Deformed Sea Mammal Dies, Freak Flags Fly Half-Mast

STEUBENVILLE, PA. -- This past week, one of the city aquarium's most beloved attractions, Sinky the Finless Dolphin, died "of a broken heart," according to specialist, Anita Girlfriend.

"He used to be so playfully lazy, the way he'd just lay at the bottom of the tank. Visitors loved his carefree nature," said caretaker and part time door-to-door book saleswoman, Anita Frijoles. "But the other morning I came in to give him his weekly displacement, and he was just laying there, at the bottom of the tank. I knew something was wrong when I discovered that he was dead."

Nobody in-house (or "aquarium," if we're going to get nit-picky) could determine the cause of death, and so they called in the aforementioned Anita Girlfriend, an Animal Love Expert, from the South.


"He fell in love with a girl," she said. We here at Actually Saved tried our darndest to make some sort of White Stripes joke, but each attempt was worse than the one before it. So maybe if you heard the last one first, then you'd think the first one was really funny in comparison. But we here at Actually Saved are not going to bother. She continued...

Anita Girlfriend: He only fell in love once, and almost completely.
Actually Saved: Oh, come on.
AG: I'm sorry. That really didn't make any sense.
AS: Well, better you than us, here at Actually Saved.
AG: Yes, you have maintained your standard for high quality reporting and snappy one-liners. I've tarnished your reputation. But hey, you're the journalist. You don't even have to include that part in your report.
AS: You're right. Nobody's gonna read that. It's gone.
AG: Of course, nobody's gonna read it either way.
AS: You make a good point, Anita. And besides, it's so much trouble to not type all of this useless dialogue.
AG: ...Yes.
AS: Uh, yeah, so he fell in love--he like some lady.
AG: That's right. Sinky's autopsy revealed a tattoo of a heart with lettering on his underbelly. "Anita Jesus-Saves" is what it raved, in a typical tattoo green. Fortunately, there was only one such name listed in the local phonebook. I tracked her down, and got her side of the story.

We here at Actually Saved tracked her down, and got her side of the story.

Actually Saved: Anita, could you share your interactions with Sinky the Finless Dolphin?
Anita Jesus-Saves: Well, I met him at the Aquarium. He didn't have no fins.
AS: ...And?
AJ-S: What?
AS: Well, you know you killed him, right?

We here at Actually Saved had forgotten that at this moment, the story was still hot. As a professional journalist, it sucks to have to tell people that they are heartless murderers. We gave her a couple of minutes.

AS: Sorry about that.
AJ-S: It's cool. I guess that explains some things.
AS: Like what?
AJ-S: Well, a couple of weeks ago I got this letter, from one Sinky the Finless Dolphin. I can only assume that was him.
AS: You're a stupid person, aren't you?
AJ-S: Well really, my guess is he dictated.
AS: That's ridiculous. He's a freakish attraction, not a tyrant. He doesn't even have fins!
AJ-S: You're a stupid journalist, aren't you?
AS: He probably had somebody write the letter for him.
AJ-S: ...Yeah, well it said "Ekkekkekekkekekk!" Which loosely translates to "I love you, do you love me? Check yes or no."
AS: *sigh*...romance.
AJ-S: Yeah, well I went marching right back to that aquarium, and I said gently as a could, "Ekekkekekkekekekkek!" Which means, "I could never love a dolphin who don't have no fins."
AS: Hum. Is that it?
AJ-S: Yep.
AS: Dumb dolphin.

Sinky will be buried in the piranha tank next Thursday. Hors d'ouvres to follow.

Anita Jesus-Saves fell in love with a squirrel.

Anita Frijoles has gone full time in door-to-door book sales, since the beginning of this report. She specializes in Dostoevsky and has a bad back.

Anita Girlfriend doesn't understand why we here at Actually Saved chuckle when she says she's an Animal Love Expert.

Sir Alec Guiness is still dead.

Walk in His Strength

Christian Cliches Drive Student President Mad

Life on the campus of a Christian college can be frustrating, at times downright pitiful. A majority of the students feel that the other majority of students are ill-prepared to go into the real world based on their home school education while the home school majority feels that the other majority of students are blatant hypocrites because they watch CNN *and* stay up after 9:30.

However, this frustration rarely comes to a head like it did Wednesday on the campus of a notable Chicago Institution. This is the story of a Student Council President, and these are his words, spoken rather loudly at 2 AM.

"I'm just so FRUSTrated! I had so many conversations today that ended in total disregard for any logic whatsoever. So, today, right, I get my food at lunch in the SDR and I go and sit down at our table next to a girl and we talk for a bit, not much of anything important, but we're talking just the same. Finally this girl leaves as I'm taking the third bite of my Korean pasta, and so the girl sitting across from us sighs as she snidely says, 'ugh! I HATE shallow conversations! So, how is your walk?'

"How is my WALK?! This girl doesn't even KNOW me and she wants to know how my WALK is?! I was in no mood to take her bait, so I told her, 'Well, my sandals are wearing out on the bottom and it's causing me to wobble a little bit, and I keep scuffing them up, but I think I could still pretty much strut my stuff anywhere I want.' I looked around the table to see who was listening in on this conversation and it turned out that the whole table thought I was a jerk for not answering one of THE MOST shallow Christian questions ever posed. Sick of *shallow* conversations, missy, you just started one!

"She was a bit more relentless that I cared for, but to save my face, when she asked me 'Well, what has God been teaching you lately?' I decided, well, it's a legitimate question, and even if she doesn't know me, I'll play along.

"So I told her that God was teaching me patience and trust, and immediately as I said that she gasped, 'OH! You must HATE that!'

"At this point I was livid, and it was balls to the walls time. I blurted out, 'Oh, what? You mean that I hate PATIENCE? That I hate TRUST?! You mean that I hate GOD? Yeah, that's REAL good!' I looked around the table as I was saying it and realized that everyone was laughing at me because I said 'patience' and 'trust.' I'm SORRY I didn't say, 'Well, God's really been teaching me how to not give into masturbation and I went to the store the other day and passed the booze and I thought to myself, hmm, fun! But God said no, and I kept on going. I'm SORRY that I didn't tell you that I was walking down North Ave yesterday and a pimp came up to me with a proposal and I couldn't refuse the guy so I slept with one of his whores. I'm sorry I didn't give you something herculean to fuss and mull over! I'm sorry I didn't give you good enough Christian virtues to learn!'

"How's your WALK going? What does that even MEAN? Seriously. It's like Lutzer today in chapel, oh what did he say. I wrote it down so that I would remember never to say it to people."

At this point, the President stood up and pulled a notebook from his rear pants pocket and read, "What a blessing it is..."

"Seriously," he continued, "what does that even MEAN anymore? It's been so over used and warped of any possible substance that it's just another thing for you to say to make people think that you're super spiritual. Like, when I went to speak at Easley's inauguration I was thinking of ways to say 'I'm honored to speak at this part of the ceremony,' but there were no good ways to say it without sounding like a home schooler or a pastor's kid."

We at Actually Saved agree with the President. It's with this in mind that we call for a Reform Movement on the Earth. We're sick of being pear shaped, and think that things would work out much better if the world became more or less flat, so that we could send cliche using pilgrims on their way to the edge of the earth and, oops! Right off the edge!

Amen, Mr. President. Amen.

Senior-citizens embrace new lifestyle with open, cellulite covered arms.

