Pro-meat group plans statue of man enjoying chicken leg
People for the Eating of Every Tasty Animal (PEETA) announced plans late Monday to erect a downtown statue that is drawing some controversy. The statue, depicting a “happy stout fellow getting down on a crispy fried chicken leg,” represents the simple joys of life, according to PEETA spokesman Frank McGristle. “We sometimes take ourselves too seriously and deny the basic pleasures that make life worth living, such as a juicy ham hock, a 64-ounce steak or a deep-fried turkey. Life’s not that complicated. You get hungry, you find some animal flesh, and you eat it. It’s delicious. End of story. Is it wrong to celebrate that?”
Health professionals expressed concern about the statue’s message, especially in light of Louisville’s high annual ranking in lists of diabetes, heart disease and ambulances with industrial lift-gates. “I hate to be a killjoy, but that statue sends the wrong message to the people of our city,” says Metro Public Health and Wellness Director Dr. Adewale Troutman. “In the name of accuracy, that fat bastard really should be smoking a Camel Light and sucking on a tall boy, too. Oh, and he should be on the couch.”
McGristle says PEETA has hired noted Butchertown sculptor Hy Drodgenate to create the statue, which will be constructed out of lard, then hickory smoked, fried to a golden crisp and painted with blood from several prominent local slaughterhouses. Pending city approval, the statue will take up permanent residence in front of Metro Hall, according to the PEETA website.
A Toronto jet bound for Dallas made an emergency landing at Louisville “International” Airport yesterday, allowing officials to finally remove the quotation marks from its name. The pilot diverted the jet to Louisville after a flight attendant observed a man apparently trying to ignite his groin area with a butane lighter. On the ground in Louisville, TSA officials determined the man — Chub Bacon of Backrib, Texas — was in fact a morbidly obese passenger using his iPhone to frantically retrieve some renegade Reese’s Pieces from the folds of his groin fat. After a search of the plane, the flight continued to Dallas without incident.
Before the mishap, the only way to fly directly into Louisville from another country was to wrap oneself inside a UPS package. Louisville Mayor Jerry Abramson and Kentucky Gov. Steve Beshear rushed to the scene to console traumatized passengers, celebrate the historic occasion and do a little campaigning. “It’s a great day for Louisville and a great day for Kentucky,” says Beshear, while brushing some lint off the mayor’s lapel and giving it a couple of gentle pats.
Canadian passengers seemed surprised but pleased with the fanfare before boarding the jet and continuing to Dallas. “I don’t really know what all the fuss is a-boot, but Lewisburg has a real nice bunch of hosers there,” says Zed Drunkard, of Moosegas, Ontario. In an unrelated development, 34 urban areas in the United States mysteriously vanished on Sunday, making Louisville the nation’s 16th-largest city.
After backpedaling on a Metro Board of Health recommendation to eradicate the sale of foods containing trans fat in the city, Dr. Adewale Troutman, director of Public Health and Wellness, has staged an eat-a-thon outside Plehn’s Bakery in St. Matthews to prove the artery-clogging foods are safe.
Troutman says it’s a kickoff to his own personal education program, which is in direct contrast to his department’s stance and the overwhelming scientific evidence against the flavor-enhancing substance.
When asked whether starting the eat-in was based on pressure from Mayor Jerry Abramson, who was against the trans fat ban, Troutman responded by stuffing his face with three freshly iced doughnuts.
Local healthy food advocates are troubled by the recent development and have gathered more than 5,000 signatures calling for Troutman’s resignation.
Opponents of a trans fat ban, however, are encouraged by the director’s recent change in diet, hoping it’s the sign of a new trend against the health police.
“I believe Dr. Troutman is exercising his personal freedom,” says Metro Councilman Kevin Kramer, R-11, adding the city shouldn’t be telling people what they can and cannot eat. “I’m hopeful he’ll rethink the smoking ban, too. I sent him a pack of smokes to help him think it over.”
Citing declining viewership and a complete jettisoning of journalistic integrity, Kentucky Educational Television has finally settled on a new candidate debate format the public network says will reinvigorate their tired, little-watched election season programming.
“People just don’t want to sit through a bunch of boring white guys standing around talking about ‘issues,’” said KET Executive Director Shae Hopkins, “unless those white guys are given brass knuckles and forced to fight to the death in an ocatgon-shaped steel cage.”
While media analysts are concerned that the new, tentatively titled “Demolition Debate” will further erode an already atrophying fourth estate, Hopkins contends the new format is already a hit with viewers and voters alike.
“We filmed a pilot episode that featured (WWE wrestler) John Cena as Henry Clay and screened it for various focus groups,” said Hopkins. “The response has been overwhelmingly positive, particularly with the coveted 6-14-year-old male demographic.”
But the change hasn’t won over the candidates.
“Honestly? I fear for my safety,” said Republican Senate primary candidate Rand Paul. “I bruise easily. I’m a bleeder. If my opponents don’t agree with me about cap-and-trade legislation, then they shouldn’t be forced to use a rusty railroad spike to drive their point home.”
Others, like Democratic candidate and self-described tough son-of-a-bitch Jack Conway, welcome the change.
“I will feast upon the pain of my enemies,” said Conway, affixing a length of barbed wire to a Louisville Slugger bat. “And by their spilled blood the people of Kentucky will know who’s better qualified to argue for consumer protection.”
KET’s Demolition Debate will air Wedesday nights at 8 p.m. beginning May 1.
Unveiling his plan to make citizens smile wider, the sky bluer and the sun shine brighter, Democratic mayoral candidate Greg Fischer, who has kept an exhaustive campaign schedule, appeared a bit fatigued at a recent press conference. The Louisville businessman leads the Democratic primary field in union endorsements and in a recent poll, but critics say it’s only because Fischer’s 2010 mayoral campaign has given the community the cure for insomnia.
