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Photo of Schropp in Tux Fetches Big Price at Auction
A rare photo of Lankville Daily News contributor Brian Schropp wearing a tuxedo fetched a high price at an auction held last night in the Central Lankville Showy Suburban Area, sources are confirming.
A noted collector is believed to have paid $90,000 for the image.
“It’s the only known photo of Schropp wearing a tuxedo. And he looks really miserable. Everyone just loved it,” said auctioneer Brad Arrangements.
An event photographer snapped the famous image at a 1995 wedding.
“I remember being somewhat displeased with the culinary offerings,” Schropp noted in an interview held outside the Pizza A-Round late last night. “It is falsely assumed that pizza does not belong at a wedding. My entire life’s work has been about contesting this stilted worldview.”
Schropp paused to watch some trash suddenly blow in from the east.
“I am lusciously delighted though that somebody would pay that much for my picture. I have a number of other pictures that people might like. There are a lot of shots of my Dad and I sitting around various birthday cakes. Perhaps they would be of interest?”
After a pause to watch more trash blow in from the east, Schropp was told they would not be of interest.
“Well, it’s still a delight,” the food critic averred.
Is it Safe to Eat Snow? A Zach Keebaugh Investigation
So, I was hanging around the knives and puzzles shop the other day and some bozo was talking about making snow ice cream. Apparently, you collect the shit in a bowl, drop some eggs, cream, and sugar on top and BOOM– you got yourself a bowl of tightwad dessert.
But is it safe? I aimed to find out.
I am Zach Keebaugh, Investigative Reporter.
I asked Bill Honks, chemist at the Yarny Woods Area University what would happen if we were to package snow and put it on grocery store shelves– what would we have to put on the ingredient list?
“Primarily water,” he said, “but also “various and sundry things depending on where it comes from.”
“Yo, let’s dispense with the fancy pants cap and gown crap,” I said. “What else?”
“Well, Zach, depending on what part of Lankville we’re talking about, there could be things like sulfates, nitrates, old electronic parts, or mercury. There are a number of variables.”
“It is safe?” I probed. This glorified pharmacist was dodging me– I could tell.
“In moderation, Zach. I mean, I wouldn’t be going outside eating snow all day but in moderation…”
“Yo, that’s my plan, man. All snow diet, scientist. I’m gonna’ be wolfing that fucking snow like a nun sweats in a cucumber patch, chump.”
He seemed confused and went back to his little bullshit pipettes or whatever. I knew there was more to the story.
So I rented a car and drove over to the Eastern Peninsula Area. Arranged a little chit chat with my boy Elliatt Conroy, a researcher who studies water resources and climate change at Peninsula Poorer College.
“Zach, it’s better to wait until a few hours into the snowfall to gather up your snow. Remember, snow acts like a kind of atmospheric “scrub brush”, if you will. The longer the snow falls, the lower the pollution levels in the air, and thus in the snow.”
“Yo, that’s not what this Honks guy was telling me. He was laying down a real dodge, man.”
“Well, Zach, I can’t imagine why. The one thing I would note is that you should be extra vigilant if the snowfall is accompanied by wind. Remember, when snow falls to within a few meters of the ground, it gets mixed with soil that’s blowing around. Whether that makes the snow unsafe to eat depends entirely on what’s in the soil.”
“What if it’s snowing and there’s also a tornado?” I probed. “One of those grim motherfuckers that comes out of the plains, throwing meteorological shade all over the god damn place?”
“Well, I suppose that would be an example of when it might be unsafe to eat snow, Zach.”
I nodded knowingly.
So, there you have it Lankville– scientific proof up the asshole. But if you want to know this reporter’s opinion– don’t be a piker, standing around trying to catch snow in some bowl your mama gave you. Just go buy some ice cream, yo!
I Want to Tell You SO MUCH About How My New Boyfriend Tried to Take Me on a Hot Air Balloon Ride
Oh my God, I just have to tell you about how my new boyfriend tried to take me on a hot air balloon ride!
So, I was just sitting there in sixth period Media and Communications, drawing some unicorns in my notebook margins, listening to Mr. Etchebarren drone on about social media when all of the sudden a big shadow passed over the windows. Everybody looked over.
The shadow went away. Mr. Etchebarren continued.
And then, all of the sudden, the shadow came back! And then a big giant basket slammed against the window! There was some cursing and the basket blew over weirdly into one of the classroom trailers! I WAS SO SCARED!
