Excerpted from the Denver Zephyr:

Area resident Montgomery Wormwicker II came clean to his old high school buddies last week.

“I finally came clean about my claim of losing my virginity at a Canadian summer camp between my freshman and sophomore year,” said Wormwicker, “It seemed like an amazingly believable story at the time and I thought it would really boost my image in my peers’ eyes.”

Asked for comment, Wormwickers childhood chums raised their eyebrows and expressed their disbelief.  Specifically, their disbelief that Wormwicker had thought that they believed him.

“He was 110 lbs and had a terrible case of acne.  Of course, we didn’t believe him,” said friend Piotr Ponkowski.

“It was common knowledge that he was a virgin on his wedding day.”

A study by the The National Cooperative of Surgeons showed that males, and more specifically uninsured males, were still recklessly using power tools at a staggering rate.   Cooperative spokesman Raymond Buttermaker elaborated.

“Well, we’re pleasantly surprised that there hasn’t been a fall off in catastrophic power tool injuries.  We just sort of assumed that during these economic hard times, with the layoffs and resulting loss of medical insurance, people would be more attentive to their power tool use.  That most certainly hasn’t been the case.”

“People are still trimming their hedges with lawn mowers, lopping their fingers off with circular saws and falling awkwardly out of trees while trying to prune a limb with an electric chainsaw.”

“Some people would refer to it as stupidity, but I refer to it as our good, strong, national character.”

“Keep up the good work, America.”

Excerpted from the Des Moines Unionist:

What started as a normal PTA meeting in James Garfield Elementary School turned into a reflective discussion on the safety of greater Des Moines’ streets.

The disclosure of a young man being gored to death by a bull in the streets of Pamplona, Spain lead many parents to wonder aloud how long before similar tragedies were afflicting the youth of Des Moines.

“It’s just a matter of time,” said Sheila Huddingtonford.  “I’ve been saying this for years and no one’s paid any attention.  I’m sorry to say that it’s going take one of our children being gored to death by livestock before any of you take this seriously.”

“Just last week I saw a chicken off the side of the road.  And if a chicken can escape, Lord knows a bull or surly goat isn’t far behind.  Connect the dots, people.”

When asked for comment school district superintendent Packer G. Buttermaker shook his head and declined to comment.

Excerpted from the Bend Picayune:

Area DJ Randall Buttermaker says that, while he understands the irony in playing a song that is, by Springsteen’s own admission, critical of the USA,  he doesn’t really have a choice.

“The people have come to expect it at this point and my station manager isn’t very receptive to changing his go-to 4th of July playlist that always accompanies the fireworks down at Pilot Butte.”

“I brought it up last year and he glared at me and told me just to play the bleepin’ playlist.”

“What can you do?”

Excerpted from the Baltimore Dispatch:

Students of area jazz band teacher, Myrum Wormwicker, are tired of his optimism.

“It gets old,” said one trombonist, on the condition of anonymity.

“He’s just so positive.  And we’re so terrible.  I mean, half the kids aren’t even blowing into their instruments.  And our only flutist doesn’t even have a reed, for goodness’ sake.”

“It’s not that I want him to get angry, but we’d appreciate it if he would just temper his excitement at our performances a bit.”

Excerpted from the Manhattan Spectrum:

In a feeble attempt to protect himself from the H1N1 Swine Flu, New Yorker and part time mortgage broker Sidwell Wormwicker pulled his t-shirt up over his mouth for the duration of his journey from Castle Hill to 33rd Street.

Asked about his sub-par safety precautions, Wormwicker acted surprised and said, “You don’t think that’ll work?”

“Bummer.  It’s a pandemic, you know.”

Excerpted from the Palo Alto Post Examiner:

While groups are meeting to celebrate both cannibis and Hitler’s birthday, only local resident Albrecht Wormwicker is planning on combining the two.

“I’ve been a big fan of weed and Hitler for some time now,” said the currently unemployed Saucelito resident.

“Unfortunately, my friends at the white supremacist meetings are more into meth and feel weed is a convoluted Zionist plot.  On the other hand, the stoners I occasionally hang out with really browbeat me when I mention the importance of not mixing race.”

“So, it looks like it’s a quiet night of smoking dope and reading neo-nazi pamphlets for me and Mr. Twinkletop.”

“That’s my cat.”

Excerpted from the Canton Intelligencer:

Area father Myrum Wormwicker expressed disappointment at his son’s lack of enthusiasm towards the classic boardgame Monopoly.

“It’s stunning, really.  He couldn’t have cared less about the game.”

“First off, I make a special trip to Target to pick the d*mn thing up.  Then, I get home, ceremoniously pull it out of the shopping bag and the little hellspawn starts giving me lip about how we could have just downloaded it on his Xbox 360.”

“So, we start setting up the board and he’s going on and on about stupid the shoe, iron and thimble game pieces are.  We hadn’t even started the game when he gave his younger sister a paper cut with the funny money and I’d had enough and sent him off to his room.”

“I know he’s only eight and probably just needed a nap, but I’m pretty sure he’s out of the will.”

Excerpted from the Canton Intelligencer:

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate the occasion,” remarked Scarlet Pumpernickel, when asked why she looked glum.

“It’s just that, I guess, it would be a bit nicer to simply be alone today, instead of pretending to enjoy my husband’s company in the smoking section of Applebees.”

Excerpted from the Copenhagen Herald Courier:

The resident of Little Rock, Arkansas wore a look of defeat and spoke in a hushed, resigned tone.

“I flew half way across the world for this endeavor. I sold my truck, my reasonably nice sofa, had to call in the last marker I had with my brother Lou and for what?  To fly all the way out here and then get rejected by some euro-trash working at a convenience store.”

“What did I say?  I told him to ‘Get the {redacted} out of here.’  No Copenhagen in Copenhagen?  What kind of horse{redacted} is that?”

When asked what his itinerary held in store for him next the man replied, “I’m out of this {redacted}hole and off to Australia to have a Fosters.”

Excerpted from the Newark Sun Times:

A member of Steves‘ inner circle, who wished to remain anonymous, stated that Steves’ trademark enthusiasm seems to be waning.

“I think he’s just really tired of Europe.  He visits there so often its becoming standard fare for him.  I think he equated it once to visiting elder relatives.  It’s nice, but if you do it too frequently it grows tiresome.”

“He’s also been talking about Madagascar incessantly.  Something about how the public transportation and food are refreshingly unreliable.”

Excerpted from the Boston Plainsmen:

Postilski picked himself off the ground and wiped his mouth.  He carefully stepped over the spot where he vomited and screamed skyward, “I love St. Patrick’s Day!”

“Sorry to cut this interview short,” he said with a shrug, “But my friends and I are going to scrounge up some breakfast.”  He then proceeded to put his arms around his friends and the group spontaneously broke into song as they walked away.

“Oh, Danny boy, the something, something, something…”