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Man isn’t going to clean up after dog anymore

DULUTH, MN – Multiple sources have confirmed this morning that Raymond Garrison of 1270 West Fourth Street isn’t going to pick up his dog’s poo anymore. When the proverbial dog clock strikes deuce, Garrison is going to casually look around for witnesses, pretend to be engrossed by an important text on his phone, and simply walk away.

If local buzzkills call him on it, he’ll claim to be out of bags and offer them a hearty, “But I got you next time, bro.” Garrison made the official announcement to his neighborhood this morning.

“I’ve reached a point in my life where I’m frustrated and things aren’t going that great, so from now on I’m just going to leave my dog’s turds wherever,” said Garrison, shocking onlookers. “I know it’s gross. I know I’m an asshole. I just don’t care. Fuck all of you. I’m living the rest of my life just for me. Feel free to use the hose in my yard to wash off your shoes.”

Nation devastated after third straight year of mediocre Super Bowl commercials

After yet another Super Bowl filled with bizarre, incredibly unfunny commercials, Americans are revolting. Violent protests and random acts of anarchy are burning brightly in nearly every city in the nation as citizens finally found an issue on which they’re willing to risk it all.

Throughout the years, Americans have peacefully co-existed with unconstitutional torture, drones that deliver death sentences without due process, careless bombings of civilians in the Middle East, the illegal surveillance of the entire nation’s private communications, repeated police killings of minorities, and a ban on Muslim immigrants who won’t convert to Christianity. Yet mediocre Super Bowl commercials was the issue that finally drove the country to rise up.

“I fucking hate that Yellow Tail kangaroo commercial, and I can’t take it anymore!” said Regina Farkas as she threw a molotov cocktail through the window of a department store. “Anarchy! Burn the whole nation to the ground! No one wants to pet your fucking roo, you fascist animatronic Showbiz Pizza looking piece of shit!”

Judges cranky about having to come in on weekend to save democracy

The president’s order blocking immigrants from seven predominantly Muslim countries had major parts of the order struck down by the courts this weekend. And the judges were none too happy about coming in on a weekend.

“What is this, fucking amateur hour?” said a groggy Judge Ann M. Donnelly of Brooklyn’s Federal District Court, static cling leaving parts of her seafoam green bathrobe visible under her judicial robe. “I have to trudge over here at 8am on a goddamn Saturday for this bullshit? If you wanna be a fucking idiot, do it on a weekday. No, you can’t block people with valid visas from entering the country just because they’re Middle-Eastern. Jesus Christ, son. The whole world is watching. Put your flaccid dick back in your pants where it belongs.”

After the decision was signed, Judge Donnelly cracked open a grenade bottle of Mickey’s malt liquor.

“Sweet Christ, what a hangover,” said Judge Donnelly. “I can’t so much as take a dump without these morons giving me some new idiocy to unravel.”

Moments after Judge Donnelly’s decision, an equally cranky Judge Leonie M. Brinkema of Virginia’s Federal District Court handed down a similar decision.

Kirby Puckett underpants, Croatian prostitutes and a hot tub filled with pumpkin spice lattes: Ryan’s inauguration as Columnist of the Year

8:30am
As the first act of his term, Columnist Ryan went vaping with local youths outside the Spur station. The Columnist-Elect initially lost favor with the youths by saying “Some pretty sweet vapes, huh guys?” but regained their trust after agreeing to buy them a case of Keystone Light. The $9.57 was billed to local taxpayers.

9:30am
Columnist Ryan attended a tea and LSD reception hosted by Duluth News-Tribune columnist Sam Cook and three of his favorite squirrels. Held in the South Portico wing of Cook’s 600-acre mansion – which is filled almost entirely with live squirrels – the festivities ended with both columnists photocopying their buttocks and publishing the results in the Jan 26 edition of the News-Tribune. If your edition is missing this insert, call the newspaper at (218) 723-5281 to request one.

Please buy leggings from me on Facebook

Hey folks! Where do you wanna go? That’s right, to Uncle Paul’s Online Leggings Emporium! I’ve transformed my personal Facebook page full of sad, blurry cat photos into a virtual showroom of tacky leggings! Dress yourself in the same stain-hiding patterns used for decorating the seats of city buses! We’ve got leggings patterns so busy that it will look like someone barfed all over your legs!

Made with space age polyester, our leggings are thin enough to rip off in a fit of passion and slingshot at Justin Bieber’s limo, yet thick enough to technically qualify as not rubbing your bare ass all over your own furniture, Ramblings Leggings come with a laminated certificate that guarantees the certificate is laminated. You won’t get that if you buy these smelly fart catchers from LuLaRoe!

Or will you? Who knows! Those hacks copy our sweet deals all the time! (Note: Our stock is purchased directly from LuLaRoe)

Impoverished? Don’t have a job? Not to worry. Nearly 195 percent of people who buy Ramblings Leggings end up selling them to even bigger idiots for twice the price! A recent pair of leggings thought to have been sneezed on by Magnum PI star Tom Selleck recently sold for $32, a steep increase over the $25 retail price. One lady’s sweaty used leggings is another lady’s sweaty used treasure!