“It’s a hot air balloon,” somebody said. Everybody got up and Mr. Etchebarren dropped his book and told everybody to get into our desks (for some reason, he thinks we can get into our desks). “People!” he yelled. “This is a terrorist attack!”
Everybody started screaming and then the balloon suddenly took off again and disappeared over the woods. We were all SCARED OUT OF OUR MINDS!
They let us out early.
So, I started walking home with some of my girlfriends. I was just telling them about my new boyfriend and how romantic he is and how he took me to see a pony and then we started down a small hill and into a clearing and there was the hot air balloon again! And YOU WILL NOT BELIEVE WHO WAS INSIDE THE BASKET!!!
It was my new boyfriend. I ALMOST DIED.
“The police are coming,” McKinley said. But I didn’t hear her. My ears were clogged with LOVE.
“Sorry about that, Ash,” my new boyfriend yelled. I ran over and gave him a HUGE HUG.
“My uncle loaned me this– I can’t quite control it yet. I didn’t mean to slam into your classroom.”
“You can slam into my classroom windows with a hot air balloon ANY TIME,” I said. We looked into each other’s eyes and then we kissed passionately.
“Get in,” he said. “Ash, you like, can’t even imagine what happens as the dew covered meadows shrink quietly away and the vast panorama of the earth becomes a breathtaking view of beauty and life.” I WAS SHAKING. I saw that he was reading off a card but it didn’t matter. WE ARE SO IN LOVE!
But then the police came.
Still, it was SO SPECIAL.
I LOVE HIM SO!
STUDY: Bumpkins Like Trampolines
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
A study today revealed that bumpkins like trampolines.
Lankville Southern Easier University professor Greeve Tinders, who led the study, said that 89% of bumpkins queried admitted to owning a trampoline or “utilizing one frequently”.
“The study merely confirms what we had thought,” noted Tinders. “You can drive through the hills and observe the preponderance of trampolines and trampoline stores. They really like them.”
Researchers interviewed 325 bumpkins ranging in age from 13 to 75 about trampolines. The subjects were from an unnamed hill area in Northwestern Lankville. A series of trampoline lifestyle questions were asked as well.
“It appears that many bumpkins feel the trampoline to be a necessity. Some bumpkins admitted to owning two or three,” said Tinders.
“Many indicated that they liked having a trampoline for both the front and back yards,” Tinders added after a long pause.
Detailed results will be published in several easier-level academic journals.
LANKVILLE PEOPLE: Bus Colonel Gus Heinz
I hope you’re not one of them smart asses that thinks a man can’t be a bus colonel. I mean, I really hope– for your sake. Cause I’ll tell you right now, there ain’t no tougher bus colonel in all of Lankville than Gus Heinz.
Go ahead. Try me.
I been a bus colonel since 1981. I started driving in ’72. Number 9 bus at first. The Warm Peninsula Regions mostly. Then in ’75 they give me Route 17 to the Outlands and back.
You wanna’ see what kind of fucking balls a bus driver’s got? Give him 17 to the Outlands.
I ran that route for 6 years, never missed a day. Back in the canteen, after a long day behind the wheel, we’d have a little poker game.
The other guys, they’d say, “How can you do it, Gus? That route ain’t nothing but fucking pillheads, tarts, and bumpkins. How can you fucking stand it?”
“I got an aim in mind, boys,” I’d say. “I got an aim in mind. Gus Heinz has big fucking things in mind.”
Then, in ’81, I come up for review. Old Colonel Waynecastle was on the board. He didn’t say much until the end. I’ll never forget that moment when his steely eyes fixed on me.
“Boy, you’ve been driving Route 17 for six years?”
I stood at attention. You bet your ass you stand for attention when a bus colonel addresses you.
“YES SIR.”
He nodded but he didn’t say no more after that. Then, the next morning, when I picked up my copy of The Bus Transaction Summary (that was the trade paper back then), I saw that the colonel had been killed in a challenge.
I got me a little flag that morning, fixed it to my bus, and flew it at half mast in memory. And that– that was against code. You wasn’t allowed to have no flags on your bus. But I had to show my respect.
Well, after a couple of weeks they called me in again. I thought– shit, they found out about that flag that I mentioned earlier. I was sweating bullets. But instead, they started putting all these medals on my standard issue shirt, gave me a hell of a nice hat.
There was a short ceremony. They made me a bus colonel.