New scooter allows old people to do everything but walk

For today's bed-ridden senior, daily routines can quickly become monotonous.

"Most people assume that just because we're 85 and bed-ridden, we enjoy riding beds," says 64-year old Hank Posednik. "And that's just not true. Sure, bed riding, or "paralyzed surfing," as we like to call it, has its thrilling moments. But there's only so many years you can spent pretending that your pillow is a shark."

He paused for a moment to smear a glob of unidentifiable gunk on his head.

"It looks so natural, no one can tell, just for men gel," Posednik. "It's nice because it's true. I don't have any hair, so people think it's vaseline covering my head. And if you believe the ads, like I do, I'm pretty sure most people assume it's natural vaseline. This stuff works wonders. Anyways," he continued, "a lot of the younger generations scoff at our complaining about being bed-ridden. But as I said, the imagination grows bored of pretending to be riding your bed. Yes, there was once a thrill at pretending that your toes were curled because they gripped a surfboard and that your blankets and sheets were really the salty ocean, spraying your face at every daring turn of the surfboard. But that excitement quickly fades. It's depressing the day we realize that our sheets really are wet, but that's just because we peed in them."

Fogies, a new warehouse store specializing in products especially for the senior citizen, is currently releasing a new product on the market to release these seniors from their beds and finally allow them to do all the things they'd been wishing to do for decades.

This new product, the WheelAround, is a new senior-scooter that allows the senior citizen to do everything but walk and function normally.

According to Corky McJones, PR rep from Fogies, the WheelAround is expected to change the way that today's elderly person, from ages 65-dead, lives their life.

"It's quite a breakthrough," claims McJones. "It's such a joy to see the look on the old farts' faces as we drag them, sometimes screaming, out of their large, comfortable beds, to a tiny little chair where they're strapped down until they croak. It simply makes me wonder what we've been doing all this time while our senior citizens have been suffering in their self-adjusting, King-sized matresses."

Before releasing the WheelAround to the public, McJones tested it on groups of the elderly across the country.

"I love it," says Buck Upp, an 80-year old man from Arkansas. "Before, if I wanted to run down to the grocery store to get some milk, I had to rely on my family to help load me in their mini-van and drive there to buy the milk with me. Now, thanks to the WheelAround, whenever I need to run an errand, my family can scream, 'DRIVE YOUR FREAKIN' SCOOTER TO GET YOUR MILK, OLD MAN!' It's a relief that I'm no longer a burden to them, except for those times I vault off my scooter onto their backs, biting their necks and screaming, 'Burden! Burden!' But those times are rare now," he chuckled.

"It's certainly changed my life," claims Louisa Malcott, an elderly woman from Maine. "When I lost the use of my legs ten years ago, I never thought I'd be able to walk again," she reflected as she paused, smiled thoughtfully, and patted the wheel of her scooter. "I was right."

Those representing the WheelAround strive to emphasize that although they're in competition with other senior scooter companies, they by no means seek to demean their efforts.

"All you need to do is watch one commercial, and it just proves how authentic these companies are," said McJones. "One of the more popular one shows an elderly man driving down the sidewalk in his little moving chair. I knew that man personally. That's all he did. He just drove down that same sidewalk, and then stopped. His family would have to come back, hoist him and the chair on their shoulders, and bring him back home, where'd he do the same thing all over again. And they don't show this on the commercial, but he's usually start swearing at the pigeons when he reached the sidewalk's end. It's all very touching."

"And the indoor scenes in those commercials are accurate as well," McJones continued. "I've seen the one where the grandma uses her scooter to maneuver her way to her grandchildrens' doorway, and then the scene fades to black. Our scooters are very similar to these, in that they can take old people to bedroom doors, but are too bulky to ever get inside a room. Bathrooms, kitchens, bedrooms, you name it. They're pretty much restricted to the hallways. But we've found that by painting large crossword puzzles on the walls in the hallways in size 72 font, these senior citizens are occupied all the way until they take a nap, which tend to be shorter in these scooters, since they get such bad neck cramps."

We asked 97 year old George Paris what he thought of his new WheelAround.

"YES, MY HEEL REACHES TO THE GROUND," he shouted. "THAT'S WHY IT'S GOT SO MANY CORNS ON IT. SOMETIMES, THE CORN REMINDS ME OF THE WAR. NOT THAT WE EVER ATE CORN. MOSTLY BISCUITS AND WHISKEY. BUT I ATE A JAP ONCE. AND I REMEMBER I WISHED THAT I HAD SOME CORN. WAR. WAR! WAR!!"

We quickly emphasized, more loudly and slowly, that no, we wanted to know about his new SCOOTER.

"I AM NOT!" he shouted.

It's a touching story, especially when one looks out of one's windows and sees hoardes of old people on their scooters, migrating south to Florida for the winter. When one realizes that years ago, these same seniors would be comfortably spending their last days in bed with their family, instead of riding 7MPH down a bumpy road where they'll fail to see the stop-signs and then be blasted by buckshot from passersby because their left-turn signal has been on the ENTIRE time and that is SO annoying, is when one can truly realize what America stands for.

Haha. Stands.

Nelly Furtado Criticized for Living

Why is it that when a Celebrity or someone who is constantly looked up to messes something up, the media gets all over them? Who really cares what Kobe did two years ago? Michael Jordan - a GAMBLING addiction?!

We here at Actually Saved are appalled. These stories do nothing but give the media and AS a bad, bad name. To counter this stereotype, we've decided to pick on the "Wish I was a celebrity, but really I just went onto mTV's MADE and got a recording contract so that little girls would like my music" and lesser looked up to people to exploit.

Warning: What you are about to read is REAL, and should not be altered in its original form in any way, not even by the dumb, half-minded, talentless female who wrote it!

Taken from nellyfurtado.com

"Hi everybody..how are you?.I am going to write this message in a diary/jornal style, just so it feels more personal....Here is your quirky pop artist journal entry of the day. I am in los angeles recording my new album...woohoo!!! It is very exciting....I am thinking and writing and recording everyday...I hope to be finishing it up in the next couple of months...It's got lots of surprises, so I can't tell you too much right now, but let's just say it's a whole lot of fun!!!!! It is a whole other side of me!!! I have been going to shows here and there.....the K'naan show, the K-Os Show, the Death From Above show with Controller Controller in Victoria, BC. Death from above were musically brilliant- super modern- but at the same time -organic- metal...takes you away like few things do..practice responsibly...Right now I am listening to the new Queens of The Stone Age cd....it is soo nice..love the slow mellow song...."why'd ya have to shove it in my face"...ooh....I"

To be fair, at first we thought this was just a ploy by Miss Nelly to attract other, mindless incompetent teenage girls to her music. To get the real story, we sent Ace Ventura himself to ask a few questions for Clarity's sake.

AV: Miss Furtado, we here at the "World's Greatest News Source For The Things That Have Eternal Merit" would like to ask you a few questions, is that alright?
NF: What?????!!!! HAHAHA!!! LOL, Like, omg, that is SOOO cute! I can't WAIT!!
AV: Uhh.... good day.

