Ghosts in Fact and Spirit

Living next door to a perennial crush has its advantages and disadvantages.

Advantages: peepholes, excuses to take out the trash, art exhibitions on my back patio plus or minus wine tastings

Disadvantages: Creepy encounters at 4 am, creepy encounters at 5 am, creepy encounters at 6 am

She may not know of my true intentions but I should tell her. Her parents moved her in this past weekend and I offered help.

"I can lift small objects."

They balked. I watched from the front window as they carried futons, desk lamps and other items through the apartment door. I offered to lift her keys and take them to the hardware store to make copies. They balked.

Good thing I won binoculars at the county fair this past July. They seem out of focus but that's nothing the local binocular repair man can't handle.

Forging friendships with crushes isn't as easy as it seems. Actually, it doesn't seem that easy. I can make small talk or large talk.

"Crazy weather, huh?" Small talk.
"You're big, huh?" Large talk.

She might read the news while sitting in the bathtub. I'll write an editorial in the comics section about living next door to this incredibly attractive babygirl. The comics will feature a loony caricature of myself next to this article. She'll get the picture.

I overheard her telling her mother that she is enrolled in some difficult courses this semester. No worries, sweetheart babygirl, I'm the perfect tutor. I know everything from A-Z. 1-3. Give me time and I'll know a little about 4. Derogatory technocrats would argue that few ever read the news, much less learn about it. I'd call their bluff in a heartbeat, sweetheart babygirl. You believe in ghosts? Only in spirit. I ain't afraid of no ghosts.

If she commits felonies, I'll harbor her in a heartbeat, sweetheart babygirl. This I promise you. Until we approach one another after a wicked late nite where the cops have been called thrice and the back patio art exhibition is on fire, I'll stick to rushing the quartersacks and plaguing you with my misery.

Good date. Ready for the check?

New Shoe Company

Mister Nobody down at the Yeah Whatever supermarket decided to start a new shoe company....for dogs. THIS WILL NEVER WORK. He got angry when I shouted this at him in aisle 4. Mister Nobody then grabbed a bag of chips and threw them in my general direction before running away like the little engine that couldn't. He slipped in the puddle of water that he had been sent to mop up. Fell hard. I laughed. He cried. People came. I left.

3 month later and this guy just built his 2nd shoe factory in the Marshall Islands. Guess who looks stupid now? Me. I should have never laughed at him.

Edited to add: He just sent me a picture of the house he just bought. It was a picture of the Taj Mahal. Starting to wonder if he is making up this whole shoe-construction business, especially since I can't find his website at all. Try typing in www.shoesthatwillfitnicelyondogsorsmallpeopleonly.com. It may just be the browser I'm using. Not sure. Does anyone else use Internet Explorer (32 bit version)?

This Space Around

When I was a younger kid, this great, big world seemed so much larger than it is now.

I could lie in my oft-neglected sandbox and look up at the pine branch-covered sky and think, "Mom hasn't come looking for me."

Now I'm an older kid and the walls are coming closer, the noise- less noisy. Branches are being chopped off and surveillance cameras are installing themselves. Prickly pinecones are picking each other up off the Bermuda grass. Bermuda grass is slithering away. My sandbox is losing sand at an alarming rate and the vast plane of sky is eagerly splitting at the seam.

Less color, more empty. More zoom, less space. Minutes from now it will be me as the remainder. And nobody is seen to blame.

The Intervention Didn't Go as Planned

John, here is the deal. You're probably not gonna like this. John, sit down. John. John. John. John. Seriously, John. Craig, hold him down. Grab. Sh. Son o. John, seriously. No, nobody cares about that. Craig, seriously. Okay, John?

John. This is a problem. We have all debated this issue for weeks. Well, yes, just Craig and I. Marv would have made it, but you know, with his new wife and his mortgage and. Okay, fine, he didn't want to come but he had legitimate reasons. No, he didn't explain, really he didn't. Okay, shut up. Listen. Confronting you on a day like today-your birthday- was a decision that I had to make. However, we realized. John, seriously. Shut up. Dude, shut up. Let me get this out. John. John. Craig, Lord, hold him down. Craig. Craig. Do you see what he is doing? John.

John, this isn't fun for any of us. No, I don't plan on telling your parents. No. No. John. No. How are they going to find out? I doubt they even read my Facebook status updates. They do? No, seriously. John. She finds them funny? Wow. Wait, what? When did she say that? Holy cow, I haven't seen Miss Tammy in years. Hahah, yeah. That is so true. Well, back to the point. John, we all need to discuss this. Yes, I know. Yes. John.

Unless you plan on dying at or soon or, yeah soon, you've got to quit what you're doing. Here you are, 32-years of age and still doing this stuff every morning, evening, afternoon, whatever. Enough is, seriously, enough. John. What the? John. Where did he get that? John take that away from your mouth. Okay, grab the duct tape. Yes, I brought this just in case. Okay, take his right hand. John, quit fighting. John. John. Okay, good. John? John, stop. Okay.

