Harbor Up In Flames; Bass Pro Official ‘Concerned’

By Hardy Astrom

Rioters at Tea Party protest

Over 300 Western New York taxpayers gathered yesterday at the Buffalo Harbor to protest what many describe as failed government.  Mimicking the Boston Tea Party of 1773, protesters began hurling objects supported by tax money into the water, creating a toxic and flammable mixture.  Cigarettes, gasoline, and people on welfare were thrown into the harbor, which was soon ignited by a person in a wheelchair who had been lit on fire.

“No More Handouts!” the crowd screamed as it rolled a paraplegic close to edge of the harbor.  Elderly citizens and recipients of welfare and medicaid were used as ramps to create an easy path for the handicapped to make a splash and a statement.

“We’re not blaming these people any more than the British were blaming tea,” said one angry protester.  “But we have to start somewhere and it just so happens that these folks are skinny enough to toss.”

Law enforcement officers used tear gas and fire hoses to disperse the crowd, many dressed in colonial attire. The mob reorganized at the Pearl Street Grille, however, and returned with Buffalo Teachers Federation President Phil Rumore tied to the hood of a car wearing a dunce cap.  He was deposited into the flaming harbor just as Buffalo Firefighters clocked out in order to avoid incurring any overtime.  Several people qualified for Low Income Mortgage Assistance and a percussionist from the Buffalo Philharmonic were tossed in as well.

Moments before things turned ugly

North Buffalo resident Gaetano Insalaco heaved Buffalo Common Councilman Mickey Kearns over the railing.  “This guy doesn’t have to pay taxes on his pension, but for some reason I do?  What’s that about?”  Kearns defiantly raised his middle finger to the mob as he plummeted toward the fiery water.  “Stop subsidizing stupidity!” screamed Insalaco.

Mayor Brown issued a statement from his North Carolina riot bunker:  “It is with great disappointment that I witness, by cable news, the events transpiring at our beautiful waterfront.  I had hoped to announce the approval of an exciting new hotel experience called “This Is The Pitts!” a joint venture between our good friend James Pitts and hospitality giant Econo-Lodge.  Instead, I would like to warn all residents of the City of Buffalo and any looters from neighboring towns and suburbs:  Stay out of the downtown area until further notice.”

Event organizer James Ostrowski responded quickly.  “Once again, the mayor sees public opinion as the enemy rather than his responsibility.”

Brown issued another statement moments later:  “I would like to invite all residents of the Queen City, all neighboring towns and suburbs to come downtown to participate in the “Purging of Our Liabilities Festival” happening right now.  Public transportation will be free for the unemployed and anyone on public assistance.”

The crowd eventually broke up on its own, and the fire in the harbor had apparently burned out as of late this morning.

A Bass Pro official said the riot and ensuing deaths at the harbor could cause a “significant” delay in the opening of the proposed sporting goods supercenter.

Trend is contrary to every other bar in the city.

By Hardy Astrom

I just had sex.  Not with anyone I know and not because I was looking for it (well, except for the time when I opened the door on my Aunt  as she vomited, naked, into the toilet. There was more clenching happening there than at the ill advised “Ex-lax, Coffee, and Sausage Night” at the Bisons game last summer).

Steve scores at SoHo "constantly."

The apparent reason for my impromptu interlude with the woman I’ll call ‘Slippery-Hands-Heather’ (she wouldn’t tell me her real name) was simply because I walked into SoHo nightclub.  I was there to interview a gentleman named Steve  (his real name) who claimed the popular club acts as a sex stimulant.  Twenty-nine minutes and two antique, wallet-beaten condoms later, I was spent from a three-way with Heather and my Chevy Cobalt.

And Steve had my attention.

“It happens every time I come in here,” he said with astonishment.  “My friends too.”

Let me take a moment now to give you a brief description of Steve:  Pasty.

