"What kind of bullshit is this?" a voice incredulously shot through the air of a seemingly vacant building overlooking Long Island. Overgrown grass, a rusted gate and a faded sign were all that remained to the world in reminder of what stood there years ago; the Great Depression had taken its toll on New York, and the headquarters of the out-of-print Long Island Enquirer was certainly no exception. Spending several years in a Peruvian prison didn't help the cause, either - nor did the mass murder of most of his writers after a military man took exception to being called "hipster" in passing. As profitable as the Long Island Enquirer was in its heyday, the press was, for all intensive purposes - literal and metaphorical - dead.

Even the Enquirer's generous cocaine supply had gone by the wayside courtesy of the countless raids the FBN sponsored. Solastalgia reminisced fondly of his "For just a cup of cocaine a day.." campaign, which, surprisingly, reaped in a fair amount of profit for the struggling paper in its beginning. But the past was where those fond memories remained, and the building was all too happy to share the fact that it had deteriorated from its former grandeur significantly as the stair's railing shook violently when Solastalgia laid his hand on a segment of it as he tried to climb the long winding stairs to his old office.

A dead body lurched over the entrance to the editor's office - a vagrant, Solastalgia assumed, who had come to seek refuge in the building's hollowed halls. Paper and old cocaine littered the upstairs area - the latter of which he assumed was the cause of the old man's death. Putting down his parcel that was filled with various rumors and stories that were from his re-established contacts, he rolled over the dead vagrant, affirming his suspicions; cocaine overdose. After dragging the foul-smelling vagrant a few feet to the stairs and throwing him down the stairs, he pondered whether the incinerator in the hidden chambers of his building still functioned.

Several days later and after numerous payoffs to immigrants in need of a quick job, the newly furnished and clean headquarters to the Long Island Enquirer looked satisfactory. Rickety wood and water-damaged walls were now absent from the building he formerly called home. The railing of the stairs had been replaced with a much heavier marble rail, which would probably second as a great bashing post should the opportunity ever present itself. Solastalgia dismissed those thoughts immediately as he grabbed a mug that read "WORLD'S BEST BOSS" and climbed the long stairs to the Editor's Office - a journey that made Solastalgia feel right at home, bringing him a certain comfort and peaceful serenity to be back in his familiar surroundings. For the rare moment in his life, he was actually content. He opened the window to his office and felt a calm breeze blow against him as he chucked the mug he had brought upstairs through the window, creating a small cloud of ashes that was quickly carried by the wind that emanated from the now-shattered ceramic cup that shot and splintered across the pavement.


The Long Island Enquirer - Issue.. VI?


Note From the Editor


After an absence that seemed like decades, we're back in business. After hustling Toby for reduced rates on Dunder MIfflin paper and updating our printing press by scavenging graves and starting a successful crematorium spin-off business, I am very happy to announce the return of the Long Island Enquirer. Enjoy.



Half of Country's Criminals Dead, Operation "Give me your fucking cash so I can repurchase bodyguards" Begins



In the wake of two bloody conflicts that have left a majority of the country's criminal community penniless and begging what few survivors are left for bloodline-guilted handouts, the five remaining city heads have launched an ambitious project aimed at squeezing every last cent out of their members in a desperate bid to cling to relevancy in a cash-strapped, recession-laden country. Hundreds of bodyguards have been spotted entering soup kitchens in search of a meal due to the cash shortage, while others were found near the graves of their former employers, desperately trying to avoid being shot from inexperienced and impatient children trying to reclaim but a fraction of their parents glory, from the days when they were essentially a mildly impressive number on a back-alley spreadsheet.


Carcasses from already dead bodyguards littered the nation's streets, causing a headache for governmental agencies and a much needed stimulus from the black market organ-farming industry. Suffering too is now a population of entitled children, now unable to secure the massive financial packages that were once common to incentivize their parents actions, as the remaining survivors continue to seize any and all dollars they can receive to keep their sinking army of bodyguards afloat in a sea of bodies.


In response to this, received from an anonymous source, several families have cleverly disguised what is blatantly panhandling in its finest form in the guise of a colourful, euphemism-riddled contest that promises mere scraps on the table for the "winners", a crude name to describe the most gullible and generous members of their organization, in the form of handing out infinitesimally small bond packages that have lost more than 30% of their value since conflicts began on Monday. With no sign of this stopping, combined with the recession in full force, it'll be quite a treat to see the cyclical return of under-subsidized and overrated members being treated to mountains of protection while the average Clipper foots the bill!