How much stuff does that cost you? Be honest. 30 dollars? That's it. Holy. Wow. Well, I can understand...yes, I understand the economies of scale, John. No, I'm not interested. Is that in market value or? Gosh. It's not something I would normally consider, so, no. No. No. John, shut up.

John we need to understand you, first and foremost. We love you. Craig and I really do. Yes. Yes. John, it breaks our hearts to see you like this. Believe me, I wish something else could be said, but we must tell the truth and be honest with ourselves. You expect to get better but I don't see how, man. John, you've said that like 90 times now. Hand him his cowboy hat. Yah, I don't see why he can't wear it. Is your phone vibrating? What is that noise? Craig, is that your phone? I thought I told you to silence it before we walked in. John, it's yours. Who is DeMayne? DeMayne Wilkins is calling. Who is that?

Um, no, then I'm not answering. I think he is the last person you need to be in contact with. In fact, I'm going to go ahead and delete his number. John. Seriously, John. Craig, hold him while I do this. John. Okay, he just texted you. Says 60 for 2. Does that mean what I think it means? Um, it says he is. Son of a. He is in the drive-way. Did you talk to him earlier or something? When did you even?

Hey. Hi. My name is, yeah, hi. No, no. His duct tape is. Right. Ha, no. We were just playing around. Yeah, I'll undo that right now. Sure, haha, I know, right? Weird is all I can say. We'll see. Right. Okay, I'm doing it right now. Sorry, I'm doing it right now, sir. No, this wasn't anything major. John, seriously, quit joking around. He is lying. No. DeMayne. DeMayne. No, haha, he is such a good liar. No. No, that isn't even true. Why would I put duct tape on his, no, haha, that isn't true at all. Okay, yeah, yeah, I'm straight. No, I'm straight. No, I usually don't partake. Okay. Alright. Okay, yeah. Yes, sir. I see. Well, thanks DeMayne. This is actually my first, wow, pretty strong stuff, huh?

Julius Chromozoa

Dear Many or All,

Few have ever meant as much to me as those who mean so little.

Being yelled at while entering the shower is like being arrested on your wedding day for forgetting to tie the NOTTTT!!!!!!!!

SIKE!!!!!!!!! This isn't r3ally me it's my alter-ego. Just prove it. Mirrors on the wall conceive impartial juries according to a recent wall post.

I said "not" on several occasions as a child because all the babysitters were doing it.

Pizza and coke parties go with an elementary education just as beer and coke parties go with a college education.

Never seen so many friends til the ends. The entry I submitted earlier resembled something of a respectable nature. Really though, when do the music DJs arrive and stuff? This chain is gonna be off!

Go ahead, ask her about diabetes and other sensitive subjects. It's her job. Nursing school paved her way. Prepare for this bubbling tirade my boss is prepared to launch into. MY INSURANCE DOESN'T COVER THIS. He is kidding of course. He signed the checks. Stamped the envelopes. Recycled the excess text messages.

----

Before my paper collapsed, I had a respectable job, dog, life, car, emotions. Now I have this. What more could another fellow want? Sorry for the plagiarism. I can't afford any original thoughts.

Wacky World Putt-Putt and Spa

Greetings to all daredevils,

Went job-searching in Mount Olive, MS and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.

--------

My name was airbrushed on the back for an extra $4.50. Reasoned with the designer and he gave me a 12% discount after tax. Still haven't lost my touch.

On the way back, I stopped in the cutesy little town of Louisville, but only because my GPS system led me astray. Noticed lots of cattle staring at me as I crossed through an unkempt pasture. This is when I began to question my GPS "navigational" system. Tossed it out the window and put the Kia in reverse. When the owner of Triple C Farms flagged me down, I waved back, assuming he was extending southern hospitality. In his extended hand was a cell-phone, which was being used to communicate with the sheriff's department. Spent 3 hours trying to convince the local authorities that this was all a great, big misunderstanding. When they asked me to show proof, I drove back to the pasture and pointed out my discarded so-called GPS navigational system.

§ 97-15-29 states that your first offense for littering requires you to pay a fine of not less than $50 and no more than $250. Good thing I got that t-shirt deal down in Mount Olive.

Got back on the highway later that evening and decided to use the old-fashioned GPS system, my BRAIN. Technology is so overrated I can't even begin to fathom a world in which we place all of our trust in their inefficiencies.

When I finally took a pitstop in Red Bank, AL, I decided to ask for directions. No way in the world I would ever buy a map, especially not during this economic downturn.

Grabbed 4 bottles of "Fuji" water and asked the cashier if she knew how to get to Oxford, MS. She started laughing uncontrollably and pointing in all directions. This type of customer service should be reported to the proper authorities. The manager then informed me that, in the future, I should purchase items from the actual gas station, and not from some vagrant squatting behind the building selling knockoff Fiji water and bootleg copies of "Fish 'N' Bloopers." Sorry, fella, but I couldn't ignore some of Bill Dance's finest work selling for less than $5.00. After using the restroom, I jumped in the saddle and prepared to head home.

The mechanical horsey didn't get me far, but Stonewall (the name I gave the horse) seemed to wink at me when I passed the video game room. I could almost hear the horsey naying, "Come ride. Only 75 cents. I won't bite." Sure enough, he didn't bite.

