LETTER FROM THE EDITORS

Hello, one and all, and welcome to the very first edition of the Fat People News Chronicle 4.0. For weeks, my co-editor Grin-06 and I have stared into the yawning abyss of mafia media left vacant for far too long, like the space where Ryant's brain should be or the Pasadena district of Los Angeles. We knew that something had to be done; that two courageous men unafraid to prod into the dark corners of humanity in their quest for the truth would have to step up and assume that mantle. After buying out the former Star-Examiner and repurposing their offices into ours and their editor into our intern (shout out to Dom!), we submit this to you: serious, back-breaking journalism like you have never read before, a publication of conviction and moral fortitude, the voice of the people in a time of great change and hardship, ladies and gentlemen, the Fat People News Chronicle 4.0, Issue 1. 

Your editors,

Al_Capone and Grin-06.

CREW JUMPING 
By Grin-06

With the nation's heroic sporting achievements at the Antwerp Olympics fresh in our minds, grassroots sport has never been healthier. Men, inspired by the athleticism of Nurmi in winning the distance events, have been hard at work increasing their endurance, and women, overawed at our first ever ladies swimming medals, have dedicated themselves to explosive plyometrics. However, it isn't for our traditional games like baseball, sprinting or even the noble art of fencing which our citizens are applying themselves; a new sport has captured the hearts and minds of Americans everywhere - Crew Jumping. 

Popularised after the fall of Los Angeles and parts of Detroit in the early part of the 20th century, Crew Jumping, defined in The Olympic Journal of Sport as 'the act of abandoning one's current crew in a cowardly attempt to save one's own skin', has swept the nation. All across the country, children can be seen emulating their idols, promptly flushing away their current friends like particularly unseemly sweetcorn-turds, the minute a seemingly better circle of chums comes onto the scene. 

One of the pioneers of this new wave of shameful athleticism, BobSmiles, had this to say:

"It feels great to know that people look up to me. The best advice I can give to any wannabe Crew Jumpers out there is to have absolutely no pride, scruples or any loyalty whatsoever. You've just gotta do you, hun. Honour? Fuck that. Vows? Just words for fatties and dead nerds. You get a better offer? You set both feet and you leap like a motherfucker for safety the second you get the chance."

Is Crew Jumping here to stay or just a passing fad? Have your say by contacting our intern Dominic.

MAKE SEATTLE FREAKY AGAIN
By: Al_Capone

YellowKing received the keys to his own HQ in Seattle this week and took to the streets to celebrate in a style befitting of no other. Standing with a group of his closest cronies, the men took great delight in the public spectacle of gorily sacrificing a bound woman to honour their recent achievement, with the ritual violence raising more than a few eyebrows in the community. Some citizens wondered if men who take joy in the brutal murder of innocent women were the right type to lead a fragile infrastructure of legally-scrutinized felons, noting the peculiar delight in LHM Nectar's face as the deed took place, like a man who's kissed his cousin, knows it's wrong but wants more.
 
Others have taken it upon themselves to organize a daring rescue attempt to save the dozens of kidnapped women still chained in YellowKing's basement, noting that the demented psychosexual desire displayed by their street sacrifice likely only whet the appetites of, as one man called them, "those crazy pervs". As of yet, no link has been confirmed between the YellowKing group and the East Palo Alto Wiccan & Wiccan-Associate Coven but the M.O. sure looks like the puppeteering of some fat pagan man-witch named Vance or Xander. 

SPAM AND VIP CREDITS - THE BREAKFAST OF CHAMPIONS
By Grin-06

The standard American diet is widely regarded as the best in the world. Our people are healthier, they live longer and, if you focus on journalists in particular, they are also arguably more handsome than ever before to. Scientists have previously been baffled as to the cause of this increased prosperity across the populace, especially as lacing foods with chemicals and an over-reliance on corn and wheat based products was actually believed to be unhealthy for the consumer. However, a recent study of the socio-economic group known as "MafiaReturns" has revealed a shocking discovery; spam first thing in the morning, washed down with undeserved VIP Credits throughout the day, will make you thrive. 