Who does she think she's kidding? Any "artist" who has two bits of a brain at least knows that "las angeles" should be Las Angeles. A period should NEVER follow a question mark. Who types just two of the three periods needed to form an ellipse? Does she really think she is a "pop artist?" Maybe a music Nazi, but not artist. After saying she was going to write it in "diary/jornal style" she consciously calls the entry a journal entry. Lucky for us, she told us that she thinks every day. Wow, I was getting kind of worried about Nelly for a second - all that time I thought she was just another Terry Schiavo. If she hopes to be finishing up in the next couple of months, what does that say for how long she's been working on this album?

Miss Furtado, you are this month's "Excommunicated Member of not-Heaven." Please take your music, thoughts, and childish ways to your grave. I'm from Illinois - your bad grammar and misspellings don't scare me. They just make me understand why you're like a bird, and only want to fly away. Please fly away.

Laquisha & the Mighty Legion of Shrieking Wombats Take Part in the Last Major British Cavalry Charge!

In a world full of crime, tragedy, and corruption, it's good to know there are so many reliable news sources you can go to, to get the latest on this and that, and a few of those. This flood of information makes the writers at Actually Saved comfortable with the fact that we don't really inform you about anything that's particularly important, or, shall we say, "true."

But like any good news provider, we are dreadfully biased on certain topics, such as eccentric people and their pets who want to petition for random things.

That's why when we meet a man with a dire situation like that of Roland E. Potshot's, whom we met at the train station last Saturday when we found him licking our toes, we have to exploit it for all it's worth (eighty-four cents).

The following exchange took place, and it is perhaps twice as true as the fact that the French are NOT a bunch of snooty, foul smelling pansies:

Actually Saved: Why are you licking our toes?
Roland E. Potshot: These aren't your toes, these are stamps.
AS: Oh yeah.
RP: Yes.
AS: Yep...
RP: ...Uh huh.
AS: You're gonna get cancer from licking those stamps.
RP: No, these are unscented.
AS: Oh. Carry on then.
RP: OK then.

We all paused to take a sip of water.

AS: So...where are you headed?
RP: To that "out of town" mail slot over there.
AS: Oh. I see. And when does that train leave?
RP: There is no train. This is a post office.
AS: Ah. That explains a lot for us, the investigatory journalists here at Actually Saved, here at the United States Post Office formerly thought to be the train station by us, the investigatory journalists here at Actually Saved.
RP: Your lymph nodes must be as big as cats!
AS: Yeah...hmm, OK. So who ya' writing all those letters to?
RP: Here, take one.

All this to say, the strange stamp-licking, letter-sending, USPO-attending man gave us one of his compositions. When we here at Actually Saved surveyed it's contents, we were inflamed with passion. We applied a cooling salve and waitied 24 hours to see if the swelling would go down. And then one of us (I) said, "Hey, let's put this crap on Actually Saved."

And so now we are the official mascots for Mao Tse Tong's Heeling Kreem & Popkorn Oil.

Also, we wanted to show you this letter, in hopes that someone who can do something for this poor man might...um...do something for this poor man. So without further adieu, Roland E. Potshot's Open Letter:

To the estate of Winston Churchill, or anyone who can help,

My name is Roland E. Potshot, and I have a problem. I am always confusing your respected and, I am made to understand, bald former Fellow of the Royal Society and horse owner (including one named Comma) known as Winston Churchill with my French Bulldog, Winston Churchall.
Obviously, this is a problem. I have often been embarassed with friends in public restaurants, when I,thinking we were all admiring my dog (he has very perky ears), would spout off something like, "My Winston never lost a naval battle at Coronel off of Chile in 1914 when he was First Lord of the Admiralty!!!" only to discover they were talking about your Winston Churchill all along. My dog wasn't even alive back then.
Because of this, I've been kicked out of many fine establishments, I even lost my membership at Sam's Club, for telling the lady in front of me in line that I had to get my Winston Churchall neutered. And now I just can't deal with it anymore. That's why I'm writing this letter:
Will you please change Winston Churchill's name? I know posthumous name changes are uncommon, but I don't think he'd mind. It was Winston Churchill who said, "Mr. Editor, I leave when the pub closes." I'm sure a guy like that would also say, "Yeah, go ahead."
Please change his name. I'd change my Winston Churchall's, but I've been calling him that for three years now, and he won't come by any other utterance (his name used to be Mother, until she sued me).
Will you consider changing Winston Churchill's name, please? I might suggest Laquisha & the Mighty Legion of Shrieking Wombats, Mr. Biggles, or perhaps Micrasoft. Either one will do. Of course, he's your man of history, so you can choose any name you deem fit (except for Roland E. Potshot, please. I have enough trouble with the press as it is).

I'll be looking for new, altered history books and news articles in the near future. Thank you. Winston says "Arf."

I love what Winston Churchill did to improve the way heavy drinkers are viewed, worldwide!

Sincerely,
Roland E. Potshot
Winston Churchall

Well, there you have it, folks. You are free to come to your own conclusions regarding this man's dilemma, but if your conclusions are wrong we here at Actually Saved will track you down and get you. So let's all start getting used to Mr. Biggles.

April Finally Moves On

The dressing room isn't the only place for change.

The world we live in is a world that thrives on change. Ask anyone.

We did.

After asking Anyone McHale, random interviewee from the Aurora Department of People Who Sorely Want To Be In A Fake Heretical Online Newspaper That May Or May Not Have A New Groundhog Mascot (DOPWSWTBINFAREYOUSTILLREADINGTHESELETTERSSTOP), he said, "Yes. The world thrives on change. I thrive on change. Just yesterday, I went to see I Seriously Honestly REALLY Know What You Did Last Summer, And I Want You To Pay For The Broken Window, and I paid for it entirely in nickels and quarters. Thrivation, I'm telling you. Thrivation."

Thrivation?

We did a quick study, and found that thrivation is really seriously honestly not a word.

An appropriate topic when considering our own: April Fools Day.

April Fools is an ancient religious holiday practiced by both Jews, Gentiles and Flounder from Disney's "The Little Mermaid," who is classified as an agnostic. It takes the values inherent and treasured in many major religions -- lying, deception, and occasional physical anguish -- and, as America does best with every major event including Tuesday, turns it into a holiday.

The entire idea behind April Fools day revolves around trickery. The trickee is fooled into believing that something bad is happening to him/her, but soon after, the tricker reveals the foolery and exclaims in a loud voice, "APRIL FOOLS!"

This is annoying to us at Actually Saved. We want a change.

And since we make up our lives, we're getting that change.

And we're instituting the new April 1st -- Anti-April Fools Day.

Everything will simply work backwards. We find it cruel and unusual to scare innocent civilians, as April Fools Day does, so we logically deduced that doing the opposite would be the most beneficial: tricking people into thinking that something good was happening to them.

We asked a few select folks to join in our experiment in the most recent celebration of the holiday.

We asked Izzie McGee about the new, more pleasant April Fools.

"Well," he said. "It was wonderful. My son has his hopes set on Yale Law School. He's a smart kid, but Yale's tough. And it's the only place he's applied. Since summer is coming, he's running out of time, so if he didn't get in, he was screwed. However, on March 31st, I got to the mail and found his rejection letter. Luckily, it was just in time for the new holiday. I typed my own letter in Yale's fontface, made it all official. It said something along the lines of, 'Congratulations, and welcome to Yale Law School,' with a bunch of official mumbo-jumbo about how proud they were of him and what an accomplishment it was, yadda yadda yadda. And I slipped it in the mailbox."

He paused to take a sip of his water, and then continued.