I filled my car up and pulled out of the gas station, remembering that I'd forgotten to ask for directions. "Screw it," I thought, "It's only 11 PM."

My car followed the winding highway and the country song on the radio accurately explained my situation.

"Been on the road all day/ not sure where I'm going

Headed home I sure hope/ least my age ain't showing

This ole' car full of miles/ not sure if it'll last

Headed home I sure hope/ least it's full of gas

Drove through an unkempt pasture/ saw a bunch of cattle

Stopped at a pit stop in Bama/ rode a mechanical horsey"

As my mind began to drift to happier times, the radio station lost its signal and a gospel song tried to fight against the static. Sometimes I feel like radio stations fight one another for space and time, but that might just be the physics nerd in me.

Nearly an hour after I'd crossed the Alabama/Mississippi state line, the steering wheel to my Kia began to take a life of its own. It started swerving to the left, then the right, then centered itself. Felt like a higher being was taking over my vehicle. Decided it was best if I let the higher being win this battle and minutes later, I was in an abandoned cemetery.

I say abandoned because all of the plots had been dug up and the flowers were missing. (I assume there were once flowers) The gate to this cemetery was rusty and the fence outlining the acre of land was hardly a fence at all. It saddens me to think that as time goes by, people stop visiting the graves of their loved ones. This is probably what happened in this case. People stopped coming and grave-robbers took action. Hey, that is American Capitalism for ya. Who knows how much a suit from 1954 would be worth today?

I gathered what was left from the empty graves, piled them in my trunk (Kias are spacious) and said a little thank-you to those who had passed before me and had left these little tokens of appreciation for taking the time to visit them even if they were no longer there.

The rest of the ride was uneventful until about one mile later when I spotted blue-lights in my rear-view mirror. Great, another ice-cream truck trying to solicit me.

Turns out it was a sheriffs deputy (go figure) asking me if I had visited the local abandoned cemetery lately.

"No sir," I replied as flies and other insects of the night hovered around my head.

"Well, somebody about a mile back said they spotted a car with this specific description leaving the cemetery around, well, the amount of time it takes for a Kia to drive exactly one mile."

"Nonsense," I said to the yokel. "That sounds absurd. Does that make sense to you?"

"The witness described this exact model, sir," the officer explained.

"HA," I said loudly, causing him to step back an inch from my car. "HA," I said again, inching him back one more inch. I noticed a pattern and continued until he was on the other side of the road.

"HA," I said for the 42nd time until he finally noticed the same pattern and walked back to his original spot.

"Sir, they saw a silver and gold Kia with a "Don't Tread on This" bumper sticker leaving the premises."

"And?"

"And, that description fits this car."

"Sir, I've already been cited today for one minor offense and I don't have time for another."

The Tippah County Sherrif's Department is not all what it's cracked up to be. For one thing, when they say they offer free breakfast, they forget to mention that it's only served hot. What if you are a fan of cold grits? Get with the program, Sam. Also, when I request reading material, don't suggest a state law book explaining exactly what sort of trouble I'm in. That's why I hire public defenders. They read that mess, not me.

Everybody in my phone book refused to bail me out, mostly because nobody answered my phone calls or text messages. I'd blame technology for this, but I covered that earlier. For now, I'll rant about so-called best friends.

Let's say for example, you are chosen as the "Best Man" for your best friend's wedding:

You show up to the bachelor party with a keg of vodka, party favors, party hats, free ringtones, wacky sunglasses and gift cards to Wacky World Putt-Putt and Spa. Naturally, you'd expect everyone to be like, "Holy cow, this is the best "Best Man"ever." Instead, you are greeted to, "What are you doing here?" and "You weren't invited," and "Somebody call the police."

You find out that instead of being selected as the "best man," some other numbskull was chosen who had only known your best friend for like, 10 years whereas you'd known him for 11. Sure, this nobody lived with him all through college and now practiced law with him in their hometown, but what does that even mean?

Weren't you the guy that bailed your best friend out of jail that time he was accused of stealing a purse from an old lady when really it was you that stole the purse and it was you that threw it in his trunk when the cops arrived at the nursing home? Uh, yep.

Weren't you the guy that introduced your best friend to his wife when she was a waitress at the little, dinky coffee shop that you kept threatening to sue because they always refused to serve you a "vodka-coffee" because it wasn't on the menu. Huh? Did you forget that, buddy?

And weren't you the guy that inexplicably convinced him to get married one night during karaoke when you sang "He Stopped Loving Her Today," by George Jones over and over and over again until finally the bouncer wrestled the microphone away from your sweaty hands but not before you broke into tears and started claiming that angels did exist and that one day you would marry a fallen angel? Yeah, you must have forgotten.

But I sure didn't, and I showed up to party. The bride's little brother (also a groomsmen, by the way.) convinced everyone to let me stay because I looked like a storm-cloud of fun. They reluctantly said "fine" but begged me to promise that I wouldn't stay in the same hotel room, or the same hotel, as them.

"Let the games begin!" I screamed aloud inside the luxury suite.

