Top News Stories Of 2010 For Sunny, Serene Sarasota

The sun always shines in Sarasota.........

#10.  Homeless Population Non-Existent:  Sarasota officials tout lack of homeless on city streets, say that the cost of busing them to North Port and Bradenton is more than offset by the increased spending at local businesses by tourists, plus not having to feed and house them in the local lock-up.  The homeless, I mean; not the tourists.

 #9.  Ground Zero for Ponzi Schemes:  Sarasota has become mecca for "those who dare to dream big."  Local college offers courses "Introductory Ponzi" and "Intermediate Ponzi", taught by Art Nadel and Beau Diamond via videoconference from their respective prison cells and "Buying and Selling Real Estate to Friends and Family to Drive Up Prices, Then Leaving the Country Before You Can Be Indicted" by Neil Mohammed Husani, via videoconference from somewhere in Amman, Jordan.

 #8.  Bank Failures:  Banking industry claims too much competition was bad for business, encouraged some bankers to make ridiculous loans, knowing they were scams and were sure to fail, to line pockets of loan originators before banks crashed and burned.  County now inviting out-of-town banks in to fill void and bring fresh money.

 #7.  Mortgage Brokers Scatter Like Roaches:  Economy collapses under weight of greedy developers, lack of oversight by banks and wannabe real estate flippers, all looking to get rich.  Mortgage brokers were more than happy to drive that bus.  No more money, no more real estate deals, no more mortgage brokers.

 #6.  Mooring Field A Smashing Success:  Well-heeled boaters and yachtsmen flocked to the newly-remodeled Sarasota Bay to be the first to enjoy the upscale resort atmosphere offered by Marina Jack's "Le Bassin de Nautique," paid for entirely by the taxpayers of Sarasota.  Mooring balls failed testing, contractor claims that no one told him that cinder blocks tied to the end of ropes would not be sufficient and demanded another $462,000 for more cinder blocks.  City taking demand under advisement.

 #5.  Google Installs High-Speed Internet:  Sarasota was selected as the winner in Google's fiber optic sweepstakes after then-mayor, Dick Clapp, was torn apart on live TV by ravenous sharks after jumping into their tank at Mote Marine to attract the attention of Google's selection committee execs choosing a city to receive experimental high-speed internet.  Shark handler, Edna Buxbaum, says she got all wrapped up playing Zuma on her cell phone and forgot to feed the sharks.

 #4. Red Sox Spurn Ft. Myers for Sarasota:  Boston Red Sox owners, impressed with leadership and vision of local politicians, break their just-negotiated lease and pull out of Lee County Stadium in the dead of night.  But not before stealing the plumbing fixtures, air conditioning units and door hardware from their former clubhouse.  Unruly Boston fans overwhelm newly-remodeled Shannon Staub Stadium, setting fire to the $12 million replica of the Green Monster when Sox lose first game.

 #3.  Julian Assange Welcomed to City:  Wikileaks founder and international persona non grata, Julian  Assange was given the key to the city and a check for $3.5 million seed money from the Economic Development Council to build WikiWorld, a proposed theme park based on Wikileaks.  Attractions to include the Foreign Relations Roller Coaster, the International Espionage Merry-Go-Round and the sure-to-be-popular State Department Shake, Rattle & Roll, billed as "a crazy, wacky ride around the world in cars bearing a country's flag where riders guess who their friends are this week in an attempt to avoid a global nuclear holocaust."

 #2.  Hurricane Strikes City:  A powerful Category 5 storm, dubbed Hurricane Hoffman, slammed into Sarasota this past summer with a direct hit on the city's fabled bayfront, obliterating the contentious Unconditional Surrender statue of a sailor kissing a nurse, then, miraculously, dissipating instantly before crossing Gulfsream Blvd., sparing downtown.  Workers later found the the wreckage of the sailor several miles inland at the National Cemetery, while the statue of the nurse was found, incredibly, intact and standing upright in front of Sarasota Memorial Hospital.  Unfortunately, two days later the statue was knocked over and destroyed when 87-year old Mildred Mrdjenivich plowed into it on her way to bingo.

 #1.  Real Estate Market Rebounds:  Realtors are ecstatic about the dramatic upswing in home prices.  Developers and home builders are working round-the-clock to meet the pent-up demand of anxious homebuyers.  Economic experts are absolutely positive that home values will skyrocket to pre-recession levels in the second quarter of 2011, making right now:

THE TIME TO BUY THAT DREAM HOME YOU'VE ALWAYS WANTED!!!!!!!!!

 

Yep, This Is About Right..........

"We have met the enemy and they are...........mostly from Ontario.

Holiday Reminder From Suncoast Area Businesses

Please, this holiday season, remember the real reason for the season and keep the $ in $mas.

From all of your friends at the Sarasota Chamber of Commerce.

Local Church Christmas Pagent Ends In Tumult

Dear Edna Mae,

Well, I must tell you what happened at our annual Christmas program this year.  As you know, for the past 32 years, we at St. Thomas More....Or Less Parish have been staging our famous "Nativity Live" show during the weeks leading up to Christmas Eve.  It's always been a big hit here in Sarasota with the residents and visitors alike and we always make a great deal of money off the ticket sales, even after the Diocese skims its cut off the top.

Now when the circus had their winter home here, it was never any trouble getting the animals we needed for the performance.  In the years since they left, it has been increasingly harder to find the right livestock to authentically portray the Christmas story.  Thank goodness we have had any number of young trollops in the congregation over the years who get knocked up during the year and are about to pop in December so we don't have to worry about that role, at least!

This year, however, our string of good fortune ran out.  In a BIG way!

Mr. Braselton Gumlog, from out east in Arcadia, has been supplying the animals for our shows for the last couple years.  All was well until right before Thanksgiving, when his only camel, "Mr. Humpy", fell ill with a bad case of distemper.  We were all in quite a pickle as to what to do, as this camel has been in our pagent for the last 17 years and had his part down pat.

Elsie Dahlonega of the Ladies Guild came up with the idea of putting people in a camel suit as a substitution.  Father Rosenburg thought that to be a great idea and suggested using Sister Euthanasia and Ivey Hephzibah, since, he said, "those two have the spindliest legs I have ever seen." 

No of us dared ask Father how he knew what Sister Euthanasia's legs looked like....