This was first noticed after study of Patient Zero, aka @JohnSacramoni. Researchers began studying John to see why he was doing so well and were amazed to discover that between the period of 25th Feb - 04th March, he had gobbled down an impressive 74 VIP Credits. These nutritious goodies, at a rate of over 9 per day, were supplementing John's immune system to such a degree that he was actually getting younger, albeit not any more handsome.

And he wasn't the only one. @Devante wolfed down 55 VIP Credits, nearly 7 per day, @Dick_Grayson 40, 5 per day, and @EdSheeran, who despite only recently adopting this diet, had already accumulated 18 at a rate of 4.5 per day and rising. The long term impacts of this nutrient dense diet remains to be seen, but genetic markets indicate that unless their bosses start giving a shit, they are extremely likely to continue to enjoy unmitigated success with this approach. The only downside is that the output required for this type of intake requires a considerable amount of shit dropped on the rest of us, which is expected to continue unabated. Rats. 

HIRING: INTERN

Are you an aspiring journalist? Do you have an unquenchable thirst for the truth? Come work for the FPNC 4.0! Apply for one of our prestigious Intern Dom positions, where you can expect to learn the ins and outs of what it takes to write, curate and publish a leading mafia newspaper in the cut-throat world of La Cosa Newspaperostra! 

You'll be working closely with our editors, Al_Capone and Grin-06, and learning from the two foremost media minds of their generation as they go about their daily business of deadly-serious reporting from the most decrepit, hopeless, povertized corners of the mafia world, and that's just the South Side of Chicago! 

Applications are processed on a first come, first serve basis. Don't hesitate, it could be the best chance one of you horrible little gremlins has at achieving anything at all! All applications are to be forwarded to Grin-06, so that he can delegate exactly that kind of tedious paper-shuffling to you in the future. We look forward to welcoming you into the FPNC 4.0 family, New Intern Dom. 

SUBMISSION HOTLINE

All columns, letters, tips, scoops, and roly-poly rumours can be sent to the inbox of Al_Capone or Grin-06. 

Grin-06 thumbed through the final version of the paper and frowned. Despite the otherwise flawless content, there appeared to be some horrible @ symbols before the names of JohnSacramoni, Devante, Dick_Grayson and EdSheeran. He slammed his fist into his desk with a resounding thump; printing errors had blighted him in the past, the superior formatting of the Star-Examiner trumping the Coconut Chronicle time after time. Thinking of the Star-Examiner, he looked down at their former editor's desk which he had kindly appropriated. Dom had certinaly not skimped on the furnishings, it was solid oak and his hand began to throb in response. 

Giving it a shake with a grimace, he resolved to bang only softer things in future.  

It was pissing down... the dog and horse shit in the streets was in full flow, the gutters were rammed with the putrid stuff but no one seemed to care.  The street cleaners having been markedly absent - Rumors rife about them taking back handed brown envelopes allowing those that were filling the streets with shite to collect their own fees.

A discarded newspaper blew up on an eddy... miraculously free of detritus it smacked the clown square between the eyes is edges flapping round his face, he peeled it off and there before him, in copper-plate rain smudged font was an answer of sorts... The newspaper was advertising for interns.  He knew just the man for this job - his very good self.

With a spurt of impetous he made his way toward the paper's offices to hand in his resume. 

Yawning and stumbling to the kitchen she rubs the sleep from her eyes. Desperate for a morning cup of Joe. After filling her kettle she scrounges around for a match to light the stove and waits for the water to boil. Noticing that the sun was out she decided it was the perfect morning to break in her new patio and enjoy the fresh air. Lost in thoughts of tropical paradises she was brought back to reality by the whistling of the kettle. She'd already prepared her French press the night before so she poured the hot water into it, inhaling the deep, seductive scent of her favourite morning blend. Taking her mug and carafe out to the patio she sat down, listening to the birds chirping and enjoying the sun on her face when her zen moment was rudely interrupted by one of her guards handing her what appeared to be a newspaper. Shocked by its very existence she felt the fibres of the paper it was printed on in her fingers and began reading while sipping on her personal ambrosia freshly poured by the same guard that brought her the news.

Thank you, David, this has been a great read. I appreciate you thinking of me when you were on your way to work this morning. Please, keep an eye out for the next publication of this calibre! It's a great way to wake up! I'll be sure to send a note with my appreciation to those that contributed. Now, did you happen to find a bakery on your way in?