With Vast Increase In Newcomers, Unnecessarily Annoying Anonymous Godfather Keeps Busy


In the wake of the aforementioned war that removed a large percentage of the country's criminals, the Anonymous Godfather known for stalking the younger generation is busier than ever, assaulting countless Generation I-Just-Got-Slaughtered-In-A-War's through the medium of pelting large and outdated books towards them, some with deadly consequences.

In our Long Island Enquirer's Secret Investigation, we trailed the anonymous Godfather in his interactions with others.

"Take it - take it!", the man screamed, throwing book after book after note while haranguing the young man on the street. Bloodied and bruised from the several large books that had been swung in his direction, the young man fell unconscious as the Anonymous Godfather leaned over him.

"Easy, ain't it kid? Gets easier the more you do it. I told ya. Next thing you know, snatchin' purses will be old hat. You'll be robbin' liquor stores and hitting up the 7-11's. But be careful. Like I told you, you keep it up, and word on the streets will travel fast. Soon you'll be pegged as a local thug, and once the people who run this town find out there's someone running around not on their watch? We'll lets just say its best to get yourself affiliated early. Kid?"

A pool of blood formed around the young man, and, followed by some involuntarily jerks and twitches, ceased being.

"Cheap ass, no-good.... and they call ME worthless..." the Godfather was heard muttering, as he walked away with his entourage.

We followed him to his next visit, a goomba in Chicago.

"Hey kid, looks like you're still alive. That's always good. How do you like life in the big city? Ain't nothing like home, now is it? How's life in your family?"

Before the goomba could respond, a vehicle pulled up to the young man as a second passenger drew his weapon and fired four square shots in the goomba's chest from his pistol, yelling out a crude "CREW IA RIP MAN" before speeding off into the night.


Once again, the godfather leaned over the young man.

"Well, if you have issues with your family, you really should take it up with the capos… after all, one day you may be doing their job. Remember, those men and women are at times overworked, but they care. If you have any issues with your family, make sure you're respectful about it; mafiosos are known to be very particular about manners and civility…respect will get you everywhere; disrespect will get you swimming. Kid?"

The freshly dead goomba had neither a response nor a rebuttal, and once more, a pool of blood formed under the young member. Not noticing the blood nor the lifeless gaze in his eyes, the godfather continued.


"I'm off then; if you have any questions there are boundless resources at your disposal; take heed to use them wisely. You will see me again."



Op-Ed: Stop Inviting Me to your God Damned OC's and Then Canceling Them Minutes Later



Here I am, walking down the boulevard of my favourite city, New York. I have a pretty normal schedule. A friendly visit to my cocaine dealer, followed by my normal four-shot espresso at my favourite café, and a nice croissant to boot. WIth my experience in explosives from the Great War, maybe I'll demolish one of the abandoned buildings around Manhattan to keep my skills sharp, but in most part, I have a pretty normal schedule.


And then there's the envelope - stamped with that damned cartoon-like devil that catches your eye. I open it to find that my skills are required for a local job - something that requires a bit more effort than manhandling the clerk of my local 7-11. I'm given an address, and, a taxi ride later, I'm there. Except - what? The police are already there? The job was started without me. The police chief mentions to the local reporter that the job happened minutes ago. A courier approaches me and hands me another envelope, which simply reads "sorry, bro, There was a problem with the invite, it could not be accepted."

That's it?, I asked myself. The smallest window of time had passed before I arrived at my destination, only for the job to already be done, with my invite worth nothing more than toilet paper. To say I'm aggravated would be an understatement, and, to make matters worse, I now have a greasy mouth thanks to me scarfing down my croissant to speed up my arrival. Thanks, asshole.

Organized crimes are called organized for a reason - they take time. Having less patience than a goldfish probably won't earn you any favours, and, next time I'm stiffed on a job, I'll take a fucking bat to your car.


Epic Poet Assaulted with Rotten vegetables, Snobbery in the Streets



"Life an open book or a living nightmare it comes as no surprise a woman a man and a boat ain't that something to write about death ain't it beautiful..... "

"Love peace and valor ain't it sweet like tea but even sweeter life a close knit family yet so outta touch with one another."

