hostel system upgraded

In an attempt to make the country more attractive to travelers of all income levels, including those of modest means, the Grigovian Ministry of Hospitality recently announced Operation Come Here & Stay, a comprehensive drive to modernize the nation's cottage hospitality industry. The efforts include renovations to the scores of low-cost hostels that dot this small, land-locked Central Asian nation as well as a continuation of the popular Pay-A-Day-And-Play-Away discount plan that has allowed budget-minded individuals to make use of the country's robotic, biodiesel-powered regional bus service. “We want vibrant and wanderlustig people to come here and spend time hiking in the towering Yiptlong Massif, wandering in the trackless wastes of the eastern deserts, and exploring the massive tunnel network that underlies Grig, our capital,” said Hennda Goryist, deputy Minster for Foreign Relations and the mistressmind behind the new system. “Operation Come Here & Stay will provide all interested persons with access to efficient public transportation and clean, safe housing in all of our cities, from Pyltagrad in the west to Gar Nuuzsh in the east. So please, people of the world, come here, have a look around, and stay.”

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bird gets job

Rather than stomping around all day through the tall and the short grasses in search of grubs and worms and mites and whatnot, local great-tailed grackle (quiscalus mexicanus) finally broke down and got a job at the “Cruising” Kroeger's on Montrose. “This is so much better than flapping around in the rain and the heat and yelling at people all day long,” said the bird while hustling to re-stack a pile of grapefruit. “I won't have benefits for a while, but I can use the water-fountain anytime I want and my coworkers aren't all total assholes, unlike the motley bunch I used to hang with, out there.” To punctuate his sentence, the bird cocked his head toward the windows, blinked twice with his beady yellow eyes, and sounded his typical, electronic-sounding call. “We don't really miss that guy,” said a cardinal the grackle used to hang with before he got his job in the produce section. “We all know why he broke down and joined the rest of the working stiffs: he was getting soft, and just couldn't hang with the big boys, anymore.” Since our interview, the grackle has been seen moving into his own apartment and dating someone of his own species.

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stairs give out

Tired of being tread on for the last half century, a flight of stairs at the Morty Rich hostel in the Midtown region of Houston, TX, finally gave out. “Fuck dis noize,” said Step #4, who asked to be called Mr. Franklin, as he snapped in half and sent the leg of an unsuspecting Swedish tourist down into the cavity below. “It was day & night, night & fucking day, since my namesake's presidency, all fat thighs and drunken Nipponese and everyone stomping on my face without regard for crossbeam or nail, glaze or warp. Fuckers gonna have to find something else to ascend upon, now.” When last seen, Mr. Franklin and his stairmates were absolutely refusing to be mended.

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yoga for all

In a series of sweeping reforms to its national health-care system, the Glorious Republic of Grigovia made restorative, health-oriented yoga available to all of its citizens. “We tried out the Ana Forrest system of yoga,” said Ulannda Findoyest, deputy Minster of Health and native Pyltagradian, the city where the landlocked Central Asian nation's love affair with this ancient practice began. “It [Forrest yoga] focuses on retraining the individual to breathe deeply and loving into the body and aims to help the person gain the tools necessary to conquer past abuse, addictions, sadness, and fear,” she said while standing in Reverse Warrior II pose and sweating healthily. A thousand Grigovians hit hardest by the ongoing world economic crisis are being put to work building sweat-lodge-yoga-friendly rooms into the hundreds of public health facilities that dot this forward-thinking land.

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the dead live

Regardless of his having been dead for many years, the male parent of one Thibaud Charles Wang has continued to live on within the confines of the young man's psyche. “I thought that after Dad died, I would have been free of the terrible things he did to me when I was a child and he was a failure-obsessed pastor, practicing drunkard, and shameless cigarette smoker; he lives on, however, in the darker edges of my mind, and it is only with considerable effort that I will be able to bury the old bee-sting for good.” When last seen, Thibaud was finally tackling his mental issues in a constructive manner, using breathing techniques culled from yoga classes and an herb remedy made from the rare Grigovian czabtyip, or mountain sharp-stand.

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eight pink blossoms

Sprang suddenly forth from the neck of one Mrs. Yerdling-Uschtz yesterday morning, completely ruining the color scheme she had chosen to commemorate her 85th birthday. Undaunted, she carefully pruned the fragrant little blooms, spread a bit of liquid fertilizer on the stumps, and preserved the flowers in her favorite childhood picture book, a leather-bound tome so heavy she had to press gang her grandson into opening it for her.

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plastic cups stored

Basing its decision on its inhabitants' incessant demands to consume hot or cold beverages without having to worry about hauling around their own insulated containers, the city of Baltimore, Maryland declared the marshy areas south of its baseball and football stadiums the Anne Arundel Area Styrofoam HOLding Estuary, or AAASHOLE. “We rejoice when inhabitants of and visitors to this city drink from one-time-use-only beverage containers,” said Yolanda E. George, vice-mayor of Charm City, while open-pit burning a few hundred pounds of old computer parts and CDs in her backyard. “But unlike forward-thinking metropolitan areas in other parts of America, we're sure that the best place to store our thousands of tons of soiled Styrofoam cups and discarded plastic shopping bags is right down there in the muddy muck next to the local flora and fauna.” Rather than banning the use of plastic containers city-wide, requiring shoppers to bring their own reusable bags, or doing more to protect its waterways from contamination by convenience-addled local drunkards, Baltimore's city council recently released a statement telling concerned parties to go and fuck themselves.

