UGLY INBRED NEWS

This is the Handsome, Regular Guy News. Thank you for reading. Unfortunately, I don't have any help and doctors are still questioning how I learned to read and write, so these stories will come quick and fast without any of the excruciating details you'd find in all of the much longer, much more detailed newspapers that are not being published.

IS DARWINROSS RUNNING A LIGAMBI CRIME FAMILY?

Rumor on the grapevine is that PH crewleader DARWINROSS may be secretly running a LIGAMBI CRIME FAMILY. The Ligambi's are a recently-extinct branch of Italian-Americans best known for kissing their own mothers on the mouth with lots of tongue and enjoying it with soft moans, as well as for Monella doing a swirly and then killing himself. Names like LH "Calito-Brigante" have raised suspicions among the general populace, who fear the revival of a consortium so uninteresting even the famously boring BillyMastrosimone was too much of a 'wildcard' for their ranks. We await a comment from DarwinRoss' people, preferably Shane_Stetson. 

UGLY INBRED LURKING IN SWANHUNTER CREW?

There have been whispers of an ugly inbred hiding in plain sight among the Swanfree Swansong crew, though no one can as of yet confirm the identity of the suspect. Most people are actually saying he's not inbred or ugly at all, and mostly just misunderstood until you get to know him, but the strength of narrative that carries the ugly inbred rumor has unfortunately taken a stranglehold over the discourse. If there were an ugly inbred in their ranks, hypothetically, police experts suggest the suspect list would read something like WaffleStompingChamp, twigs or SimonTheSwanHunter himself, and that's the whole list. We'll keep you updated.

KILL BELUGA

It's time to kill beluga, you know it, I know it, we all know it. Let's kill beluga together, as a community. It will bring us closer. We'll kill beluga and we'll share that dark secret between every single one of us forever. 

CADHLA RETROSPECTIVE

A few days have passed since a host of long-lasting, seemingly permanently embedded crewleaders were laid to rest, but literally nothing has been done to honor them. But what if they could honor themselves?

That's why, by assembling every last bit of data from their time on the streets, we've put together a unique and highly-advanced predictive model to give us a specific estimate of what they would want to say to us today if they had the chance. 

We begin with the late Philadelphia GFC Cadhla, given the 300 days of service she amassed should provide us with an absolutely enormous pool of public appearances to piece together our quote. Would she wish us well? Would she inspire us? We waited on the outcome with baited breath.

At long last, the device spit out its quote: "I am authorizing Soul_Hooligan to set up a HQ, see you the next time I need to do one of these". 

HANDSOME GEORGE

"Even George, a man whose jawline looked like it had been drawn with a left foot, understood the danger. He was ugly. He was inbred. His very posture seemed surprised to be alive.  - Eala

"Given that (the very obviously Inbred) UglyInbredGeorge is claiming he no longer needs his drool bucket (Which was fucking overflowing yesterday)" - Eala

"Detroit is standing ten toes down on that business. Except for UglyInBredGeorge. We’re not sure how many toes he has, seems to be club footed." - SlimRagnarok

"I’m still waiting to hear back on my window peeping complaint. I filed that one ages ago.

UglyInbredGeorge needs to be dealt with firmly" - TFS

"You had uglyInbredGeorge licking windows until they were absolutely spotless, he started on the mirrors back had to stop when they become clearer and he got a fright"- LiamGallagher

There are just a couple of the cruel and vicious things said about George, an innocent genetically-regular man being picked on constantly for no good reason. In order to clear things up, I've compiled a list of acceptable ways to refer to George, who is normal:

1. George
2. Normal George
3. Cool George
4. Payday George
5. Papa George

Any other names used to beckon or describe George will soon become prohibited under the mandate of SimonTheSwanHunter, who has promised to crush my enemies, to see them driven before me, and to hear the lamentations of their associates. 

Dear Cool George, I unwrapped my newspaper and found a loose human ear in it. You wouldn't happen to know who this belongs to, do you, mister fucking potato head?

P.S. The single agreeable thing in this newspaper is the beluga article. I suggest we do it posthaste as anytime his hands fondle my pockets looking for cash I do not have he reaches for my modestly sized salami.

Simon came to the Streets. He loved the Streets, he realised as he meandered from corner to corner. Over there, Dreiza lamenting his lost 30 years, in that square TomJoad, gunless, sporting a fat lip and missing several teeth, talking about something that probably wasn't important. Simon would have one of his goons summarise it for him later; nothing like a summary filtered through the mind of a retard to give you a sense of perspective. And with that in mind, he found himself at the Bricktown Newsstand and finding his eye caught by the latest publication. "The Ugly Inbred News," he mused and felt himself sigh. 

Before he had even found a comfortable bench to rest his glorious moustache, he had finished the flimsy document and was just left holding it outstretched like a shit-stained pair of pants he'd found on the floor of the 12th Street lavs. Dropping it with equal disgust he set off to find UglyInbredGeorge, following the drool trail to a nearby establishment previously known as D0m3n1c's Bar & Coffee Shop, which he had repurposed as a ramshackle residence.

"Ugly George," Simon said without preamble. "What made you publish this nonsense?"

Inbred George cowered like the oft-beaten mongrel he was, "wha-what do you mean, Boss? Killing beluga? Not mentioning Cadhla's booming business district, which nearly reached two patrons one month? Suggesting DarwinRossLigambi might be Ligambi??" he whined piteously.

"What?" Simon asked, surprise managing to temporarily overwhelm his disgust. "Of course not. Those things were all fine, naturally. Set the truth free and all that." Simon waved a hand before continuing, "I mean that bit at the end."