When asked about how he would specifically make Louisville a better place and energize his candidacy, the Democratic front-runner began stuttering.
“My plan involves the heart, the hands and the head. But it’s all about jobs, jobs, jobs, jobs, jobs, jobs, jobs, jobs, jobs,” he sputtered for 45 seconds, until a campaign staffer slapped him upside the head.
“We have to use the heart, the hands and the head,” Fischer repeated several times, before toppling over the lectern.
The display of bizarre behavior has since caused political observers to openly speculate that Fischer’s candidacy may be a plot by Louisville’s wealthiest residents to capture the Mayor’s Office with a well-engineered cyborg.
“We can neither confirm nor deny that Mr. Fischer is in fact a mechanical construction of elite corporate interests,” says Owsley Brown IV, a campaign spokesman.
At the heart of the controversy is River Fields, a prominent preservation group, whose donors are among the Fischer campaign’s heaviest contributors. In a leaked memo entitled “mayoral prototype,” the conservation organization outlines the creation of an “artificial populist that uses well-pitched sloganeering to mimic a working-class Democrat,” with a subsequent description that reflects Fischer’s campaign biography verbatim.
River Fields declined to comment.
Pizza magnate “Papa” John Schnatter has been diagnosed with terminal narcissism, according to unnamed mental health experts.
A self-made millionaire by way of his successful Papa John’s chain, Schnatter in recent years has displayed increasingly self-indulgent behavior, including a widely promoted campaign to find the beloved 1971 Camaro he sold off years ago and his appearance in a series of sports-themed commercials for his restaurant chain.
“The guy puts himself in a commercial draining three-pointers,” says one U of L fan who was at the taping of the most recent “In the House” commercial spot at Freedom Hall, “but no one mentions that it took him 40 minutes to make those two shots. They had to delay the game he was so bad. I mean, what’s he trying to sell? Pizza, or the fact he’s a complete tool? Because I gotta say, I’m already sold on one of the two.”
A psychiatrist at the local Tom Cruise Institute for Narcissism — who spoke to LEO on the condition that he remain anonymous — says, “Having looked at all the symptoms, it’s apparent we’ve lost Papa John. He’s fallen in love with his reflection and, metaphorically speaking, has swallowed himself like a pepperoni pizza.”
Speaking on the condition that his name be used repeatedly in this story, Schnatter disputes the diagnosis, saying, “Papa John is in the house. Papa John is in the house.”
While there is no known cure for narcissism, the psychiatrist says a small percentage of patients can show improvement. Unfortunately, he adds, cases in which national recognition is achieved usually do not end well.
Schnatter disagrees, countering with, “Papa John is in the house. Papa John is in the house.”
A recent Greater Louisville Inc. study indicates that, surprisingly, Louisville-area hipsters are trading in their fixed-gear bikes and mopeds for a different sort of ride — one of them being the Ford Taurus.
“My Taurus is so radically unhip that it’s the new hip,” says Old Louisville resident Jerod Rodgers, twirling his dreadlocks with a forefinger. “And I was tired of getting my head bashed in when I hit all those lamp poles.”
This non-scientific GLI study, based on data collected at the Nachbar, reveals that another unlikely form of transportation Louisville’s hip seem to be embracing is the Segway, a two-wheeled, stand-up, electricity-powered vehicle normally reserved for tourists, office parks and campuses.
“It only goes 6 miles per hour and won’t climb my freaking driveway,” says hipster Josh Greene, who lives in an overpriced apartment just off Barret Avenue. “But it’s fuckin’ awesome. All I need is a briefcase, and I’m set.”
While the so-called “fixie” bikes and mopeds are still “greener,” hipsters say, the image was just becoming too common: hipster doofuses riding around town in tight, vintage jeans, cuffed at the ankle, Vans slip-ons, and a T-shirt bought at Goodwill. Oh yeah, with an Asian-themed tattoo sleeve peeking out.
“Dude, my Taurus is totally cool — gets good gas mileage and hides my skinny legs,” Rodgers says, noting he recently bought a business suit at Target to help complete his new look. “Change is cool, man; you can’t be stagnate.”
Cracking open a Heineken, Greene agrees. “No more PBR for me, dude. It’s hip to be a shallow corporate turd now.”
Surrounded by a questionable group of medical professionals, defense lawyers and community activists, Christopher 2X, dressed in a crisp pinstripe suit, recently announced his candidacy for Jefferson County coroner.
For years, 2X has served as a self-appointed spokesman for the families of violent crime victims, speaking to the media as often as possible. Though the ubiquitous self-described “healer” has zero medical training, he is expected to be a leading candidate for coroner with heavy support in west Louisville and from area philanthropists.
“The spirit has manifested itself to take my healing abilities from the courtroom to the cut room,” says 2X, adding that years of chasing ambulances has given him a unique perspective on diagnosing death. “In the 21st century, homicides present new manifested challenges that require expertise outside the medical profession.”
As murders declined last year, the community activist, who was once a fixture on the evening news, struggled to find gainful employment. After a 30-day stretch without a murder in the city this year, 2X decided to throw his hat in the ring and make a difference where it counts.
However, his decision to seek public office has sparked criticism from those who can’t understand why a man with no basic knowledge of human anatomy would be considered a viable candidate for coroner.
“I didn’t say much when Christopher portrayed himself as a street lawyer, even though I have friends who are real attorneys,” says Dr. Jared Patterson, an actual doctor who also is running for coroner. “But enough is enough. I mean, does he even know how to use a scalpel?”
Despite those misgivings, 2X says he’s willing to learn and believes the coroner’s office is the front line in the fight against violence.