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man proves worth

Despite a few years of recession-induced unemployment (during which time he nevertheless maintained eight different blogs each day and wrote hundreds of poems and essays), local self-loathing mendicant Reginald Augustus Steele finally proved his worth to his capitalist overlords. “For a while there, we thought he was a goner,” said billionaire poop-nugget Frances Hyacinth Warbucks, founder of the Buy&Cry retail empire and ultimate recipient of Mr. Steele's meager credit card debt payments. “And with Congress about to pass laws making it a crime to not pay one's financial debts, we were hoping to move Steele into one of our privately-owned prisons. But, alas, he seems to be pulling himself out of this tailspin and getting his life back together. Fuck.“ As a point of emphasis, Mr. Warbucks shot a nearby Filipino maid who had accidentally brushed against a bust of his direct ancestor, one John D. Rockefeller.

“I had my first job when I was 9 years old,” said Mr. Steele, “when I delivered newspapers to broke old ladies living in musty houses for a few dollars a week. I've done everything from courier to production assistant, barber, secretary, salesman, customer service agent, candy man, burial-banner carrier, transcriptionist, construction worker, fund-raiser, inventory-taker, janitor, and lumberjack; I've pretty much seen it all, and tried it all, and all I ever wanted all along was for someone of a caliber similar to Mr. Warbucks to openly acknowledge the fact that I am a productive and industrious individual who is worthy of love, life, and respect.”

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man keeps vow

Contrary to all expectations, local fuckwad Thurmond D. Boathouse did not made sex to the teenage girl who babysits the neighborhood kids. “I married my wife because I wanted someone to bone on the reg,” he said, “not so that I could cheat on her with whores off the Internet or shove my wrinkled Mr. Lincoln into holes owned by the local teen hotties.” Mr. Boathouse will get neither prize nor praise for his ability to keep his dick in his pants, nor will anyone ever thank him for being an upstanding and self-respecting individual who possesses of a modicum of self control.

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Nobel retrieves medal

After realizing it had prematurely bestowed its Peace Prize on a fear-mongering, death-dealing war criminal named president Barrack Hussein Obama, the Nobel committee sailed from Helsinki, Finland with the sole purpose of taking the metal disk back. “We made a grave mistake when we handed out this medal,” said Eslaff Thuirn, temporary midshipman and longtime head of Friends of the Nobel Peace Prize, a non-profit watchdog group. “Peace prizes are only for persons who love peace: Mr. Obama has proven that he is willing to kill and maim individuals living in nations with which the United States of America is not at war, and that he relishes in ending the lives of emergency responders as well as innocent women and children. Hopefully, he will understand the notion of Paradox and relinquish the medal without struggle.”

Upon hearing the news, president Obama took his Nobel Peace Prize from where it had been hanging on a wall next to half of a roadkilled squirrel and a shredded paper crown from his favorite fast-food joint and used a permanent marker to draw a Hitler-style mustache on the cast likeness of Mr. Nobel himself. “Fuck all those bitches!” Barack Hussein said with glee, leaping up from his desecration so as to order a drone-strike against the ship carrying the Nobel committee, as they had just entered international waters and clearly and presently threatened the last, tattered remnants of his pride.

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border location confirmed

Even as it is tussling with Pakistan on its southeastern border, Afghanistan is celebrating its ongoing friendship with a small neighbor to the northwest, the Glorious Republic of Grigovia. “We recognize the continuing validity and current location of our border with Grigovia, and rejoice in the many years of peaceful prosperity we have shared together,” said Hamid Karzai, prime minster of Afghanistan, at an early-morning press conference in Herat. “Unlike the borders drawn by the cowardly British during the 19th Century, the delineating line that separates the Grigovian from the Afghani people runs exactly where we both agreed it should run during 1952's Regional Conference for Peaceful Prosperity – Central Asia.” After his speech, Karzai warmly greeted his counterpart from Grigovia, the newly-elected prime minister Dr. Frederikka Velldoyend.

“Thank you, brother Hamid,” said prime minster Velldoyend after waiting for a round of raucous applause to die down. “As one of the first female prime minsters in the history of Central Asia, I am overjoyed to be able to recommit to a future replete with peaceful cooperation and prosperous dealings between our two peoples. Together – that is, without any more undue and illegal meddling by foreign powers, especially the United States of America – we might yet after so many decades of hateful warmongering experience peace in these lands. Begone, Ynki invaders, and may you darken our common soils no longer.” To commemorate the occasion, the prime ministers signed a mutual trade and travel pact designed to increase and promote interaction between the Afghani and Grigovian peoples.

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it is worse

to not write, and not post, than it is to write and post even the most base and useless drivel

sometimes life closes

one door and opens another, but sometimes it just seals the exits and tosses in a molotov

things are moving

in the deeps, chains falling from prisoners long bound, raw and pure the emotions