By the way, whenever an adult questions whether or not you should be trusted, questions your decision-making abilities or questions your motivations for dating his daughter, always turn your attention to the minor in the room because they are usually bigger risk-takers. I think it's the kid in them that tells them to take a chance. This is what I did in this case. I turned to the bride's little brother and with a wink, guaranteed him a night that he would never forget.

I say this because I felt pretty awful when he was the only one arrested for indecent exposure at "The Chicken Coup" down on highway 352. Placing a plastic fork to his throat and demanding that he strip for the friendly dancer on stage... "or else"... might have seemed a bit extreme at the time, but he should consider it a learning experience.

So the next morning when I arrived at the church 15 minutes early and the bride's father began yelling at me at the top of his lungs, obviously I was stumped.

First-of-all, this is a place of worship, and second-of-all, I'm the groom's best friend.

And wouldn't you know, the moment the bride's father pointed at me and asked if anybody knew me, my best friend slowly shook his head and turned away.

What kind of best friend does that? More importantly, what kind of man does that? Won't even stand up for your best friend? Wow. It still stings, yet I wasn't all that surprised that he didn't answer his phone when I called him from the Tippah County Sheriff's Department.

Three days later, I decided to make the most of my situation and began to ask about job openings. I told them how I had been a successful newspaper publisher for many months and how the whole town loved me.

The secretary laughed and said, "Why don't you run for mayor, then."

I laughed back. Honestly, the only reason I laughed was because I was nervous and was unsure if she knew that one of my deepest desires was to be the mayor of some town, any town. I then convinced myself that she couldn't read minds because if she could read minds, she wouldn't be working a petty desk job. Instead she would be out there with the heroes, fighting crime, because she can read minds and knows exactly what the dead bodies are thinking.

A few more days passed and I had become accustomed to the hot grits. Out of the blue, a man in a silk button-up shirt approached my cell and said, "today is your lucky day."

"What's the matter?" I asked.

"They are setting you free."

"Why?"

"Because I worked out an agreement with the sheriff. He's a good buddy of mine."

This all seemed fishy and I knew I'd probably regret leaving the cell to walk with this strange man, but I rolled the wooden dice that my cellmate, Suzie, had made and climbed out of my bunk.

"Let's go, boss!" I said with a pep in my step.

I climbed into his bulky SUV and he silently stared at me as he placed the key into the ignition.

"Where we going, boss?" I kindly asked.

His nostrils flared and his hands began to shake. His forehead began to draw up beads of perspiration and his devilish eyes sunk to the back of his head. His teeth chattered and his breaths grew heavier.

He was having a seizure. I swiftly kicked him out of the driver's seat and drove to the hospital. I wasn't sure where it was, but I used his GPS system.

Remarkably, it worked and I arrived in Batesville in less than 2 hours.

I drove straight through the emergency entrance and violently beat my head into the steering wheel, causing the horn to blow like a mighty freight train roaring through the outfield during a minor league baseball game.

What seemed to be medical personnel banged against the driver-side window as I continuously beat my head into the steering wheel. I wanted everyone to know that my guardian angel was having a heart-attack and I desperately needed someone to save him.

They finally tore the door from the SUV and asked if there was an emergency.

"OF COURSE THERE IS, YOU MORONS!" I hollered. "MY GUARDIAN ANGEL IS HAVING A HEART-ATTACK!"

In retrospect, I realize I was being a little overly dramatic.

"Where is he?" they calmly asked.

"TIPPAH COUNTY! JUMP INTO YOUR AMBULANCES AND FLOOR IT!"

----------------------------

I found out today that my guardian angel is in stable condition, and is in fact, not really my guardian angel. He was having a seizure, not a heart-attack. I had been right the first time.

He had worked out a deal with the sheriff that was quite unethical. It went like this:

Apparently, the sheriff didn't even know the guy. The guy had broken into the jail, thrown tear-gas canisters before his entry, stolen every cell key and had chosen me at random to become his live-in slave. There was never a deal in the first place, HA!

My charges were dropped and all is well, except that I still don't have a job or a car. It is still in Tippah County and nobody will take me to get it since nobody ever answers my calls.

But until then, I will continue to look for a job. Don't worry, kind readers. I will one day resurface.

From the Publisher:

Dear Faithful Readers and Lysergic Acid Freaknik of '96 Attendees,

In case you haven't noticed, we went out of business. Shocking, I know, but times are tough. "Print Journalism" is on its last leg. Money is tight and ad revenues are shooting through the basement. We aren't technically "print journalism," but that hardly matters at the moment.

My great step-grandfather founded this paper with his two bare hands. As he supervised 20 unpaid workers, he wrote in his journal, "Nothing like watching 20 unpaid workers build your masterpiece. That in itself, ole' chap, is a masterpiece."

Before the days of digital media and instant Twitter feeds and iStuff, there was my great step-grandfather and his cohorts, objectively skewering the news to fit their own half-witted agenda, and we should honor their legacies.

Our paper was doing fine when I first took over. The bills got paid. The phones were answered. The coffee was hot. Then the year 2000 hit, and our computers went haywire. Initially I blamed Y2K, but then 9/11 happened, and I knew who the real culprits were.