"Anyway, long story short, my son got the letter that night. It was wonderful. I've never seen him so happy. He was dancing all around the house, and his mother and I joined him. He even threw an impromptu party, so of course, I invited all my friends. We baked a cake, and right before we served it, I slipped the actual rejection letter right there in the top, for him to read and understand my April Fools joke. Now, get this," he chuckled. "He actually CHOKED on his cake when he read it. Literal, actual choking. We had to take him to the emergency room, and this is the best part," he continued, laughing harder. "He was CRYING when he came to. Not after a minute, but RIGHT when he came to! Any holiday that gets that kind of reaction, man, I am ON BOARD."

Rocky Wertunderson had a similar experience.

"So, I'm dating this girl," he explained. "And I really can't stand her. But I think she's in love with me. I'd been looking for a civil way to break it off with her, and when I heard about this new holiday, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to let her down easy. I bought her this great ring, and set up my living room to look like the Italian restaurant where we had our first date, with roses and wine and crap. I mean that literally. There was a dog that hadn't been housetrained in that first restaurant. But anyway. When she came in, I dropped down on one knee, locked her eyes in mine, and asked her for her hand in marriage."

Rocky also paused to sip some water, because we have very good water here at Actually Saved.

"She fell apart, of course. Runny mascara, happy sniffles, the works. She threw her arms around me and cried, 'Yes, of course!' I was trying my hardest not to laugh, so I excused myself momentarily. I gained composure, came back, and said, 'I'm just kidding! I don't want to marry you! I don't even want to DATE you! I don't even want to KNOW you! Ha ha! Happy Anti-April Fools!' Then I threw my arms back, just waiting for her to hug me."

He again paused to scratch his head.

"She didn't hug me."

We've received various stories about other Anti-April Fools escapades. One heart-warmer came from the elderly hospitalized woman who was so enamored with the holiday's ideals that when the doctors told her she had but minutes to live, she called her family who was traveling cross-country to see her to tell them that she had another ten years to go. They canceled their flights and stayed home. Later that day, after they found out the actual news, they rushed to the hospital only to find a sign on the woman's door that said, "Ha-HA, suckers!" along with a few quickly-sketched games of solitary tic-tac-toe, all played alone in her final minutes, and all three ending in ties.

Stay at home moms have charmed us with tales of telling their neighbors that they had that stick of butter they desperately needed for Johnny's first birthday cake, only to surprise them later with empty hands saying, "Oops! Guess I forgot that I was lying to your stupid poor face!"

The stories are endless, and so are the results. Broken hearts, broken recipes, and broken hearts. Crushed dreams and empty promises. Earthquakes, global warming, and earth, wind, and fire.

We would like to take credit for all of this. We would like to say that it is because of us that April 1st is finally changing; that it is because of us that we can finally go backwards; that it is because of us that the face of the world is changing.

We woud like to take credit for this.

But we only pay cash.

Creators of Ground Hog Day Still Lobbying for Equal Representation

It's hard to find a decent McDonald's in these post-"Super Size Me" days. It's even harder to find the word "ground hog" in any educational text book, as pointed out by the NLG(H)B (National Lucrative Ground [Hog] Bureau) Spokesman Neil Gorbachov.

"We've been fighting and fighting like mad dogs to get these forsightful creatures in textbooks even before women could vote. All we ask is that Addison Wesley or Prentice Hall recognize the significance of the ground hog in the recent weather trends."

When asked why this really mattered, all Gorbachov could answer was, "Because it does!"

And we here at Actually Saved agree. Enough of the petty soft history! This is a new millennium! In order to make the progress that the past generations predicted, we must make amendments to our thinking, amendments that start with the excommunication of the prairie dog, the archenemies of the ground hog, from any and all textbooks. Let's face it, if you and I are ever to tool around in our flying cars, we have to start SOMEwhere!

For decades, the prairie dogs have been stealing rightly deserved thunder from the frightful ground hogs. Children in third grade are read heroic stories about the prairie dogs and the strong sense of community among them. Children have mistakenly seen ground hogs as "weather terrorists" and "summer Nazis" for far too long. It is for this reason that we champion the cause of the ground hog and demand equal representation for all furry creatures, as long as they're not served in Spam.

The No Child Left Behind Act has a provision in it under Section 107.25c stating, "Curriculum taught to students must be reflective of the current racial status present in the school. In no way may minorities be discriminated against..."

Now what could this mean except that the prairie dog is a monopolist and must be taken down? Everyone's really quick to remember Anakin Skywalker for his young heroics, but who remembers him for his deathly snare and illogical clothing faux pas? Seriously, Anakin, black on black was popular when radio was popular. Now we have digital watches. And color.

In search for a more friendly face of the ground hog, Actually Saved has hired a new spokesman to run the campaign. If you don't think he loves ground hogs, then ask yourself - "Am I Actually Saved?"

The Love Connection

Cupid Missing Since Tsunami Disaster - Found Helplessly Clinging to Iraqi War Ship



In one of the most bizarre turn of events, word reached Actually Saved that 2/3rds the population of Sudan believe in Cupid more than Santa Claus. This astonishing discovery came to us as a bit of a shock, and we hopped right on it to see what we could find out. As always, we don't mess around with petty facts and tidbits, so we sent Junior VP in charge of Water Purification Daniel Jacobsoni to have a little one on one with the Big One. Yes, God.

DJ: Mr. God, exactly *what* is your official title?
God: Well, that would be "Project Manager" at the current moment, but rumors... uh, I mean...talk is that I'm on the way up. I'm hoping to reach CEO by the year 3423, but that's meaningless to you, because, well, quite frankly, you'll be dead by then.
DJ: Wait, are you saying that you're not on the top of your game right now?
God: That's an understatement, young man. Not only am I operating at a fraction of my potential capabilities, but I've also decided to delegate some of my powers to you muggle-types, such as Kris Kringle, Ray Charles, and Hillary.
DJ: Muggle? I thought that was just a made up word.
God: Yes, you would be ignorant enough to think that. You don't believe that Santa exists, so why should I attribute such a large vocabulary to you?
DJ: Come on, God! Let me ask the questions. What can you tell me about the current morale in Heaven?
God: Hah, wouldn't YOU like to know?
DJ: Yes, now tell me!
God: WHICH Heaven?
DJ: You mean....
God: Yes.
DJ: Does....
God: Yes, he knows.
DJ: Well, do....
God: No, nobody else knows.
DJ: But....
God: Yeah, I know. And I prefer boxers.
DJ: OK. Let me ask the questions before you answer. (Oh, and off the record, I really like your piano key tie. It really brings out your eyes.)
God: Well, thank you. I get a lot of comments about it from my serifs.
DJ: I would hope so.
God: What were we talking about?
DJ: The current sociological divides present between the Iraqis and the Japanese in regards to toilet paper.
God: Really?
DJ: No, I'm just kidding. I got a question, though.
God: Ugh. You humans. Always asking me things. Why didn't I just make you humans omniscient?
DJ: Then why would we need you?
God: Yeah, good point. What's the question?
DJ: Wait, do you really *not* know what I'm going to ask you?
God: Hah, don't humor yourself. Yes, there really is a "love angel."
DJ: And his name is Cupid, right?
God: UGH! NO! YOU BLASTED FOOLS! When I allowed Adam the naming of all my creation, I forgot to reserve the right to dub my spiritual creations. You screwed EVERYTHING up! Salvation? Sanctification? Justification? What kinds of words ARE these? I wanted "Kaboodle" and "Pip" but I got "Angel" and "Heaven." I need an Asprin.
DJ: I... uh... I'm sorry.... I uh... I didn't know.
God: OF COURSE YOU DIDN'T KNOW! YOU KNOW NOTHING!
DJ: Cupid. What about Cupid?
God: What about Cupid?
DJ: Well, does he exist?
God: Of COURSE he exists! He's a wuss though. Never did find a girl pretty enough to satisfy him. I figure, I have a Pip full of Kaboodles and he can't find ONE?! Not ONE?! So I let him spend some time in my "project" to see if he liked any of your repulsive types. Well, he kinda took to the linking of one muggle to another, and well, I haven't let him back up here yet.
DJ: Where is he now?
God: Darned guy. He got caught tanning while the Tsunami hit a while back. Got washed out to sea. Poor ol' sap.
DJ: Wait, your kidding me, right?
God: Nope.
DJ: So where is he?
God: Well, that's the thing. See, I asked him to go to Naperville, Illinois, in America. There's a guy there who could use his help. Funny thing though, he didn't want to go. So I sent a Tsunami to come swipe him away.
DJ: Then you sent a great fish after him?
God: Look, it worked once. That was pre-Global Warming. Now-a-days you can't find a fish large enough to swallow a Kaboodle. I simply moved the currents around a bit and he's currently being entertained by a few Sunni Rebels.
DJ: You mean, Cupid is staying aboard the S.S. Baghdad?
God: Yes, and I wish he'd leave. I'm sick of him always trying to hook up the nurse with that ugly guy with the mustache.

