After unsuccessfully running for RP Mayor of Hollywood, Al_Capone has been forced to take an involuntary sabbatical and a much needed step back from the bright lights of editing due to post traumatic stress. In his absence, I, Grin, the 6th of my name and easily the best smelling of the bunch (potentially because they are all now putrid corpses), have stepped forward to co-edit our fabulous newspaper in exactly the same capacity as I did previously. There is really no need to thank me, honestly. I do this because I love it, not for the financial rewards. 

Speaking of the financial rewards, make sure you send all of those directly to me. I don't want to see The Dom flaunting his ill-gotten $20,000 tips anymore. Not only does he get a little bit snarky when I snatch them out of his undeserving little paws, but it also gives him a false sense of hope that he will ever rise above his unpaid internship position. This is his true calling and definitely the upper limit of his capabilities; do not mislead him into thinking there is more out there for him because unless someone needs a part-rabid, part-retard pet, I truly believe there isn't. 

If you're in doubt about how to interact with your favourite media conglomerate, please consult this helpful flow chat. 

READER FEEDBACK

I am delighted to report that some of you fine individuals graced us with your much desired opinions on our newspaper. We have an outstanding MafiaPilot rating, with 85.7% of people recording that they liked our issue, rating it 4 or 5 stars out of 5, which pummels The Back Room's miserable "unrated" status into submission. 

Reviews were similarly positive, although admittedly a healthy percentage of them focused upon my handsome visage rather than the amazing content, although I suspect that is only natural.

We would be pleased to hear your continued thoughts on our works: here.

You can see our detailed results: here.

You can see our reviews: here.

And how much everyone loves us: here.

THIS ISSUE

You are in for a treat, dear readers. We received an anonymous submission to our mailbox and in light of the recent call to hear from people other than ourselves who may have a different view, I have published it verbatim. In addition we have medical bulletins, lessons on how to progress, a vote for your favourite intern and a whole host of other "drivel" which you're gonna love. Not gonna love quite enough to give Al_Capone a district, but maybe enough not whinge too loudly about us. Hopefully. 

HOLLYWOOD REBOOT
By: Al_Capone

Hearts were broken this weekend as Al_Capone, America's sweetheart, was devastated by news of his rejection for the position of RP Mayor of Hollywood, a role since filled by Magda and VIP Entertainment. His hopes, however, were only diminished several days after the fact, as the Capo took it upon himself to engage in dozens of sweaty, increasingly-incoherent meetings with Hollywood studio executives, trying to find anyone who would pick up his story pitch and wire enough cash into his bank for one of those prized bold suits. 

In an FPNC 4.0 exclusive first look, here are those pitches:

Al In The Family - Working class Al is loud, brash and bigoted. If you don't look like him or act like him, steer clear because the world might be changing, but he sure ain't! He's reigned in by his ditzy but well-meaning wife, Grinith, their beautiful and academic daughter Dorothy ('Cousins: Can You Kiss Them? The Nectar Thesis'), and her liberal husband PhilipMarleauJr. A hippie at his dinner table? Not on Al's watch! 

S*M*A*S*H* - Al 'Eagle Vision' Capone is the Chief Surgeon of an underground mafia hospital ward, where everyone from your Gary Goomba to Willy Wise Guy come to have their broken bones put back in place and the bullets tweezered out of their thick skulls. But problems start to arise when his head nurse, Hulk_Smash, can't stop pulverizing all of the supplies into a fine powder! Lives are on the line, but just how will they handle the giant, green elephant in the room? 

Battlestar Alactica - Welcome aboard Battlestar Alactica, the last battleship of the mafia fleet, home to a fugitive group of gangsters searching the depths of space for their last big score. Upon the discovery and execution of disgraced crewleaders Xanxus and Homer as ingratiated androids tasked with the impediment of the gang's final OC, the crew discovers the android ring-leader could be, for all they know, the person standing right next to them. Can Commander Capone root out TheDonBot before it's too late?

The Caponesby Show - The goings-on in the life of OBG/YN Dr. Al Caponesby and his doting African-American wife and children (all played by noted mafia thespian Dick_Grayson, in blackface). 

