National Nitwit

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

Spears: Her Snatch Is a Toxic Wasteland

(Washington, D.C.)—After a failed marriage, an abysmal career comeback, and an erratic, drug-addled lifestyle that has resulted in the loss of her two young children, it would appear that pop star Britney Spears’ life couldn’t get worse.

That was until this morning, however, when the National Institute for Health deemed Spears’ vagina a national biohazard, and stringently recommended that it be avoided at all costs.

“After extensive biological analysis and a meticulous battery of tests, we have ruled Britney Spears’ vagina a hazard to man and beast alike,” remarked Frank Vespano, NIH spokesperson, during a packed news conference earlier this morning. “It is a foul, odious, ungodly stink-hole, and will destroy anyone who ventures its cavernous depths.”

Vespano outlined the physical and emotional ravages Spears’ vagina posed to the American populous.

“We have received initial reports alleging the vagina has bitten the heads off seventeen penile shafts, and rendered one victim’s left hand deformed beyond reckoning,” Vespano soberly intoned. “And these horrific encounters are not merely limited to random hook-ups with Olsen twin bodyguards. Just yesterday we received an anonymous tip from a bi-curious coed whose tongue turned the color of pea soup before it fell off entirely.”

Citizens were warned that even the slightest interaction with the vagina could result in irreparable damage.

“Some of you are probably thinking ‘oh, it couldn’t be that bad—what harm could come from an over-the-panties clit rub?’” Vespano poignantly noted. “Well, go ahead then, if you are willing to lose two moistened fingers and your soul. No encounter is too brief—not even a drunken dry hump in the backseat of an Escalade.”

Labels: Biohazard, Britney Spears

By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

An Inconsolable Mavis Chokes Back the Tears

(San Bernardino County, CA)—As California wildfires continue to ravage home and forest alike for the sixth consecutive day, twelve year-old Trevor Mavis is enduring his own personal loss.

His collection of pornographic magazines, conspicuously hidden in his treehouse, has been lost to the onslaught of smoke and flame.

“We live away from the city and have a pretty big yard,” Mavis recounted in a slow, belabored voice while staring stoically into the horizon. “I guess I should say HAD. We lost the house and all our stuff, and that’s sad n’ all, but the treehouse…I’ll put it this way: I had 27 copies of Playboy. I don’t have 27 t-shirts. Jimmy Richards, the rich kid in my class, doesn’t even have 27 X-Box games. That treehouse was a treasure trove of boob, straight up.”

Mavis went on to note that his loss was insignificant compared to the seven lives lost thus far, but that it gave him little comfort to think of what the future may hold after the blaze subsides.

“I guess it hasn’t really hit me yet, ‘cause we’re living in this shelter and there are all these hot bitches from the Red Cross and National Guard, not to mention the college girls volunteering,” Mavis pondered. “But at some point we’re gonna have to return. And I’ll see that treehouse, that place I learned about three-ways and female ejaculation, all burned to ash…[pause]…that’s all I got, man. Let’s stop this interview.”

Labels: California fires, porn, San Bernadino

A National Nitwit Special Report
By Billy Pilgrim, Rogue Editor

(Los Angeles)—Famed magician David Copperfield has become the center of a whirlwind FBI investigation in recent days that has resulted in the cancellation of his current tour and the seizure of millions of dollars in personal assets.

Copperfield: Can’t Keep Those Magic Hands to Himself

And while some claim the impetus is a rather serious allegation of sexual misconduct, Copperfield himself announced today that the entire legal inquest is, in fact, his most recent magical exhibition.

“Watch as the FBI seizes my passport and combs my hard drive for any shred of evidence,” Copperfield charismatically intoned during a press conference earlier this morning. “You can plainly see there is nothing up my sleeves, nor any wires or pulleys, and yet soon—quite soon, in fact—my reputation will be jeopardy once the details of this investigation hit newsstands. But know that this is all my doing! You are baring witness to the greatest magic trick the world has ever seen!”

Copperfield continued to emphatically explain how these seemingly detrimental charges of misconduct were actually a carefully orchestrated performance.

“Any magician can saw a woman in half, or make a flock of doves appear out of thin air,” Copperfield calmly reflected. “But it takes a magician of profound skill indeed to let the world witness his utter embarrassment and ridicule, only to be triumph in the end, and have the entire drama be an illusion of his own making! And think, not a single ticket sold! This entire show is free for the world to see, and I, David Copperfield, have made you all believe!”

Labels: David Copperfield, FBI

By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

Walsh: Young, Hip, and Stingy as Hell

(Washington, D.C.)—Ian Walsh, a self-described “latte slurping eco-hipster,” has been a lifelong fan of National Public Radio’s left-of-center investigative reporting and quirky personal-interest stories.