“You understand the responsibility that comes with this, Gus?” they asked.
I sure as shit did.
And I still do today.
If you’re under Colonel Gus Heinz, well, you can expect to be rode pretty tough. Tough but fair. Lot of guys can’t handle it. Lot of guys end up ducking out, can’t stand the heat. But if you stick around, you too, can be a bus colonel.
Just like me.
Thanks to Shane Meyer.
Drunken Reporter Gump Tibbs Arrested on Riding Mower
Lankville Daily News columnist Gump Tibbs was arrested last night, sources are confirming.
Police used a rope to secure the combative 52-year-old Tibbs whose blood-alcohol content was nearly five times the legal limit as he drove a lawn tractor and carried a box of beer along the Deep Eastern Suburban thruway, court documents state.
Tibbs is also being charged with several counts of trespassing after it was reported that he weaved his Neptune Cadet lawn tractor across several nearby lawns.
Police were alerted to Tibbs’ behavior around 11 p.m.
Detective Gee-Temple, who was the first to arrive at the scene, saw Tibbs standing in the road holding a box of beer. “Mr. Tipps [sic] had left the tractor running along the road and was attempting to disengage a beer from the cardboard box.”
Gee-Temple could smell alcohol on Tibbs and observed him stumble as he walked, according to court documents. Tibbs, who had slurred and slow speech, told Gee-Temple he was driving the lawn mower to a friend’s house.
“He was wearing his customary white suit but it was just splattered with grass stains and beer,” the intrepid detective noted.
Gee-Temple then said that Tibbs became uncooperative and combative, failed to comply with the trooper’s commands, and was taken into custody after two other officers arrived, according to court documents.
“He called me some lewd, offensive names,” said Gee-Temple. “We don’t cater much to that sort of behavior.”
Tibbs had to be carried to the state police cruiser. The tractor was impounded.
Upon leaving the state police station to be transported to the Deep Eastern Suburban Memorial Jail, Tibbs continued to be aggressive, police said. He indicated that Gee-Temple better watch his back and said, “I am going to bury you.”
Tibbs has been charged with driving while under the influence of alcohol, disorderly conduct, public drunkenness, not having a registration and certificate of title, lewd language and threatening an officer.
The News had not issued a statement as of this morning.
Pondicherry: “Thank You, Dumb Bumpkins”
President Pondicherry last night thanked all the “dumb bumpkins” who helped him win election in 2016.
“I love Lankville and I really love the untaught hill bumpkins who voted for me,” Pondicherry noted, at a small rally that was twice interrupted by fire. “I’m personally proud of all the wandering brainless feeble-minded clods who came down out of the hills and made their presence felt.”
“God bless Lankville,” the President noted after a strange, nigh-supernal pause.
It is unclear exactly how many bumpkins voted for Pondicherry in the general election.
“Well, only about 50 people voted anyway,” said political analyst Brock Belvedere, Jr. “I think it would be safe to say that there were some bumpkins in that group. Provided they could find their way out of the hills, of course.”
Pondicherry reminded rally attendees that he would soon be making Lankville great again, forever.
“We’re building the pyramids as we speak,” the President noted. “They’re big pyramids. You can fit a lot of people in there.”
Pondicherry wandered off unattended and the interview was ended prematurely.
Unclear Why Bumpkins Coming Out of Hills in Groups
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
It remains unclear this morning why large groups of bumpkins began coming out of the hills yesterday.
The bumpkins are currently assembled in open fields and derelict parking lots all over Eastern Lankville.
“We have received no specific demands or instructions from their leaders,” noted Detective Gee-Temple, who was monitoring the scene. “We’re not entirely sure if they even have leaders. Bumpkins are often not organized enough to receive instructions through any sort of chain of command.”
Nearly fifty bumpkins were seen in the rear of the Three Pines Double-Tiered Strip Mall in the Deep Lankville Basin Area.
“They assembled all through the day and were still there when I pulled out last night,” said Tammy Nails owner Tammy La Hoyt. “They were quiet and all. Didn’t ask for nothing.”
Some shopkeepers, citizens and animals were alarmed by the unannounced presence.
“I want them to leave,” said a housewife who refused to be identified and was nearly hysterical. “We’re locking our doors now. We’re locking our doors.”
Several attempts to speak with the bumpkins were fruitless.