Yes Grinister - Al Capone has just landed his dream job as the RP Mayor of Hollywood. He's got big plans for the district but if his cabinet secretary Humphrey Grinbini has anything to say about it, they're not going any further than the status quo! How is Al supposed to engage the community with stories of heists and romance when he can't even engage his 2nd in command in an office memo?

RANT OF BRAVE ALAN

By: BRAVE ALAN P.

Meeting the challenge of front-line journalism has never been for the feint of heart. Alan was nothing if not stout in that department. Arguably some others too but that would be a much more upsetting article. Right now, brave Alan had been tasked with uncovering and exposing the horrible face of corruption. Much as 'the great casino fiasco' had seen an entire regime go up in flames, all of its achievements rendered utterly void and some of the main protagonists extradited back to the old country for further public humiliation, this rising tide of bare faced cocksuckery has been threatening to do the same.   

This was the brazen exploitation of a systemic problem. A system left open to misuse, the well-meant but unfortunately flawed mechanisms for encouraging public discourse were always going to require rigorous policing and a firm hand from above. Sadly, their eye has be drawn to other things and the streets were literally being fleeced for credits. Like YellowKing routinely paying for pictures of murdered girls to masturbate to, the grotesque had become the accepted. SPAM had taken over.

There was no other word for the sheer volume of utter drivel being pumped out by these hopeless orators. The eternal broadcasters who crave as little attention as possible, lest their real aim be exposed. The idea that tradition be observed and members of the community be allowed to question the deluge of pointlessness, is sunlight-on-vampires to these worms. Perhaps worms is too generous a term for them. Vermin? Parasites? Worthless subhuman scum? I could go on for hours but I doubt I'd find terminology fitting for such inhumane oxygen thieves.

Anyway... Brave Alan followed a few leads and happened across a particularly horrific example of this system exploiting banality. Instinct was a man so crippled by his own narcissism, he'd grown blind to shame. He was willfully oblivious to an old woman's (also called Alan) simple words, anyone with any self respect would have heeded;

"DUDE! YOU'VE MADE FOUR SPEECHES AND REPLIED TO YOURSELF FIFTEEN FUCKING TIMES, WITHOUT A SINGLE PERSON SAYING ONE FUCKING WORD IN RESPONSE. EVER CONSIDERED THE IDEA YOU MIGHT BE A BORING FUCKING CUNT WITH NO TALENT THAT IS ONLY HERE TO SPAM SHIT SO YOU CAN EXPLOIT CREDITS FROM A BROKEN SYSTEM?"

Amazingly the vacuous penis, paid no attention. Or not so amazingly as it turns out. The credit exploiting drone was so devoid of personality and value that not even his own crew leader could face a single one of his spirit-crushing speeches. Assuredly, only kept alive for his credit contribution and doubtless sexual subservience, Instinct's lack of a soul was laid bare. The worn knees in his otherwise new cheap suit, told a tale of functional abuse. Being used as a bun for every hot dog in the crew, was a brutality even Alan's now famous bravery could not stand. Unable to muster compassion for such a thief of community rewards, Alan shed a tear for the indelible mark this hideous assignment was bound to leave on his own precious genius. 

Much like the brave police who sacrifice every night's sleep they will ever have, by enduring witness to sexual predators masturbating over pictures of murdered girls, Alan drew new resolve and plowed on. In the spirit of taking one for the team and secretly enamored by the possibility of a posthumous sainthood, he further investigated other noted exploiters of this systemic failure. He followed up on Grin-06's article and went to witness the same type of deplorable community theft being spewed onto an unsuspecting public. JohnSacramoni, Devante, Dick_Grayson and EdSheeran all spouted such an incredible volume of content-light shite, that poor old Alan nearly wept in public. Though of course, Alan's bravery and general all-round manliness would prohibit him from ever displaying such vulnerability in public. 

As for the system they are exploiting, I am far from the first to point out this disaster. I'm sure everyone can appreciate the system was created with the best of intentions, but fuck me it is having the shit exploited out of it! City Hall has a critical duty to rethink it's approach to such blatant exploitation. This will obviously kick off the subjective argument about the value of art. Then fine, art for art's sake! It should be it's own reward and have it's own place. By all means allow it be tipped as any other speech may be, but stories and self responding repetition with no relevance to community events, should be placed in its own street or corner. Just my two cents. At least more sense than is currently been displayed by any fucker at city hall handing out all these fucking freebies, that's for fucking sure!

