By George Minkowski
VANCOUVER– Getting to the Olympics takes years of determination and sacrifice. That is, unless you are a curler, in which case all it takes is a complete lack of dignity. But for American Curler Francis Par, it just took a series of failures in every other sport to get to Vancouver for the 2010 winter games.
Born and raised in Fairfax, Virginia, Francis wasn’t good at anything, so naturally he turned to curling were the expectations are so low, people don’t even bet on it ironically. After 14 days of training, he was off to the Olympics, only to find that being an Olympic curler isn’t as cool as his mother made it out to be.
The first and only legitimate challenge that Francis would face presented itself the afternoon of his arrival. He was hungry and wanted to see if the cafeteria had good Mac&Cheese so he went to go eat. It turns out they did have Mac&Cheese, so Francis rejoiced, paid for it, and then left to find someone to eat with.
He made eye contact with the hockey players first, then the Nordic skiers, but nobody offered him a seat or any respect. Francis made an attempt to sit with the Canadian curlers, but the language barrier that they invented to avoid sitting with him was too much to overcome.
To make matters worse for Francis, he couldn’t find the Olympic WERCS to eat in.

Popularity: 9% [?]

By Stasi Starr
DEERFIELD– As the old adage goes, no two snowflakes are exactly a like. Unfortunately, this doesn’t hold true for teenage girls, because on Saturday, two girls wore the same trashy dress to Turnabout.
The dress, if you consider something with so little fabric a dress, was worn by Freshman Molly Cullum and Junior Samantha Mintz. Upon purchasing it, both were sure that nobody else would be wearing the Fuchsia/Silver dress from Allure’s Hannah Montana Collection. The girls were equally stunned to find the other wearing the same jacket that also didn’t cover much.
“I had the dress first,” said the girls.
“I wish you would choose to wear something more… appropriate,” said their mothers, but neither girl brought a more appropriate dress to change into. They were both stuck at the dance in the same tight and tiny “dress.”
It was about a 50/50 split over which girl wore the dress better, however, 100% of the chaperones agreed that the dress should be returned to the Bratz Doll from whom it was stolen.

Popularity: 19% [?]

By Buford Stetson
WASHINGTON, D.C. – In a press release last Friday, the United States Government officially deemed history classes “as useful as the pledge of allegiance in homeroom.” The government then continued fulfilling their other duties, such as watching the Olympics and interrupting random speeches with frequent applause.
As of now, some people have forgotten why history was ever considered important in the first place. Said (ex) historian Kenneth Barnes, “We can use history to learn from the past and guide future actions. History is really the compelling story of our world.” Well I’ve got news for you Kenneth. You’re now unemployed, and that story sucked. I find nothing amusing about Paul Revere’s role in the American Revolution. That story stunk more than the children’s instructional DVD, one if by urinal, two if by stall.
History teachers across the nation protested immediately upon hearing news of the government’s press release. Unfortunately, never before in history had history classes been declared useless, so history teachers decided to do nothing. Said Peoria High School’s social studies department chair George Smitherton, “We did exactly what history told us to do. Nothing. Can’t you see how useful history is?”
In response, math department chair Charles Ells chuckled based on the equation y=1.67e.04x, and English department chair Anna Falses analyzed the sentiment of the history teachers as pertinent to the emerging themes of the year.
History students gave mixed responses to the declaration. Said South North High School Sophomore Lynette Klein, “Well I’m in AP Psych so I understand where they’re coming from. They’re suppressing their true rationale for getting rid of history classes because they struggled in history as high schoolers. They may not know it, but I do. Trust Me. Did I Mention I’m in AP Psych?”
Said Senior Jacob Bertolli, “I think it’s pretty sweet. World history was my only class, so now I have like 8 free periods. I can, like, sleep in really late. And leave really early. And I might even graduate now that I don’t have to pass that stupid constitution test.”
Regardless of perspective, today marks a momentous occasion that will certainly not go down in history. Now we can all just forget about the Bush Administration, the Tonkin Gulf Resolution, and Sarah Palin. Maybe we will remember her son, Trig, but math might be next to go.

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By Officer Dan
I spend long days patrolling the streets, enforcing speed limits and watching for dangerous activity. I work tirelessly to ensure the safety of this town and its people. I proudly enforce the necessary laws upon which this nation was built.
And I’m sick and tired of getting lip for enjoying a doughnut once in a while. I’ve always liked doughnuts, even before I was a police officer. I don’t enjoy them more than anybody else. Probably just the average amount, I’d guess. I have a balanced diet, I exercise regularly, and I take a multi-vitamin every morning.
So why, then, do people try making me feel guilty about eating a Krispy Kreme or two?
Just the other day, actually, I made a stop at the local Dunkin-Donuts. Now I usually don’t even go there, but my wife gave me a coupon for a free cup of coffee with the purchase of a doughnut. Upon entering the establishment, I was greeted with snickers and stifled giggling. A little boy approached me, pointed his finger at me, and said, “My mommy says people like you should stop coming here so much”. And after ordering a glazed doughnut and a bear claw, the young man behind the counter barely choked out, “Have…a nice day… officer,” before bursting in laughter.
Hey you, little boy with chocolate all over your face. Grow up. Do you see this, right here on my belt? It’s not a Super-Soaker. And your mother should tell you that it’s rude to point. And you, pizza-faced minimum wage worker. Yeah, I’m talking to you. I serve and protect. You work at a Dunkin-Donuts. Who should be laughing at whom? I bet you think that every construction worker eats sandwiches out of brown paper bags. You make me sick.
I mean, come on. The donut shops are the only decent places to go during night shifts. It’s cheap, and close to the police station. What am I supposed to do? The facts that I’m a cop and I like doughnuts are completely unrelated. I thought Americans moved past prejudice and bigotry hundreds of years ago. Obviously I was mistaken.
Oh wait, gotta go. I just saw a kid walking outside and I’m pretty sure he was wearing a Metallica shirt. He must have at least a few drugs on him.“