Well, they agreed to do it and, just so you know, they do have the spindliest legs that any of us had ever seen and they fit the camel suit perfectly.  Or, at least, the bottom part of the costume.  We found out that the only young person from the St. Thomas More.....Or Less Youth Group without a part in the pageant was that Talbotton boy--you know, the s-l-o-w one.  But he was willing and, really, all he had to do was fill out the hump part of the camel costume.  What could go wrong?

Let me tell you, dear sister, PLENTY could go wrong.  And, it DID!!

First, Sister Euthanasiasays she has a "touch" of claustrophobia, but claims she can control it with a bit of "cough medicine."  She must have had more than her usual "touch" of claustrophobia that night, because she had more than a bit of her "cough medicine"----a lot more.  She was pretty well hammered at show time, but insisted she could walk like a camel, drunk or sober, so into the camel suit and down the aisle they went.

They were doing pretty dang well, too, until the part where they were supposed to kneel.  Well, the way Ivey tells it, Sister was in the forequarters and lost her balance when she tried to stand back up and they crashed into the pew.  The Talbotton boy ended up in the lap of that cute young thing, Glendora Flaut, who just howled up a storm about being violated by a dromedary.

Poor Sumner Leverett, who was playing the shepherd, yanked and yanked on the reins to get the camel with one drunken nun, a terrified 12-year old and poor old Ivey Hephzibah back on its feet.  Sister Euthanasia was just cackling away and told Sumner that he could "pull all you want, but my butt is stuck between these two pews and it ain't comin' out unless you get of one of Connolly Tutwiler's tow trucks in here."




Well, it didn't take a tow truck, but it did take four deacons and Glendora's two uncles to get Sister, Ivey and the Talbotton boy out of the pews, back on their feet and out of the church.

Sister Euthanasia remembers little of what happened that night, poor Ivey has quit coming to church and the Talbotton boy has been arrested twice now for stalking the Flaut girl.

Father Rosenburg says that there is talk now that the camel's part will be cut from next year's pageant.

Your sister,

Verniece

I'm Clay Duke and I'm The N.R.A.

I'm Clay Duke.  On Tuesday, I interrupted a Panama City School Board meeting by painting a big red "V" in a circle on the wall, then pulled out my Smith & Wesson automatic pistol and waved it around.  I blamed the School Board for firing my wife from her teacher's job and threatened to kill them all.  Being the consummate gentleman, though, I told the lone female on the board that she could leave, then continued to hold my trusty piece in the board president's face.

While I was making my point, that sneaky bitch that I let leave the room, crept back in behind me and pummeled me with her purse.  That freakin' purse must have weighed a ton, it hurt so bad.  Those things should be outlawed.  I should have plugged her right then and there, but, like I said, I'm a gentleman.

Instead, I leveled old Betsy and squeezed off a couple shots at the rest of the board members sitting there for not warning me that the crazy bitch was about to hit me with a surprise purse attack. 

I'll never know how the hell I missed them all.

Then, out of nowhere, comes a security guard and plugs me.  I return fire, but, once again, don't hit a thing.  Unbelievable, huh?

He hits me a couple more times and I figure the jig is up, so I put the gun to my head and pull the trigger, thinking that since I haven't hit a thing all day, I'll probably miss again.

I didn't.

I'm the N.R.A.......

Urban Meyer Tells of His Plan to Join Monastery

Urban Meyer told a stunned crowd of reporters and Gator Nation faithful that he was not only leaving the University of Florida, but he was also leaving this fetid material world for a better place and joining a spartan monastic order in the mountains outside of Denver, Colorado.

"As you know, my health has been an issue for me for quite some time now, mostly when we lost football games," said Meyer.  "When we won, eh, not so much."

"I wanted to step away at the end of last season when Timmy left, but my coaching staff, the athletic director and others coaxed me into coming back for this season.  After this 7-6 season, all those who wanted me to stay on last year told me not to let the door hit me on the ass on the way out this time.  Hey, you don't have to hit me on the head with a sledgehammer--I get it!"

"I knew I couldn't coach college football forever, but when we were picked to play Penn State in the Outback Bowl on New Year's Day, I had nightmares of me being an 85-year old coach, hobbling up and down the sidelines with drool spilling out of my mouth, not knowing where I am, who I am or even what the hell I'm doing there.  And then I pee my pants."

Meyer said that he wanted to spend more time with his family after devoting nearly his entire adult life to coaching.  "Well, after about a day-and-a-half of that 'family togetherness,' I was ready to get the hell outta there before I choked somebody.  What did I ever see in that woman anyway?  And those kids of mine....."

"Then, as if in a vision, my life's plan fell into place one afternoon while I was waiting in a dentist's office.  I was absent-mindedly leafing through some magazine, pondering my fate, when I saw it:

My life was transformed in that instant.  Seeing Timmy in that haircut, I knew I was destined to become a monk"

"After my root canal, when I went home and excitedly announced my plans to my family, they were like:  'OK, whatever....'  I took that as a sign."

"I did some research and found an order of silent monks who lived in a collection of old church buses in the mountains near Dog Breath, Colorado, about a hundred miles north of Denver and my Timmy, who plays for the Broncos."

"I interviewed with them, was accepted into their brotherhood and am leaving tomorrow for a higher plane.  They even gave me a tryout for their "Silent Chorale."  I'm the next-to-last one on the left side.  I'm a little shorter than most of the other monks, but the Head Abbott says I make up for my lack of size with my quickness and my good hands.  Hey,that sounds like the same lies I was telling to those high school kids when I wanted them to come to UF....."

Keeping The "X" In Xmas.............

Annual Christmas Letter From Charlie Crist

Dear Major Donors, Family, Fellow Floridians,

Well, it's been quite a year for Carole and me!

For the first time since I was elected to the Florida Senate in '92, I will not be feeding at the public trough. (Carole says that I might have to get a real job now. HA! Good one, babe! I thought that's why I married you! LOL)

So, there I was, minding my own business, coasting through my second term as governor of God's Waiting Room, riding on the bullet train to the United States Senate, when that little twerp, Rubio, comes out of nowhere and--boom--wraps those Tea Party ding-a-lings around his stubby little finger..

"The only true Conservative?" "Tea Party darling?" Pul-leeze. What kind of "true Republican" has a first and last name that ends in a vowel? Mario Cuomo--oh, yeah, like he was a "true Republican". NOT! How about Thomaso Jeffersonio? Georgio Washingtonio? Gimme a break. He's no more of a "true Republican" than Topo Gigio was!

