National Nitwit

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.

Labels: Scrabble

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this changed earlier this month, however, when the Catholic Church’s Archdiocese of Baltimore donated several boxes of outdated textbooks, broken toys, and other assorted items deemed “too crummy for a parish yard sale.”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

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.”

By Billy Pilgrim, National Nitwit Rogue Editor

Pulcher: Fighting Cancer Dockside in His $150 Pre-torn Jeans

(Annapolis, MD)—Annapolis is one of America’s last vestiges of colonial architecture whose burgeoning middle class remains stoic and fashion-conscious despite our nation’s economic tail-spin.

And on any given day, you can Frank Pulcher there at Annapolis’s lone Hollister retailer in the downtown mall, bravely folding hoodies and battling the rampant lung cancer caused by his employer’s ridiculously overpowering store fragrance.

“You know, a lot of folks in my family say I should sue this place—after all, you can smell the bitter perfume all the way down at KB Toys around the corner,” Pulcher explained in between fits of painful coughing. “But I believe too much in this brand to let a simple thing like upper respiratory failure get my way.”

Pulcher continued to express his passion for helping customers locate the perfect cork sandals, polo shirts, and corduroy slacks, which he noted “were total must-haves for any gentleman during this fall season.”

“Getting cancer really has a way of changing your outlook on life,” Pulcher reflected as he popped the collars on a row of heavily wrinkled Oxford button-downs. “Sure, I could quit and get chemo or whatever, but what happens when some college bro needs a new half-zip fleece for an Octoberfest BBQ, and only has $179 to spend? There’s only one sales associate in this store up for that challenge: me. So maybe I’ll die tomorrow, or maybe I’ll die next year, but with God as my witness, I’ll continue to help dress this great city, one douche bag at a time.”

Labels: Annapolis, Hollister