Fifteen-year-old Danielle Palmer, after taking a wrong turn during a driver’s education class last week, miraculously navigated a stretch of Bardstown Road starting at Grinstead Drive and heading south all the way to Douglass Loop.
The Assumption High School student was visibly shaken following the incident, in which 11 drivers turned without signaling, eight pedestrians crossed in front of her without looking, two bicyclists absent-mindedly swerved into her path and some guy in a Jetta tail-gated her for a slow, stop-and-go mile.
“But the arrows,” she said, lip quivering. “I didn’t understand the arrows. And I don’t think anyone else did either, because people were passing me in the turning lane, there were still cars parked in the lane with a green arrow and … and …”
Bursting into tears, Palmer then refused to answer further questions.
“You just hate to see something like this,” said her driving instructor and biology teacher Glenn Davidson. “I honestly thought it would be good for her, you know? Kind of show her a bit of the real world, get her prepared.”
The teacher refused to answer questions regarding a rumored civil lawsuit Palmer’s parents have planned as a result of the harrowing lesson, which they say resulted in their daughter suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.
“I’ll say this, though,” he added, “I think we’re damn lucky there wasn’t a bar crawl going on. If she thinks Bardstown Road is scary at 3 p.m., wait until she drives this strip on a Saturday night.”
Makers of the Fox animated series “American Dad” have filed a federal lawsuit against Kentucky Attorney General Jack Conway, accusing him of copyright infringement for “replicating the outrageously sculpted chin of Stan Smith, lead character of our cartoon.”
Specifically, the plaintiffs allege Conway underwent an extensive jaw-line reconstruction, including a chin implant that is a “clear knockoff” and “not naturally occurring.”
In a response filed in U.S. District Court on Thursday, Conway denied the allegations, claiming his good looks and strong jaw are God-given gifts — along with his intelligence and swagger and likeability and impromptu twang.
Although attorneys for Fox have not yet shed light on any evidence they might have against Conway, LEO Weekly spoke with a local plastic surgeon who claims to have provided the attorney general with a consultation.
“He showed me a picture of what he wanted done to his face and I told him it wasn’t possible. Besides, I like to keep my implants reasonably sized and tasteful,” says the surgeon, who agreed to be interviewed on the condition that he not be identified. “Apparently, he found someone willing to go big. I mean, we’re talking Heidi Montag-style transformation here.”
The State Fair Board has announced a new buyer for the defunct Six Flags Kentucky Kingdom, which shut its doors in February due to higher-than-average operating costs.
“We are gathered here today to celebrate the glorious union of faith and fun,” said a shirtless, flip-flop-clad Ken Ham at an impromptu press conference. “With the advent of Creation Kingdom, mankind will finally know what it’s like to have actually been there when Christ lost his tunic after riding Mile High Falls, like, three times in a row.”
Ham, founder of Northern Kentucky’s Creation Museum, said many of the park’s attractions will be retooled to better reflect what he called Christifun, a design philosophy that “bridges the gap between secular pleasure and 1st-century cosmology.” Renovations are planned to begin this May, starting with a proper exorcism of the Superman Tower of Power ride, which severed the feet of a 13-year-old girl in 2007.
“As the future operator of this storied local landmark, safety will be of utmost concern,” said Ham. “Our team will ensure that each ride is purged of demonic forces prior to our grand opening in the summer. We’re also considering hiring mechanics.”
The ambitious $66.6 million overhaul will affect virtually all aspects of the park, from rides to concessions to entrance requirements.
“In order to ensure our customers have the most accurate experience possible,” Ham continued, “we’re requesting that non-believers stay at home so as not to spoil the innocent wonder of a child witnessing Moses’ parting the seas of Splash Water Kingdom — every hour on the hour — for the first time.”
Gary Shizmo, 52, heard the rumor of a neighborhood watering hole that gave its customers everything they desired — a heavy pour at a cheap price. That’s what brought him from Shepherdsville to the Highlands mainstay The Back Door. Unfortunately, when Shizmo bellied up to the bar last Friday night, he got exactly 1 ounce of gin and not a pinch more. “This is bullshit,” Shizmo said. “I want the fairytale! I want Marianne!”
Marianne, it turns out, is a fictional bartender who is touted and revered throughout Louisville’s nightlife scene. LEO was unable to confirm if the legend of “Heavy Hand” Marianne is based on a real person.
“I am sorry the customer was unhappy with his drink,” Back Door owner John Dant said. “But he came in here expecting the moon, and I can only give him a blue one. The legend of Marianne is true — trust me, I do the inventory. But when she shows up, nobody knows.”
Shizmo has filed a mixologist malpractice suit against the bar, but lawyers are skeptical it’ll hold up in court. “If I had a bar, I’d do the drinks up right,” said Shizmo. “In fact, I’d give them away for free.”
Marianne was reached by ouija board and, when asked about the situation, said, “Yes,” “No” and “N-e-x-t t-i-m-e o-r-d-e-r b-e-e-r f-u-c-k-e-r.”
The Louisville Mega Cavern will host an underground air show and fireworks extravaganza next year called Thunder Under Louisville, city officials announced on Tuesday. The event, which will be held in February, is timed to help people get through the dreary winter months, when explosions are normally at a standstill, explains Mega Cavern spokesman Doug Quarry. “You’ve got Thunder-Over, then there’s Fourth of July, then there’s Light Up Louisville, but after that it’s on into April before there’s any more fireworks, unless something goes bad at Rubbertown or there’s a CSX derailment,” he says. “This will give people something to get fired up about, especially in years when the Cards suck.”