Anyhoo, the Tea Party adopted little Marco Polo, poured a pants-load of money into his campaign and he starts to kick my ass in the polls by linking me to Obama, all because of that one bro-hug in Ft. Myers a year ago. Me! I can't believe it! Time to turn on the Crist Charm Factory and send this pipsqueak limping back to Miami.......

Well, it turns out this Tea Party thing was bigger than anybody thought. Who knew those old farts had so much disposable income to spend on him? Next thing I know, I'm so far down in the polls, it's like I'm standing at the Equator looking up! (A little geography humor there.........)

Old Charlie can see the writing on the wall, so "Mr. Republican" becomes "Mr. Independent", because Florida voters want to vote for me, Charlie Charisma, whether I'm a Republican or Democrat or Independent.

OK, maybe not a Democrat.

So, election day rolls around and guess what? Maybe they wanted to vote for me, but they DIDN'T!

Jerks.

I'm lucky I beat the Libertarian candidate. (Did the Libertarians even have a candidate this year?)

Then, to add insult to injury, the legislature meets in special session to override some of my vetoes from this past year, like I never existed.

Next, my old "friends" from the GOP want their campaign contributions returned because they "didn't donate to Charlie Crist--they donated to the Republican Party." Oh, boo-hoo; get over yourselves already. I spent your damn money, so there! (Wellllll, I didn't spend all their money, I kept some of it for my "unemployent compensation".)

So, that's it. I'm out. Rick Scott is going to be sitting in MY chair at My desk in My office. But, I'm not bitter and I wish him the best of luck. He's only going to last as long as the REAL governor of Florida lets him sit in that seat--my old boss, Jeb. (Yeah, and thanks for all your support during the election, boss. Would it have killed you to throw me a bone?)

I hope your year went better than mine. Mine actually kinda sucked. But, I'll be back, better than ever. Tanned (LOL), rested and ready to go!

Speaking of going, I must. Gotta go scan those want-ads. For Carole!

Here's to a better 2011 for all of us,

Charlie & Carole

Suncoast Rocked By Drug Arrest of Beloved Pie Lady, Amanda Yoder

Sarasota awoke this morning to the stunning news that the revered Amish grandmother "Queen of Pies", 104-year old Amanda Yoder, was arrested overnight at her exclusive Longboat Key compound by Federal drug enforcement agents.  Grandma Yoder, known to her legion of fiercely loyal customers as the humble and unassuming old woman who greeted them at the Yoder's Family Restaurant in the Amish/Mennonite section of Sarasota known as Pinecraft.

But things are not always as they appear, especially in this town.

Grandma Yoder always said that her pies drew people from all over the Suncoast because of their wholesome goodness, fresh fillings, no preservatives and the secret ingredient in her pie crusts that she would never divulge. 

Turns out, claim DEA and ATF authorities, the secret ingredient in those "addictive" pies was crack cocaine.

"She turned hundreds of innocent people into drug addicts," said one DEA agent.  "I always wondered why all those people would line up at 4:00 in the morning to get those pies.  Now, we know."

It also seems that "Grandma" Yoder herself is not all she seems to be, either.  In fact, she's more--much more.

Amanda Yoder, seen in the photo below as agents burst into her posh penthouse condo, is not the kindly old grandma that everyone has come to recognize.  Known inside the Yoder family as "Roxy," Mrs. Yoder has a decidedly harder edge when she's away from the public's eye.

                                     Grandma "Roxy" Yoder

Yoder cursed and shouted at reporters as she was led away in handcuffs and leg shackles to a waiting SUV.  "You got nothin' on me!  You hear me--NOTHIN'!  I'll be outta here by this afternoon.  I'm lawyered up, bitches!"

Authorities also arrested Mrs. Yoder's husband, Levi, along with the pair's twin sons, Levon and Levoff, pictured below:

      Levi Yoder, flanked by sons, Levon (l) and Levoff (r)

Outgoing Florida Attorney General, Bill McCollum, told reporters "nailing this bunch was the highlight of my career.  If I could have pulled it off sooner, Florida voters would have elected me as their governor.  Chrome-dome Scott would be back stealing Medicare funds and I'd be the one planning the obscenely-expensive, corporate-funded, multi-million dollar inauguration party instead of him."

Privately, law enforcement officials concede that the Yoder pie scheme will have little impact on the daily operation of the Amish Mafia, known as the Bruderhof or Brotherhood.  "We may have yanked out one hair of the beard, but there are still lots of whiskers on that chin," said one DEA official.

On a side note, when news of the arrest reached Food Channel personality, Adam Richman, he was not surprised.  "I filmed a segment of Man Vs. Food with the Yoders about a year ago.  She took me into the kitchen where I was shocked to see scores of young Oriental girls wearing surgical masks preparing the pie crusts.  Grandma Yoder said she was just "bug conscious.  I never would have guessed she was putting booger sugar in those pies."

"Then, later, when we did the bit sitting at the table talking about her pies, she kept grabbing my leg under the table.  It struck me as kind of un-grandma like, but I didn't think much about it at the time.  TV makes people do all kinds of strange things........."

International Sports Figure Dies Mysteriously; Was Being Investigated For Gambling Ties

Internationally-famous sports prognosticator, Paul, the Octopus, has been found dead at his home in Germany.

Paul's meteoric rise to fame began pedestrianly enough in the depths of the Mediterranean, when he was plucked from the roiling sea by a Greek fishing boat intent on selling him to the local fishmonger.  On the way back to their village, the fishermen began arguing about their hometown soccer team.  Paul, desperate to be spared from a certain death by drowning in some cheap marinara sauce at some rundown tourist cafe on the Greek coast, told the fishermen that he could make them wealthy by picking the winners and losers of upcoming sporting events.

The Greek fishermen laughed that lusty laugh that only Greek fishermen can laugh after drinking too much ouzo, but decided to give Paul a chance, apparently completely oblivious to the fact that an octopus had just spoken to them.

They put Paul in a small tank on their vessel and returned the next morning with the sports page from the daily newspaper, The Galatakion Gazette.  Paul predicted the outcomes of four soccer matches that day, including the hometown Domvrainis Doves losing in an overtime thriller to the roundly-despised  Skordhianika Scorpions.

The fishermen, profoundly amazed by their new-found meal ticket, sold their fishing boat and became professional gamblers, making millions of drachmas off Paul's predictions.  Ultimately, as is wont to happen in these cases of easy money, the lifelong friends had a falling out and, after a day and night and day of heavy drinking, began fighting with each other.  Paul's tank was nearly knocked over in the altercation, when he was spirited away by person or persons unknown to Germany, where he was booked into the local aquarium under an assumed name.