Ever since that horrific episode, The Oxford Rebellion has famously researched and reported on the Taliban without fail. Whereas other hokey newspapers moved on to other issues such as Global Warming and Michael Jackson spend-the-night parties, our paper stood firm- terrorists, make our day.

Then our offices in downtown Oxford were raided by the IRS. They said we owed taxes, but I knew the truth. The Taliban had struck the American heartland once again.

For the safety of my employees and also my pets, I decided to leave the issue alone and focus on more localized content. Perhaps I salvaged one American life. Pat me on the back when you get a chance.

That brings us to the present. Bills are unpaid, phones are dead, and the coffee is frozen. I'm smoking 2 packs an hour and I have a house account at Star Liquor. Many of you have inquired as to why I haven't been in church lately. The truth is, I'm usually too drunk to drive. But I do watch it on television when the remote control works properly.

My paper would still be in business if certain folks around this town bought ads. Yes, in fact, I could open up shop tomorrow if just one lousy no-good American-hating Oxford citizen would offer to purchase some space in our next paper. In the past, my relationships with the smelly, cheapskatin' townsfolk has been great. I don't know what has changed.

Some argue that the reason I haven't published an issue in quite a while is because I don't have any ideas. Are you sirius like a satellite radio station? I think of new article ideas every day. I am usually just too drunk to type, er, can't afford to print the paper because of a lack of ad revenue. Examples:

EXAM WEEK REPORT: Adderall Much More Effective When Snorted

EXAM WEEK REPORT: Probably Your Last Semester Here, Dumbass

EXAM WEEK REPORT: Teacher Looking Forward to Summer Vacation Spent Teaching Summer School

EXAM WEEK REPORT: Cramming Before an Exam More Productive Than Huffing Paint Before an Exam

EXAM WEEK REPORT: 'Dog Ate My Exam' Excuse Works for the First Time in History

EXAM WEEK REPORT: The DM Now Accepting Cave Drawings for its Editorial Cartoons

SUMMER REPORT: Skin Cancer Not As Cool As Tanning Bed

SUMMER REPORT: Orientation Leaders Convince Incoming Freshman To Demean Themselves

SUMMER REPORT: Chancellor Jones To Backpack Through Europe to 'Find Himself'

SUMMER REPORT: Counselor at Christian Camp Starting to Feel Guilty About That Spring Break Threesome

SUMMER REPORT: Girlfriend Promises to Stay Faithful During Her Two-Month Internship in Cozumel.

SUMMER REPORT: 'It's So Peaceful Now That All of the Students are Gone,' Says Student

SUMMER REPORT: Coach Bianco Cancels Reservations For Two at Omaha Steakhouse & Grille

Misc. : Double Decker Bus Refuses to Go Green

Misc. : Entrepreneur Pat Patterson Crowned 'Supreme Commander of Oxford'

Misc. : Paranoid City Hall Official Swears She Hears a Ringing in the Red Phone Booth

Misc. : Ya-Ya's Salon & Spa Challenges Ya-Ya's Frozen Yogurt to a Duel

Misc. : Oxford Celebrates Arrival of 5ooth Attorney.

Misc. : '3.5 miles from the Square' Books Holds Grand Closing Sale.

Misc. : College Student Rejoices After Attractive Co-Ed Misidentifies Wal-Mart Fleece as a North Face Fleece

The list continues but I've got some whiskey to attend to. Are we out of ideas? Are we out of money? You be the slimy, corrupt judge.

Either way, we won't go down without a fight. (unless it is the Taliban) If you or your loved ones want to help revive the most worthy newspaper in Oxford, please contact me. We need your help. More so now than ever before. God Bless Your Charitable Soul.

-the publisher

Head Buck Permits Lafayette County Deer to Stab Any Humans in Oxford

In an effort to control human overpopulation in Oxford, the Head Buck of Lafayette County has urged all residents to take aim and kill the animals that have threatened their tranquil way of life.

"With so many new residents moving here each year, building condos and cutting down trees, and with all the vehicle traffic that comes with that, it is a matter of time before we have a tragedy," Head Buck Joe said. "But I talked to some other deer and we feel this is best."

Head Buck of Mississippi, Stag, a 250 pound buck from Madison, MS, has explained to county officials the rules to follow during this controversial hunt.

"This ain't no trophy hunt," Stag said. "Don't go out there trying to only stab famous humans like Mayor Pat Patterson or sports coach Houston Nutt. Kill any human in sight- infants in strollers, college kids on bikes, elderly folks on scooters."

Not all deer are convinced that this is an appropriate method.

Doe, a deer, a female deer, and a member of the Deer for the Ethical Treatment of Humans, believes there are other ways to deal with the current situation. 

"The bottom line is that lethal methods don't work. Once we kill some humans, only more will move in to claim the condos and property left behind." 

DETH recommends several alternatives to antler stabbing for population control, including building inexpensive condos several miles outside of town, opening bars near the condos that stay open until 2:00 a.m., and finally, and most importantly, offering cold beer in that same location. 