Anyway, now brave Alan will take his incredibly small pay packet and head off to get drunk. Drunk enough to call a man Susan and wake with a head full of regrets. These things I can never unsee. These scars I carry for you all. 

Adieu!

PANDEMIC
By: Al_Capone

Wear your masks and wash your hands, an epidemic is sweeping through the nation, leaving health officials scrambling to contain what some are calling "the parasite of our generation". "This is not a drill," proclaimed Dr. Tookie Mongo, director general of the Mafia Health Organization, where the order has been given to mobilize every resource into containment procedures to prevent the spread of a dangerous new contagion, likely contracted and mutated through numerous incidents of non-consensual beastial coitus.

Leaks from an unreleased diagnostic report confirm to the FPNC 4.0 that mafia gangster CLO has been identified as patient zero of what has now been dubbed the CLOronavirus, with experts fearing news of the full extent of its exposure in mafia circles home and abroad. Though the number of confirmed cases are yet to verified, officials were quick to place CLO in strict quarantine at an unknown facility, where it is rumoured he may be held for as long as one, possibly two, years for the purposes of preventing further contamination.

Though CLO has protested that most symptoms, such as extreme aggression, smooth-brainedness, excessive saliva, and vague but shamelessly articulated thoughts of racism and homophobia, are just "who I am", researchers are not convinced any human being could behave that way bar the influence of some kind of malicious, brain-eating bacteria, and press on in their search for a vaccine. They have warned citizens to be extra fastidious in their hygiene ritual and to avoid any unnecessary contact with potential CLOronavirus carriers, noting high-risk areas such as men's rights rallies, national socialist conventions and communities where heavy, baggy denim is still in style.

Watch this space for updates as we learn more.

THE ART OF DWEEBERY - A DICK_GRAYSON MASTERCLASS

By Grin-06

Today, class, we're going to be learning about the art of Dweebery. I am your teacher and Imperial Grand-Dweeb Dick_Grayson, and for the avoidance of doubt and as a point of personal privilege, please don't talk too loudly requiring me to raise my voice, I really don't want to trigger anyone and my vocal chords are strained already from telling people off for attacking me. My pronouns are he/him, just fyi. Please raise your hand if you have any questions - again this should be neither raised too high or in too aggressive a manner. I'm looking at you, Shan.

Now, this is a masterclass and I want you to be comfortable that you're learning from the best. Please feel free to ask anyone who has ever interacted with me to verify my pedigree. I am certain they can confirm that even in a community littered with an ungodly amount of losers, I, IGD Grayson, stand head and shoulders above them, like a towering colossus of monumental overreactions, taking to heart the mildest of criticisms as if they were daggers to the soul. My distaste for comedy is only trumped by the contempt I hold for semi-dressed cartoon characters. 

Lesson 1: Make up people and pretend that they've agreed with you

Required: A bad argument. Not Required: Actual friends. 

People will take your opinions more seriously if they think they are shared by other people, regardless of how obviously ridiculous and pansy-like they are. Naturally, when you're as high on the lame-ladder as I am, you've long since abandoned the premise of friends, but don't worry, you just make them up. Don't name them, don't have them speak for themselves, like they even could, just reference them in discussion to add weight to the points you're failing to make.

Example: I’ve had multiple people come to me and say that they won’t even take a shot at writing because of you.

I've found this works best when the person you're arguing with has been a real fucking rodent. Maybe they dared to suggest your story of 78 consecutive parts without any reads or responses was exploitative. Perhaps they relentlessly sent you tips that you didn't want. These might not ordinarily seem like things to shit-fit over right? WRONG. This is exactly the type of behaviour we need to snuff out and there is no better way to demonstrate that you have lots of support in your cause than by dropping some imaginary agreement in to the mix. 

Lesson 2: Take as much offensive as possible

Required: Something inoffensive to rile against. Not Required: A skin thicker than a paper.

To ensure you reach the upper echelons of Dweeb Olympus, you really need to make sure you're getting really, really fucking worked up about everything. 