Paul reveled in the spacious surroundings of his new digs and enjoyed performing for the visiting children and making them laugh.  He felt the sting of rejection, though, when he would crawl up the front glass of his tank after spotting a pretty young fraulein, only to have her recoil in squeamish disgust at the very sight of him.

Then, one day, a pigtailed beauty sidled up to the viewing area and gazed longly at Paul's engorged tentacles as he deftly made his way along the sandy bottom of the tank.  She came day after day, week after week, until one day Paul worked up the courage to speak to her.  He spoke at length of his past growing up in the Mediterranean Sea, of his capture by the Greek fishermen, of his brush with death and anxiously awaited her reply.

"Ich spreche nicht griechische," she purred coyly.  But, of course, she did.

The two became fast friends and Paul was soon picking winners of soccer matches for young Bruhilde.  Paul became quite the celebrity and, with the arrival of the World Cup Soccer Games this past year, that notoriety spread exponentially when Paul correctly tabbed the winners of all seven of Germany's matches, as well as giving Spain the nod in the championship tilt.

But, with fame, came accusations.  Paul was indicted as co-conspirator in several illegal gambling operations around the Mediterranean, including Sicily.  Paul confided to Oprah this past fall in an exclusive interview that he was giving up the sports-handicapping business.  He had accepted an invitation from Punxsutawney Phil to join him in rural Pennsylvania in America and be a weather forecaster.  Paul said the change in scenery would do him good and, at his age, working one day a year sounded "pretty darn good."

Paul was found early yesterday morning by his handlers, out of his tank on the bone-dry floor, each tentacle chained to a concrete block.  A note pinned to the cephalopod's dried, brittle skin read simply:  Calamari!

June Cleaver's Death Ruled "Suspicious"; Her Checkered Past Revealed

The Los Angeles County Coroner, Dr. R. Quincy, M.E., has decided that there is enough evidence in the death of TV super-mom, June Cleaver, to open an official inquiry as to the circumstances surrounding her demise.  "I don't care who she was, there's absolutely no reason on God's green earth why a 94-year old woman should just drop over dead.  And that's my rulin'."

The investigation threatens to blow the lid off Mrs. Cleaver's sordid life that, up until now, had been quashed by her handlers.

Born in abject poverty in the gritty mill town of Wilmerding, PA, young June Zeglowitsch soon found her way to the bright lights of Los Angeles and married insurance salesman, Ward Cleaver.  They had two sons, Walter and the younger, Theodore, also known as "The Beaver," for reasons that are not entirely clear.

The ideal family-facade began to crumble when Ward was convicted of insurance fraud and sent to San Quentin Penitentiary for 8-10 years.  June struggled to keep the family together, but, in 1962, the state of California placed the two youngsters in foster care when June's drug addictions got the better of her.  Without her children, June's life spiraled out of control with a series of minor run-ins with the law, from petty larceny, car break-ins, burglary and the like.

"She wasn't a bad lady," said retired Detective Sgt. Joseph Friday of the LAPD, "she just made bad choices.  She didn't think she'd get caught.  They never do.  But they all do eventually.  That's where I came in."

Sgt. Friday was the arresting officer when Mrs. Cleaver attempted to knock over a liquor store on Sunset Blvd. that ended in a shoot-out with police, earning her a one-way ticket to Chino Prison for Women for 15 years.

It was during her stint in prison that June Cleaver re-invented herself.

She became.................Eldridge Cleaver.

In 1966, following a brazen escape from prison in which she walked right out the front gate of the facility, having tricked the guards into thinking she was a tall, black male, she continued her gender-bending charade and fell in with the likes of radicals Huey Newton and Bobby Seale, forming the Black Panthers.  The group espoused violence to achieve their means and had numerous confrontations with police.

Wounded in an Oakland, CA, gun battle with authorities, Cleaver was returned to prison, where she wrote her now famous treatise on urban guerilla warfare, Pearls on Ice.

Upon her release from prison in 1998, she and her cohorts had a mock funeral for her black revolutionary persona, "Eldridge" Cleaver, and she retured to being "June" Cleaver, white suburban housewife.

She lived in relative obscurity in a comfortable suburb of Los Angeles for several years, until she began telling friends that an old acquaintance of her family was trying to extort money from her.  Edward Haskell, who had attended high school with the eldest Cleaver son, Wally, was a moderately successful, if somewhat sleazy, businessman who, with another classmate, Clarence "Lumpy" Rutherford, had opened a string of used car lots around Bakersfield and Modesto.  Haskell apparently had claimed that he and June Cleaver had an affair when he was still in high school and threatened to take that information to authorities, believing that June's parole would be revoked for corrupting the morals of a minor.

Eddie "You Always Get Plenty From Eddie" Haskell

Clarence "Lumpy" Rutherford

When sons, Wally and "The Beav", learned that Haskell was terrorizing their elderly mother, they allegedly hired Mafia hitman, Larry "The Mole" Mondello to have Haskell murdered.  As luck would have it, Mondello was hit and killed by a speeding bus on Santa Monica Blvd. they day before the murder was to take place.

Police theorize that Haskell, who had loudly professed his undying love for June Cleaver for nearly 60 years, killed her in a fit of rage, often claiming that, "If I can't have her, no one can have her."

The Cleavers, just before June's death.  Left to right, Theodore, "The Beav", is a successful LA gynecologist, the late Mrs. Cleaver, and Walter, who owns a medical marijuana store .

Chilean Miners' Squabbling Jeopardizes Imminent Rescue

The impending rescue of thirty-three trapped miners some 2,000 ft. below the surface of a forbidding desert landscape in Chile is apparently in danger of collapse.  Officials on the scene say the miners are squabbling among themselves about the order in which they will make the projected 45-minute trip out of the cold, dank mine in which the men have been entombed since the beginning of August.

A spokesman for the miners union told reporters, "These brave union brothers all want to be the last man out of the mine, preferring that their compadres reach freedom before they do.  They are family--these minadores--are the most courageous of men."

Privately, though, reports are beginning to filter through the ranks of the hundred or so drillers and technicians who effected the rescue tunnel that the miners are reluctant to leave the mine for different reasons. 

Of the thirty-three miners, only four have expressed unabated eagerness to be rescued.  Coincidentally, these four are the only unmarried men among their ranks.

Said one unidentified miner, "You know, down here we're kind of a big deal.  Up there, we're just dumb miners.  Tu es un don nadie--you are a nobody."