I would add only ‘wispy,’ ’soft,’ and ‘accountant-like’  for readers who need a better picture of what I found inside SoHo after Heather polished me off.  If the world was made only of cubicles, Steve would work in a cubical in the cubical department of a cubical-making factory.

Still, he has a lot of sex and exclusively at SoHo.

“Only if I come here,” he confided.  “Any other club in the city and I’m transparent.”  Steve hoped to convince me that he was indeed not a ‘playa.’

He described spending a night at the hospital having his scrotum sewed up after a run-in with an off-duty stripper.  “It wasn’t her fault.  She just didn’t see me and her heel kind of punctured me a little bit.”

Steve's friends also enjoy SoHo

Steve then introduced me to Alan, Joe, and Pic, three men who work with him and men whose appearances escaped my memory as soon as I looked at my watch.  After being re-introduced to them moments later, they related experiences strikingly similar to Steve’s.

“The first time it happened was the first time I ever came here,” said Joe.  “This girl was talking to me all night and I just figured she needed some computer advice or something.  Then she hugged me and said ‘Mmmm’.  After I cleaned myself up, we went to my car and hooked up officially.”

“At first, I assumed it was some sort of assault,” said Joe, describing his first encounter with one of the women at SoHo.  “I was worried that I was some kind of pervert who liked getting beaten up.  Then my younger brother explained to me that I had actually been sexually taken advantage of.  I now find that I really enjoy it.”

Pic is perhaps the most surprised at his consistent luck at SoHo.  “Trying to hook-up in a club has a one-strike-and-you’re-out kind of feel to it.  Let’s face it, I’m an Asian guy whose name is Pic and I’m getting laid every weekend.  This place is sacred to me.”

I asked the three gentlemen if return visits to the club have the potential to become complicated.  Their collective reply assured my return visit:  “These girls don’t want to talk, it’s not their thing,” said Alan. “They’re all after one thing and I dispense it freely.”

Hello beautiful ladies of SoHo.  Please, call me Pez.

By Frank Brutus

In a scathing report released by the U.S. Administration of Housing and Urban Development, the Mayor’s office has been accused of squandering millions of federal dollars that were supposed to be spent on the 232,000 Buffalonians who live below the poverty line.

Attention homeless: See Mayor Brown for your free Ball tickets

A defensive Mayor Byron Brown took issue with a number of allegations contained in the report.  “What more can I do?” he asked.  “Each and every year we invite the city’s indigent and homeless to the Saturn Club where I host the annual “Mayor Brown Knows Poor Folks Are People, Too New Year’s Eve Bash.”  The Mayor pointed to a picture taken at last year’s Ball showing the empty table that he always reserves for “any qualified poor people who want to attend.”

A frustrated Brown said that although the event is always at capacity, no poor people ever pick up their free tickets at his City Hall office.  “We use e-mail, radio ads, flyers that we put on cars.  Last year I even dedicated an entire 30 minutes to discuss the Ball on my public access cable TV show.”

But Brown also has his own theory about why the Buffalo poor go unrepresented at his Ball named in their honor.  “Why would you come out for my New Year’s party when, thanks to my leadership and support, every other night of your poor life is like a year-long celebration?”

The HUD report, authored by former city employee Steve Banko, also criticized Brown’s mayoral predecessors for the manner in which they allocated their funds.

According to the document, former Mayor Jimmy Griffin invested hundreds of thousands of federal dollars on a yacht that he christened “Poverty Is For Losers.”  The vessel, anchored for many years at the small boat harbor before being sold for scrap, was “free to be used by poor Buffalonians any weekday during the months of May and October,” according to a former member of the Griffin administration who requested that his name not be printed.  “I remember we finally got one application from a poor person to take the boat out for a spin,” said the official.  “It turned out to be a joke from the Mayor’s brother Tommy, who lived on the boat for most of the time that the city owned it.”