I can even remember this one guy who made some truly disgusting references about a person I love having been...cover your ears please...in bed with him. I'm sorry. I know that was hard to hear, but I just get so fucking triggered when I remember it. That low-life piece of shit. She was one of the nicest people I have ever met. Had she always been the most chaste person? No. But did that give that sub-human scum the right to imply that they had...again, ears...sexual relations? Absolutely fucking not. Can you believe the fucking audacity? He even used a CARTOON COMIC BOOK PICTURE AS WELL. *Incoherent roars of rage*. WHY THE FUCK WOULD HE DO THIS? *Sounds of cup being thrown with all of Dick's might and not quite making it to the nearby wall, failing to smash, and lamely bouncing once, intact, and gently leaking blackcurrant juice onto the carpet.*

Lesson 3: Find a boring lane, invent attacks upon it

Required: An unpopular style of writing. Not Required: Any outside interest in said style of writing.

I didn't really hit my dweeb stride until I opened some really unpopular businesses and made a series of threads which nobody else even bothered to read. In fact, I would go as far as to say, that if people are reading the things you're writing, then you're probably doing it wrong. The goal here is to make them so uninteresting that if someone happened to stumble into one, they would immediately want to back away like you were coughing a particularly phlegmy CLOronavirus cough on them. 

Once you've achieved that, what'll really grease the wheel of dweebiness is if you pretend people are really hammering you about the things you've written. Ignore the obvious fact that they won't have read anything you've written at outset, and try to make out like this a much maligned cause. You're being attacked everywhere. Did that guy NOT accept storytellers are more valuable than a cap-killing gun? Excuse me, did you really just imply that the role-play shouldn't end with our death? HOW DARE YOU. What we do is everything. Absolutely everything. The VIP Credits are our just-desserts. Fucking parasites. 

VOTE FOR YOUR FAVOURITE INTERN

Rather unsurprisingly, the opportunity to work for two media heavyweights like myself and Al_Capone, in a strictly unpaid capacity where you'll be doing the majority of the work, has resulted in thousands of applications. Ironically, weeding through these and selecting one to serve as our New Dom would be the role of the intern and in the absence of one, we've decided to just pick the three most recent entries.

• PhilipMarleauJr
• EvilClown
• Bored_to_Death

We would invite each applicant to submit their reasoning for applying for the position, their qualifications and then we're going to just choose whoever you vote for. 

Votes should be sent to the intern.

COMPLAINTS 

I can't stress enough that neither I nor Al_Capone are in any position to reply to complaints. We're too busy, do not have the necessary insurance and just don't really want to. If you're looking for a reply, please ensure that these are sent to the intern for proper processing otherwise they do not get registered as complaints within our Complaints Handling Procedure (CHP), meaning they go into the bin, provided we still have space after putting RichardWad's endless horoscopes in there. Anyway, you know who you are. Follow the process. 

Folding his paper the YellowKing approached the counter of the diner and asked for directions

Arriving at the home office for TFPNC he walks in and ask's to speak to Grin-06

Mr.Grin, it seems i am a subject of many mouths, many minds, many times, many thoughts. I don't force people to see the yellow sign, it chooses some people without my knowledge.

Do i enjoy dead women? Time grows what it wants to kill its just another dead body to me.

I would like to sit down with you, and do an interview for this fine paper.

She picks up a copy of the latest edition of The Fat People News Chronicle 4.0 from a lonely kid on the corner for a dollar and smiles as she carries on about her errands. Returning back to her office she requests a hot cup of her latest dark roast be brought to her by none other than her trusty Right Hand Manchild, Prozac, and settles into her chair for a read.

As she begins her adventure in a textual form she finds herself trying to keep her laughter to a lower volume as to not alert the boys that she was enjoying some "me time". She became so enthralled in the read that she didn't even notice Prozac put her mug on her desk or that he was wearing nothing more than a pink tutu. As she finished the paper she sighed heavily knowing she would have to wait for more. Taking out a pen and paper she penned a note to the dynamic duo Grin-06 and Al_Capone and tucked it into an envelope making sure to tuck a few bills into it to show her appreciation.

Dear Grin and Mr. Capone,

Thank you so much for this wonderful super edition. I can truly say that I enjoyed it immensely. It was super duper! It's very pleasing to see something out there that isn't some hipster droning on about their first purse snatching, a romantic interlude, or first week at school. This has truly tickled my toes in a good way! 

Keep up the great work!