"Here we live better than we have ever lived in our lives.  We eat more, we drink more, we sit around in our underwear for hours playing cards with our amigos--and we're heroes for that??  Ay!  We scratch, we fart, we tell dirty jokes and we laugh and laugh and there is no woman to tell us that we are pigs."

"Never before have I been treated like a king like I am living now here in the mine.  They send us movies and music and cerveza and cigarillos and it is all for free.  People want to know how we are, people want to hear what we have to say.  Because we are heroes!"

"But, when we come up, after a few weeks, it will be like, "Hey, vagabundo, when you going back to work?  When you bring home money?  When you buy me things?  When you paint the house?  When you take out the garbage?  When you?  When you?  When you?  Down here, is nothing in a rush.  Like, where you going to go?"

"Now, though, they want us to go.  Go where?  Back to all those problemos muy doloroso??  Ay, I don't think so much of that, senor........" 

"You want me to be first in line to be rescued for this...............????"

Said Lyndon P. Altfather, a driller from Berlin, Pennsylvania, "I didn't come all this way and bust my ass for the last 33 days straight for those sonsabitches to bicker about who's a-comin' up first and who's a-comin' up last.  If they don't figure it out soon, I'm goin' down in that tunnel myself and drag their sorry asses out one by one, if I have to.  Deer season's coming up back home............"

Sarasota Realtors Demand Reparations For Hungarian Sludge Flood

The Sarasota Association of Realtors, in conjunction with the Visitor's Bureau, the Chamber of Commerce and a loose consortium of local restaurant and hotel owners, is suing the government of Hungary, claiming that their "negligence in the inspection and enforcement of industry-standard safety precautions of the vast retention pond of toxic waste did, in fact, allow a flood of poisonous sludge to suddenly and without warning discharge into the countryside, thereby polluting the affected lands and causing distress to the residents.  Further, said toxic sludge has produced numerous adverse effects upon the Hungarian people and, by extension, upon the businesses of Sarasota, FL, who rely heavily upon those Hungarian people to visit Sarasota, FL, and patronize those businesses."

The lawsuit claims damages in excess of $2.65 billion in lost revenue, including sales commissions, profits and wages.

Spokesrealtor Beneva Lockwood-Ridge said, "This tragedy in Hungary is an even bigger tragedy for Sarasota.  To come on the heels of the BP oil disaster that absolutely decimated our fair city is almost too much to bear.  But we are a strong, vibrant community, nestled as we are on the pristine sandy white beaches along the beautiful Gulf of Mexico, close to all the amenities an active retiree could ever hope for, including the arts, shopping and innumerable opportunities to participate in various sporting and exercise endeavors."

When reminded that no oil ever came close to approaching the Sarasota area, Ms. Lockwood-Ridge countered, "Perhaps the oil did not threaten our shoreline physically, but the perception by the general public was that we were mired in ankle-deep goo and perception trumps reality every time, especially in the world of real estate.  It has been a real tough year for us here in Sarasota and if we were able to cash in on some of that BP money to keep up the payments on our Lexuses, then we're hoping to convince those crazy goulash-eating Hungarians that they should give us money, too.  In fact, if we can keep this up, we won't care if we ever sell another house again!"

"Even though," she hastily added, "NOW is the time to buy!"    

Workers apply red dye to the soil around a Sarasota home prior to the arrival of photographers.

Glenn Beck Identifies Root of America's Ills--Hide The Children!!!

Oh, don't look so startled. 

We knew.  We all knew. 

But it took a hero, a hero like Glenn Beck to say it out loud.  The self-styled favorite child of God is the chosen warrior who will single-handedly save this country from an apocalyptic takeover by Liberalism, Humanism, Nazism, Communism, Socialism, Marxism, Fascism, Atheism, Obamanism and Disneyism.

God bless you, Mr. Beck.............

Captain Obvious Tip o' the Day

Dear Dan,

The next time you tangle with a skunk, go unarmed.  Mano y mofeta, so to speak.  You don't need no stinkin' gun, hombre.  Oh, sure, you'll probably get sprayed, but, at least, you won't have to go to the hospital for gunshot wounds to your hand and face.  You can always wash off the smell, but you can't wash off stupid.

Capt. Obvious  

Thus Saith The Lord......

"No!  Learn how to spell first, you schmuck, then maybe we'll talk.  Maybe!"

Woman Confesses To Acid Attack Hoax, Shocking Motive Rocks Sports World

Bethany Storro, 28, of Vancouver, WA, has confessed to investigators that she lied, contrary to her original story of being attacked by a black, pony-tailed assailant who asked, "Hey, pretty girl, do you want to drink this?" just before throwing acid in her face.

Storro, when told that her duplicitous actions may result in criminal prosecution, informed reporters that she intended to use the "Derek Jeter Defense."

"Look," she explained, "like every other 28-year old single woman, I have self-esteem issues and, as such, it's my job to draw attention to myself to attract as many potential husband candidates as I can, just like it's Derek Jeter's job to get on base any way he can, an obvious reference to an incident at a Wednesday night baseball game between the vaunted New York Yankees and some third-rate team from somewhere in Florida when the legendary Yankee shortstop heroically flim-flammed the umpiring crew into believing he had been hit by a pitch when it was shown conclusively on television replays that the ball clearly hit the knob end of Jeter's bat."

"If it's good enough for Derek Jeter, it's good enough for me," reasoned Ms. Storro.  "And I'm only about half as famous as he is."

Ms. Storro mugs for the camera before and after splashing acid on her face in order to attract attention.

Mr. Jeter accepts Emmy Award for "Best Actor in Continuing Sports Drama Outside of Professional Wrestling."

Sarasota County Schools Overwhelmed By Rampant Infestation; Officials Say Spread To General Population Inevitable

Something's bugging students in the Sarasota County school system.  And it's just not the teachers or the homework.

In fact, the situation is so serious that the County School Board contracted last spring with Rielle Hunter of Hunter-Young-Edwards Productions to produce the following $3.2 million public service announcement.  It was to begin airing over the summer, but local medial outlets WWSB  and SNN said that gubernatorial candidate, Rick Scott, and senatorial candidate, Jeff Greene, had already purchased every available minute of advertising time and neither hopeful spending millions of dollars out of their own pockets to be elected a public servant by the citizens of Florida would relinquish any air time, choosing instead to continue running their highly-negative toxic ads.