"Most deer will keep the meat and take it back to their homes in the forest," Stag said. " Don't let the human meat go to waste. That would infuriate me."  

Struggling Daily Mississippian To Print Issues On Construction Paper

Surveying the empty offices of The Daily Mississippian, Editor-in-Chief, Tyler Clemons, shakes his head in disbelief.

"First our website goes haywire and now this," he says. The student-run newspaper recently changed its publishing format to resemble a high school newspaper by adding colorful pictures and "zany" quotes, stopping only short from introducing a gossip column. Many question why an award-winning newspaper would make these changes. Others, however, are thrilled with the "renovations."

"Pretty pictures; me likey!" remarked Bud Landrum, a third-year-sophomore. Unfortunately for Bud, the DM will soon only be able to provide the color associated with the particularly piece of construction paper which it is printed on.

"Somehow we forgot that the students will read this crap no matter what we print. We completely forewent the journalistic route and decided to print more "Fair or Foul" articles," explained Clemons. Incredibly, advertisers chose to buy ads in the Oxford Eagle since journalism was actually taking place within their offices.

"We'll bounce back," Clemmons believes, "fair or foul?"

Ajax Preemptively Closes to Avoid Likelihood of Fire, Drug Bust, Sex Charge, etc.

Owners of Ajax Diner announced Thursday they would be closing their doors indefinitly to avoid any cataclysmic embarrassment destined to plague the restaurant within the coming months.

"It ain't worth it, man." says 35-year-old Russell Finch, a dishwasher at Ajax whose name bears a scary resemblance to a recently disgraced restaurateur. "I tend to like younger-looking women, too. That's just asking for trouble."

As planks of inflammable wood clamped onto the windows of the famed diner, onlookers passed by without taking notice of the boarded building.

"Must be the economy," says Richard Yelverson, a tourist from Clearwater, Fl who is unaware that walking into any Oxford restaurant these days may implicate you in a felony.

In a time in which small towns are transcending into ghost towns, some locals are afraid the worst has yet to come.

"If the trend continues, McDonald's may be the safest place to feed my children," says Dana Wohart, a mother of four who has yet to make her mortgage payment for the month of January. "I can't afford to pay a bail bondsman a hefty fee because I decided to splurge one weekend afternoon and take my kids out to dinner. For now, McDonalds or Burger King is it. I haven't heard any negative press about them lately."

Party Pics Confirms Girlfriend Did Go Out Without You Last Night

Despite stressing the need to study for countless hours in order to prepare for her Spanish oral exam- even by convincing you to give her a ride to the J. D. Williams Library- your girlfriend definitely barhopped last night while you played Gears of War 2 with your roommate. You grew suspicious when she never called you back to pick her up. Then, today, your suspicions were confirmed thanks to Party Pics.

"I'd love to sit here and study while you and Zach conquer another level, but I need to be somewhere quiet," she lied through her teeth last night.

At one point, you found it peculiar that she was applying make-up while en route to the library, but mentioned nothing of it. And the fact that she carried her backpack along with a nondescript gym bag seemed nothing out of the ordinary. You assumed she had quite a lot of studying to do.

"Dude, you should have seen how many books she was carrying," you said to your roommate as he yelled obscenities into his headset.

"Dude, you should see how many kills I'm carrying," he responded.

Even while glued to the new 32-inch flat-screen your parents gave you for Christmas, you noticed your girlfriend text messaging at rapid-fire rate, a rate only surpassable by the rounds per minute your machine gun was spewing.

"This gun is so awesome," you explained to your disinterested girlfriend for the 5th time that evening.

There were other signs she may have been " living a double life"; a phrase coined by your roommate upon viewing the scandalous photographs:

• When you invited her to the "Halo III Jamboree" hosted by your friend, Sid, she arrived three hours late and heavily intoxicated, muttering, "How is this my life?"

• Your effort to name her new Labrador puppy, "Gandalf", was thwarted when she explained she preferred traditional puppy names.

• Her best friends list you in their cell phones as "Don't Answer"

• Her Facebook wall has postings mainly from other guys that say, "great seein you last night. you ARE crazy!" and "No more shots tonight, i'm serious." She explains that these are guys from her "night class".

• Her "night class" meets on different nights each week, including some Saturday nights.

Despite considering the damning evidence, you still remain unconvinced.

"Dude, this was probably photoshopped by one of those dudes I destroyed in Rainbow Six a few weeks ago. What a bunch of pranksters. Besides, it's not like I could do any better, ya know?

Josh Randle Campaign in Disarray After Accomplisment Left Off of Campaign Flyer

Office chairs smashed windows and office computers were set ablaze early Wednesday morning inside the Randle for ASB President's office when a young intern realized an extra-curricular activity was omitted from Josh Randle's official campaign flyer.

"Somebody will burn for this, I swear to God," Randle yelled across the room as he tossed a Molotov cocktail into the women's restroom.

Throughout his collegiate career, Randle was a member and an officer for the College Republicans of Ole Miss, however, a campaign worker forgot to include this when the lists were compiled for printing.