“You kind of wade into one of the groups and the group just sort of slowly breaks apart like a piece of soggy bread or a prized magazine that you accidentally left out on your back porch in the rain,” said Lankville Daily News correspondent Brock Belvedere, Jr. “Then, when you give up and start walking away, the bumpkin group comes back together again and the little aimless puttering starts anew.”
Gee-Temple was unsure of what action would be taken today.
“I don’t think we’ll be indiscriminately firing guns at them,” the detective noted in a low, distant voice.
A press conference is expected later today.
Royer on the End Times
ROYER’S MADCAP EXPERIENCES
News filters to the Home slowly. It was only yesterday at breakfast that Warden Jenness approached the lectern and asked for our attention. He then introduced Captain Greenscreams.
Captain Greenscreams placed both hands solidly down on the lectern. Indeed, the force nearly toppled the venerable wood structure but the Captain did not even blink. He surveyed us patients with a steely calm, turning his head only slightly as though blown by a gentle breeze. Then, he delivered the news of the approaching monstrous races. He took no questions.
Jenness, for some reason, began clapping. The Captain stopped him with an icy stare. Then, we watched him exit into the courtyard. We could see him light a cigarette through the high windows.
“Our thanks to Captain Greenscreams,” said the Warden, his command of the institution now shaken. “He took a moment from what is a busy time to come here and speak to us today.”
No further information was given and we were dismissed to our cells as normal.
I reflected upon the end times. My prevailing thought for many a year was that the world would cease its existence in a fiery shit-storm but I realize now how wrong I was. I realize now that the marching of the monstrous races, left undiscovered by man’s paltry efforts at exploration in the hills, provide a perfectly fitting terminus.
I would finish one final novel, I thought. I had thirty pages to go on Lum Csasa’s Fangs of Cement and then I would put down my reading, shed my clothing and contemplate in the buff how I would enter the afterlife. I would take no further sustenance, I would not permit the entrance to my cell of any religious figure, if offered.
I forgot about all this, of course, within a few hours time and I only remember it now upon waking in the morning. And now, it bores me, frankly.
Hushed Moments with Dr. Kevin Thurston

Dr. Kevin Thurston is an expert on men’s feelings.
Men’s lives are hectic.
That’s why it’s important to make time for a few “hushed moments” every day. Dr. Kevin Thurston (expert on men’s feelings) is here to help you achieve this.
I’d like you to imagine that every moment has a feeling attached to it (because it does). You may be feeling anger, rage, disappointment, or complete and total lack of sexual fulfillment. But that’s alright. A hushed moment is your balm.
Find a room or a shed that can be your “hushed moments place”. Remove everything from this place– there should be no distractions. Soon, there will be a hushed moment closet in the offices of Dr. Kevin Thurston but I am currently bartering with the contractors on a proper method of payment. I’ve got some really good seasonal items right now. It’s just a matter of hammering out a deal.
Many of you may say– “Dr. Thurston (expert on men’s feelings), I cannot find my way to that room, closet or shed of calm where the hushed moments happen.” This is common. But we all must make a series of terrible mistakes, many of which are life-altering, boring or stupid, in order to find our road map. But you will know when you have arrived at your destination when the “old you” is no longer recognizable and a new man with new feelings has been born.
I also have a portable GPS navigator (not updated since 2012) that I can let go for $29.99 if you weren’t speaking metaphorically.
Give yourself a pat on the back for wanting to feel better, for desiring the hushed moments.
It’s going to be okay.
PUBLIC SHAME: I Was Lurking Again
A LANKVILLE DAILY NEWS: PUBLIC SHAME SPECIAL
You kind of know when you’re slipping.
I’ve been in therapy for a couple of years. Without fail, I go to the support group that meets in the gym on Tuesdays. Things have been pretty solid with Teri. The News gave me the big Keebaugh scoop. And there haven’t been any false reports about me dying lately. Been a solid couple of months.
Even so, where did I find myself last night?
Lurking. Lurking in a swamp.
I’ll tell you about it. So, I was down outside the Great Lankville Swamps of the South. We were initially doing a story about how a lot of the towns down there are just sinking into the swamps. Matter of fact, I was supposed to go out to this island that had been a big resort at one time. They put me up in a motel room and told me to wait. So, I got a pack of tall-boys, a basket of wings and a pile of magazines. I thought, hell, why not make a night of it? So, I’m just lying around getting a little drunk and then I get a call and they tell me the island just partially collapsed into the swamp. Then, after about an hour, the guy calls again. “Ok, well, it just completely sunk into the swamp. I’m calling from a raft.”