Pediatric health authorities recommend that parents talk to their children about the infestation, no matter how young they are, as younger children are the most likely victims to be affected.

Please be advised that the TV spot pulls no punches and is a very frank discussion of the scourge that threatens to close down the entire school district unless health officials can get a handle on this very dire situation.



Yes, cooties.

Formerly considered a childhood malady that was soon outgrown, cooties have become a universal curse, knowing no geographical, economic or social boundaries.

It used to be that only pre-pubescent boys thought girls had them and pre-pubescent girls thought--rightly so, as it turns out--that boys had them.  Except for Justin Bieber.

Nowadays, though, Republicans think Democrats have cooties, Democrats think Republicans have cooties and the Tea Party thinks everyone has cooties but themselves. 

Rich people think poor people have cooties, poor people think rich people infected them on purpose and don't want to pass the health care initiative to keep them from getting proper treatment for cooties. 

Christians think Muslims have cooties and wish they would just give us their oil and shut the hell up and stop killing people, Muslims think Christians have cooties and consider it a Shari'a mandate to exterminate the infidel carriers. 

White people think people of color have cooties, people of color call them bigots and racists for thinking so, but, yet, think white people have cooties, too. 

Americans think illegal aliens have cooties and want to close down the country to stay cootie-free, illegal aliens are dying for the chance to get into America and catch their own cooties. 

And, on it goes..................

Gainesville Pastor Receives New Message Regarding Burning of Quran

Gainesville Pastor Decides Against Burning Quran After Secret Meeting With City Official

Central Florida minister, part-time furniture salesman and full-time nut job, the Most Holy Reverend Dr.Terry Jones, has abruptly canceled plans to incinerate copies of Islam's holy book after learning that open fires are not permitted within the city limits of Gainesville.  Although permits can be had by those wishing to have a bonfire, weenie roast, cross-burning, etc., Pastor Terry decided not to pursue a permit after a brief meeting with a member of Gainesville's Fire Dept.

Deputy Fire Marshal Muqta Hassan Abdullah told reporters after their conference that "Pastor Jones and I had a 'come to Mohammed' meeting earlier today where I politely informed him that, should he burn the Quran, the Yellow Pages or anything else without the proper permit, he would be in violation of Gainesville City Fire Code Section IV, sub-section 9.5, paragraph 135 and, as such, be subject to the same punishment as any other infidel who dares defy the Fire Code of the city."

According to Gainesville's newly-enacted Fire Code, first time offenders for any infraction "shall be beheaded by the City Swordsman in the food court of the Gainesville Mall, and his family will be hanged in front of Sears for all to see and bear witness thereof."

Dr. Jones, whose divinity doctorate degree from the California Graduate School of Theology, which is "is so independent, it has never been accredited" and carries about as much weight as a one-night stay at a Holiday Inn Express, said he was impressed with Deputy Fire Marshal Abdullah's explanation of the fire code and has no desire to violate any city ordinances now or forever and ever.  Amen.

University of Florida students, adjudged in violation of Gainesville's ban on fireworks hang in a strip mall on July 5th, where they were also fined for loitering.

Bart Simpson Pranks The Pelican Press, Investigation Launched

Sarasota's own bastion of free speech and erudite prose, The Pelican Press, is launching a full-scale investigation into what the newspaper calls "a full-blown breach of security."  This past week's edition printed a "Letter to the Editor" that ostensibly criticized Marina Jack's tax-free status with the City of Sarasota, even going so far as to question if "someone at Marina Jacks (had) pictures of city officials in compromising positions with a goat?"

If that wasn't embarrassing enough for such a crudely-worded letter to be printed in the pages of such a highly-regarded media outlet as The Pelican Press, the crowning blow was the signature attached to the letter:  Ben Dover (bend over).

According to outraged editor, Anita Bath, the weekly has forthwith terminated the services of chief proofreader, Hugh Jass, for allowing the letter to be printed.

Suspicion immediately focused on former Pelican Press columnist, MC Coolidge, who had been unceremoniously dumped from the paper's payroll some time ago, when an advertiser objected to the content of one of her columns.  Always ready to defend America's First Amendment to the Constitution supporting the right of free speech, Ms. Coolidge was summarily fired from this paragon of journalistic excellence and democracy was saved on Siesta Key.

It was quickly determined, however, that Ms. Coolidge had an air-tight alibi in the case when her two cats gave corroborating depositions to the Sheriff's Dept. indicating that Ms. Coolidge did not write the offending letter in question and was, instead, rolling in catnip with the two of them all evening.

Authorities then began to concentrate their efforts toward one Bartholomew "Bart" Simpson, prankster extraordinaire, known throughout the seamy underbelly of the prank world for his repeated phone-calls to Moe Szyslak, proprietor of the notorious Moe's Tavern in downtown Springfield.  While no one has ever been able to conclusively connect the prank calls to Simpson, it is commonly believed that he is, in fact, the originator of the anonymous calls.

Lead investigator for the newspaper, disgraced ex-Sarasota PD goon, Mike Rotch, vowed to find the culprit and "shove a sausage down his throat and stick starving dogs in his butt!"  Mr. Rotch, as it may be recalled, did the exact same thing to a suspect in a jaywalking case back in early 2006, costing the City of Sarasota $325 for an attempted bribe to the defendant to drop any future police abuse case, a subsequent $87,000 out-of-court settlement to the defendant, and the jobs of Mr. Rotch, two immediate supervisors and the department head at the time, Police Chief Andy Taylor.

Last known photo of Simpson, during a short-lived career as speechwriter for Sarah Palin during her failed 2008 presidential bid. 

France Deports Gypsies, Gypsies Respond With Curse, France Surrenders. Again.

The government of France has begun deporting Gypsies back to their native Romania, a move that the American Tea Party ironically hailed as "a bold move by our brave French allies, from which the spineless leaders of our once great country could learn a thing or two."

In retaliation, the Gypsies have instated a curse--or nenorocire--destined to reign calamity and damnation upon the French people for 100 years, with a margin of error of 3 years, plus or minus.

The main tenets of the curse are:

1)  French men will be condemned to have gigantic noses:

2)  French women will be condemned to have hairy armpits:

3)  The French people will be condemned to eat snails:

Immediately upon learning that the Gypsies placed a curse upon them, French president, Nicolas Sarkozy and the French National Assembly dispatched Col. Rochefort Brive-la-Gaillarde to a small hamlet near Marseille, where the last remaining band of Gypsies had been awaiting transport out of the country.  Col. Brive-la-Gaillarde, Chief Minister of Surrender, met with the leader of the ten or so Gypsies left, one Madame LaZonga, and offered her the ceremonial Le Sabrer de Defaite, the Sword of Surrender, used at every French surrender since the mid-1700s.

