. Or write so, that is."

The next step, said Upshaw, was to use his Yahoo email account for the e-greeting. He received yet another cryptic message:

Computer Support - The host 'mail.gmail.com' could not be found. Please verify that you have entered the server name correctly. Account: 'Yahoo! 360 Broadband Mail', Server: 'mail.gmail.com', Protocol: SMTP, Port: 25, Secure(SSL): No, Socket Error: 11004, Er

"So I'm thinking: You son-of-a-bitch," Upshaw said, digging his fingernails into the arm of his chair. "All I'm doing is sending you a fucking email, and you are back to your head games. I mean, all those years I took it - took it - when he called me names like "shit-for-brains" and "dumb ass" and "my idiot kid," even looking up to him while he did it, and he's got the fucking arogance to pull this kind of bullshit."

The "last fucking straw," according to Upshaw, followed his final attempt to send the e-greeting using a proxy email account, which brought the following response:

--- The transcript of the session follows ---
... while talking to f1n7.sp2net.gsnops.com.:
>>> RCPT To:
<<< 550 ... user unknown
550 ... user unknown

"User unknown? User unknown?!?!? I'm his goddamn son!" roared Upshaw, slamming the lid to his laptop in disgust. "Fuck you, old man. We are through."

Labels: egreetings, email, fathers and sons

Left: Kantner's nasal burden

(Santa Monica, CA) Sharon Kantner says that she waited "a long time" before deciding to enter the world of body piercing.

"I was 36 before I even had my ears pierced," she admitted. "Then I thought I would try out something discreet, but edgy, and I had an emerald nose piercing done."

Unfortunately for Kantner, most people who notice her new green gem mistake the piercing for a piece of dried mucous.

"It happens at least twice a day - someone will come up and offer me a Kleenex or paper napkin," she said, absently touching the palladium setting. "Then there are the moments of awkward silence, when a person is not sure if they should say something to me or not. Lately I've just been yelling: 'It's a PIERCING!', but that's not really a good way to start a conversation, is it?"

Kantner said that the "worst part" is that she cannot remove the piercing at the moment.

"I got it done at a piercing party, and the damned thing got infected," she said. "I'm also getting scar tissue building up, so now I look like Karl Malden with a piece of snot. Just fucking great."

Labels: Karl Malden, nose piercing, pierced nose

A guest editorial by Patrick Holt, a man all tore up inside

Dude, we need to talk. The past month, man, you’ve been nothing but a jerk to me — ignoring my calls, making excuses why we can’t hang out, all kinds of weird shit. After all, we’ve been best friends since 8th grade! So with the NBA finals and summer break a-happenin', we gotta clear the air: what is the big deal with me nailing your sister?

I’ll be the first to admit my faults. I should have told you about this tryst back in September. Having you walk in while I was balls-deep in her syrup-covered anus was not the ideal way for you to discover this sensuous courtship. But it’s not like we’re in high school or anything. Tina is a fully grown and voluptuous 22-year-old woman, and she can totally decide for herself who she wants to blow in a ‘93 Corolla after nineteen hits from a beer bong.

But I digress. You’re her big brother; her ‘protector.’ I respect the hell out of that. Being an only child, I don’t know exactly how that primal urge feels, but I had a hamster named Sammy when I was nine, and I would have totally flipped the fuck out if anyone made him dress up like a Klingon to do the nasty.

When all is said and done, I hope you know how much I care about Tina, and that I would never do anything to hurt her. This is not some random fling. When she gives me that luminous smile of hers, her left eyelid pasted shut with my nut butter, her hair drenched in an unholy mixture of sweat, salsa, and Colt .45, I know we have something special.

So there’s no need to worry about your sister, bro—she’s in good hands.

Labels: beer bong, NBA finals

By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

No jizz, labor rights for these hombres

(Washington, D.C.)—After months of tumultuous bi-partisan masturbation, the Senate failed to achieve any semblance of climax yesterday on President Bush’s sweeping reform of the nation’s immigration policy.