Kind Regards,

Iris

Having completed the letter she called upon DeathlyHallows and smiled. Please take this over to The Fat People News Chronicle 4.0's offices for me. Hop to it! Make sure you're wearing your best pink suit too. I want them to remember your visit.

Turning toward her mountain of invoices to process she sighs and takes a sip of her now lukewarm coffee and sighs heavily. 

If only "work" could be as entertaining as that was!

She tucks the copy of The Fat People News Chronicle 4.0's into the top drawer of her desk for a second read later.

Grin-06 was surprised to find YellowKing at their Star-Examiner offices and immediately wondered if there was or should be a murdered woman in the vicinity either as a result of or in order to appease his guest.

I would be happy to conduct an interview with you, YellowKing. Unfortunately I can't schedule it directly as that type of busy work falls to New Dom to complete. Once he has been appointed in his role, I will be sure to ask him to get in touch with your secretary, Nectar, to arrange a convenient time for us to sit down. Sound good?

His meeting was promptly interrupted by the arrival of Mafia boss and occasional postman, DeathlyHallows. He stood at the doorway rather awkwardly in a pink suit, holding the letter out to either YellowKing or Grin-06. Grin-06 was unable to take it from him, because answering the door and opening potential letters of complaint was the type of busy work best left to New Dom and YellowKing was a guest himself and whilst murdering was second nature, clerical tasks were, similarly, not at his level. This resulted in the three of them standing there looking at each other in an increasingly uncomfortable silence. 

BTD (It seemed that everyone today was going by funky initials, and being too lazy to bother using his full name, and too bored to develop his own style, Bored_To_Death had followed suit and adopted the BTD moniker, just like BML and Ood [Otherwise_Ostentatiously_Dull]) was just finishing lining his Budgie's cage with the latest edition of the Fat People's News Chronicle v4.0, whilst it was lowbrow and lacked any kind of entertainment value, he found that the cheap recycled paper that they printed it on was particularly good at absorbing bird shit. It was at the point of reassembling the cage that he noticed his own name along with that of the scurrilous villain called EvilClown and the pedantic misanthrope @PhilipMarleauJr. Removing the page once more, he read down the article and found that apparently he had applied for the job of Intern for Messrs Grin-06 (The 6th in his lineage and apparently the least smelly, a fact that no man was prepared to argue in a court of law, although possibly a woman might given their predilection for arguing with men on any and all subjects, it was a sad day indeed when they somehow managed to con their way into suffrage) and Al_Capone (Al being short for Alcoholic). This was of course vaguely confusing, firstly because he had never before read their snoozepaper (in direct contravention to anything before said in reference to said publication and my opinion there-of, pursuant to Article 15 subsection 4 paragraph 8 of the unified code of Journalistic peer review) and he had no recollection of having applied for such a position. For Gods sake, he had 69 unread mobmails, how the hell would he find time to read considerable deluge of hate mail and complaints that such a shoddy excuse for a periodical was bound to garner. There was only one possible excuse for the mix up. Picking up a Pen and a sheet of Monogrammed paper (The monogram was that of Chicago Dept. of Corrections, and was the remains of several sheets of Prisoner writing paper that he had liberated before being released with his beloved budgie, Bluey, who was obviously bright green in colour, because what kind of tard would name a blue budgie Bluey?)

Chicago Department of Corrections

Prisoner Communications

Pontiac Correctional Center

700 West Lincoln Street
Pontiac, IL 61764 

Dear Mr Capone,

Thank you for your generous offer of employment through your pathetic excuse for a Newspaper, I was most humbled and grateful to have received it. I am however somewhat confused on a few matters:

• Why did you feel the need to employ me via the medium of printed news and not directly via Telegraph, Telephone or letter, perhaps even a messenger, although given your need to hire an intern, I can perhaps understand why you did not use messenger service.
• I don't remember ever applying for the role of Intern, given the malodorous condition of Mr Grin, and was understandably to see my name mentioned in the gutter National Press. 
• I sincerely hope that this is not some flimflam attempt to weasel your way out of paying me the sum of $26,408 that you owe me for driving the getaway car when we robbed that Art Gallery (or did we burn it down, I'm only a Wise Guy so I don't have the the clout to put together enough people for an Organized Crime, something that I may have to bring up with Pollo given that I am at least his 15th highest earner.) I know you said it would take a couple of days to fence the stolen goods from our 'OC', but it has now been over a week and you have been strangely quiet. 
• I had another point, but I'm really too bored of all this now, and can't remember what that was, I think it may have had something to do with Cheese in a Can, but I can't be certain (I'm really really old, and between Lazyness, boredom... I don't think there is a term boredness, perhaps in the future there will be a device that will automatically correct our spelling as we type/write it... and Oldtimer's Syndrome/Dementia.... sorry what was I saying?