Under the leadership of Mayor Anthony Masiello, millions of dollars were spent to subsidize the construction of almost 100 Dollar General stores in the Buffalo area.  “Poor people love a bargain,” said the former Mayor, who works as a greeter at the Amherst Street Wegman’s.  “You don’t want them shopping on Elmwood or Hertel because that usually depresses the wealthier citizens who like to patronize those areas.  My administration’s goal was to build a Dollar General on every block of Buffalo’s East Side.  And we came pretty darn close to doing just that.”

Deputy Mayor Peter Cutler, the man in charge of actually directing the current funds to the poorest neighborhoods in the city, said he wouldn’t comment on the HUD report because “it wasn’t written in 10-point font.”

By Jerry Mulligan

The rumor started to spread last night at the Sabres - Leafs game that Buffalo Bills owner Ralph Wilson had died.

GET OFF MY LAWN!

The Buffalo Ruse has confirmed that the man known affectionately to thousands of Buffalo football fans as “the Ralph” is not dead.  Yet.

Wilson was severely injured, however, when he took to the field at the Orchard Park complex named in his honor and attempted to “show the young boys how we used to do it in the old days.”

A leather-helmeted Wilson, carrying a cane and wearing yellowed shoulder pads, taunted Bills linebacker Paul Posluszny by referring to him repeatedly as a “primadonna cracker who couldn’t tackle my jockstrap.”

Posluszny ignored the insults for 20 minutes but eventually succumbed to Wilson’s ribbing.  Telling fellow Bills that he had heard enough, the 240-pound linebacker violently dropped the 90-year-old  at the 35-yard line.  Wilson’s head was driven viciously into the turf and the Bill’s owner had to be attended to by medical personnel before he was taken to Buffalo General Hospital by ambulance.

Wilson, who once tackled Adolf Hitler in the 1936 Axis vs. Allies International Bowl, has referred to the underachieving Bills as “a bunch of drug-abusing, gun-carrying gold-diggers who couldn’t beat the prep squad from St. Mary’s.”

Doctors expect that Wilson will make a full recovery before he finally passes away from natural causes early next month.

By Alan Linament

The past two weeks had WGR’s Schopp and the Bulldog alternating vacations. The normally mediocre show was on a par with getting home after a long day and having to listen to my wife tell me about her day. I found myself dreaming of ‘The Coach.’

• Just in case you didn’t hear, Mike Schopp has a kid. He mentioned it every 3 minutes during the 4-hour show for 5 days. He actually said he wondered what the 4-month-old thought about listening to the Sabres game. Are you kidding me??? Is the kid a savant or is his father just an idiot?

• We also know that his wife is a competitive tennis player as he talks about her whenever there are no callers - which is roughly 90% of the time the show airs.

• Schopp also said that Ruff should not be taken off the hook for the Sabres performance. When pressed by a caller if he thought Ruff should be fired, Schopp said “I’m not saying that, I’m just saying.”

• Now that they have a kid, I wonder if his wife will still fire flaming tennis balls (after pre-soaking them in lighter fluid) at him when he hasn’t cleaned the fridge to her liking?

• Bulldog enjoyed an on air love-fest with his pal Jerry Sullivan. Oh, we both like the Red Sox, oh we both like beer, oh my penile implant works better than your penile implant, blah, blah, blah.

• Sullivan also has pretend disagreements every Monday morning with Jeremy White, you can set your watch to it. It doesn’t matter what the topic is, Sabres coaching, T.O., Sully’s penile implant, you name it they will be at odds over the subject matter.

• Is it me or is Ed Kilgore getting sexier by the minute?

• Channel 7’s Steve Barber announced he will be leaving the station in April.  He will be replaced by a doorknob.

By Frank Brutus
U.S. President Barack Obama used stark words to tell the nation in a live address last night that “Our six-month long national nightmare is almost over.”  The President calmly asked citizens to support him with his administration’s new top priority: securing $10 trillion to rebuild the Death Star.

President Obama: Improved Death Star will include vegetable garden.