This left many on both sides of the aisle with “a shuddering case of blue balls,” and rendered a great deal of palm-over-fist whackage nothing short of pathetic.

“I beat this bill like it owed me money,” remarked a sweaty and disheveled Sen. Harry Reid, one of the most powerful Democrats in Congress and current Senate Majority Leader. “Normally in situations like this we have no trouble busting a nut, but for some reason we just chaffed, winced, and ultimately, had to quit like an overworked gigolo whose worked himself raw butt-fucking corporate yuppies on their lunch breaks. Not even that PowerPoint slideshow of Condi Rice in crotchless chaps could get our rocks off.”

Other Senators were less grim in their assessment of this joyless meat stroking, and expressed hope for a revised bill in the coming weeks.

“Oh, there’s no doubt we’ll dribble some man gravy on these immigrants soon enough,” remarked Senator Lamar Alexander (R-Tenn). “We’re not going to let these brown lawn jockeys keep working America’s shit jobs and scraping to make ends meet without taking a full-on facial. It’s just a matter of letting our cock rest — after raping Iraq and 69-ing the public school system, our shaft is redder than a turkey wattle.”

Labels: Illegal Immigration, jizz, man gravy

(Beijing) Internet pharmaceutical firm Drug-2-You intends to "go farther than other guy" in becoming the top Web prescription firm, according to founder Jin Yee.

"No doubt - Drug-2-You bring you best sex you ever see," he said, plugging newly-purloined email addresses into a database. "You woman have best time all night with Ci@lis or Vlkagra - you see!"

Yee said that his company carries quite a few other generic drugs, derived from reverse engineering processes.

"Oh yes - we have Lev!tra and Va]ium, too," he replied as he sent out another mass email message for Vlkagra. "Our prices best on Net, and we offer full refund if dissatisfied. You see!"

Left: Yee's innovative e-marketing campaign

Yee said that Drug-2-You has several inherent advantages over traditional pharmacies.

"We have zero advertising cost - just this server," he said, proudly pointing to an HP ProLiant ML110 G3 quietly humming in the background. "Plus - we have zero overhead. Zero. My wife fill the bottles and ship. FedEx bring to you front door. Our merchandise very good. You see!"

Labels: CiAlis, Viagara, Viagra, Vlkagra

(New York) Flush with success from the appeal of their products HeadOn and ActivOn, Miralus Healthcare announced the release of new AssOn pain relief.

"Many acute anal fissures will heal spontaneously, but some fissures become chronic and will not heal, especially those related to rough anal sex," said Sigmoid Deferens, a spokesman for Miralus. "When you have a nagging fissure that interferes with anal sex, AssOn can bring instantaneous relief."

AssOn is a topical product intended for relief of such other disorders as anal abscesses, anal warts, and rectum-oriented sexually transmitted diseases (STDs), said Deferens.

"For those with a particularly athletic anal sex life, nothing interferes with sexual pleasure more than a burning case of anal gonorrhea," he said, pausing to itch his derriere. "Kegel exercises can help improve the tone of the outer sphincter muscle, but they are useless when you've got an open sore oozing just inside the rectum. It's either AssOn or morphine, pal, and personally? I want to be fully awake when some hot stud is pounding my ass like a phone pole in a Pomeranian, you know?"

Labels: anal sex, AssOn, HeadOn

Left: Still image of hostage Paris Hilton

(Los Angeles) Los Angeles militants have released the first video of celebrity Paris Hilton since she was kidnapped two days ago, during which the heiress said she was in good health and being well treated.

"First of all, my captors have treated me very well. They’ve fed me decently, there’s been no violence towards me at all, and I’m in fine health," said a pale Hilton, wearing an light grey jumpsuit and seated before a plain backdrop. "My merciful captors demand the release of political prisoners held in Los Angeles jails, and they would also like a 2008 Hummer. Those things kick ass."

There was no indication as to when the Internet video was produced, but Hilton at one point referred to "here in LA" and its debut marked a new round of international calls for her freedom.

Speaking from DC, President George W. Bush said that the United States was doing everything in its power to secure Hitlon's freedom.