Anyway, now that I have completely lost my train of thought I'm...

Regards

Bored_To_Death

aka BTD (Ooooo, that's almost as funky as BTK, if somewhat ahead of my time)

Carefully addressing the back of the letter and folding it over (Its fucking prison stationery people, you don't get separate envelopes, its like that cheap ass tracing paper you used to get for sending Airmail... do they still sell that shit?) BTD made sure to Write in bold letter's below the address:

Definitely not a letter of Complaint.

And being too lazy to stick a stamp on it, and post it, he conned Toby into running it down to the FPNC4's offices.

Toby walked down the street flipping the shiny new nickle Bored_to_Death gave him. 

Heh, what a sucker. I can get so much candy with this. The post office is even on the way! 

A letter came in from Toby, suspiciously marked 'Definitely not a letter of complaint', which left Al increasingly weary and less enthusiastic about diving into its contents. This was, as his colleague Grin-06 had discovered earlier, the kind of work delegated without exception to their intern - the kind of tedious, unsatisfying paper-shuffling best left to those in a pay-grade specifically qualified to do very little of consequence or reward. Given the enormous critical and financial success of Issue 1, it seemed almost an insult to Al to expend valuable energy doing anything at all that did not contribute to the progression or success of his craft. 

Besides, the very real possibility of the contents pertaining to a concern and/or complaint still lingered, despite the promise written under the address. Given the extremely strict complaint handling procedure in place at FPNC 4.0 HQ, it seemed like a dangerous and unnecessary risk to have anything to do with this letter. And still, he was curious. The wobbly, child-like handwriting and ketchup-stained fingerprints of the envelope drew him in. The thin paper, usually odourless, reeked of generic must - not of any place or thing, but the essence of must itself, as if drawn from the source - and it compelled him. 

He ripped it open and read through it quickly, retaining very little of its contents in place of a growing fury.

A letter from the would-be intern? Something that which, in the very act of sending and receiving the correspondance, had forced Al into doing the work for which the intern was required in the first place? He whipped out his notebook and scrawled a quick note next to BTD's name. 

'POTENTIAL INTERNS:

• PhilipMarleauJr - 
• EvilClown - 
• Bored_to_Death - NOT LOOKING GOOD.'

Great second issue, I have instructed the local newsstand to give me a heads up when ever a new issue is published, I was just thinking, why not have more than one intern?

It's certainly a novel concept, MaxHardcore. Multiple interns, none of whom are being paid. Is that allowed? And where does it end? Could we hire a hundred unpaid interns? A thousand? Could we operate massive, walled-off FPNC 4.0 content labour camps? It's an attractive idea. A very attractive idea. 

Zoro was having coffee at Wicked, Inc HQ when one of the newer gangsters passed him the latest copy of the newspaper. It was a slow morning for Zoro and he waved off the new lad without uttering a single word. It took a moment before Zoro could register the first sentence on the front page, but was instantaneously hooked after managing to overcome that first hurdle of a sentence. He kept reading, a wry smile cracked his lips as he progressed through the pages. Zoro would occasionally chuckle, and on one occasion gave a huge bout of laughter which made him spill his coffee. He quickly cleaned up after himself, fearing that his boss Dyson would give him an earful for messing up the clean HQ again. 

It has been a while since Zoro enjoyed reading the tabloids. He made a mental note to send the editors a tip, once his payday is in. 

Well Al_Capone, I guess you would need to balance it with the interns crews.. after all family comes first, but I am sure you and Grin-06 could never run out of tasks for them and there's no union for mobster interns! Just think you could lounge around the newsdesk whilst your interns battle each other for the top spot, doing the customer service jobs Mr Grin is so keen to give to you. Great content at no cost.. sounds like a winner to me!

