Anyone read The Onion today?

[drhilarius]

They took on Bush and Jobs, Freeper thinking(check news in brief), and stem cells...all on the front page. Brilliant.

[DemBones DemBones]

1. Good tip, but people like a link, so here it is. . .

http://www.theonion.com/


There might even be people here who don't know The Onion. :wow:

[imax2268]

2. heh...

that's funny...!

[UTUSN]

3. Somebody Thought This (O'REILLY) Was from The Onion

*******QUOTE*******

O'Reilly says some journalists have turned into political activists (NYDN)

http://www.nydailynews.com/news/ideas_opinions/story/178194p-154963c.h...


.... What I'm not wrong about is that more than a few so-called journalists have turned into activists - people who are dedicating themselves to getting a certain party or person elected and are using their positions in the media to do it. ....

.... But let's face it, with the rise of entertainers like Rush Limbaugh and other radio talk-show people who openly root for the Republicans, those on the left feel they are at a disadvantage. ....

So, you as a news consumer should know American journalism is becoming increasingly partisan, and ideologues on both the right and the left have infiltrated the news business at very high levels.

But remember this: Passionate news analysis is one thing, but abusing the public trust is quite something else.

********UNQUOTE*******

[rocktivity]

4. I haven't HAD to read The Onion lately

reality has been quite satirical enough, thank you!

:headbang:
rocknation

[Jacobin]

5. Ain't that the truth

They are parodies of themselves.

They are making the Onion moot.

[John_H]

6. This issue has my favorite Onion piece in months

http://www.theonion.com/opinion/


Through the years, as I've traveled this country selling floor coverings, I've had the opportunity to see the best this great nation of ours has to offer: the famous Cheers district of Boston, the historic Flimm building in Cincinnati, and the storied East Side of New York City, to which the Jeffersons made their famous odyssey. Once, while attending a convention in Milwaukee, I was blessed to tread the same streets as Laverne, Shirley, and the immortals of the Happy Days gang. But as I grow older—for, yes, I am getting old—the urban life entices me less, and the winter stays longer in my bones. Lately, I find myself thinking often of the balmy Southern countryside. Though I have seen great wonders in my life, I have yet to see Hazzard County with my own eyes.

Ah, fabled Hazzard County! Where life is by turns bucolic and abruptly violent, and inhabitants are as puritanically hard-working as they are prone to committing misdemeanor crimes. How I long to travel its winding roads! What joy, to motor serenely, or less serenely should occasion demand, past the suggestively inclined surfaces of Hazzard—a partially finished bridge over a creek here; there, a hay wagon tilted at an incline just adjacent to a farmhouse; and over yonder, a stack of lumber leaning innocently against an outhouse! How my soul yearns to lose itself in the sporadic rural traffic of Hazzard, with its farm animals, its souped-up American sporting automobiles, and its police cruisers! Truly, no other place is as beautiful a romantic representation of the post-industrial South.

My desire to visit Hazzard County is not without reservations. For one thing, I worry that it may be difficult to get there. Although I know it's "somewheres south of the Mason-Dixon line and east of the Mississip'," I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that I'm unsure of its exact location inside of Georgia.

A part of me is also apprehensive. Hazzard County's magnificence may have diminished, its splendor faded with time. It may now be a shadow of its bumptious past self. I have been saddened thusly before, as when I visited the Santa Monica boardwalk, where Jack Tripper watched Chrissy rollerskate, only to find it clotted with tourist shops. And my heart nearly broke to see the outdoor basketball courts of Mr. Kotter's beloved Brooklyn standing empty. I have learned the hardest way possible that nothing good and pure can remain so. Perhaps not even Hazzard County, where time moves slower than most other places, can escape the ever-turning wheel of Father Time.