Not a natural cavern, Louisville Mega Cavern is a 4 million-square-foot hole in the ground left behind by decades of limestone removal beneath the Louisville Zoo. Over the years, miners have removed enough rock to make three AC/DC albums, plus an Ozzy Osbourne box set, leaving plenty of room for stealth bombers, gargantuamablama fireworks and hundreds of thousands of drunken onlookers, according to Quarry. “Just don’t wear your mullet too tall,” cautions Quarry. “Ya might bump ya hair.”
The annual event will “further enhance Louisville’s image as a place where people come together to watch things detonate,” says Mayor Jerry Abramson and Gov. Steve Beshear in a joint announcement, as they sway gently cheek to cheek. “Talk about indoor fireworks,” Beshear softly murmurs, before licking his finger, touching it to his backside and emitting a sizzling sound.
The AEGON Center announced Monday at a press conference that it, indeed, was born with both parts. “I’ve always identified as a male,” the intersexed building said, “but I guess during Christmas, it’s hard to conceal my bosom, especially when the city highlights it with red and green lights.”
This announcement comes on the high heels of swirling rumors regarding the sighting of the 17-year-old building at The Connection, where it allegedly exposed both parts in a private bathroom. At press time, none of the office tenants have plans to relocate. “I mean, it’s cool, man, er, woman,” said Stan Rogers, who leases a real estate office on the 17th floor. “We always kinda suspected it, but I didn’t want to come out and just ask. My mom taught me better.”
LEO caught up with the AEGON Center after the press conference.
LEO: Why did you feel the need to address these rumors?
AEGON Center: I was tired of all the rumors and she-he jokes flying around. I’m free now. I finally feel like I can just be who I am.
LEO: Do you identify more with one gender over the other?
AC: Well, when I was first erected, I definitely felt more male because of how tall I am. But as time as smoothed my supple edges, so to speak, I’ve embraced my femininity. I feel like mother to all these other buildings I watch over.
In a press conference held on Twitter Tuesday, Indiana Gov. Mitch Daniels urged all Hoosiers to literally turn their back to April’s fireworks celebration. In 140 characters or less, Daniels said, “Screw Thunder! Screw the smoke! Screw the crowds! Let’s not participate, Indiana! Let’s turn our backs!!”
Thunder Over Louisville officials are baffled by the governor’s remarks. “Indiana is as much a part of the Thunder festivities as Louisville is,” said event chairman Boom O’Boomer. “We definitely intend to meet with the governor to address his concerns — perhaps present him with a collector’s edition of 2010 Thunder Over Louisville sparklers. We’re hoping both sides can light a unity roman candle and come to an agreement.”
When reached for comment, Gov. Daniels said, “I’m sick of fireworks … I’m sick of the pollution it causes to our air and our water. And it makes my dog nervous. I’m tired of cleaning up pee on the rug every April.”
With the ongoing redevelopment of the former Waverly Hills Sanitarium into a posh boutique hotel, the number of unemployed ghosts flooding the Louisville job market has been “overwhelming,” according to sources within the Metro Economic Development Department.
Since 2008 — the same year plans were announced to evict the undead in lieu of Waverly’s commercial restoration — the number of jobless ghouls, ghosts and phantasms has skyrocketed by 56 percent.
“Used to be I could just earn a living scaring kids who were trying to go all the way,” said Frank Bachelder, a former poltergeist. “Now I’m lucky if I can get a few screams at a TARC stop.”
Bachelder, 214 years old, cannot collect unemployment compensation due to his non-corporeal form, and has taken to hanging out in musty libraries and poorly lit alleyways to make ends meet.
“I used to strike fear into the hearts of mere mortals!” lamented Bachelder. “You just can’t earn a living anymore being dead. It’s economic discrimination.”
The recession has only made matters worse for local fright-factory Baxter Avenue Morgue, which has since been inundated with more loitering spirits than it can handle.
“I wish we could hire (the ghosts),” said Jamie Stephenson, events director for the Morgue, “but unfortunately it would increase our overhead at a time when we just can’t afford it. It’s a shame: There’s a lot of overqualified ghosts out there, but nobody, not even us, can pay them what they’re worth.”
It’s no secret Louisville’s two weekly entertainment rags don’t get along. In fact, when push comes to shove, or SUV comes to bike tire, they won’t even share the road. But the gauntlet has been thrown by LEO Weekly’s award-winning nightlife columnist The Bar Belle. She has challenged Velocity’s Party Crasher columnist to a drinking contest — whoever is left standing at the end of the night, wins; whoever is passed out in the men’s urinal, pays the tab.
“Let’s see who the real champ is,” the LEO columnist chides. “I haven’t been damaging my liver for nothin’ … I’ll even let P-Crash pick the poison.”
The Bar Belle tells LEO she often gets mistaken for the Party Crasher, because crashing parties is part of her job description. But while she attends events uninvited to score free drinks and a dip in the chocolate fountain, she says the Party Crasher does it to take photos of drunken sorority girls dancing on bars.
The Bar Belle confirmed she met the Party Crasher one time at a soiree. “Sure, I woke up in a stranger’s bed that morning … surrounded by cameras and neon green carpet. It only took two rounds of antibiotics to shake off that mistake,” she says.
When reached for comment, the Party Crasher said, “Smile pretty, chickies.” The drink-off will be scheduled as soon as the two parties agree on a time and place. No crashers allowed.
The area’s top plastic surgeon, Sandra Pillows, has developed a state-of-the-art mountaintop reconstruction surgery to provide hacked-up, Eastern Kentucky mountains with balanced, symmetrical tops. The mining process demolishing the Appalachian area, known as mountaintop removal, is a form of surface mining that essentially chops off the summit of a mountain for better access to coal. If this practice continues, says Pillows, Kentucky will be as flat as Kansas. “We have curves, we need to embrace them,” she says. “My surgical process will restore each mountain with pointy and supple peaks.”