In a local twist, when informed that the French had acquiesed to a ragtag band of Gypsies, local Tea Party activist and vehement School Board critic, Rich Swier, who had most recently led a scorched-earth campaign to get a textbook that he deemed too pro-Islam, too pro-evolution and too pro-facts tossed from the curriculm, demanded that the French language program at Sarasota's Riverview High School be dropped. 

"It's the language of cowards and quitters," said Swier, "and we don't need to be learning our kids how to talk that gobbledygook anyhoo."

To which Caroline Zucker, President of the School Board, replied, "I give up.........."

Woman Identified In Background Of Iconic VJ Day Photo Demands Her Own Statue Next To Sarasota's "Unconditional Surrender"

Apparently, those prescient Sarasotans who opposed the permanent placement of Seward Johnson's statue, Unconditional Surrender, because of fears that the photographer's estate or Life Magazine, original publisher of the famous photograph, would sue the city for copyright infringement has merit.  It was learned today that the City of Sarasota was being sued by Gloria Bullard, 84, of Belen-Chapur, South Carolina, to get a statue of herself erected on the bayfront next to the Sailor and the Nurse.

"I was in that goddam picture, too, ya know," she said, her raspy voice cracking like old, dry leather as she took a long drag from her Lucky Strike.  "Some guy took my picture and sold it to a magazine and made a lot of money.  Then, some numbnuts makes a statue of the picture and he makes a lot of money.  Seems to me like old Gloria's the only one not making any money off this thing.  And that's a load of crap, if you ask me......"

Person identified as Gloria Bullard is circled at far left of picture.


Lighting another Lucky off the glowing end of her previous cigarette, Ms. Bullard continued, "It doesn't have to be anything fancy--after all, I wasn't the main subject of the photo.  I could have been if I could have gotten to that sailor before old Edith "Sweet Lips" Shain pounced on him first.  That poor bastard never had a chance."

"You know, there's been about a dozen different guys who claim that they were the sailor kissing Edith in that photo.  I don't know which one is in the picture because that the little tramp kissed every guy that passed through Times Square that day--Army, Navy, Marine, our side, their side; it didn't matter to old "Sweet Lips."

"Now, I'm thinking my statue should be over by that restaurant, Marina Jack's.  Maybe kinda leaning against the building, like this," she said, striking a pose against her walker.  "And I want it to be accurate, too.  You know, anatomically correct.  So, if you're sittin' there at the bar and you look up, you'll look right up my skirt and get an eyeful, 'cause back in the day, I didn't wear no underwear.  Actually, I still don't.  Check out this action, young fella....."

"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo........" 

Motorists Having A "Little Trouble" Navigating New Downtown Sarasota Roundabout, Fatalities Expected To Decrease In Coming Months

Proponents of the newly-opened traffic roundabout at Five Points in downtown Sarasota acknowledge a few speed bumps with the flow of cars and say that they expected a learning curve for drivers to adjust to the new traffic pattern.  Chief traffic engineer for the city and owner of Five Points Collision and Body Shop, Sonny "Dents" Soran, predicts that the number of fatal accidents should subside in the coming months as drivers become aware of the particular nuances of negotiating their way around the roundabout.  At least until season begins, then the numbers should skyrocket again with the influx of snowbirds and tourists coming to town. 

"Oh, make no mistake:  for those first couple months of snowbird season, it'll be a real bloodbath out there," says Soran.  But our primary directive was to reduce congestion on downtown streets and get the cars into the city-owned garages and parking lots as soon as soon as possible--no more endlessly driving around in circles, looking for that elusive free parking space.  We think we've accomplished that by making everyone scared to drive downtown at all.  They turn off Rt. 41 and pull right into the closest lot they can find.  Personally, if it was me, I'd just skip downtown altogether and go across the highway to my brother's place, Marina Jack's."

"We consider the recent traffic deaths in the opening days of the roundabout to be acceptable losses and are confident that we will eventually see a decline in those numbers.  Now, remember, that not all of those fatalities are motorists.  Five Points Park was notorious for being a hangout for Sarasota's homeless population, so there's a helluva lot of bums in the numbers quoted, as well, which was a benefit we hadn't considered when designing the roundabout, so that's a bonus...."

City Manager, Bob Bartolotta, also expressed guarded optimism for the new roundabout.  "We think it's going to become a focal point of the City of Sarasota, much like my friend and longtime political benefactor, Bob Soran's Marina Jack's, is on the bayfront.  I think it was well worth the taxpayer's $78 million investment and the 28 downtown businesses that went bankrupt during the 19-months of construction which shut down Sarasota's Main Street to bring this project to fruition."

"I also think that it's now going to be easier to get taxpayer funding to shut down Main Street again in December to build that ice-skating rink here.  Just think of the lives of all those motorists it'll save...."

"Now, if we can just get the taxpayers to give us another $13 million to landscape it......"

Colony Resort On Longboat To Become Yoder's Amish Trailer Park

The venerable Colony Beach and Tennis Resort is to close its doors this weekend, as announced at a tearful news conference by the long-time owners and Sarasota society fixtures, Murray "Murf" Klauber and his daughter, Katherine Klauber Moulton.  They recounted stories of celebrity guests and good times at the famous Gulfside resort for the gathered throng of reporters, until they were unceremoniously hustled from the hotel's ballroom by the new owners, the Yoder family of Sarasota.

"Shoosh, now.  You've gone on long enough.  Time to go, you should.  There is much to be done," said Grandma Yoder, matriarch of the clan

A local Amish family with several eateries specializing in home-made comfort food, the Yoders look to take the resort in a decidedly different direction by catering to the Amish and Mennonite families, both those that flock here every winter and those who live here full-time.

Spokesman for the family, Philander Yoder, described the family's plan for the beach resort.  "As our target demographic will be the so-called "plain people," we intend to demolish the hotel, the out buildings and all the pavement and landscaping and put in individual trailers on a nice gravel lane, just like we're used to, so as not to draw attention to ourselves."

"We also plan to remove the first 9 holes of the golf course and plant vegetables; the back 9 we'll use to graze the livestock, saving just enough room for a couple horseshoe pits and, of course, shuffleboard."

"We plan our hiring a full staff comprised of our family and extended family members to run the resort, from the cooking and cleaning to the beach staff."