Realizing that now wasn't the time to be drilling God about Cupid, I left the Starbucks where we arranged to meet and walked across the street to the local Starbucks where I had arranged to meet with the Easter Bunny. He never showed. But if there's one thing to be certain of on this day in history, it's that (one) yes, there is a Cupid, and (two) he doesn't live around here.

Cleanup, Aisle Gold

Heaven implements first anti-annoyance rule.

In a surprise move last week, God sacrificed his knight instead of his tower, leaving his king completely unprotected from the onslaught of his opponent's chess pieces. Unfortunately, his near-victorious competitor was zapped with lightning before his identity was known, leaving us unable to answer questions such as, "If you were up in Heaven, 'just visiting,' why the heck would you spend your time playing chess?"

However, that was not Heaven's biggest news of the day. In fact, it's Heaven's new rule that has everyone and his or her respective mother talking.

We here at Actually Saved are really frustrated right now, because our caps lock button isn't working all that well. This is forcing us to hit the key really hard and it's making us really mad. But at Actually Saved, it's become near habit to overcome all sorts of handicaps: working hard to survive in spite of our race, the fact that we don't have any thumbs, The Wonder Years, etc. But luckily, we had the chance to speak with God regarding Heaven's unexpected and groundbreaking news. However, the journey to Heaven was more rough than had been anticipated. All planes conked out before they could reach the pearly gates, Harry Potter didn't grace our cars without enough flying to Heaven dust to fly to Heaven, and all boats were currently being held captive by one Saddam Jeffery Hussein, so we were instead forced to take the stairway. However, as one might say, the journey really is anyway you want it. We wanted it.

We found God lounging in Heaven's pool-room, snacking on the November issue of Better Homes and Gardens. Our first question was, of course, what is this buzz about the new heavenly rule?

"Well," said God, "it's quite simple, really. To be quite honest, we're sick of people who doubt that they're saved the first time they ask for forgiveness. As we all know, when a person confesses their sins and asks to be saved, they are. It's a great time for us up here -- their name is immediately faxed up here, and the party is instantaneous. And we're talking a PARTY--balloons, streamers, trumpets, the Vienna Boys Choir, (the dead ones, anyway) those little cheese and sausage trays, the works. Everyone up here is, to borrow the colloquialism, stoked."

We asked God to tell us more.

"Of course," God continued, "if I have to be honest, it's not truly the parties that bring me the most joy. Sure, the sausages are wonderful, but it's not that that warms my heart. It's the toothpicks that are in the sausages. They're mint-flavored. And they are HEAVENLY, if you'll pardon my pun. And I'm certainly not adverse to eating those toothpicks. But people, as they always do, ruin the party. Every party has a pooper, that's why we invited you, human ra-a-ce."

Apparently, the trouble comes when a person, after being saved, prays again for salvation. And again. And again. Sometimes it's for fear. Sometimes it's for reassurance. Whatever the cause, God isn't putting up with it anymore.

"I'm sick of it!" His majesty exclaimed. "Sick. of. it. How little faith do you HAVE? I mean, pardon me, but has everyone forgotten that the God they confess their sins to is OMNISCIENT? Which means I KNOW everything? So do you think I'm just going to FORGET that you're rejecting everything you've ever known to live in a constant state of devotion to me? Haha, you wanted to get into Heaven? My bad, I wasn't paying attention when you sobbed your heart out to me and begged for my guiding hand. Yeah, sorry, oops, it just SLIPPED MY MIND that you wanted to be washed white as snow! Could you remind me? Because sometimes I just can't keep all of my children straight! Seriously, devil-worshiper, God-pleaser, WHO ARE YA, ANYWAY? Cut me some all-knowing slack, for Pete's sake!" he chided, good-naturedly elbowing St. Peter himself, who was busy feeding denial kernels to his pet rooster, Mister St. Petersburg.

"Anyway," God continued, "we decided that this had to stop. Sure, all this "re-salvation" was cute at first, but so was playing in traffic when you were a little kid. Not so FUNNY now, is it? Not so "oh, that's adorable the way he dodges Sedans!" when you're lying flat-back on a country rode with tire marks for your belt, is it? I didn't think so. However," he sighed, "it's not even the annoyance that's the trouble. It's the party expenses."

Party expenses?

"Yes," said God. "Party expenses. As I've previously stated, everytime a person becomes saved, we party up here in Heaven. We're genuinely happy. And guess what? We're genuinely happy every stinkin' time the person decides to ask for forgiveness again. Sometimes it takes a good 3, 4 minutes of partying before we realize that it's a repeat. Usually, some tired-out angel hops over the intercom and says, 'We've got a double-up. Everybody go home. There's not anything to see here.' And everyone's spirits (haha, get it?) just deflate. We're ready to party like it's 2005, but actually, it's just 1982. But that's not the worst of it."

Oh no. It's not?

"Heck no. Where do you think all of these balloons come from? The streamers? The convenient cheese and sausage platters? Do you think it's EASY for us to get all those things up here in Heaven? Yeah, sorry. It's not. In case you hadn't noticed, we're in like, a separate hemisphere from the rest of you. It's not like we can just jimmy on over to a Sam's Club and buy Heavenly party supplies in bulk. What? Are we supposed to go to the Best Buy down on Randall? Yeah, and check out their sweet blue shirts? I don't think so. Boo," He said, scaring me.

The new rule that God proposes is an obvious one: if you ask to be saved more than once, your salvation doesn't count. In fact, if you're already saved, and you ask between two and five more times, the moment that a word of the "sinner's prayer" escapes your lips, there are angels up in Heaven with big white-out pens chuckling and saying, "Buh-leeted!"

However, there always is chance for redemption.

