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The Tabloid News XLI - A Pickles Production Started by: Mr_Pickles on Dec 01, '10 11:42

The Tabloid News – Issue XLI
Mr. Pickles: Editor-in-Chief

FROM THE EDITOR
For those of you unfamiliar with the grand tradition of The Tabloid News, let me tell you about this august publication.  The Tabloid News was started years ago when William Randolph Hearst was only starting arguments with his neighbors (he started the Spanish/American War.  Look it up).  We at The Tabloid News have a fine tradition of journalistic excellence, checking and double checking our facts with the finest investigative reporters that are willing to work for us.  Basically, we start with a set of assumptions, and run with them.  We have a crack team of French Maids that are paid quite well to use their feather dusters and polish the knobs in the office.  However, they never seem to do very much cleaning.  Also, we have a team of Swedish children who keep the presses running.  Their tiny nimble fingers fit perfectly in that complex and dangerous machinery.  I wouldn’t want to jeapordise these fingers in that stuff . . . they’re made for typing.  So, in the immortal words of all the editors before me, on with the news . . .

KATIE MURDOCK IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH BIGFOOT
Esteemed Right Hand Woman, Katie Murdock, was seen having a romantic dinner with a large, furry fellow who, when we developed the photos, was quite blurry.  Blurry photos are a classic indicator of Big Foot.  Ms. Murdock had the prime rib, and Big Foot had the chicken caesar salad.  The two were seen exiting the three-star eatery and then followed to a night club for drinking and dancing.

THE SHADOW NOT A SHADOW
After consulting with several leading scientists, it has been established that The Shadow is not a mere shadow, but an actual three-dimensional person.  This revelation came about when The Shadow bumped into the esteemed Editor of The Tabloid News, spilling his hot cocoa.  Mr. Pickles is still awaiting a fresh cup of cocoa from The Shadow.

PREMEIR NOT REALLY RUNNING A CREW
Chicago’s newest big-wig, Premier, has set up shop under the guise of running a criminal empire of merciless miscreants committing crimes and giving him a share of the profits.  This is completely untrue.  Premeir’s Spanish Inquisition is nothing more than a front for a sweatshop where he forces his crewmembers to make cheap clothing for a mysterious mafiosa named M. Stewart in Connecticut.  She takes these clothes made with the blood, sweat, and tears of Premeir’s “crew” and sells them in local five and dimes and department stores.  Premeir could not be reached for comment.

ASK RED WATCH:  ADVICE COLUMN
Dear Red Watch,
I have a certain “problem” in a place where no man should be having issues.  Can you help me, please.
Signed, Palladino

Dear Pally,
If you pay on time, Mr. Pickles might not put so much starch in your Sam The American Eagle undaroos when he does your laundry.
Red

Dear Red Watch,
Sometimes I can’t find the appropriate venue for my talents.  Where should I go?
Signed,
Singer Rourke

Dear Singer,
I’ve heard you sing.  You shouldn’t even be allowed to sing in the shower.
Red

RICHARD WAD REALLY A NICE GUY
Richard Wad, famed and noted dick to everyone is, in reality, a really great guy.  He’s been seen reading stories to orphans, helping out at soup kitchens, and delivering meals to the elderly.  He has also been seen tending to his zen garden.  There are even photos delivered to The Tabloid News at great peril to the messenger or Mr. Wad playing with kittens and butterflies.  When asked about these ruours, Richard Wad broke the reporter’s pencil, but then apologised.

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Dick has also been known to take baths in the HQ with boiling hot butter.

I just thought I would pass along that hot tip

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Hmmm . . . perhaps the headline should have read "RICHARD WAD IS A WERELOBSTER.Perhaps next issue.

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*Reads the Tabloid and starts seething*

 

You leave me no option but to instruct my lawyers, Messrs Dewey, Shaftem and Howe, to get in touch. The Shadow can not have his secrets revealed in print! 

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Nice publication, one worth a read. My only point that id like to make, how can it be the August edition, i no i am just a pole but by my method of telling time and dates, of lying on the floor and letting the sun reflect off my long shaft, like a very cool and out of this world sun dial, tells me that when this publication went to press, the actual date was december the first.

So by my findings good sir it looks like you have got yourself in a right pickle. If at all i can help when timing your publications, just send me a letter, ill be sure to help, plus dick is old news, if you want to write about a space_pole im sure your readers will be impressed at what i can do.

With that the pole roles his skinny long ass off down the street as the sun is burning him.

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Hides the hot butter

"I don't know why people insist on believing that the person in the photo's with the butterflies is actually me. There is a look a like out there I tell you! Haven't you seen the mafioso running around here looking like a waffle? I have heard stories of multiple Waffle sightings, all being mistaken for the same person. I tell you though, if I get a hand on that SyrupWaffle, shit is going to get stickier than a swinger party at Alabama's house."

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SINGERROURKE smiles.

Im getting the feeling that you dont want me to sing anymore mr. P. Ah that is fine. Fun paper brother.

SINGERROURKE walks down the street thinking about songs to sing.

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SINGERROURKE smiles.

Im getting the feeling that you dont want me to sing anymore mr. P. Ah that is fine. Fun paper brother.

SINGERROURKE walks down the street thinking about songs to sing.

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Mr. Pole . . .

August:
–adjective
1. inspiring reverence or admiration; of supreme dignity or grandeur; majestic: an august performance of a religious drama.

<div class="luna">2. venerable; eminent: an august personage. </div>

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Aaaaaaa, Pickles.

The pole shakes his head and comes back with his own one line explanation;

Facetious:

-adjective

1.Treating serious issues with deliberately inappropriate humor

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I do apologize.  These days, I can barely tell irony from ignorance.  I should have known better.  I apologize.

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