Such are the words of the legendary wordsmith and poet LaMueta, one of the greatest legends of our time who could be blessed with a pen. Highly praised from the elite for his cryptic language, his gripping stories of the pondering of our mortality, and the always-strange confusion of life. Much to our surprise, the lowbrow criminal community held back no criticism of the poet, dropping insult after insult into his heartfelt work, completely failing to see the meaning behind his words.

Please put a bit more effort into your Street speeches. Thank You.

AW

Reply by: AmphibiousWhale at Nov 21, '12 17:16

Please put a bit more effort into your street replies, you blubbering sea ham.

It isn't grammatically correct, it doesn't have a hidden message, it has no real punctuation and you've already had a few of these removed for being spam if my memory serves me right. Try going back to the drawing board or finding a partner who can edit your work because the Gods shouldn't have to clean up the streets every time you think 2 lines are inspirational.


Reply by: WhereWasWadeWilson at Nov 21, '12 18:18

Completely missing the hidden cipher in LaMueta's two replies that leads to a secret location in the mountains of Argentina, my question is not where Wade Wilson was, but rather where he left his brain.


LaMueta, you're too good for the likes of this crowd, my friend. While your work may not find the much-deserved praise that it should in this world, keep trying. There are plenty of other places where I'm sure your work would be welcomed with open arms.


Obituaries


With death, comes remembrance, (and a significant boost in the death services industry) and with the vast amount of casualties our nation suffered over the last few days, we can take solace in knowing that their memory will last an eternity. As is tradition with the Long Island Enquirer, we have decided to pick out the select, elite few that we feel made a true difference to our life, in one way, or the other, who lost their lives in this conflict.



TittySprinkles


The 18 day existence of TittySprinkles will not be forgotten nor laid to waste in the sands of time. Too good for this world and plagued with jealous colleagues, TittySprinkles led the life of a model mafioso and will forever be missed for their vast knowledge, endless determination, and hilariously inappropriate alias. Rest in Peace.


NapoleonBonaparte


The former Emperor of France seemingly escaped certain death from his exile in Saint Helena and was seen puttering around in New York, appearing incredibly frail and aged. Sources report that he was gunned down in a hit and run that also took the life of the legendary ImTerryFox. It hardly needs stating that we'll miss this seemingly ancient and out of place relic of history.


HITMAN10

"not wanting to lose what I have. Life"

His quote will be remembered for generations as a cry for pacifism shrouded in a large question mark as a man who had no qualms with taking other life on a frequent basis. A prolific and legendary hitman in his two day existence, his tactics, lessons, words of wisdom and his massive now-public kill list on Google Documents lives on in eternity.


PoopFart2009


The most tragic loss of the community by a vast stretch, PoopFart2009 will be remembered for his vast influence in the Seven Cities, a network stretching from Los Angeles to Philadelphia with myriads of colleagues and allies he called his friends and family. His suicide came as a shock to the nation, with many publicly expressing their feelings on the matter.

"Who the fuck is PoopFart2009?" - Gypsy

"I was paid $350,000 to mention PoopFart2009 in this issue of the Long Island Enquirer." - Solastalgia

"i tried to invite him to an oc once" - Private

"I glanced at the name and thought nothing of it." - WildTurkey

"My only wish is that his family either starts naming their kin better or it become PoopFest420" - Special Correspondent KeyPunch, Still Exiled, Banging on the Border Wall of Canada




Final Notes from the Editor



This work is presented to you as (mostly) fiction, jest, and satire. Only a fool would take our content at face value.

Continuing the tradition set by the long out of print Priscilla Press, if you're a fan of the Long Island Enquirer, consider contributing financially to Solastalgia's Cocaine Fund. For just the price of a cup of cocaine a day, you'll be ensuring that you receive cutting edge reporting, content and hours on end of entertainment for the head writer.


Want to submit an article, or promote a business? Contact the editor for details discussing your content.

No. I won't.

AW

Governor, taking a stroll through the streets, comes across a stack of papers labeled 'The Long Island Enquirer'.

Reading through it, smirks are commonly seen and chuckles freely given, as Governor always enjoyed decent pieces of satire.

Satisfied with what he read, he takes a copy with him, eager to recommend it to fellow readers.