Mistakes like these can be costly during hotly contested campus elections. Many cited Cal Wells' failure to state his GPA on his campaign flyer as the sole reason for his loss to Rebecca Bertrand in the 2005 ASB Presidential elections. Some argued this omission was intentional.
Wednesday afternoon, students were quick to voice their opinions.

"I glanced at his flier and realized he had listed only 41 awards and accolades instead of 42. What kind of leader does he think he will be with such little experience?," James Howard, a junior from Madden, MS argued.


"This may seem trivial as of now, but what if he forgets to zip his fly during an ASB meeting?," Alley Reed, a senior from Jackson, MS questioned.

Others, however, were remained supportive despite Randle's misstep.

"He is in my fraternity, you idiot, of course I'll vote for him," Tolbert Hamm, a senior from Birmingham, AL quipped.

Despite differences in student opinion, the Randle camp was in panic mode Wednesday and blood and tears was a common sight.

"We regret the error and I hope Josh does not castrate me like he keeps promising, " said Kent Ford, a campaign spokesperson.

Andy and Kimber Kennedy Sex Tape Unlikely to Surface

A day after the police video of Andy Kennedy's arrest in Cincinnati leaked onto the internet, many began to wonder if a sex tape featuring the coach and his wife would surface.
"Not in a million years," says Officer Rex Skeilton of the Hamilton County Sheriffs Department. "You are more likely to find a tape of me treating an inmate with respect than you are to find a tape featuring Andy and Kimber in mid-coitus."
Though Coach Kennedy refused to comment, several Ole Miss co-eds expressed their concern that a camera may or may not have been involved.

In Related News: Nation Hopes Coach O Tape Never Surfaces

Ole Miss Basketball Team Tears ACL

Debate Correspondent Remains Lost Somewhere in Lafayette County

Joel Bellstein, a presidential debate correspondent for The Queens Gazette, is still lost somewhere in the middle of Lafayette County according to Victor Kohl, Bellstein's assignment editor.

Bellstein, a graduate of the University of Rochester with a degree in Health & Society, was recently hired by the newspaper to better serve them in their National News department. Bellstein admitted before departing for Oxford that he knew "very little" about "small-town life", but was looking forward to engaging rural folks in "serious dialogue".

According to his employer, Bellstein has attempted to send pictures of his surroundings to several of his co-workers with his cellular phone device. Unfortunately, his service area is limited to the New England region of the United States.

"Every time I send him a text message, he responds to it seven days later. That is not a good sign," said Martin Tregman, Bellstein's cubicle mate.

Bellstein's assignment was to interview Oxford city officials on the subject of the upcoming preparations for the presidential debate and photograph communities in and around Lafayette County. He was to return to the Gazette offices the week before the presidential debate.

Tregman says Bellstein was last seen taking pictures of a trailer on County Road 517.

"Victor talked to an official with the Sardis Lake Recreation Department and asked if they'd seen a man fitting Bellstein's description. The official told him they'd seen a "yankee feller snoopin' around them parts" and that they'd let us know if "his body turned up."

"Yeah, it didn't sound good," Victor Kohl added.

The last recorded contact with Bellstein occurred a week after he arrived in Oxford. In an e-mail sent to his roommate, Wade Evitz, Bellstein described Oxford as, "hott (sic) as hell," and "about the size of our old neighborhood." Bellstein may have also alluded to his potential plans for the evening when he concluded his e-mail by saying, "I hear this guy north of town has some moonshine. Peace Man."

Colonel Rebel Still Unemployed

With the recent economic downturn affecting millions of Americans through financial losses and massive layoffs, many are unsure of where to turn to next. Though for some, such as Colonel Rebel, this is nothing new.
Colonel Rebel was formerly employed with the University of Mississippi as its official mascot until he was ousted by the university's administration in 2003. Since then, Colonel Rebel says he's been hanging around Oxford, trying to find work.
"I've shown up at a few birthday parties and entertained at office Christmas parties, but nothing beats pacing up and down the sidelines, cheering on my favorite team," Col. Rebel said.
Col. Reb, affectionately known as "Johnny Reb", has also sought employment with other universities in hopes of becoming their official mascot.
"Unfortunately, most teams have a mascot by now. Maybe if some college starts up tomorrow, they'll want a lively old man to fire up their team's morale."
In an effort to distance itself from its turbulent and racially charged history, university officials Chancellor Robert Khayat and athletic director Pete Boone removed the beloved mascot citing his appearance and attire. Though thousands of alumni have voiced their disapproval, to this day, Colonel Rebel is still banned from attending official university functions. Unless he is ever summoned back to the sidelines, the Colonel plans to continue to collect unemployment checks and live out the rest of his life in Oxford.
"I may not be visible, but I'm content in knowing that I rest within the hearts of the Ole Miss faithful."

Related News: The Bodies of Rebel Bruiser and Rowdy Rebel Still Missing

Rebel Ride Bus Driver Wishes Annoying Drunk Kid Would Drive Himself Home Instead

Late Wednesday evening, Rodney Stamps, a veteran Rebel Ride bus driver, was once again stuck escorting an inebriated and quite rambunctious Jay Lapke safely back to his dormitory for the fifth week in a row.