"We are doing everything possible that we can to secure her release, and I hope we will be able to close this chapter in the next few weeks," he said. "I am asking the kidnappers to release her immediately because holding Paris Hilton does not help the South Central cause. Also, I totally dug Paris in that crazy sex video, and I'm hoping to see some more of that shit."

The militant group that claimed responsibility for the kidnapping, and which has posted the video on the Web, is referred to as the Army of Compton. Government officials said that the militants have threatened to bring harm to the wealthy Hilton.

"I believe the phrase they used was: 'turn her out like a five-dollar ho,' and I have no doubt they mean what they say," said a California official who spoke with National Nitwit reporters, requesting anonymity. "But Paris, she is so strong. If anyone could get through something like this, even if it lasted three months, even if it's longer, I think she would be able to stay psychologically strong. This woman is a survivor. No wait; that was another show. I mean this woman knows the simple life, and she is an inspiration to us all."

Labels: Los Angeles, Paris Hilton

By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

Sara Baxter: Fat, Retarded, Ready to Coach

(New York City)—After months of dismal performances and egotistical squabbling, the New York Yankees announced that long-time coach Joe Torre would be replaced effective immediately in a desperate move to “inspire some renewed passion for baseball.”

However, owner George Steinbrenner’s choice has struck many in the Yankees clubhouse—as well as long-time fans—as exceedingly peculiar, since he has elected an obese, mentally challenged twelve year-old girl for the job.

“Folks, it’s pretty simple,” Steinbrenner remarked off-handedly during a heated news conference earlier this morning. “We’ve got one of the worst records in baseball, are only a game or two ahead of the Devil Rays, and still have the highest paid athletes in all the majors. It seems to me, given the situation, that a goddamn retard could coach these boys back to .500 — so that’s what I did. I went out and hired a goddamn retard.”

Steinbrenner explained how he selected Sara Baxter, a native of Des Moines with only one season of tee ball under her belt, for this highly touted position.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Steinbrenner huffed. “Why Baxter? After all, she weighs 197 pounds, has no major league experience, and according to some recent tests, has the IQ of a mule drunk on paint thinner. But I’ll tell you why. These boys of mine have gotten arrogant, cocky, and need to remember there’s no ‘I’ in team. Maybe when they see this sad behemoth of a girl-child helming the bench, cackling with drool as she plays patty-cake with her imaginary friends, maybe then they’ll finally remember what this game is really about.”

Labels: Steinbrenner, Torre, Yankees

Left: recovering espresso addict Kevin Traylor

(Newark, NJ) Kevin Traylor knows a thing or two about addiction.

"When I was about 12, I was smoking pot, drinking, and doing a little acid," he said. "When I was about 16, though this dude showed up at a party with some espresso, and that's how I got introduced to it. My life went downhill from that day."

For the next ten years espresso was the sole focus of Traylor's life. He went through job after job, stealing from employers, friends,and even family members to feed his insatiable desire for the concentrated coffee beverage. He was even arrested and spent time in jail for the crimes he committed while seeking "spresso dough."

"When my feet first hit the floor in the morning I started looking for an espresso fix," he recalled, drumming his fingers on the table. "At first it was pretty fun, but soon I became mentally obsessed, and I finally got to the point that I couldn't do anything but drink espresso. By the time I got myself high enough on pure beans - sometimes up to a pound a day - I started seeing things."

Coffea arabica: tasty, effervescent, and deadly

Rock bottom in his espresso addicition occurred outside a closed New Rochelle bistro.

"I climbed into a dumpster looking for used espresso packets, opening them up and eating the grounds to get high," he said, showing reporters his espresso-damaged teeth. "That's when I knew that I was seriously fucked up."

Now three years into recovery from his addiction, Traylor is on a mission to bust what he calls "the world's biggest drug pusher": global coffee merchant Starbucks.

"Starbucks is selling poison, and they are selling it to kids," he said. "They are marketing addiction, pain and death to children, using that sexy mermaid cartoon character to hook these kids as young as four. These bastards have no souls."

Labels: addiction, espresso, Newark, Starbucks