WhereWasWadeWilson quickly notices the paper,

Good attempt mate. Next time try putting something funny in it so the best laugh isn't when you call it a piece written in fiction, jest and satire. You almost had me laughing when you brought up the Anonymous Godfather but instead of writing actual fictional comedy you just wrote bulk quantity boredom and let my hopes down. Quality over quantity mate, you're supposed to be a writer not a manufacturing plant manager when you write papers. That being said, I can assume you thought you were selling/making paper like you do at Dunder Mifflin rather than writing a news paper, so I can't wait to see how your next one turns out when you actually focus on the humor and quality. If the next one doesn't turn out very well either might I suggest the following edition be on a subject you have a better understanding of because this paper clearly proved you don't understand comedy.

Oh and yes the only reason I read this rubbish was because I was told you criticized me but not for the reason you probably believe. I love constructive criticism and was looking forward to it because you never know when something will help you identify a real flaw, but you can't even be bothered to put a decent effort into it (I assume it's your attempt at criticism because it wasn't funny, hurtful, intelligent or whatever it was you were attempting to do so I decided to call it criticism like the man who mailed me) so clearly you were just looking to fill space in your already bulk quantity filled joke of a paper. Believe me when I say I'd love for your next paper to actually be funny because this place is so much better when the streets are lively and filled with quality writers, but don't mind me doubting you can accomplish that.

I should probably mention off of the bat, that if you see me referring to another user as a "blubbering sea ham", that I'm probably not being serious in a piece. Rather than see this as what it was originally intended for, you've seemed to have mistaken me for someone who made a half-hearted attempt at criticism when the center piece was focused neither on you, nor the blubbering sea ham that has also managed to rear its massive head in our corner of the streets this morning.

Coupled with the fact that I've nearly received a migraine simply trying to navigate my way through the trash-laden maze you have as a calling card, you'll have to forgive me if I'm not too keen on taking the word of someone who's two lone appearances on the street seem to be criticism without a massive shovel of salt and a bottle of painkillers, my friend.

He glanced down at his book, realizing he had lost his place in the many pages.

Ah, I've seem to have lost my place on some quality content that I'd rather make a nice read out of. I do quite look forward to your far more superior and dazzling content in the future, WWWW - I'm sure it'll be a treat.

Right, well the joke wasn't funny at all if that's what it was supposed to be so I had to assume it was something. Next time make it actually funny so I can assume it's a joke and not just a critique written by a guy who recently borrowed LaMueta's crayons to write his "paper". The problem with claiming to not be serious, is you actually have to be funny and you had no comedy whatsoever in this entire rag. You also skipped my bit that it was only thrown in there to bulk more quantity in this shit rag, why was it added?

Oh, and that piece I wrote that you mentioned was written quickly due to time restraints and if you were smart enough to figure out the first clue (which clearly you weren't as you decided to go after that) it would be blatantly obvious it has far more quality than this rag. It was a logic puzzle competition you nitwit, read the last comment and you'll understand why it had lots of quality content if you were smart enough to figure out the first puzzle you just insulted. On top of that, those previously mentioned time restraints were due to outside factors (Hurricane Sandy) and if not for them I would've written twice as much for each part of that competition. Everyone who figured out clue number one loved that puzzle and many more came to me looking for the answers because they genuinely enjoy logic puzzles. Most of whom were CLs and hands, but hell what would they know. I mean you've got an Earner backing your piece so clearly you had a wonderful showing.

As for other quality content, if you're not even smart enough to ask around about who I am then you're not worth my time because not very long ago these streets were littered with my comments and threads. I've been asked many times to start writing again because the streets have become far too serious but quite frankly I have not chosen my new focal point for my actually funny jokes so I won't. Nothing funnier has come to mind than the scouse monkeys and slapping Fozzie and the Frenchwoman around so I just don't have any inspiration to try. When the time and inspiration come, you'll see me out here with something that makes people laugh with an almost childish presentation that will get people going with back and forth jokes again. In the mean time, try to figure out how to write a paper people can read that's actually funny because these streets are far too serious.

Quite frankly, I could care less who your father or grandfather was in a previous life, Mr. WIlson, if your brief time in this life as a Goomba is giving the impression of a bitter relic from an age that is no longer relevant to these days.

On top of that, what was clearly a joke in passing seems to have brought you quite some grief if you're willing to launch into an entire paragraph defending your content. As someone who just spoke of the streets being far too serious, I surely thought that you would have taken my stab at you with the humour and cooler head than it was intended for. I've seemed to have misjudged you on that aspect. To add to that, I'm quite bothered that as a member of your own city, you've felt the need to bring a 400 word diatribe to the streets in what could have easily been a private conversation that would have avoided the awkward exchange of a Goomba insulting someone several ranks (and positions) your senior.