Glad to see Bored_To_Death is clearly out of the running.  Troubling to see you gentlemen are still entertaining the idea of hiring EvilClown as an intern.  Us Marleaus despise EvilClown, and I feel that he contributes to what we like to call the "mindless bullshit ramblings" that plague our streets to this day.  That being said, what will my first assignment be as intern for your fine publication?

MaxHardcore, it is interesting you mention family first, as part of the reason I was so keen to become the RP Mayor of Hollywood was to erase that distraction and generate a stable of dedicated, in-house content mules available all hours of the day to pump out low-effort listicles, how-to columns and horoscopes with no social lives, split allegiances, or complaints (which would have had to be filed through our internal complaint handling protocol). As a man after a life of leisure, it seemed ideal. But those were just naive dreams. All credit to the Magda/TommyMezzo ticket. They ran a fine campaign. I did not appreciate the attack ads about my past as a human sushi platter for the Catholic priesthood but you have to live with your mistakes. Sometimes you have to blame sashimi, and not sashiyou. Certainly not Archbishop O'Malley, who eats nothing but raw fish and only when served properly, the way God told him it should be. It is crazy to me he is now in prison for not wanting to starve, no matter how unusual the cockery, er, crockery. 

PhilipMarleauJr, you would of course be saddled with all complaint handling duties. If the feedback is not overwhelmingly positive, we expect you to see to the strict measures that prevent it from ever reaching us. It would be great if you could gain a decent amount of weight, preferably in the chin and belly, as I feel it would help to sell the brand to potential investors and visitors to the HQ if there were a rotund, continental boy bouncing between the tightly-gathered desks with sguary snacks and coffee. I suggest you learn the phrase, "Kann ich etwas Schokolade haben?", which is German for, "May I have some chocolate?", as it will be smeared on your cheeks and will help us really round out the character. That being said, you may be allowed to contribute some articles as well. 

PhilipMarleauJr ponders the offer.  

Hmmm, one one hand, Im honored to be offered the position.  On the other flimsy hand, I'm not sure I'm too keen on working in the complaint department.  Marleaus react very poorly to criticism, historically lashing out at people for criticizing us for the very thing we attack others for doing.  Besides, with the recent auth of EvilClown, I'm your only option left for intern.  In fact, lots of people have come to me and said the reason they didn't want to apply for the intern position in the first place is because of you and your cohorts.  By many, I mean one psychotic unstable woman, but for the sake of my argument lets round that number up to "many".

How about a counter offer?  One thing I noticed that your newspaper lacks is a disclaimer.  If you want to remain competitive with your rival paper "The RichardWad Chronicles" or something of the sort, you'll notice his paper kicks off with a disclaimer.  I'd like to offer my services to draft up a similar disclaimer.  One that explains to the readers that "hey, you're going to read some things here that might upset you, but if you're offended...." then I'll throw in some tough sounding expletives that will make the reader dare not speak against the following articles after softball casual mentions of various crewleaders are scattered throughout the paper.  

So, do we have a deal?

PhilipMarleauJr extends a limp wrist out to Al_Capone in hopes that Al's handshake is not too firm.  PhilipMarleauJr anticipated he'd be doing a lot of typing and didn't want his hand to hurt.

There was merit to what PhilipMarleauJr was saying and in the likely event Grin-06 was forced to self-isolate in the face of the CLOrona pandemic, he really could use an intern to field complaints/disclaimer-writing/infectious diseases. Bored_to_Death was proving himself be an unfavorable candidate even among a truly unfavourable candidacy pool and EvilClown's delusions of grandeur would almost certainly be an issue for an unpaid, unappreciated intern. He glanced across at Al_Capone obviously not wanting to touch PhilipMarleau's extended gammy hand. 

Ok Marleau, I think we're prepared to give you a shot. I expect the disclaimer to be both limiting but also quite expansive in its scope to protect and harm us from future criticism, all of which will be heading straight to your desk to handle. Please make sure the mindless bullshit ramblings are kept to a strict minimum. References to crewleaders are fine, however you have got to make sure you do not step on the toes of any bloodlines excluded from these shores. I cannot stress enough how concerned we are about their feelings. 

If these feel like parameters you can work under, please make yourself at home beneath either staircase in the Fat People News Chronicle HQ and have your works completed by Sunday, ahead of moderation and exclusion come Monday.