"Can't that kid just drive home for once? Why does he always have to bug me?" asked Stamps while mopping up splotches of vomit from inside the shuttle. "Somebody let that kid borrow a car so he won't bother the rest of us."

Lapke, a self-professed, "lover of the Square" has recently sought after Rodney's signature "black and gold" shuttle, a shuttle formerly used in Tunica, for trips home from the bar mostly due to its sparkling mirrored ceilings and the plush fabric lining the passenger seats.

"He loves to stand on those expensive seat cushions and hang from them golden bars like some kinda Tarzan, hoopin' and a hollerin' as if he is still boot-skootin' at the bar. He can boot-skoot all he wants in his own vehicle when he learns to drive himself home."

Rebel Ride was recently reintroduced to the Oxford community in an effort to provide students with an alternative to driving under the influence after a night on the town. Within the past several years, the university has come under fire for alcohol-related incidents involving students. Many feel the shuttle service is a wonderful asset to the community. It is estimated that each week, hundreds of university students and Oxford locals utilize the service to avoid congested traffic and unsafe driving conditions.

Stamps is not convinced. "What is unsafe is allowing that boy to ride in the same shuttle as me. He is loud and obnoxious and is always asking to talk over the loudspeaker. If he grabs that intercom one more time to make an announcement about the party being in his britches tonight, I will personally drive him to my car, give him the keys, and let him drive as far away from me as possible. Its unsafe for him to be distracting me like this."

When asked to comment on this story, Jay Lapke offered only a little insight into the situation.
"Wait, who?"
However, Lapke was able to conclude that he would "more than likely" be going out tonight.

Fraternity Rush Chairmen Prepare for Upcoming Debate: Natty Lite vs Keystone

With only a few hours remaining before the start of one the most talked about events of the year, Greek rush chairmen all along Fraternity Row are scrambling to finalize their strategies for the upcoming debate. Some of the men are nervous while others feel inspired by this momentous occasion, one that may not occur again until next weekend when they have to make a decision of which beer to buy in large quantities.

Ruff Hewlett, a Phi Delta Theta rush chairman from Mobile, AL, truly believes anything is possible in this debate.

"Do you feel it, man? asked Ruff while lying flat on his futon flipping through a newly purchased PIKE calendar. "Everyone is talking about hope. Well, I say bring on hope. The future is now. The future...is Keystone. The future is... Holy sh...have you seen Ms. September?"

Keystone Light, a once unknown candidate who has come out of virtually nowhere in the past few years to become a campus favorite, has dazzled the young and underage demographic with its smooth taste and affordable pricing. Many pundits believe this type of support may be exactly what Keystone Light needs to get voted into the fraternity houses.

"Change doesn't come from the frat house. Change comes to the frat house," said one Keystone Light backer who chose to remain anonymous due to his age.

However, not all fraternity men are thrilled with the notion of a brand new beverage taking over the reins.
Buck Grainer, a 6th year Phi Kappa Tau from McKinney, Texas who has been elected as his fraternity rush chairman for the 3rd year in a row now, is quite content with the current administration.

"Gonna let some pretty-faced, no-name, no-history, sweet-tasting beer into this house? I don't think so. Sure, the freshmen may 'oooo' and 'aaaah' over the hype everyone is giving Keystone Light, but us elders know what to look for in a candidate- experience. Natty Light fought for this country during troubled times. A patriot, I tell ya. Heartbreak? Grab a Natty. Rough day? Let's have a Natty. Dad won't put any more money in your account because you spent it all in Tunica? Thank God for Natty."

Elsewhere, other Greeks-in-name-only echoed Gainer's thoughts.

"My parents drink Natty so I do too. It's easier to just align yourself with how your parents think and feel," said Wes Murphy, a Sigma Chi rush chairman from Tupelo, MS, while searching for his Master's visor. "Besides, I'm not so sure my fraternity is prepared for change. We have rules. We have traditions. Rituals that I can not even talk to you about. You see, we live by honor..and by truth.. and by light. But that doesn't necessarily mean Keystone Light.

Neither Keystone Light nor Natty Light cared to comment on this story since the their consumption in this state is of little importance to them.

Scientists Now Believe Hurricane Orgeron May Have Devastated Oxford Between The Years of 2005-2007.

Student Who Rides Bike to Class, Better Than You, Reports Student Who Rides Bike to Class

Grant Hodges, a freshman philosophy major from Boone, NC, is becoming a more eco-friendly citizen of this Earth by both, riding his bike to class instead of using a car, and by also telling you about it in the process.

"I don't know if you noticed, but I rode a bike to class today. That explains my windblown hair and the fact that I did my part to help save the environment," Grant reported.

While taking an inordinate amount of time to secure his bike to the bike rack, Grant made sure to keep his bike helmet secured to his head so that when he entered the classroom, other students would take notice of the fact that he was environmentally conscious, and also a superior being.

"People need to take notice of the Earth, and also take notice of me taking notice of the Earth."

As of today, the number of students who have briefly considered swerving to hit Grant while driving their cars to campus is unknown.