By all means, my door is open to any constructive criticism, but I'd suggest in the future that you use a different set of words outside of "shit rag" and "nitwit", unless you want people who are much less patient than myself to get the inherently wrong idea that you're insulting, rather than properly criticizing, someone, as I'm afraid what was clearly an attempt at being helpful now appears to be morphing into something far different than its intention.

I personally enjoyed the read. While it was littered with jokes throughout the pieces it was still humorous, and I appreciate the overall satire of the paper.

Speaking of paper. Have you seen the paper this newpaper is printed on? Simple fantastic, we have a deal on paper going on over at the HQ right now actually. You get a free box of paper with every two boxes purchased. Simply wonderful.

But anyway. I think that this paper has potential and I will be reading the next edition when it is released.

Toby, I may just have to take advantage of that offer. I'll send for some immediately; The Calamari is due to go to press shortly. We're rather proud to say that we have formed something of an alliance with The Long Island Enquirer due to the sheer magnificence of its editor.

I'll have 30 boxes please, plus whatever extra you can spare. I shall also send a box of cigars for you to enjoy at your leisure. I'm more of a poignant cigarette smoker myself.

Ember skitters to the news stand like a little girl awaiting her first swing dance lesson. She runs her fingertips along the top copy of The Long Island Enquirer and lets out a small shriek of excitement.

This paper is the best news-meets-tabloid segment EVER!

Ember hugs the paper to her bosom, careful not to crumple the edges. She turns and sees Toby examining the paper with a magnifying glass and tweezers.

And isn't the quality of the pager just GORGEOUS! What fine paper, Solastalgia! You've always had a good eye for high quality stock. J'adore, ma cherie!

Ember slides her hand along Solastalgia's shirt cuff, giving the edge a light tug

I can't wait to read the next copy.

She slinks through the crowd, her red coattails disappearing behind her.

Toby takes out a notepad and a pen.

Perfect! Another sale. Let's see 30 boxes, carry the two, ah yes. 45 boxes, I'll put the order in right away and get them sent over to you.

Ah, I love cigars! I can only smoke them in my office though, I learned my lesson after the last fire. Smoking in a paper company. Who woulda guessed it was a bad idea!

You brought my father's work into this, sir. So once you open that door you open each and every one of my fore-fathers' work so great work there bud. Way to remember your own positions you took in this discussion. I wasn't being a bitter, I was responding to your response, but way to pay attention to your own response.

Again, the joke wasn't funny and I only responded because the joke/critique wasn't funny at all and left me questioning why you put it in at all. It's not grief, and it's not my job to hold your hand when you fail at joking about me in the streets. I'm a mean guy lately and if you did your homework you'd know to talk to me before using my name for anything unless it was quality work because I enjoy making people who misuse my name squirm. Once you bring my name out here it's not my responsibility to take the conversation out of the streets. The problem with your failed jokes that you might not understand is those "poems" are spam and he seriously needs to stop.

Oh, and I'll pick my words nicely when you don't spam yourself. If you read my initial comment, it wasn't the comment that caused me to respond. It was the fact that you didn't take the time to make the part about me funny and you used my name to lengthen your paper. If you're that desperate for content go elsewhere because I won't sit quietly while my name is being used for lengthening purposes with no real effort because you can't think of anything better to write.

Oh and my apologies for the mean man words, next time I'll just have to say "terrible write" instead of "shit rag" and I'm not sure what to call someone who can't even figure out it was the first clue to my old puzzle and then tries to imply I'm not smart enough to write quality pieces other than nitwit, so I guess I could have just laughed and said "I'm not sure what to call someone who brings up part of my old puzzle, can't even figure out it was the first clue to my old puzzle and then tries to imply I'm not smart enough to write quality pieces when you could have saved yourself the embarrassment by quick checking the following responses in the piece you picked out to scrutinize."

Oh and my intention was to tell you not to put my name in a paper without my consent. If you do, I want it to be quality and not just used for lengthening spam. How am I doing so far?

Kittie bought a few dozen copies to sleep under in the harsh weather seeing as her newly dead mother had been killed so suddenly and unexpectedly that she had never been able to set up a proper will. She folded up several sheets and stuffed them with wads of paper for a makeshift pillow, then curled up behind the newsstand to try to stay warm.