'Even the lifeguards will be Yoders."

"We envision a place where members of our community can come to relax and just be themselves.  To let their bonnets down, so to speak, without outsiders gawking at us or flaunting an excess of skin around our young ones."

"A safe place where they can stroll the beach and not be accosted by the evils of the outside world, like Speedos on men and string bikinis on the girls.  Or is it the other way around????"

"Some place you can bring your mama, even if she's Old Order Amish, and not have her faint at the sight of flesh."

"We'll have parking for about 700 bicycles, as well as about a hundred horse and buggies, with a full livery service, of course.  We don't expect any issues with zoning or compliance, considering that, without electricity, the resort will pretty much shut down.  Until dawn, when our roosters start crowing....."

Author Anne Rice Leaves Christianity; Christianity Says "Good Riddance!"

Anne Rice recently released a statement declaring that she was "leaving Christianity," due to the predominantly anti-gay bias of the Roman Catholic Church.

Speaking on behalf of the Church, the much-beloved retired Cardinal, his Most Holiness,  the Rev. Stanley Musial, issued the following statement from the Vatican:

My dearest child of God, Ms. Rice,

Please don't let the golden gates of Heaven eternal hit you in your big, fat ass on the way out!

Leaving Christianity--indeed!  Madam, I assure you that Christianity left you a looooong time ago.  It takes a lot of nerve for someone who foisted the homo vampire craze upon an unsuspecting world, with your effeminate characters of Lestat and company, to "leave" Christianity.  Who else would have turned Tom Cruise and Brad Pitt into gay vampires but you?  (And, we're also kinda holding you personally responsible for this new gayish Twilight thing that's mesmerizing the globe, too.)

We, as the Church, didn't have a problem when Bela Lugosi ruled the netherworld.  He scared the bejesus out of many a tortured soul in a darkened theater back in the day and sent them running to Mass as soon as the doors opened in the morning after spending a sleepless night with all the lights on in the house.  We considered Count Dracula a tool by which we could gain new converts and reclaim backsliding parishoners.

Then, you start this namby-pamby, limp-wristed vampire series and nobody gets scared anymore.  Now, even pre-pubescent 11-year olds want to be vampires, parading around in their "Team William" shirts that their own mothers bought them to wear to the midnight showings of the Twilight movies.  Midnight on a school night, we might add.....

We tried overlooking all your sins since we know your real name is Howard Allen O'Brien.  With a moniker like that, any little girl could have turned out the way you did.  But, when you decided to go public with your "leaving Christianity" pronouncement, that was the final straw.

Enclosed in this epistle, please find a limited-edition vampire-killing stake made from the finest sycamore trees in the Holy Land and autographed by Pope Benedict XIV.  With a hand-wrapped grip of Jordan River sisal twine and 'sweet spot' insignia of genuine 14k gold crucifix, mounted on a handsome hand-tooled pine plaque, stained to look like much-more expensive mahogany, this stake is guaranteed to be a valuable addition to your collection of religious icons.  We're so sure you're going to cherish this beautiful instrument of death and torture, that we're sending it to you to examine in the convenience of your own home for a trial period of 40 days and 40 nights, all at NO COST to you.  Your estate will be billed later.

Please use it on yourself at your earliest convenience.

Your most humble servant,

His Excellency Most High Reverend Eminence of the Holy See,

Fr. Stanley Musial (Ret.)

PS  Don't forget parish bingo Friday night.  Super coverall jackpot and 50-cent hot dogs!

OIL DISCOVERED IN NORTH PORT!!

North Port officials are bracing for an influx of speculators, wildcatters, roughnecks, flim-flam men, swindlers, con artists and, of course, hookers.  And, no, it's not a Sarasota County Republican fundraiser.

Oil--black gold--Texas tea--has been discovered in North Port!

No longer will the term "North Port crude" refer to the high school cheerleaders, but, instead, to the liquid cash that lies beneath the overgrown, weed-infested vacant lots, foreclosed homes, failed subdivisions and trash heaps of broken dreams that make up the City of North Port.  Said one North Port commissioner, "Bring it on!  We lived through one reckless, hell-for-leather boom with the housing bubble and that didn't end so badly, did it?"

Reporters gathered outside the double-wide trailer of North Port resident, Jason Clampett, to learn details of exactly how he discovered oil on his property.  Sporting a wide-brimmed hat, plaid work shirt and an unmistakeable Ozark twang in his voice, Mr. Clampett entertained his audience with his homespun wit.

"Well, it sure is the dangedst thing you ever did see," he told the score or so of breathless reporters, some of whom were jockeying for a better view of Clampett by standing atop a rusting '77 Oldsmobile perched on cinder blocks in the driveway.  "I was pounding a piece of electrical conduit into the ground so's the missus could use it fer a clothesline since our electric got shut off last week and, all of a sudden, that pipe shot up out of the ground like something was a-chasin' it.  Then, this black goo started oozing up outta the hole."

"I knowed right off it was oil 'cause I used to do my own mechanical work on old Betsy over there.  That's my Oldsmobile, by the way, not the missus, if yer wonderin'.  So, boys, I'm gonna be rich.  This here fella offered me $50 million fer my lot and trailer. Cash money.  So, I'm moving to Californey to help out my Uncle Jed."

"Crazy as it is, he found oil, too, back in the '60s on his place down there in the Ozarks.  Moved into a real big place out there in Beverly Hills. He's fell on some hard times, though.  Some banker named Drysdale took him for just about all he was worth, Granny got drunk one night and drowned in the cement pond, Jethro knocked up some woman named Jane, then took off for parts unknown and ain't been seen since and cousin Elly Mae married some record producer who got her so strung out on cocaine that she's been in and out of rehab for the last 15 years."

Experts have determined that things might not be so rosy for Mr. Clampett after all, since the oil found on his property is a result of a pressure back up from capping the Deepwater Horizon well off the Louisiana coast.  Stopping the flow at the wellhead caused the oil to flow through crevices in the bedrock and then, apparently, surface in North Port.  That being the case, the oil belongs to BP, not Mr. Clampett and renders his deal with the speculator who offered him upwards of $50 million for his property null and void.

Also, the City of North Port has filed a code violation against Mr. Clampett for installing a clothesline within city limits without the necessary $286 permit, with the amount accruing daily until the fine, penalty, interest, legal fees, court costs and North Port excise taxes are paid in full.

Said Mr. Clampett upon hearing the news, "Wheee, doggies......."