But nothing riles Walsh more than NPR’s annual campaign to raise membership and funding, and this year he claims it’s hit an all-time low.

“Like all loyal listeners, I know NPR needs funding to keep innovative programming alive,” Walsh remarked while finishing his most recent blog entry on his leather futon. “But come on—last night they interrupted a report about fish hatcheries in Indonesia, and this morning a piece about German hostels was cut short…I NEED this news, people, not your bitch-and-moan spiel about listener support yada yada.”

Walsh sipped some steaming chi tea and completed a brief yoga stretch before continuing.

“The whole reason I listen to NPR is because they, like, get me and stuff. And I gave them $20 back in ’02 or ’03, so there’s no reason to guilt trip a dude into shelling out his Discover Card,” Walsh remarked. “But I’m sorry—when there’s a gripping narrative about a blind girl in Madagascar making belts out of turtle shells, and you follow that with some Donation Power Hour, it really makes me question the emotional integrity of my local station.”

Labels: NPR, Washington D.C.

Left: Border collie not their key to happiness

(DeKalb, IL) After eleven years of fruitless efforts trying to conceive, Phil and Barbara Kellerman thought that they would try a different path to fulfill their parental urges.

"We brought [border collie] Mitzi home about six years ago," said Barbara, opening a photo album of the dog's first year. "Things seemed fine at first, but deep inside I knew that the dog could never really replace a real baby."

Phil believes that things "really went downhill" for the three of them when Mitzi was about 10 months old.

"Right about when Mitzi first went into heat, she and Barbara stopped getting along," he said, scratching his head. "Then right off Barbara took the dog in to get it spayed. She didn't even ask me about it. I can't help but think she was jealous of the poor dog."

Left: Mitzi wonders how it went so wrong so fast

Phil said that he really feels bad for the resentment that Mitzi has faced.

"It's not like it's the dog's fault or anything," he said. "But when I bring up to Barbara what a - well, total bitch she is to the stupid dog - she tells me that me and Mitzi ought to pack our bags and move out. I wish to God we had just gotten a couple of fish like I wanted, or maybe just a Chia pet."

A National Nitwit Special Report
By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

(Washington, D.C.)—To the utter surprise of political pundits and journalists around the world, former Vice President Al Gore was among a United Nations team of climate change activists who won the Nobel Peace Prize earlier this morning.

But perhaps what is even more remarkable was Gore’s “ghetto-flavored response,” which was littered with expletives and derogatory remarks leveled against President George Bush.

A Vindicated Gore: Fouler Than a Truck Stop Toilet Seat

“I’ve had to look at this dumb-ass nigga for eight years, knowing he took my motherfuckin’ job n’ shit,” Gore remarked while swilling a massive bottle of Courvoisier cognac straight-up behind an elaborately decorated podium. “But I guess he got to rec-og-nize now, son! His approval ratings are lower than Nixon’s during Watergate, and my ass just won the most prestigious motherfuckin’ humanitarian award there is. Holla!”

Gore continued to celebrate despite his increasing level of inebriation.

“Where’s that Jenna Bush ho at?” Gore slurred while tugging at his belt buckle and swaying wildly. “Y’all seen that bitch, right? Goddamn shorty lookin’ good! If she be here, I swear I’d put a tube of Vaseline on her ass and pound until her eyes popped out, right in front of all these motherfuckin’ cameras. Now somebody call Papa John’s--daddy needs to feed.”

Labels: Al Gore, George W. Bush, Nobel Prize

A National Nitwit Guest Editorial
By Frank O’Riley, Diehard Washington Redskins Fan

O’Riley: His Rosacea Matches His Burgundy Jersey

On Sunday, the greatest team to ever play the game of football — the Washington Redskins —
trounced the Detroit Lions 34-3 in an ass-pounding blowout. But there are some jagoffs out there who still think those soulless, cum-gurgling Cowboys and their golden boy Tony Romo are the NFC’s best team.

You know what, though? If Hitler was alive today, he’d be a Cowboys fan, and that would be just another reason to invade Europe and kick his Nazi ass all over again.

How do I know Hitler would be a Cowboys fan? Tons of reasons. For starters, the Cowboys have always played their brand of thug ball, just like those goose-stepping fuck-bags who threw all those innocent Jews into death camps and shit. Roger Staubach? Thug. Troy Aikman? Super Thug. Michael Irvin? Worst. Thug. Ever. I could just see that loud-mouth bastard gassing a whole room of naked shivering preteens without an ounce of remorse, because that’s how he played on the field every goddamn Sunday.

And don’t get me started on the Cowboys uniform. I mean, they have a star on their helmets for Chrissakes! They openly mock the Holocaust as if it never happened n’ shit. I mean, I’m no Jew, but c’mon…what kind of heartless scat-muncher plays four quarters of pigskin while simultaneously tainting the memory of twelve million mass-murder victims?