Pillows is in talks with the Kentucky legislature on green-lighting the process. The doctor says each mountaintop reconstruction will take seven to nine weeks to complete, with an additional two weeks for recovery. Gov. Steve Beshear is looking into the project, he says, but is unsure if mountains are covered in the state’s health care plan.
While left-brain-thinking city officials are scratching their heads about where the hell 22,000 people are going to park their cars once the downtown arena is built, the right-brain-thinking officials have formed the group Hoverboards R A Reality Bitches (HRARB). Even Mayor Abramson has given the group his thumbs up, citing “Back to the Future Part II” as one of his favorite films. “Parking could be an issue, it’s a given,” the mayor says. “That’s why we’re putting our tax dollars behind, or, I guess under, hoverboards. It would not only solve our parking problem, but end the United States’ dependence on foreign oil, which isn’t a bad side effect.”
Tim Philcox, president of HRARB, says the group is in negotiations with a Japanese gadget company who has a patent on the skateboard without wheels. “We’re about 60 percent sure this idea could fly,” Philcox said.
Democratic hopeful and 8864 co-founder Tyler Allen has started the group 86PavedRoads in response to the news.
After years of lobbying to prevent the construction of a much-needed East End Bridge, the environmental preservation group River Fields has negated the need for a new bridge altogether by draining the Ohio River of water. Although the incident wasn’t immediately reported by The Courier-Journal, anonymous tipsters informed LEO Weekly of the incident by relaying what they say appears to be “a big ol’ fuckin’ hole where the water was.” [sic]
“Now now, let’s not all panic,” said Meme Sweets Runyon, executive director of River Fields. “This is a win-win for the entire community. Look, we could continue arguing like a democratic society and get nothing done, or we can do what Louisville has always done and let the landed gentry do, uh, the right thing.”
The gargantuan engineering feat was accomplished “virtually overnight,” said MSD Director Bud Schardein. “I mean, I’m so amazed at how they did it, I’m not even mad, honestly. That’s a lot of water.”
Chris Poynter, a spokesman for the mayor, applauded River Fields’ action.
“They have single-handedly solved our region’s biggest transportation problem,” he said, “not to mention opened up Louisville for a thriving rock-climbing scene.”
Before heading out to a country-club brunch, Runyon balked at the notion that the lack of water does not eliminate the need for a bridge.
“We’re River Fields,” she said. “We’ll hire Carmen Sandiego to fill the bastard with sand if we have to.”
The Federal Aptitude Project has named Kentucky Republican junior Sen. Jim Bunning its 2010 Public Servant of the Year.
Bunning, whose congressional career spans 23 years, was chosen due to his “inherent compassion and dedication to the rigors of public service,” according to FAP Executive Director Marshall York.
“Other than that, we just draw the names out of a hat,” York added. “It’s not the best system, we realize.”
Sources close to the senator say he was shocked when he heard the news.
“We were watching ‘Fox & Friends’ when they announced that (Jim) had won,” said the source. “But (his wife) Mary got so excited that she forgot to let him keep napping. He went ballistic, swinging and spewing obscenities, until he realized why she disturbed his slumber.”
Bunning’s Senate colleague, Mitch McConnell, could not be reached for comment, but did send LEO a fax containing a crude drawing of male genitalia.
The 78-year-old Bunning accepted the award last Sunday at a rented Golden Corral just off of I-75, where friends, family and a personal army of neurologists gathered to celebrate the occasion over Salisbury steak.
“I’d like to thank the academy,” he began, to raucous laughter. Bunning then remained silent for several minutes, appearing to lean against the podium for support. Within moments, medical staff administered 40ccs of amyl nitrate.
“Jesus, thanks ... but seriously folks,” Bunning concluded, “fuck you all, I’m going home.”
In an effort to reach a younger audience, Our God Is Awesome Church in Middletown is hosting a screening of the MTV reality show “Jersey Shore” on Tuesday. The event has sparked a heated debate among the church’s congregation, with some criticizing the show as promoting teen promiscuity, violence and fist-pumping. “The themes and message of ‘Jersey Shore’ do not belong in a church,” says member Phyllis Bundenthall, 72. “It’s filth, I tell you. It’s the devil.”
While they knew this would spark controversy, the parishioners stress that getting younger people into the church is the ultimate goal. “Once they’re in the Lord’s house, it won’t matter what’s on TV,” says Pastor John Black. “It was either ‘Jersey Shore’ or ‘16 & Pregnant.’”
Hoping to make spectators more comfortable, the church is setting up a dozen hot tubs for the viewing.
“The cast of this show reminds me a lot of Jesus’ apostles,” church entertainment director Mary Beth Smith says. “Snooki is definitely the Paul of the group, while The Situation reminds me of Peter. Look, it’s all in fun, which God invented, right? So I’m sure he’ll be right here with us watching Pauly D. and J-Woww navigate the beaches of New Jersey.”
The screening of “Jersey Shore” begins at 7 p.m. on Tuesday. There’s a suggested donation of $400 per person. For more information, read the Bible.
“Sometimes I like to enjoy the break in breakfast,” says Louisvilian Turner Hooch, who quit going to Café 360 on Sunday mornings. The sleepy Highlands diner used to have a stigma of taking its time, so to speak, to serve you pancakes and omelets. With the addition of three more servers and manager Rose Warren, the time it takes to get your food has been shortened significantly.
“I want my breakfast to take more than two hours,” says regular Ima Puffin, who has complained to management about its more efficient service. “And when I want my check, I need it to take at least a half hour. Anything less is blasphemy.”
Café 360 management said the hiring of more servers was due to the complaints the restaurant was getting from its yuppie clientele, who are more attuned to eating a meal while doing 27 other activities at the same time, including texting and driving to soccer practice.
