Democrat or Republican?
Vengeance stalked the courtroom and it was not to be denied. At last the attractive, office feminist was brought up. The reason Blind Eye was in attendance was to catch yet another utterance of similar mind-numbing importance to Miss Khominiski last pronouncement; 'If it is still sell it ... but if it moves I grab it!' ... which was so widely reported and to which the ' feminist guru' collected many a free lunch. Readers may detect an element of envy in these comments but let me assure you it has nothing to do with my beautiful ex-wife and her preference for other women over caring, stable and responsible spouse-hood. Anyhow, I will report exactly what transpired and make no further comment.
'Lawyer: Now I put it to you Miss Khominiski that on 15 December last you attended an office Christmas party. There you drank six large glasses of red wine, after which you consumed several scotches. I then put it to you Miss Khominiski that you noticed two young men from the maintenence pool, Mr A and Mr B leaving the party, and followed them out of the building.
"As they waited at the bus stop outside, I put it to you that you approached them and were ill on the footpath. You then asked them to accompany you to your home and tried to force Mr A into a taxi. When he refused, I put it to you that you loudly abused him, and when Mr B intervened, you pushed him away, causing him to trip into the gutter where he struck his head and suffered a severe contusion to the forehead.
Now, Miss Khominiski, is what I put to you true of false?"
Khominiski, our 'office feminist', looked up, scowled and for the first time showed an interest, "What was that date again?" she asked. Later when the jury returned the inevitable verdict of 'totally' guilty the Judge ... who seemed unusually startled when anyone lifted a pencil or raised an eyebrow, said to Miss Khominiski, "Well madam, do you have anything to say before I sentence you?'
f***k all Judge," replied our office genius.
The old deaf judge squinted down and turned to the clerk, "Did the prisoner speak?"
"She said f**k all Judge," the man instantly replied.
The Judge looked perplexed and slowly shook his head. Then, looking to the clerk he said, "I could have sworn I saw her lips move."
Miss Khominiski voted for Trump in the belief he would help business and decrease political correctness. ----------------------------------------------------
'Unknown arms dealer makes the big time'
'Disclaimer' That this story is printed at has nothing to do with the fact this magazine happens to own a number of the weapons of Harry de Chevalle known to the staff here as 'Harry the Horse'.
Below is the 'Horse's' story as related to our roving 'newseye' ...
'Harry the Horse was a small time arms manufacturer who's spent his whole life trying to break into the big time and was feeling very depressed. He'd been turned down by every single manufacturer and developer in the country, and unaccountably no one seemed to recognize his unique genius other than his Mom (of course now we all know better). The weapon he developed in his workshop was his own design as were the projectiles it randomly fired. Unfortunately Harry was covered in tattoos, rarely shaved, wore a sleeveless denim jacket and drove a van with a longhorns severed head glued to the bonnet. Thus his sales opportunities were somewhat limited when rare appointments or interviews were offered.
Eventually one day Harry decided to top himself and began to dream up an ingenious plan to get back at all the manufacturers, developers, schools, kindergarten teachers and rich collectors who had rejected him all his life.
Harry de Horse' decided to hire a recording studio and spoke to the engineer, "Record exactly what I say," he instructed the man through pale, tight lips, "then copy it onto 1000 CDs and send them out to all the manufacturers on this list. Also send a copy to Miss Tumblegum my old kindergarten teacher." As the Horse handed the engineer a long list the man, greatfull at last of some decent business, gave Harry the thumbs up sign in the hope the artist relized he meant it as a yes sign and not a measuring device as he had read some artizans were prone to display as a tool of trade.
Anyway Harry hardly saw the thumb and went into the vocal booth. He shut the door. The red light was on, and Harry began confidently:
"This is a message to all you sycophantic, talentless bastards who've ignored me all these years. I dedicated my life to weapon making, handcrafted, deadly masterpieces, and all you wankers do is bin my efforts and sign trendy well dressed sycophants. Well, I've taken all I can of your puerile, shallow industry, and it's YOU who've driven me to it. Bye-bye, murderers of guns!!"
With that, 'Harry the Horse' pulled out his own home made gun and after two attempts managed to spray his brains all over the studio wall.
Outside however the sound engineer glanced up and spoke into his internal mic:
"Okay Harry, that's fine for level. Wanna go for a take?"
Though we acknowledge this is a fairly common end for gun artists we would like to deny (and will consider legal action against) any of those foul rumor mongers that we were one of those very publications Harry approached for support and that the only reason we own some of his valuable weapons was that his mother failed to pick them up.
Harry voted for Hillary convinced she would increase his social security payments.