The rebels destroyed the last Death Star by dropping a missile into an unsecured hole that was built directly above the flux capicitor,  causing a chain-reaction explosion in the nuclear core that completely destroyed the original Death Star.

Obama vowed to take the “fight to the rebels before the rebels bring the fight to us.”  He said the pressing issues of “spreading the wealth around, finding new and renewable energy sources, fixing health care and re-building our nation’s infrastructure can wait until after we get this new and improved Death Star up and running.”

Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner appeared with the President to announce that a “new alliance” with the management of A.I.G that will help to generate “most of” the necessary $10 trillion.

“It turns out that the transfer of derivative-based, risk-heavy mortgages actually allows for the fastest transfer of wealth between the ignorant majority and the smaller, elite class of forward thinkers in this country,” said Geithner.  “The solution to one of this country’s most complex economic problems was under our noses the whole time.”

President Obama announced that the only differences between the original Death Star and the new version will be the “elimination of all unsecured holes and, as per my wife’s instructions, the addition of a vegetable garden.”

By Jerry Mulligan

The Buffalo Bills, following on the success of the Buffalo Sabres’ recent fundraiser, “Aces and Blades,” have announced a fundraiser of their own.

They are calling it “Spades and Hoes” and it will be held in the Botanical Gardens on June 13th. Various players and coaches will be on hand to show off their expertise in botany.

Marshawn Lynch will present his herb garden, Terell Owens will be showing his love of tulips. Trent Edwards is in charge of pansies. Ralph Wilson Jr. will be on hand to show pictures of a maple tree he planted in 1903. Lynch is also expected to give a clinic on growing herb including his unconventional technique of growing it in the glove compartment of his car. Jason Peters will show his expertise with sour grapes.

Dick Jauron will be there and will have a new plant called “His Career” and that plant will be available for all to throw dirt on. Tickets are available through BuffaloBills.com.

Local News Station Breaks Story Alleging Mayor’s Ambiguous Race

By Hardy Astrom

In a mind boggling report, Eyewitness News reported yesterday that Byron Brown is not a man of African-American descent.  The fledgling news outlet ran the story at the top of yesterday’s newscast in what some are claiming is a desperate attempt to gain ratings.  Keith Radford broke the news by shouting, “Has Buffalo been bamboozled?!”  According to Channel 7’s Radford, the answer to that question is a resounding ‘yes.’

“Sources have confirmed that Byron Brown has misrepresented his ethnicity on the application to run for public office,” Radford claimed.  “While leading the City of Buffalo, the Mayor has kept his true ethnicity a secret and has revealed his true identity only to a chosen few.  But here’s the story you’ll only hear on Eyewitness News:  Mr. Brown,” Radford announced dramatically, “is Greek.”

The news report went on to claim that Brown aroused suspicion when answering questions for his authorized biography, “Brown and Black.”  Channel 7 obtained email correspondence between the Mayor and the book’s author, Ron Churchill, which led to further irregularities.

Investigative Reporter Steve Barber led the charge to find the truth.  “In answering simple questions about likes, dislikes, and personal hobbies, Mr. Brown responded with clichés that caused me to delve further into his past.  The mayor, while stating he listens to R & B and likes to play ball with the fellas, actually has a penchant for the illusory talent of Chris Angel, and the intermittent scoring prowess of former NHLer Chris Kontos.”

The Mayor’s office responded appropriately, given the circumstances. “What?” asked City Comptroller Andrew SanFilippo.  Common Council member Brian Davis stated, “Tch.  Please.”

Channel 7 has been in trouble as other local news stations have continued to employ personalities that appear to be alive and able to interact with other human beings.  Channel 2 even features Kevin O’Neill, who can often be “goofy,” said TV analyst Alan Pergament.

Pergament added that Channel 7 has been scrambling for gimmicky ratings grabbers.  “They gambled by celebrating God-knows-what with their ‘East Side Drive-By Fireworks Displays’ story and a horrifying ‘Lake Effect Tsunami Report’ failed to illicit any fear at all.  Or interest, for that matter.”