To assuage all customers, Café 360 is in the process of partitioning its dining quarters: the I-Want-It-Now-Hippie-Scum and Dude-Pass-The-Hookah sections. Construction will be completed by June.
Four-year-old Shayla Bradford had just completed her 24-page coloring book and was prepared to embark on an artful sidewalk chalk drawing when her youthful playtime was interrupted by a police officer hoisting her up by her arms. The girl began crying as the crayons and the chalk rained onto the pavement.
“That’s her, that’s the little shit,” yelled Andrea Malone, a St. James Court Art Show board member. “Lock her up, she’s been coloring all day.”
In an effort to protect the integrity of the large-scale annual event in Old Louisville — which costs artists a minimum of $450 to enter — organizers are cracking down on any unsanctioned artistic endeavors anywhere near their precious fair.
In addition to pushing for a new city ordinance prohibiting the sale of art within 200 feet of the show without a special permit, organizers decided to take things a step further, searching the crowd for any unauthorized artists masking as innocent children.
At least 75 kids, the oldest just 11 years old, were detained and fined at the behest of St. James organizers for infractions ranging from sidewalk chalking to doodling on the back of their parents’ napkins.
“I understand they don’t want peddlers, but honestly, how does a kid coloring hurt the sale of your $500 woven baskets?” asks Patrick Donahue, an Old Louisville resident. “I mean, it’s getting to the point where St. James is starting to do searches of our homes. I got a ticket for carrying a concealed colored pencil.”
Standing before a crowd of pet owners and animal welfare advocates, Mayor Jerry Abramson broke ground on Louisville’s newest animal adoption center Tuesday at the Ralph Avenue landfill.
“Ours is a city of animal lovers,” Abramson said. “So we dedicate this new facility, which was funded in part by a grant from the U.S. Humane Society, to you, to your pets and, most of all, to the memory of a fallen public servant, Dr. Gilles Meloche.”
The Meloche Animal Rescue Center, so named after the controversial ex-director of Louisville Metro Animal Services, is poised to amend current LMAS animal rescue techniques by providing a convenient location for the disposal of animal corpses, as well as offering unprecedented levels of real-time pet owner-tracking technologies and animal-interrogation devices.
“This facility will save animal control officers valuable time and effort by affording quick and easy access to the landfill,” said Abramson. “In addition, its state-of-the-art GPS capabilities will work in tandem with MetroCall to ensure that any errant kittens will be summarily boiled in a vat of acid and then disposed of in a timely fashion.”
The center’s incoming executive president, Dr. Maximilian Krang, offered praise for the mayor and briefly articulated his vision for the $34.8 million underground operation.
“We will crush them,” said Krang, making a fist. “Crush them and make them pay.”
In the wake of Sen. Jim Bunning’s manhandling of the U.S. Senate over the extension of unemployment benefits, the federal government has taken procedural steps to eliminate the junior senator’s seat from Congress.
“Kentuckians have proven once again that they simply cannot be trusted to elect competent officials,” said White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs. “How drunk on rot-gut whiskey do you have to be to let a guy like that into office?”
The move has so far unfazed Bunning, whose final term expires in less than a year. He has since kept showing up at Capitol Hill on a daily basis, wearing pajamas and littering the nation’s capital with empty half-crushed cans of Ensure.
“They think they can get rid me this easily?!” Bunning asked the statue of Abraham Lincoln. “Well?”
Sen. Mitch McConnell said that while it’s a shame the federal government has once again overreached its constitutional grasp, he nonetheless welcomes what he called a long-overdue decision.
“Senator Batshit has finally worn out his welcome. Kentucky only needs one senator, really,” said a giddy McConnell via phone interview. “And that one senator, obviously, is me.”
However, the move has incited rage from several candidates seeking to replace Bunning, who have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to campaign for a non-existent job.
“It’s bullshit,” said Lt. Gov. Daniel Mongiardo, who until recently was seeking the Democratic primary nomination. “Now I gotta go back and work with that other old fart.”
Fourth-tier mayoral candidate and conspiracy theorist Connie Marshall has received a surprise endorsement from tin foil manufacturer Reynolds Metals, upending the current electoral calculus in her favor and sending 90 percent of would-be voters into abject terror.
The reported multi-million dollar cash infusion has allowed the Marshall campaign to leap ahead of fund-raising giants Greg Fischer and Hal Heiner, making her the candidate with the most cash on hand.
“This wouldn’t be possible without you,” a whispering Marshall told a crowd of supporters during a rally at her undisclosed campaign headquarters. “Just try to keep it down: They can hear us.”
The move comes at a time when Reynolds Metals, which was founded in Louisville, is making good on a plan to reconnect with its roots.
“We wanted to open a new plant in the area anyway, and it just so happened there’s this weirdo running for mayor advocating our product to anyone and everyone,” said Tim Albermuth, Reynolds Metals regional production coordinator. Albermuth cited Marshall’s intention to mandate an “intra-cognitive de-vaporator helmet” for every citizen as the primary reason why she was chosen over all other contenders.
“I had no idea the myriad applications our product had until I met Connie,” he said. “The people of Louisville are lucky to have a viable candidate like her. Who else will protect them from black-op experimentation programs designed to turn us into unwitting slaves of the alien-backed New World Order?”
During a routine traffic accident along Shelbyville Road Friday evening, a sleek man dressed in all black somersaulted over the wreckage. Later that night, the same microphone-wielding man was spotted doing cartwheels down South 34th Street after a shooting outside Vermont Liquors in west Louisville.
“He came out of nowhere. I was interviewing a witness, and he judo chopped me in the neck,” says Andy Alcock, a reporter from WLKY-32. “After I woke up, all of the witnesses had been interviewed and everyone was gone. Whoever he is, he’s going to be a hell of a force to contend with during sweeps week.”