She smiles and returns to her coffee and reads the news once more, absorbing its lovely goodness with every letter of every word.

Some little yampy kid had been delivering out newspapers around the block and Trey decided he'd give it a look over to keep up with current affairs. Reading the heading, he saw that there was some kind of fatism going on here. Apparently this paper was for fat people only, which luckily enough just seemed to fit in with 90% of the mafia population, but sadly not Trey... who felt a little disheartened as a very muscular, well built and well groomed individual.

Trey wondered if the content inside was just food coupons and restaurant critiques, not that fat people would care which restaurant was great and which wasn't (like Detroit's finest steak house, which wasn't actually the finest steak house but just named so to try and entice customers in. Some Random guy had opened the place a while ago and now some ginger kid called EdSheeran was apparently trying to claim it as his great great grandfathers. Nobody cared though, because the steak was much like his short story telling, inadequate.) 

Anyway, back to fat people and Trey's trail of thought (which unlike EdSheeran's didn't include multiple personalities). Trey's experience was that they'd eat anything, which was why he trained 3 times a day. After growing up in a house of fat people, Trey had decided he wasn't going to go that way and now seeing this paper, titled as it was, it just reminded him of a more difficult time in his life.

Trey began flicking through the pages, curiosity got the better of him to see if any restaurants had been reviewed so that he could take one of his very many male lovers to, sadly it was more of an informative piece. The first page was a letter from the editors, while the second discussed crew jumping. Definitely more popular these days and as a crew hopper himself, Trey could honestly say he didn't care. He liked getting about, his mother told him he would get the herpes that way but who cared? You could only get it once. I mean, what was loyalty these days anyway? People just loved to hang about in the coffee shops with their usual friends, as long as they had a roof over their heads who cared? I mean, would you really take a bullet for your leader? Of course not, you'd just let them die and join a new one. Not Vim though, Trey would always protect Vim and often took one for him. Except it wasn't a bullet.

Trey continued, page three looked a little grim and discussed some sort of cult out in Seattle while page four just had a load of @'s all over the place. Whoever Grin-06 was, I'd be expecting a deduction in salary. The piece was interesting though and discussed some of the shameless story tellers around who would tell stories much like a beggar would hold up a sign. Except the story tellers didn't hold up signs saying "Credits please" or "Will post for credits", despite us knowing that was pretty much what they were doing.

Page five discussed hiring an intern, but Trey suspected you'd need to be fat and that was something Trey definitely wasn't.

"Well, definitely something to talk about in the HQ. You never know, it might stop Vim the Dim from singing for five minutes."

LHM Nectar's face as the deed took place, like a man who's kissed his cousin, knows it's wrong but wants more.

That is some incredible journalism. On the ground reporting at it's finest. Hey, wait a minute!! You were at the location? To have seen my facial expressions? You allowed for an innocent woman to die without doing anything? Just for the sake of an article? That is rather inhumane and sick on your behalf. But I guess this ultimately isn't even the biggest question is it. 

You find spiritual freedom and growth and delight from kissing your cousin? While what you do is up to you friend, I would refrain from associating your positive feelings towards incestual relations from the public. I don't believe many will share the same interpretation as you, and will leave your viewers misunderstanding the actual emotions you are trying to portray.

Solid work, maybe I'll see you around the forest for another ritual sometime. Don't be a stranger next time, say hello. 

Hello Nectar,

Thank you for reading The Fat People News Chronicle 4.0. However, I must insist that you address all issues & complaints to our customer service department. 

Why is that you must insist that?
 

Max pulled up outside newspaper stand, smoking a cigar in his open-top SS Jaguar 100. Shouting for the kid from the stand to bring over the new publication he had been hearing about in the coffee shops.  The chat had been promising and after reading the first article Max had to agree.

I hope this becomes a regular thing, although watch out for that excrement obsessed Clown, he is an interesting fella.

Why is that you must insist that?

That's what customer service departments are for!

So what exactly are you for then? 

Exactly the reason why my comment was made to you, about your paper. Why would you send me off to someone else? You don't want to take ownership for your own doings? 

Very interesting read! 

I'm entertained!

I would like to hear more from the people who crew jump, can we expect any more interviews to come in the future?