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By Butch, the Bomb-Sniffing German Shepherd

Horray! I love coming to this place! There are never any bombs and always stuff to eat. I love eating! One time, I was— hold on. What am I doing here again? Oh, right. Bombs. Gotta find bombs. But I don’t smell any. Maybe if I pretend that I’m onto something I will still get a treat at the end. Oh boy, I sure hope I get a treat! I loves treats… wait. I smell something… Nope, Officer Patrick just farted again. He better not blame this one on me too.
I think we have something here. Yes we do! Down the hall! Better run!!! I WAS RIGHT! It’s an empty Gatorade bottle! Jackpot. I am such a good boy. Dang it, they wanted bombs. I forgot.
Well that was some hard-hitting police work. I better take a break and chase my own tail for a while. I… almost… got… ouch! Who bit me?! Okay. No time to figure that one out. I need to find some bombs. I think there is a half-eaten mozzarella stick on the other side of the school. I better run to get it like it is a bomb.
Got it! No, I will not spit it out! I found it! Get your own! Oh I see how it is. Well we’ll how you like it when I’m mad at you.
I forgive you! You’re my best friend. Let’s never fight again.
Is that a ticking noise I hear? I think it is. What am I supposed to do again? We trained for this. Ticking noise means… play dead? That doesn’t sound right. I got it! Ticking noise means bomb and bomb means treat. Run to the treat! Run to the treat! Run to the— drippy faucet. Ooo! Some gum! No, I will not spit it out.

Popularity: 11% [?]

By Gunther Hausmann
After a near-sleepless night of doing homework and going on Facebook, Junior Kristen Holbrook declared that she received fewer hours of sleep than you. Her mere three hours of sleep constitute just one third of the sleep that the National Institute of Health recommends for teens, but regardless, Kristen maintains that the dangers of sleep deprivation are not important. The only thing that matters is that she got less sleep than you.
“I went to bed at three a.m. and woke up at six,” Kristen reports. “That’s three hours. Yea. How much did you get?”
The tone Kristen takes would suggest that there was some type of competition going on to see who could be the least responsible about getting to bed on time, but at this point, it seems that Kristen is taking pride in not getting a lot of sleep for no reason.
It has also been reported that Kirsten jumped in on several conversations at the blocks when she heard people talk about how tired they were. Evidently, she really wants to make it known that nobody get less sleep than her and that nobody else is allowed to feel tired.

Popularity: 9% [?]

By Buford Stetson
MIAMI, FL — As Tracy Porter intercepted Petyon Manning’s pass late in the fourth quarter and ran it back for a touchdown, I was quick to realize two things. For starters, it meant that my gambling addiction had finally yielded a reward. After betting on everything from to coin toss, to the number of television appearances of Kim Kardashian (which was surprisingly zero!), to the odds of a player, or Pete Townshend, being carted off the field, I finally won a bet. After sticking to my philosophy that any bet with the odds of are 10,000 to one is worth taking, my purse of 40 dollars from the game of squares almost compensated my 56 dollars in expenses. But this miraculous occurrence seemed mundane compared to the next thing that I realized: Peyton Manning had thrown the Super Bowl.
Petyon Manning does not throw interceptions. Peyton always performs well under pressure, and with his father watching Peyton’s drive ensured a dramatic comeback. But there was one flaw in this comeback: Peyton was playing for far more than a football game. Manning had a list of reasons to throw the Super Bowl, and they were on everyone’s minds. After Hurricane Katrina devastated New Orleans in 2005, the city and the economy experienced lasting effects. Peyton understood what a Super Bowl victory meant to New Orleans: a chance to celebrate the town and finally begin their recovery process. Peyton also understood what the Super Bowl meant to him: a chance to celebrate the most epic Mardi Gras of all time. New Orleans is currently feeling the effects of the most elaborate party coordination in history. A recipe of a Super Bowl victory two days away from Fat Tuesday, an incredibly lenient and non-existent police force, and famous streets named after alcoholic beverages could only create one delicious confection: the anti-Friday night in Deerfield. Said Peyton on Tuesday, “Dude! Totally worth it! This is the craziest party I’ve ever been to, and trust me: I’ve been to some crazy parties. I’ve literally got beads of sweat rolling down my face if you know what I’m saying.”
But apparently, the story digs even deeper. Spotted alongside Manning in the French Quarter was Minnesota Vikings Quarterback Brett Favre. Amidst a group singing of “Party in the USA,” Favre was quoted as saying to Peyton, “It was all totally worth it man! I mean the interception in the NFC Championship was embarrassing, but at least it means I’ll get to retire and then unretire and play next year! I may be old, but I can still take the shots if you know what I’m saying.” The two then exchanged an elaborate handshake and continued nodding their heads like “yeah.” So, maybe football really is just a game. Maybe the Super Bowl isn’t as important as we all deem it to be. When push comes to shove, it’s all up to the players if you know what I’m saying.

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