The ninja in question is the new investigative reporter for WHAS-11, according to Mark Pimentel, the station’s general manager. The reporter will mainly cover the station’s late desk, he says, perhaps even stopping some of the crimes before they occur.
Rumors have been swirling about the identity of the ninja, and many believe it is none other than former WHAS reporter Chase Cain, who left the station last year to pursue his acting career.
“I do not know of this Cain you speak of,” the ninja replied, before unmasking and revealing Cain’s familiar boyish good looks and amusing antics. “I am Master Yoshi, a sixth-degree black belt in the art of overacting. Beware evildoers.”
It’s the latest in a string of attempts to boost ratings. Another gimmick included offering viewers a chance to be a “reporter” for the day.
Beginning Friday, Porcini restaurant on Frankfort Avenue will begin selling tickets to the “area” where Rick Pitino and Karen Sypher consummated their lascivious affair in 2003.
The timing is impeccable: The Pitino-Sypher trial is set to begin in the next few weeks, prompting the restaurant owner to cash in on the controversy.
Patrons’ views are mixed. “Pitino took three teams to the Final Four, but only one woman at the dinner table!” said Darcy Wheeler, an avowed Cardinal fan on antibiotics for repeatedly painting himself red. The interview ended abruptly when Wheeler began repeatedly chanting, “C-A-R-D-S.”
For $5, you can snap a couple of pictures, or have your picture taken with a cardboard cutout if Pitino. A “Leave the Keys” bumper sticker is only $1. T-shirts with that slogan in black and crimson lettering are $20, and will not be sold on campus due to the potential for upsetting donors.
UK Coach John Calipari praised the initiative, calling it the best case of “extreme marketing” he’s ever seen.
As part of the new campaign, Porcini also will donate 50 cents on the $1 to Rick’s charity of choice.
It’s safe to say longtime Mayor Jerry Abramson is uncertain about life after leading Louisville. Although he had announced plans to run for lieutenant governor upon leaving the Mayor’s Office, LEO has learned the fickle politico has changed his mind.
On Monday, LEO received a resume from Abramson, who apparently is interested in taking over as publisher of Louisville’s alternative newsweekly.
Here are some excerpts from Abramson’s cover letter:
“Despite any past beef I might have had with LEO Weekly (like the time they accused my office of shielding complaints of wrongdoing, or their repeated assertions that I’m a slave to corporate developers, or the time they ran a photo of me looking like a corpse), I am ready to bury the hatchet …
“I believe my proven leadership abilities, dedication to this city and ability to juggle numerous tasks make me an ideal candidate to serve as publisher of your newspaper … or is it a magazine?”
Although LEO is not actually in the market for a new publisher, we invited Abramson in for an interview nonetheless, just for shits and giggles.
When asked why he suddenly wants to trade his political career for the media business, Abramson dropped this bombshell: “I see this as more of a stepping stone of sorts. Take John Yarmuth: He was publisher of this rag, uh, I mean fine publication, and look at him now — living the dream in Congress. That could be me!”
At that point, Abramson pulled out a pair of handcuffs and tethered himself to LEO’s conference room table. SWAT negotiators remain on the scene.
After years of battling the powers-that-be at the JBS Swift pork processing plant, Butchertown residents will soon be able to breathe easy … literally.
This week, Swift officials announced plans to move their stinky meatpacking operation from Story Avenue to the Kentucky Fair and Exposition Center, home to many a livestock show throughout the year.
“Given the stench of animal feces already hovers over the fairgrounds, we think this is a good fit,” says Macon A. Hamm, spokesman for JBS Swift. “The smells emanating from our factory (burning hair and flesh, swine poop, chlorine) should blend well with the existing bouquet.”
As of yesterday, rumors about the impending move were swirling on the slaughterhouse floor; sadly, some pigs were clinging to the false hope that relocating could be their saving grace. One animal was overheard saying (that’s right, this pig could talk … haven’t you ever read “Charlotte’s Web”?): “We’re going to the fair!? Oink. It’s a dream come true! Snort. My dear departed sow would be so proud. Oink oink.”
After yet another winter of predictably unpredictable weather, local precipitation prognosticator John Belski admitted he has, in fact, been shooting from hip these many years.
“I just can’t keep making this shit up,” the beleaguered meteorologist admitted from high atop his Doppler Storm-Cutter Nexrad-5000 swivel chair during a recent 5 p.m. newscast. “Your guess is as good as mine. I was doing fine riding the coattails of Tom Wills. I’d just punch some buttons, repeat what he said earlier in the day, some fancy charts and graphs would fly across the screen, and I’d hope for the best. Forty percent chance of rain seemed like a safe bet. What the hell does a 40 percent chance of rain even mean? Then Tom bailed on me, and I was screwed.”
When asked if he planned to step down, Belski simply shrugged his shoulders and quipped, “I’d say there’s about a 40 percent chance.”
WAVE-3 management has been unavailable for comment in the wake of the shocking revelation; however, head anchor Dawne Gee said she knew something was up: “That ol’ boy just kept on callin’ for more snow. He had to be making it up. You all know Dawne Gee would never live in a place with so much snow.”
Jefferson County Public Schools officials said they would take a “wait and see” approach to whether they would cancel classes in response to the scandal.
The jewel of Cherokee and Seneca Parks, Beargrass Creek, suffered a reality check last week when Metropolitan Sewer District officials dubbed it “no longer a creek.” The tersely worded report cited the “increased prevalence of bleach bottles, old tires, orphaned sweat socks and other shady flotsam and jetsam” as cause for downgrading the local waterway’s status from “creek” to “sewer.”
Olmsted Parks Communications Director Edward Coli was predictably not amused when reached for comment.