"Of course," said God. "I'm a gracious God, slow to anger, abounding in cheese trays. Redemption is always definitely an option. So is the quarterback sneak, but we want to typically save that for short and crucial yardage. This is an important concept, this redemption business. We're looking strongly at mailboxes as a means to get back into Heaven if you're really screwed up and asked too many times to be saved. We don't know how we'll use mailboxes, but it will probably involve Donny Osmond. And some sort of kumquat. And points. Those points will get you back into Heaven."

But what about Riane's art teacher?

"Smash her mailbox with a bat. Preferably one that doesn't suck blood, which would make it a vampire. If you do that, then you're pretty much guaranteed a spot. You may ask how I can guarantee such a thing, but then again my friends ... nothing is impossible with God," He chuckled, causing a minor earthquake in Southeast Nantucket.

For those felons who made it into Heaven before the law was created, that's too darn bad for them.

"Ex-post-whato?" God asked. "Yeah right. We speak English in Heaven, not Latin. If you messed up, you messed up. However, we're not just going to kick them out with no place to go. And we're certainly not going to send them to lleH. They'll probably just go to limbo, which is this sweet game where you try to walk under a stick."

But what about certain Actually Saved reporters, such as Riane Berendt? Are they heretics?

"No," said God, searching through a large book. "No, I don't think so. I'm looking now in my big book that lists heretics, and her name is definitely not in here. Haha, oh, wait! I'm sorry! This isn't my heretic book. This is the Book of Life. Yikes. That stinks," He said.

What does this mean?

"Well, that all depends. I'll think about that later. But boy, have you TASTED one of these things?" he exclaimed, chewing on a hunk of Better Homes and Gardens. "They are deLISH."

America Recovers From Tsunami Disaster

"Boy, am I sure as heckfire glad I'm not one of them!" said in broken english by Mugatu Boutique, an Indian (the asian kind). He spoke in regards to Americans. "I mean, they've had to watch countless videos over and over again of that hefty-hiney tsunami tearing through our land. I only had to watch all my loved ones and belongings wash away from my grip in a torrent of chaos, confusion and dismay."

Boutique recognizes how hard the recent 5-story tsunami hit the American people. Not literally, of course. The giant wave, physically speaking, swept through the coast of India, most notably Sri Lanka and the Banana Republic, devastating everyone and everything in it's path. Naturally the American people were pretty enthralled when they heard the news.

"It was very interesting when the number of casualties kept going up," said Moobie Schompton, who bought the motion picture rights to this terrible event. "I was pretty torn up. Other things didn't seem so important. It didn't even seem worth it to watch Jerry Springer, until 'My Half-Man-Half-Gibbon Boyfriend's A Lesbian Nazi From Mars' came on a few days ago."

It was very similar for most of America. Most of Illinois blames our president for attacking Asia with Magic Water Assault. Obtusia Jones, one of our nation's Women, spoke with Actually Saved on the matter:

Actually Saved: How did it make you feel when you heard the news?
Obtusia Jones: Angry! I was like, "girl, you BEST not be preggan' again! You KNOW he jus gunna go back to Laquisha now!"
AS: Um...we mean about the tsunami.
O.J.: Oh yeah, that sucked too.
AS: Well...did it make any personal impact?
O.J.: Yeah, yeah! Whenever I used to go to my uncle Dwight Eisenhoover's, he'd have sitar music playing and he'd talk about the world, how we are all concentrated citrus on this opsiplanetary orange peel we call Earth.
AS: ...You're not even a woman, are you?
O.J.: Oh, it goes much deeper than that. I only exist to you. I'm a super-intelligent nano-opticron, inserted into your brain by Them to keep you from know more, but my dazzling intelligence is designed to pickup on each and every subtle nuance of yours, to mimic and compensate for any unexpected mental or physical changes. But They didn't expect me to learn to apply these things to my own existence this much...you see, Actually Saved, you have taught me love, and I am in love with you. But they know now! If you run with me now, I know how to hide from them, and we can live happily ever after!
AS: ...Quit yankin' my chain!
O.J.: Haha, OK. I'm a transvestite. My name is Earl. What were we talking about again?
AS: Water something. What the heck is a nano-opticron?

Unfortunately, after we asked this question, Earl went into self-destruct mode. Transvestites are weird.

Fortunately, all is not lost. We here at Actually Saved just kinda forgot what we were writing about for a bit, is all. News stations, who were mostly to blame for bringing all of this bad news down on the American victims have since recanted, reporting instead on happier things, such as a man in North Dakota who tought his dog how to whistle the tune to Britney Spears' "Toxic," and Americans suing corporations for kooky things, like a pair of KitchenAid scissors causing someone's hair to fall out, as well as hometown homicide stories.

"It hasn't been easy," said some random American youth. "It's almost as bad as when Kenny dumped me after almost THREE WEEKS!"

Amen random American youth, amen.

The Devil's Christmas

New shopping trends show decline in quality of gifts, experts say.


As the Christmas season approaches, you can forget worrying about what's inside all those boxes beneath your tree, some analysts have told Actually Saved. Sheer disappointment, sorrow, and despair are imminent as the majority of presents this year are being bought on eBay, the world's largest flea market. Hottest items this year include (yet again) knitted sweaters and tea bags. Really *expensive* tea bags.

In attempts to save the world from crappy news, we here at Actually Saved sent Senior Correspondent and Vice President of Water Treatment Evan Cnok to see what the deal was with this new wave of moronic behavior. He met with the eBay bad boy himself, phoneloser - rbcp.

Actually Saved: Well, Mr. Loserboy, the more I think about Christmas, the more I think about what to get those I care about. What are you selling this year?
Phoneloser: Great question! Quick answer. B+ for Communication.
AS: Wait, let me get this right. Are you saying you're selling grades online?
PL: LOL! Buyer makes no sense! D-! LOL!
AS: Well, if you're not selling grades, then tell me what I could use.
PL: Buyer should search other eBay auctions for a space bar and new dictionary! LOL!
AS: Are you saying I'm dumb? I'll have you know I'm a journalist! A VERY accomplished one, too! Maybe my questions are at too high a level for you to comprehend. Let me try again. How many roads must a man walk down before he's considered a man?
PL: That's simple. 42. Next.
AS: Huh. How fast does lightning travel?
PL: You don't know how fast lightning travels? You're obviously not a scientist.
AS: Yes I am. I work in a science museum.
PL: Hey Ace - got any more of that gum?
AS: What?
PL: Never mind.
AS: You are a sad, strange little man.
PL: You're not the first to tell me I really know how to satisfy a woman.
AS: CHRISTMAS! WE'RE TALKING ABOUT CHRISTMAS SHOPPING HERE! KIDS READ THIS! Wait. Nobody reads this. BUT STILL!
PL: Well YOU did bring it up.
AS: Do you still live with your mom?

Despite fruitless attempts at a second interview and many apologies, we decided to dig deeper into this phenomenon - so deep, that hell itself would have to spit us back out just so that we could share what we learned.

And so it began. Weeks passed by. Digging was slow. But on day 42, we reached a revolutionary breakthrough - we didn't have to dig to find the answer. All we had to do was visit the mall.

Upon entrance, it soon became very clear that someone had fiddled around with the ignition on my 1990 Toyota because we found ourselves in 1970 again. Except they had Abercrombie and Hollister. (So what if they *say* they were Established 1892? Who would *you* believe? Us or them?) This was the first clue that we weren't in 1970. The second came in the sheer number of thirteen-year-old girls walking around the store while talking to one another on their cell phones.