Pergament noted Channel 7’s other misguided attempts to out-do their rivals have resulted in stories like the Brown account.  “The ‘Overnight Traffic Report,’ the ‘Countdown to Super Bowl Victory,’ and their daily ‘Surprise Storm Warnings,’ essentially end at calling your Mayor Greek.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” said Pergament.  “But the Mayor is, indeed, black.”

Channel 7 stands by the story for the time being, promising more information on tonight’s 11:00 o’clock broadcast.  “We’re confident in our investigative journalism.” said Radford.  “Irv Weinstein would roll over in his grave if he knew you were questioning the legacy of credibility he left to the rest of us at Eyewitness News.”

When he was informed that Weinstein is still living, Ranford wept briefly and murmured, “I wish to God he was here with me now.”

My Colonoscopy Has Left Me Confused, Curious, and Suicidal.

By Jim Stento

Wellp, I did it.  And just like I been sayin,’ having something put up my butt may have turned me gay.

At the prodding of my doctor and the nagging of my wife, I reluctantly succumbed to the dreaded colonoscopy.  At the age of 50, a lot of folks said that it was overdue.  Personally, I was A.O.K with nothing going in-through-the-out-door, if you get my drift.  Now, instead of just fearing cancer or the true source of the constant bleeding, I lie awake at night wondering just who the hell I am.

Walking into the appointment I had every intention of handling the unpleasant experience appropriately: in uncomfortable silence, grunting responses to the gay doctor, and making no eye contact with anyone until I woke up with a hangover the next day.

Instead I get stuck with Dr. Chatty and his horrible-looking assistant, Nurse Dinter.  The Dr.’s real name is Mike and, turns out, he’s a really nice guy.  He was completely professional throughout and had a very gentle touch.  I kept bracing myself for the worst but Dr. Mike kept distracting me with talk about March Madness and the coming gardening season.  Turns out we got a lot in common.

Now, I’m a big NASCAR fan and I’ve worked at Chevy for 34 years.  I do my best to withhold my feelings from my wife, and I spend more time in the garage than in the same room as her.  My grown kids still seem a little afraid of me, and I don’t say things like ‘love,’ or ‘proud,’ or ‘hello.’ That’s the way it’s supposed be, far as I’m concerned, and it’s the same if I’m at a Bills game or a strip joint.  If I’m taking a leak in a public john, I speak to no one.  Nothin’ personal, I just don’t converse while I got a hold of my do-jigger.  That’s why Dr. Mike has got me all turned around. Dammit, when it was all said and done, I wanted to get to know the guy a little better.

I’m not going to lie to you: I knew what he was doing back there.  There was lube I imagine, and he had to…how shall I say… insert a long slender camera into my butthole.  Not my idea of a day in Maine, but to be honest, I didn’t mind.  I found myself thinking, ‘Well I suppose this ain’t so bad,’ and ‘I wonder if Dr. Mike uses hand cream.’

He even rested one of those manly mitts on my backside and I’ll be doggoned if it didn’t make me feel better.

Aw, Jesus Christ, I don’t believe it, but I think I got a thing for this guy.  Maybe it’s what they’re calling a ‘man-crush.’  If a man-crush includes a hug every so often and maybe getting a taste of one of his ears, I mean, if that’s what they’re doing these days, well, Jesus.  I don’t know.

I never had this problem until I had a 39 centimeter-long cable in my poop-chute.

If this means I’ll be piercing things and wearin’ leather pants, so help me god I’ll kill myself.  So, I figure the best thing I can do is seek professional help. I ain’t letting one of those head shrinks get a hold of me.  They’ll have me crying for my mommy and talking to trees.  Nope.  Nobody knows me better than Dr. Mike.

Maybe he can get back in there and see if there’s something wrong.