Toledo Tales

Guest editorial by
a Drunk Guy at the end of the bar

Smilin' and laughin' over there like you fuckinknoweverthing and shit... I oughtta come over and beat the fuckingbejeezuschristus outta your punk ass.

Mmmppppphh! Faggoty-dooeey little punkassmotherfuckerenshit.

Yeah, you're all talk and shit, you and your friends, watchin' your basketball and hockey and thinkin' you're all that and the bag of motherfuckin' mulch nuggets. You're lucky I'm in a good mood and shit, faggery-boy, or I'd slide on over and mmmpppphhhh.

Ferguddery?!? Don't even THINK about talkin' 'bout my gggrrnn, asshole!

Sheenmmmmppphhhh!

(Toledo, OH) Hopper, a local canine of uncertain ancestry, told Toledo Tales reporters that he is "completely disappointed" with the slate of presidential candidates.

"I sure as hell don't want another four years of George W. Bush, but I am sick and tired of hearing politicians spout off about who can best bring change," Hopper said, pausing to scratch behind his ears. "Candidates love that word, because it establishes a connection with voters, but I want a candidate who will bring REAL change, like better-tasting canned dog food, or rawhide flips that last more than 45 minutes."

Hoper said that he believes the candidates are taking the canine vote for granted.

"Our political leaders cannot take the dogs by the leash this time round and think that they will be supported after throwing the country into a mess," he noted. "And what's with Mitt Romney and that "Who Let The Dogs Out" horseshit? Listen - every time I hear that fucking song, I bark uncontrollably for ten goddamn minutes. Would Mitt flash a strobe light at a bunch of epileptics or stuff candy in the mouths of diabetics? I think not."

Dogs, added Hopper, are much ore savvy voters than politicians realize.

"Its sickening to be treated like we are retarded, telling us stories, patting us on the head, and going 'Woof Woof' when we show up at rallies," he complained. "I swear to God, the next time a politician asks me: 'Who's a good widdle boy-ee?' I'm going to take a chunk out of the fucker's leg. I'll bet most of these assholes have never even seen the inside of a kennel."

Labels: Campaign 2008, Mitt Romney, presidential candidates

(Toledo, OH) Local resident James Phillips, speaking to Toledo Tales reporters from an Army base in Fort Benning, Georgia, said that his boot camp training has fulfilled his expectations.

"They told me I would be 'Army Shtrong,' and they shure kept their promishes," he said. "I was shertainly shurprised to see how shtrong and shkilled I became being shtationed here at thish bashe."

Phillips, who hopes to become an Army tank mechanic, said that his instructors have been "sherious but shupportive."

"The shergeants shometimesh give ush a lot of tough talk, but you know they jusht want you to shucsheed," he said. "One drill inshtructor, though, was kind of weird. He shaid I had to do a bunch of shitups, but every time I shat on the toilet, my shit went down. Pretty shtrange, if you ashk me."

Labels: Army Shtrong

(Toledo, OH) Neighborhood voyeur Evan Pisanelli, who can often be found gazing through your bedroom windows, believes you are not spending enough "quality time with yourself."

"Look - masturbation and the exploration of your body as a sexual being is normal, and when approached in a healthy manner, is completely safe," he advised. "I am worried that your lack of self-stimulation lately is evidence of a deeper underlying problem, like depression. Or that you are getting off somewhere I can't see."

Pisanelli wants you to know that your interest in masturbation is "perfectly typical" for someone your age.

"You should not feel ashamed about masturbation, and no one will chastise or punish you for your private sexual explorations," he said. "And considering the kinky games the Nelsons play over on Crestwood, your sexual urges are highly ordinary. Except that thing you used to do with the hammer handle. THAT was weird, I gotta admit."

Labels: Peeping Tom, Toledo, voyeurs

Reviewed by Scooter,
Toledo meth afficianado

Producer: Jimmy G. on Dexter Street
Vintage: 2007
Appellation: Maumee River
Meth Type: blue crystal
Primary Varietal: battery acid
Designation: Good and Cheap
Price: $90-$100 per gram

Raspberry, blueberry, and a hint of milk chocolate on the nose are features of this radiant methamphetamine. The ice has a smooth, velvety texture, a good backbone, with a touch of oak and vanilla on a finish that tapers nicely, and which packs one hell of a buzz.

This particular crystal received 14 hours' worth of basement aging before it was hydrogenated, and the smoke slides along the tongue with a sort of slight fizz, and a firm but dry aftertaste. Not the lengthiest finish, but this blue is strong enough to be paired with weed as well as liquor, though I would advise against pairing this crystal with another stimulant.

I did find the bugging sensation to be somewhat enhanced with this rock, and I spent about ten minutes digging furiously at what I was convinced was an army of subcutaneous termites in my left arm. And - even though I remember tasting the 2004 blue when it was first released and being under-whelmed by it - I highly recommend this meth for serious users. Jimmy G. has outdone himself this year!

Grade: A minus

Labels: crystal meth, meth addiction, methamphetamine

A Guest Editorial by Nathan Higgins
4th Grader at St. Rose School

My mom and dad have been crying and stuff about that family that got killed on the freeway the other day, especially how some of God's Little Angels could be taken away by that Really Scuzzy Bastard Michael P. Gagnon (don't tell my mom I wrote one of the B-words or she'll be really, really MAD).

Now, I know I'm just a kid, but I've played lots of games at Dustin's house that I am not supposed to be playing, like World of Warcraft and Doom and Grand Theft Auto, so I know a whole lot about how to make bad people pay big time.

I say we should totally blow up Michael P. Gagnon with dynamite, lasers, and nuclear bombs.

I think we should start with the lasers and zap him parts of his body that would really hurt, like his eyes and his nipples and his Private Parts and inside of his ears. Then, after he goes through about a week of laser-torture, we should bring out the dynamite.

But we should only use the dynamite to blow up near Michael P. Gagnon, so he gets a leg or an arm or his peter blown off, piece-by-piece. We should have a doctor come by and sew him up after each piece gets ka-blooied, and use really big needles, so he's alive to feel the next piece get blown away.

After all that, we should use the nuclear bombs to blow him to Kingdom Come, where God the Almighty will blast him with a bunch of lightning bolts and fire and brimstone for a thousand years, and then throw what's left of his soul to Hell, where Satan can spend all of eternity poking Michael P. Gagnon in the butt with his pitchfork and make him sit on really hot lava and throw smelly poop on him, just for fun.

My mom says he should go to jail for a long, long, long time, because our Holy Father the Pope does not like to see people get killed, but I think my way is a lot better. If that doesn't work, though, maybe we could make Michael P. Gagnon morph into a Grand Theft Auto hooker, and run him over with stolen Chevvys and shoot him with sawed-off shotguns and stuff.

Labels: Grand Theft Auto, Michael P. Gagnon