UglyGeorge managed to scrape his chin from the floor and look up at Simon pathetically. "Er, what part, Boss?" 

Simon scrunched up his nose against the smell from being so close to George and felt a headache coming on. "I swear to God, you know exactly what I mean, George. When we discussed names people could call you, I said to be realistic. R-E-A-L-Istic, you dolt. Nobody is going to call you Cool George while I'm alive. Do you hear me, you payday grabbing rodent? I expect a retraction and new list of names in your second issue." 

With that, Simon strode away. Someone was probably talking about him somewhere and he would need to make a handsome appearance to keep his adoring public happy. Everyone loved Simon and Simon loved everyone. Except George. 

Liam put his feet up in his penthouse apartment in Queens and reflected on his recent time spent in Detroit.
 

What a shithole he thought. Despite making 100s of thousands of usd through pickpocketing… Liams beautifully crafted jaw line remains intact. The only impact is to face was the frown lines caused by Interlude verbal and physical attempt at felatio.

As he looks upon his desk there he saw a poorly printed news paper, it almost looks as if a child had stencilled an elementary school signature book on the toilet paper from the 12th street toilets. Liam picks this up and starts to read.

IS DARWINROSS RUNNING A LIGAMBI CRIME FAMILY?

Liam picks up the phone and rings the ugliest man he had even seen. “ UglyInbredGeorge congratulations for having the worst news paper I have ever laid eyes on, the copy I have still has a dribble stain, probably caused by your lover/sister when proof reading each copy of paper. Ligambi was a true gent and someone that single handedly won previous war. When the warchest was running low, Uncle Joe came to the rescue and donated a cool 250m to the cause, without that we may all be speaking a different language and ugly inbred people like you, wouldn’t be able to take a twice a day Payday from the swan geeza”

Liam slams down the phone, he starts to get prepared as he has a queue of female fans waiting to come in, gobbling at the chance of an autograph.

The news was something that Bud always liked to enjoy in the early morning as he drank his Bud Light to start the day. Sometimes he would mix in his bereal which others seemed confused about. Clearly it was the classic breakfast of cheerios and bud light in a bowl. Anyways he was now flipping his way through the nationwide newspaper titled "Ugly Inbred News #1". It was an enthralling piece which he hoped would stay in production for his morning enjoyment.

"Such creative story telling. Swirling rumors about crews and even their leaders. Quotes from those who have died. What else would they be able to come up with as they continue reporting the news?" He said to himself as he sipped on his Bud Light. 

"Wow, what an incredibly handsome author. The fact that he pursues his dream of writing a newspaper rather than a career in modeling. How unselfish of him."

One can only hope that Papa George continues to produce this high-quality newspaper for the nation to consume. 

The audacity to drag my family name through the mud like it’s got beef with plumbing fixtures and bad decisions.

Let me clarify for the halfwit behind the printing press: Monella was my father. God rest his bubble-wrapped, toilet-obsessed soul. 

Yeah, he flushed Alfie’s head down the john. Why? Because Alfie insulted my Nonna’s lasagne and tried to take a dump in the staff-only bathroom without wiping the seat. You don’t do that in this family. We’ve got rules.

The coroner said he died with a smile. I say he died with a flush of pride. But it’s all water under the toilet now, ain’t it?

Monella’s gone, Alfie’s head eventually stopped spinning, and I’m trying to turn the page. Start a new chapter. Maybe even break bread with Alfie’s kin... assuming they know how to use a bathroom properly and don’t insult my Nonna’s cooking.

So here’s to fresh starts, flushed feuds, and family reunions that don’t end in plumbing emergencies.

Ligambi got free real estate in your head huh

Like any good newspaper publisher, I have not listened to a word any of you have attempted to say to me. It would ruin my objectivity. As it stands, I can barely handle object permanence. If you disagree with anything I've said, get your head examined. If you agree with me, good job. Thank you. 

I'd love to get your new name announced...Googly-eyed George. Clearly you have an affinity to a couple of things, like the Ligambis whom you seem to swoon over or your own personal account of your Oedipus complex with your mother, which clearly is still a pervasive thought in your mind to this day. Hell, it seems like you are so infatuated with yourself, I wouldn't be surprised if you yourself were on your own steamy list.

Why "Googly-eyed"?

Shane pulls out a dictionary and reads the following:

googly-eyed

1. Staring at someone or something in surprise with the eyes open very wide. I have some great pictures of the kids looking positively googly-eyed at the zoo. Mary's announcement that she was pregnant left most of us googly-eyed. We stared googly-eyed at the firemen as they rushed past us into the burning building.

2. Looking visibly enamored or smitten with someone. Often said of two people who are romantically interested in each other. Well, if you keep staring at her all googly-eyed, she'll know you like her sooner than later! I can tell April is enamored of her new boyfriend—she keeps looking at him totally googly-eyed. Of course they're beaming at each other googly-eyed—they've only been dating for, like, five minutes!

I see you staring me down, imagining God know what. 

Shane thinks, hoping Googly-eyed George isn't thinking of him as a cowboy in a naughty manner. 

Soul_Hooligan picks up the new publication with a sense of excitement and anticipation, as he sat by the wall overlooking the harbour, in between visits to local business to make collections. He hadn't read anything good in a while and missed the discontinued regular editions of the 'newsparper' and various other editions he once knew.

He chuckled at the comments, the funnies and the opinions. Although some of its content was questionable and the first edition only brief, he was grateful to be kept in touch with developments from across the country and was already looking forward to the next edition. He tipped the newspaper boy still stood by the butchers store on the corner just away from the promenade, and strolled down the main street towards the town hall for his meeting, with a subtle spring in his step.