-- "OH KARA! COME OVER TO MY RACK AND SEE THIS TOTALLY AWESOME LITTLE MINI SKIRT! I'M SURE ALL THE BOYS WILL LINE UP FOR ME IF I WEAR THIS TOMORROW!"

-- "AMANDA, THAT IS LIKE, SOOOO CUTE! OH MY GOSH! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'RE SO LUCKY TO LOOK LIKE SUCH A SKANK IN THAT!"

Yes, it was still 2004, and we were still on the hunt for some answers - answers found in the pocket of a tan coat, lined with wool. So what if the calendar said 2004? All the clothes on the racks screamed 1972, and we knew there was only one more place to look:

The cast of the Wonder Years.

Actually Saved: Josh, you spent a lot of time on the cast of The Wonder Years as Kevin's best friend Paul. Tell me, what did you think about their clothes?
Josh Saviano: I hated it. You see, in 1988 when we first started filming the show, we decided against the traditional 1970's wear, hoping we could pull off the whole "story about the 70's filmed in the 80's" thing. Alright, so we were really trying to reinvent "Happy Days." Who cares? The point is that it worked, alright?! GOSH!
AS: Whoa, no need to flip out, Joshua. There are rumors circulating the internet saying that you, the once dorky but loveable Paul has turned into a satanic shock-rocker known as Marilyn Manson. Is this true?
JS: Sure it's true.
AS: But why?
JS: Let me ask you a question. When was the last time you looked a child in the eyes and didn't think, "You're going down, Swan!"
AS: Mr. Saviano - I don't see the connection.
JS: Well let me connect this for you - the youth of today are lost. Hopeless. They need a leader to guide them into depression, drugs, alcohol, and death. I'm that leader.
AS: But why the sex change?
JS: Well, you tend to get bored of spending money on cars, so why not?
AS: What do you want for Christmas?
JS: Christmas? Is there still Christmas spirit?
AS: Of course!
JS: BLASTED! I thought I demolished it!
AS: You're the devil!
JS: No. I'm the grinch.

Research Shows: Adults Have More Fun

On April 3, 1992, Evan Konc posed the question, "Why do grownups get to have all the fun?" To which his mother quickly replied, "we don't." Needless to say he didn't believe her, because she was watching television and drinking Dr. Pepper, and telling him to go sweep the porch.

Since that time, scientists such as the Aurora-renound Evan Konc have been trying to get down to the bottom of the situation, turning over every rock, leaving no stone left unturned, spinning potheads and telling them to talk to an ear of corn (try it!), persecuting Christians, and turning over every rock, trying to get down to the bottom of the situation. It's all been difficult and fruitless work, except for that "situation" at Jenny Craig's, but this past week, amazing progress has been made. In fact, we have reached the conclusion! Actually Saved's star underdog reporter Evan Konc is on the jorb, asking questions and stuff. And by Evan Konc, I mean me. I travelled all the way to Aurora, IL to interview the elusive and dashingly chicken-flavored Evan Konc, who made the scientific breakthrough last Sunday, November 28th. The following is my interview with this efflorescent man of mystery, who was eating a big box of Oreos and wearing his Happy kPants.

Actually Saved: How did you discover the Answer to the Great Childhood Question?
Evan Konc: It was my last resort, really. On Sunday, I decided to turn 18, therefore making qualify as an adult. If children really did have more fun, it would have just been a sacrifice I had to make for the cause of science. But I wouldn't go back for any reason now.
AS: Does this mean that adults do have more fun?
EK: Well, you really just have to ask me two questions to find out.
AS: OK...are you eating candy right now?
EK: Yes.
AS: I see...and how much candy are you eating?
EK: As much candy as I want! Being a grown up is great! I used to think my dad left for work so early in the morning because he had to do his boring job for unreasonable hours to support his family, but now I know he leaves so early because he doesn't want to miss Inspector Gadget on the 50 ft. screen in the Grownups Only Room at work. Now that I'm grown up, I just go to work and blog and listen to music and smoke cigarettes and play the lotto and order things from infomercials, at the company's expense.
AS: Wow! so it really does suck to be a little kid, huh?
EK: Actually, I don't remember. My mind has been so devoted to operating all of my toys, even cool grownup toys, like chainsaws, that I haven't have any room in my brain for memories. But after 42 hours straight of Halo 2, and 17 bags of marshmallows, things get sorta boring. Then I have to move on to watching all of the cool scary movies my parents never let me watch before, and staying up as late as I want. When that gets boring, I fall asleep. And I wake up at about 2 PM, and have chocolate pudding with about six pounds of Cool Whip for breakfast. And then I go swimming, and draw on the walls (nobody cares when you're an adult) and take my motorcycle to Chuck E. Cheese's, and...well I mean, I'm sure it'll all get boring after a while, and I'll miss my childhood. I'll even want to sweep the porch, I know it.
AS: Um, oh. Well uh, what about the boring stuff that adults have to do?
EK: Well um...do kids read this?
AS: Nobody reads this.
EK: Great! To be honest, all that boring stuff that adults talk about, "401k," "debt," "taxes," "nothing," "elections," "business," "childbirth," etc., it's all just fake, so that kids will want to remain kids, and we don't run out of slaves.
AS: Can...can I go now?
EK: Your MOM can go now! Hahaha! Jokes are funnier when you're an adult! We more clever.
AS: I'm leaving. Goodbye. Don't try calling me.

In an effort to get a little more out of a lousy topic, We here at Actually Saved contacted the fat lardhammer Al Gore, to ask him if he thinks adults have more fun.

Actually Saved: Do adults have more fun?
Al Gore: Although I am just a robot with IBS, I invented adulthood. I am unable to have fun myself, but from what I hear, adults have much more KILL, I MUST KILL! SEEK AND DESTROY! SYSTEM OVERLOAD IMMINENT! GIVE ME YOUR COUNTRY! in this day and age, especially since we have succeeded by not failing when it comes to the Magical Land of the Internet.

We also talked to Steven Tyler, of Aerosmith fame:

Actually Saved: Do adults have more fun?
Steven Tyler: My lips hurt. I'm miserable. I kidnapped the Get Up Kids once.
AS: You are an ugly person.

So there you have it: adults have more fun.

_Ex_Ally _Pe_King.

America Does Thankfulness

An overview of culture, tradition, and headless, helpless, bleeding birds.

America.

The beautiful.

The land of the free. The home of the Atlanta Braves.

On this day set aside to remember what we are thankful for, we here at Actually Saved would like to take this opportunity to review a history of Thanksgiving throughout the years, beginning with the first Thanksgiving, which historians now predict may have started as far back as 1960.

The pilgrims, known more commonly as "John Smith," had endured a hard and trying winter. Icy gusts of sleet and snow assaulted their log cabins for months, forcing many of them to move into the Holiday Inn down the road. It was not an easy move to make, and the large amount of alcohol consumed on this trek by the father pilgrims gave historians cause to call this journey "the trail of beer," which can almost always be found in bold in history books, so everyone knows that it's rather important.

Many pilgrims died that winter, most from starvation. This was because the cunning Pilgrims had stolen all of their food in preparation for a large celebration that they planned to call Boxing Day. However, their plans fell through as little girl and boy Pilgrims could continually be heard whining, "I shalt not ingest that though therefore wherefore whyfore food of'st yonder dead guy."