Well, that was that.
So, I called up Marles Cundiff (Lankville Daily News editor) and asked him what I should do. “Whyn’t you just wander around in some of the swamps, just get a feel for ’em. We’ll make it a kind of travel/human interest piece,” he said.
The next morning, I rented a car and drove down to the northern edge of the swamps. There were a number of dirt service roads and I followed one out to the edge. There was another guy there, dumping a couple of corpses into the slough and I asked him about that, figuring on getting a good quote for my story. But he wasn’t interested in talking much.
I wandered around for awhile and I got more and more lost. I got a little panicky. I removed my dress shirt straight over my head and lowered myself slowly into the bog. I saw more guys pulling up along the distant fringes, dumping bodies. “Jesus Christ, they have a real problem with that down here,” I thought to myself, in a rare moment of lucidity. It passed and I covered my face with mud and began moving slowly through the muck.
Hours flew by. I came upon a finger of land jutting out into the mire. There was a cabin on stilts and a homespun woman hanging wash on a clothesline that reached from the house to a pole that rose impossibly out of the water. When she was finished, the line suddenly broke and all the clothes dropped into the swamp, disappearing forever.
She didn’t seem bothered by this at all– it was as though she expected it. I was intrigued.
And then, before I knew it, I was lurking.
I lurked all night. Just outside the range of her meager porch light. I believe she heard me a few times, I believe she knew I was there. By morning, surrounded by mysterious submerged creatures, I was hysterical and completely covered in swamp mud. The authorities found me.
I awoke in a small, ill-lit cell still covered in mud. The mud dropped off of me in great chunks. I suddenly became aware of a detective. I cleared my eyes and saw it was Gee-Temple.
“Lurking again, huh, Nixon?”
And I had to admit my shame.
I also told him about all the dumped bodies but he didn’t seem too concerned with that.
So, now, I’m starting over. I am Otis Nixon. I am a lurker.
OPINION: It’s Brian Schropp’s Birthday and Shit
There’s a lot of people already calling up, asking for heart-shaped pizzas. I guess it’s Valentine’s Day or some crap.
But I’m here to give you a better reason to pick up a Pizza A-Round pie.
It’s Brian Schropp’s birthday and shit.
That’s right. My main man turns, like 38 or 43 or whatever, today. And to celebrate– the Round is dropping a deal on you, Lankville. You order a Mid-Morning Breakfast Snack Pizza (available all-day, today ONLY), mention Brian’s birthday, and we’ll deliver it FOR FREE. Even though I gave Big Bri the day off today, I kept him here at the Round until about 4AM last night, prepping these bad boys. So, we got a shit-ton of ’em.
Call now.
And Happy Birthday, my man.
Lankville Birds Have Learned to Use Fire
LANKVILLE ACTION NEWS: YES!
A scientific conference heard evidence today that Lankville birds have learned to use fire, sources are reporting.
“The birds pick up smoldering sticks or fire clubs and drop them in unburnt territory,” said ornithologist Graham Pipettes of the Southern Lankville Harder University. “Although the behavior has not been photographed, the accounts are reliable and confirmed,” Pipettes added.
Pipettes and his colleagues recently completed a survey of over 1,000 first-hand accounts of the activity.
“A great number were from bumpkins but we also have many reports from park rangers and those people charged with conducting early dry season burns to prevent the build-up of flammable material.”
“Also, Brock Belvedere,” Pipettes added after a mysterious pause.
The activity makes evolutionary sense, Pipettes told Household Parakeet Magazine (Lankville’s only bird-based periodical), because fires provides birds with a major food source. “Reptiles, frogs, insects and squirrels rush away from the fire, and then the birds just wait in front, right at the foot of the fire, waiting to catch them. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel,” Pipettes said. “Small fires often attract so many birds that there’s not even enough prey, so a bird that was being beaten to its lunch might benefit from starting its own new fire away from all the other prior fires.”
Pipettes giggled nervously and the interview was ended prematurely.
Many in the political community are doubtful of the conference’s findings. President Pondicherry took to social media to express his views on the subject.
“If I pick up a stick that’s on fire and drop it in the woods, the woods will not catch on fire,” said the President. “And I love birds.”
A press conference is expected later today.



























































LETTER SACK