If Hitler was alive, he’d have season tickets on the fifty yard line, rooting for these mung-slurping hillbilly rejects every time they made a play. I can just see him now, with that little faggot mustache of his, screaming his crazy guttural German each time Romo wiggled his girlie ass up to the line of scrimmage to make another limp-wristed screen pass.

So week in and week out, I root for my ‘Skins, but I also root for whoever is playing the fucking Cowboys, because it’s not just about football—it’s about freedom, and Jesus, and whatever beer happens to be Dollar Draft of the Week.

Labels: Dallas Cowboys, Washington Redskins

By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

Ali: a My Chemical Romance Fan, Perhaps?

(Baghdad, Iraq)—Ali Hassan Abd al-Majid al-Tikriti, commonly known to Westerners as “Chemical Ali,” announced earlier this morning that he “utterly fucking regretted” his “retarded-ass nickname,” as his internationally-sanctioned execution for war crimes draws ever closer on Thursday, October 4.

The former Ba’athist Defense Minister—who was also a first cousin of Saddam Hussein’s—has been implicated in countless death squads and unconscionable political dealings, which have resulted in his impending hanging.

And yet, it seems Ali is most concerned with his nickname at this critical juncture in his swiftly-diminishing life.

“How many famous dictator underlings can you remember with bullshit nicknames like ‘Chemical’? I can tell you: fucking none, pal,” Ali bemoaned from his jail cell in an exclusive interview with the National Nitwit. “Sure, maybe it was cool a decade ago when I sounded like a rapper, but now it’s just straight-up lame. I mean, would [Nazi mastermind] Goebbels have ever gone by ‘Propaganda Joe,’ or [Marxist revolutionary] Trotsky let people call him ‘Commie Leon’?”

Ali continued to highlight how his legacy as a mass-murder and tyrant lapdog would be tarnished by his lack of a dignified moniker.

“You’d think after gassing a few thousand innocent civilians in my life, they could call me something cool, like ‘The Butcher of Basra’ or ‘Kurd Killer,’ but it looks like I’m stuck with this shitty shit,” Ali chided as the faint slap of solitaire drifted through the phone receiver. “I tell you what though—when they publish my private diaries years from now, the world will know all the great names I never had. And maybe, just maybe, history will know me as ‘The Tikrit Time Bomb’ after all.”

Labels: Chemical Ali, Iraq

Guest editorial by Paul Dresden, motivational speaker

In the late 1960s I was a young man looking for his calling in life. A severe case of recessed arches kept me from serving this great country overseas, and I was depressed that I had to remain on the homefront while others made the ultimate sacrifice for the America.

But as I look back on that time, I see thousands of Vietnam vets who are having themselves a huge pity party over their experiences. Guys who get up in the morning and tell themselves that seeing some gook's head getting blown off by an M-16 is going to define them, guys who allow themselves to be caged like scared little rabbits just because they lost a limb in some war.

You see, if I had ever served in 'Nam, you can be damned sure I wouldn't have turned out batshit-crazy. You can learn more about my award-winning technique with my "10 Simple Steps to Instant Success, Inner Strength, and Dynamic Network Marketing" tapes.

It's like this: each one of us in the world are here to learn necessary lessons. Some of these lessons require strength to survive, while others require dicipline to stay commited and focused during that lesson. Through my personal growth system, I have developed the inner strength I need to survive these hard lessons and the discipline needed to remain focused, and to return to my laser-beam focus when I get knocked around by life.

But these 'Nam vets who haven't developed that inner strength are letting the past hold them down. Sometimes, you know you should go for a walk, because it's good for your health and makes you feel great afterwards, but you get lazy and watch TV instead.

It's like that with these crazy 'Nam vets - they're basically lazy people who haven't developed the inner strength to deal with memories of babies being burnt or 14-year-old girls getting raped by the platoon leader. If these loony bastards would just buy my "10 Simple Steps to Instant Success, Inner Strength, and Dynamic Network Marketing" tapes, they could tap the secrets of Fortune 500 executives at the top of their game in the vicious jungle that is Corporate America.

Many of the difficulties people encounter through life often seem bigger than they really are. If you just step back and evaluate it from a different perspective, you'll find the solution is right there in front of you. Those nightmares of that old lady getting her throat slit by the psycho radio man in Bravo Company can be overcome by a mind that is well nourished with positive thoughts, if you just let it happen.

These nutjob 'Nam vets could find success and happiness if they just took advantage of a program like my "10 Simple Steps to Instant Success, Inner Strength, and Dynamic Network Marketing" tapes. And remember: to make it real, you have to believe it, mister. That's a freebie. For the rest, you'll have to purchase my tapes. A guy's gotta eat, right?

Labels: motivational tapes, Vietnam, Vietnam vets