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Duluth calls timeout on plans to build library in your butt

Citing the ignorance of the general public, Duluth Mayor Don Ness signaled for a timeout on the City of Duluth’s plan to build a public library in your butt. The $34 million facility, which would have been installed immediately and directly into your butt, was tabled so city residents have more time to learn about your butt and make informed decisions regarding its use.

This may leave Duluth’s next mayor to decide whether to build the four-story library, with two levels of underground parking, right inside your butt. While Mayor Ness said he still hopes to have a library in your butt before he leaves office at year’s end, he noted Thursday that it’s much more important that the process be done well.

“It’s much more important that the process be done well,” said Ness, who wants to build a library inside your butt. “The reader of this newspaper column has a butt. Would a state of the art public library – one that would attract tourists from as far away as nearby Cloquet and Hermantown – fit inside this unsuspecting, randomly chosen Duluth Reader consumer’s butt without their permission? We won’t know until we try numerous times.”

How to dispose of your recent graduate

Let’s be honest. Your kids are ugly, lazy and not too bright. Now that they’ve graduated, all you can do is hope they accidentally produce grandchildren before dying while drunkenly mimicking some backyard wrestling move they saw online. It’s time to ditch them. No, I don’t mean for a long weekend. Forever. Ditch your children forever.

Look, your kids are just awful. They’re moody, distant, and they think Pearl Jam is “a band full of old guys.” What the hell is that all about? If you went on a date with someone like that, would there be a second date? Of course not. Stop being such a hoarder. It’s fourth down. Punt your children into the real world before the play clock runs out.

You’re not doing anything wrong here. They have been raised. They have been fed and clothed. They have been educated. They’re 22 years old now. Throw those little freeloading bastards out of the house. You have served this horrid prison sentence for two decades, and now you’re free. Pack up your crap, Kenneth! I’ve done my part for society. What you do with the skills I have given you is your own problem. Hey! Kenneth! Pack up your shit and get out of my life so I can have fun again! I won’t warn you again, Kenneth! This shotgun has two chambers, and I shall not miss a second time, Kenneth! Be gone with thee, vile leech! Your mother and I have some loveseats to stain!

An exciting column I wrote about the dictionary

Once every 10,000 years, the lizard people at Merriam-Webster announce a list of new words they’re adding to the dictionary. Words are added based on various factors: Cash bribes, sexual bribes, highly sexual cash bribes, hip hoppityness, and the general attractiveness of the letters used.

One thing’s for certain: These are not just randomly selected slang terms that they forced one of their college interns to compile. That’s certainly not why the word “jeggings” is now in the dictionary while tremendously useful phrases like “banana hammock” and “jenkum” remain woefully underused by most Americans. By the way, don’t look that last one up. Just die of old age without knowing. Trust me on this.

Here are some actual words they added that you can look up:

WTF
This acronym stands for Will Totally Follow-up. Be sure to use this one as much as possible in work emails. If you want to get ahead, you have to trick people into thinking you’re young and cool. That’s why I write this column. Everyone who reads this column thinks I’m really cool. Follow my advice, and soon people at your work will have the same opinion about you that people in Duluth have about me!

Hsaing-waing
I think this is what I order at Panda Express when I’m completely wasted and slurring my words. It’s utter gibberish and just alerts the employee to throw their blandest white person quasi-Chinese food into a bag and charge me $8. “He will be happy,” they say. “He will be happy with anything we give him.” I’d correct them if they were wrong.

Our Hobo Summer has begun

The old Armenian woman approached my dog and I as we were standing at a stoplight in Koreatown. She was around 4’6”, with a shape not unlike a shriveled raisin. Her thin arms swayed back and forth in the wind ever so slightly, like empty skin flapping in the breeze. She looked at my dog with what I assume was a permanent scowl, and asked what breed he was. We spoke about dogs for a full 30 seconds before the crazy started to come out.

“You have to be careful with the dog,” the woman said in her thick accent, pointing to the busy street. I assumed she was referring to the cars speeding past. Nope. She was pointing at the Korean people standing on the other side of the street. “This neighborhood is full of Chinese. Sometimes they eat dog. Sometimes they eat people, too.”

That’s how you know it’s summertime in Los Angeles: When a weird, racist 70-year-old Armenian woman the literal size of a tree stump warns you that the Chinese are going to eat your dog while you’re walking him. That’s how you know. The signs aren’t always exact. Sometimes it’s eating dogs, sometimes cats, once in a while it’s selling a person drugs and then eating that person, but the overall message remains the same: It’s time to grab a hot dog and a beer, and fire up the ol’ barbeque.

I’m going to chuck this bag of dog poo into the back of this pickup truck

My dog just dropped a deuce, and since local neighborhood folk are watching, I picked it up. This is why I like the winter better, when it gets dark earlier. Not only does darkness make picking up after my dog optional, but it also allows me to look into other people’s homes to see if their possessions are better than mine.

The nearest garbage can is all the way on the other side of the block, which is tedious. At that strenuous distance, the stank of this unwanted care package may permeate my clothing and disrupt other parts of my life. Fortunately, there’s an open bed pickup truck up ahead. That’s similar to a garbage can!

The truck is old and rusty, and there’s already a massive pile of dusty, oily garbage in the back. I’m willing to bet there’s at least seven other bags of dog poo hidden in it already. There has to be. I can’t be the only person who has ever thought of this. If a poo bag falls in a pickup truck and no one’s around to hear it, does it make a sound? Rest assured that it does, my friends. I’ve checked. Not to worry, though. No harm was done. If the truck owner is displeased, they can just throw it away. It’s not that difficult. I mean, there’s a garbage can just on the other side of this block. How selfish can they be?