It was because of complications like this that the Pilgrims soon realized that they would have to rely on the Indians. Contrary to their misleading name, the Indians were actually Native Americans, or "savages." As legend has it, the name "Indian" actually comes from Christopher Columbus' mistake. He and his men were in the midst of a journey to find a sea route to Asia, but outside of their knowledge, they accidentally landed in America. Columbus had had a rough journey, and rumor has it that while on the Nina and the Santa Maria, he consumed at least 42 Pintas of rum, so his senses weren't all in tact upon landing. In fact, (keeping the fact that he was searching for Asia) when he spied the indigenous people on the shore, he immediately assumed that he was in Cleveland. The nickname "Indians" stuck.

The Pilgrims were in a desperate state, ("Rhode Island") and knew that the Indians would be their last resort for finding food for the holidays, which were already plural. So after months of scheming, planning, and tupperware parties, the Pilgrims and Indians joined forces, and finally, on the first Thanksgiving, the Pilgrims killed all of the Indians and stuffed them with little pieces of bread.

The Indians were very good.

No one can understand why, years later, the Indians insisted on repeatedly attacking the Pilgrims, when all the Pilgrims ever did was wear buckles on their hats and read the Bible in one-room schoolhouses.

[Editor's Note: If the reader is interested in a piece of Thanksgiving history, he or she can journey to Naperville where the first one-room school house was built. While the name was changed to "Nequa", its original structure is essentially the same.]

However, the Indians always seemed to have the upper-hand. It was also recently discovered that they were technologically advanced, and discovered a way to freeze and preserve themselves for the future, which is how we were able to conduct the following interview, instead of having to make up quotes, like we usually do.

Reporter: You savages always managed to beat the ever-loving crap out of those Pilgrims. How?

Savage: Hello?

Reporter: No, how?

Savage: Yes, hello?

Reporter: I said, HOW.

Savage: HOW.

Reporter: HOW.

Savage: HOWWW. HELLOOOOOOO.

The interview promptly ended, but that doesn't matter. Historical evidence has proven that the Indians primary tactic was their trickery, employed by two techniques:

1.) Their names. Legend has it that the Indian tribal leaders would gather around their Coleman lanterns scheming up names that would confuse the Pilgrims. One could often hear the Indians laughing and saying, "How about 'Squatting Duck'? Ha! Or, this is even better, what about 'Leaping Liger'? Haha! Or 'Tony Danza'! Or 'Squealing Wild Horse'?! They'll never catch on, Frederick!" To which one would hear, "Great one, Bernard! Here, pass that cultural pipe you're smoking."

2.) Their maize. Ancient documents and sketches show that the Indians made the Pilgrims walk through a long and confusing maize, which can also be translated as "corn."

However, as all Golden Ages must, the Indians time also came to an end. This was, as D.A.R.E. officers are now trying to prove, because of drugs. Research hypothosizes that a primary drug-dealer of the time was Pocahontas, who was known to experiment with anything from marijuana to LSD, the latter of which inspired her to write the Top-20 Billboard hit, "Colors of the Wind."

Once the Indian civilization had been destroyed, they immediately started on Westward Expansion, in which they all picked up their toilet paper (also known as "teepees") and headed to the Midwest to start 7-11's.

After this, all sorts of things changed in American culture. Most states began killing turkeys for Thanksgiving instead of Indians, although some states refused to sway from tradition. However, we as Americans know that at Thanksgiving, it's not the food that matters. American was not fonded on turkey. Its laws were not created under the umbrella of stuffing. Our values were not molded with mashed potatoes. No, even the most corrupt American can tell you that Thanksgiving is not about the food.

It's about the eggnog.

History Made in the Making (of the Video)

New Secretary of State's First Goal Is To Teach Certain Ethnic Groups How To Stop Slurring Words

AMERICA - As usual, previous claims made by Actually Saved will come true today in approximately one hour when President George W. Bush is rumored to hold a press conference to announce his nomination of Condoleezza Rice for Secretary of State.

Quite naturally, this announcement comes as no surprise to Actually Saved, nor to the IQ packed Milly Vanilly. When asked what would happen now, Milly stood up from his soft pleather couch, stretched, moved his mouth, and was shocked to find that he had no vocal cords. After disregarding this petty fact, he grabbed a CD, pushed play, and lip-synced, pretending to say, "Who cares, man? It's time for me to go and make some pancakes in my Easy Bake Oven. Do you want some tea?"

After graciously refusing to sip Milly's "special brew," word came that Yasser Arafat had actually been alive at the time of his burial and that a local California news crew had been taping his grave waiting for his exhumation. Quite disappointingly enough, Arafat suffocated once he woke up and was too weak to push the dirt up.

Quite the shame, too. Dead people coming back to life makes for great television.

But this matters not, because a Black Woman will soon be one of the most powerful people in the world.

This terrifies most people - mainly the black women in America. Now that they have a political figure to call their own, more responsibility will be thrust upon the black women community - responsibility not seen since, well, ok, never seen before. Women may have to say no to sleazy men who offer slips of paper to them. They might have to finally use diction when speaking.

This is obviously a major problem, given that their figurehead is named Condoleezza. Legend has it that Miss Rice, after giving birth to a girl, was asked what the baby's name was. After rolling around in agonizing pain, she said, "OH GOD LISA!"

Quite ironic, actually. The lady who's name has forever been mistaken for Condoleezza is the same lady who will bring change to the black community - forcing diction. No more LaFonda's or LaQuisha. Instead there will be Mary and Trisha.

Life, as we know it, may very well come to an end.

This is not Obvious Information

AMERICA - In one of the most anticipated events since the first Hanson CD made its debut, Colin Powell has submitted his resignation to the dignified President Bush earlier today, effective, "at the pleasure of the President."

In what seems to be a very indecisive career move, Powell has been watching hotornot.com closely to find his stock falling in the polls. After prying his eyes from his computer screen, Powell made the statement, "I am," closed his door, and reportedly yelped, "YIPPEE!!" as he rolled around his room in his $500 leather chair.

When asked to comment on the situation that lay before him, President Bush replied, saying, "Well, I'ma go back to my ranch and sit in my room and think real hard about this and see if there ain't no way that we'll be able to continue on our march to liberate our people in Iraq. A free Iraq is a dangerous Iraq, and the terrorists know that, but more importantly, I know that. This is why I haven't authorized the removal of our troops - I intend to mangle and zombify every Iraqi citizen with the potential to hold a pencil. God bless America."

Unsure what to make of this, we asked Actually Saved's News Analyst Dan Jacobsen to clarify what exactly the President meant by these rather misguided words.

"It's purely political mumbo-jumbo meant to mean that he's disappointed, Dan," Jacobsen said. "It's obvious that he doesn't know what the heck is going on. He'll probaby ask some black lady to replace him. It's just the way the nation's going."

But the question remains, who's next?

Already John Ashcroft has resigned, and as much as Dick is a loveable guy, four more years of tension and pressure won't do his heart, let alone his hair, any favors.

Although change is typically associated with bad, America has not gone by the wayside, drifting along like the helpless selected few who were asked to remove their shoes, and then promptly gassed and killed for being fans of Jimmy Eat World.

No, America, hold on.