“Beargrass Creek will always be a creek because that’s the way Fredrick Law Olmstead wanted it to be. By the way, did you know he is the same guy who designed Central Park in New York City?”
Regardless of who designed it or what they intended it to be, there can be no argument that the waterway has fallen on tough times.
When asked for her reaction, a high-school-aged babysitter sitting near Big Rock, who wished only to be referred to as “Kaitlyn,” interrupted her texting to remark: “That creek, yeah, I let ’em swim in it, you know, cause I don’t have to really watch ’em very much or whatever and they can, you know, like poop in it and stuff.”
There has been no word from Olmsted or other Metro Parks brass about a plan to clean up the besmirched brook. However, MSD officials couldn’t be more proud of their new addition. “In the business of movin’ shit from one place to another, there ain’t many bright spots,” MSD spokesman Cleveland A. Steamer postulated along the banks of his newly adopted fecal-highway. “I think I just saw a turtle in there … nope, just another Skoal tin.”
In an overzealous effort to step up enforcement of downtown development standards, the historic Iron Quarter must be renamed because of its similarity to The Iron Curtain, nickname of the former Communist U.S.S.R. The decision came amid a growing backlash against anything deemed un-American.
Opponents of the change are drawing a link between this decision and a nearly new I-65 billboard that reads, “John Yarmuth, This is Louisville, Ky., start voting like it!”
Louisville’s Russian community was relatively indifferent to the decision. “Louisville is so sensitive. You should see our snowfall back in the motherland,” former KGB operative Vladimir Korinsky said, straight-faced. “We can handle anything. Even jokes. See, I’m laughing.”
Prominent city developers are staying mum about the decision for fear that any contrarianism expressed about willy-nilly development enforcement will result in realistic expectations. “None of us wants that,” one developer said. “It’ll prevent politicians from backing what we do.”
Meanwhile, area residents seem oblivious to the move, as evidenced by the rampant downing of vodka cranberries at the new Patrick O’Shea’s in the district formerly known as the Iron Quarter.
The rivalry between the Cats and Cards sunk to a new low after the University of Kentucky announced that the school has purchased the naming rights to the downtown arena.
Before the Cards christen the new arena in November, UK will officially unveil the facility’s name: The Litter Box.
“After the way we manhandled them, I don’t think their fans should be that upset. Really, it’s very fitting,” says freshman forward DeMarcus Cousins, adding that U of L pretty-boy forward Jared Swopshire is his bitch.
Both Cardinal fans and university officials are scratching their heads at how their historic rival was able to buy the rights completely under the radar. When asked why the Arena Authority did not give the University of Louisville a heads up, Chris Poynter, a spokesman for Mayor Jerry Abramson, said the 17-member body was distracted with more pressing concerns, like just beginning to deal with traffic and parking plans for the new facility.
“We still don’t know where the hell fans are going to park,” says Poynter. “The real action isn’t going to be on the court anyway. It’s going to be at the mouth of the Clark Memorial Bridge.”
The results are in: A recent Facebook poll found 50 percent of Louisville residents between ages 25-35, and 70 percent of those aged 18-21 reported streaking on Cherokee Golf course, with 10 percent actually going all the way there. Police and health officials say they are worried about the possible spread of sexually transmitted diseases, not to mention green genitalia.
“Each hole has to be scrubbed,” an official with the golf course said, before snapping at a TV reporter. “No, not that hole, you pervert! The holes our balls go in. Oh, Jesus … never mind.”
University of Louisville’s golf team issued a statement saying the fields are sacred. Mothers Against Drunk Driving assumed cars were somehow involved. The Center for Women and Families called the practice demeaning and unwarranted. Owners of The Love Boutique on Jefferson Street asked for a heads up so they could film it next time.
Seneca golf course hasn’t seen any action for quite some time, and the golf pros there like it that way. “I mean, I sewed some oats back in the day, don’t get me wrong,” laughed PGA pro Teremine Ochster. “But with all the chemicals they use to keep the grass treated these days, it’s not worth the health risk.”
Law enforcement is preparing for next winter amid reports of naked sleigh riding on the slopes adjacent to Grinstead Drive.
As a child, Margaret O’Reilly dreamed of becoming a doctor.
“I’ve just always had this burning desire to help people,” says O’Reilly. “I grew up playing doctor with the boys on the playground, and I was really good at it, at least that’s what my ‘patients’ told me.”
But when it came time to head to college and fulfill her dreams of real-life doctoring, O’Reilly was shocked to learn her parents had not been socking away cash for tuition.
“Honestly, we never thought Margie was serious about this whole doctor thing. I always just hoped she would find a nice doctor to marry,” says her mother, Barbara. “Besides, we really needed that new boat.”
Determined to make her dreams come true, O’Reilly took on two jobs to save cash — barista in the morning, pizza delivery driver at night. But the pay just wasn’t cutting it, prompting the feisty redhead to take drastic measures: She hit the stripper pole.
Now working as a dancer at the Brass Ass, O’Reilly — better known on the job as “Cinnamon Bunz” — says she’s managed to save more in one month than she could have earned in a year slinging coffee and pizza.
“It turns out redheads can really rake in the cash,” says O’Reilly, adding that her new “Naughty Nurse” number has been a huge hit with Brass Ass patrons. “At this rate, I think I’m making more than I would in medical field. Hmmm …”
For Abigail Maupin, being one of the first students enrolled in the groundbreaking Homeless Studies program at Jefferson Community and Technical College last year was a chance to atone.
In 2008, the upbeat Highlands resident could be found riding up and down back alleys, chucking empty beer cans at the homeless in protest of Wayside Christian Mission, which had tried to buy the former Mercy Academy complex near her historic home.
Once Wayside abandoned that effort and moved into the former Hotel Louisville at Broadway and Second, Maupin returned to being caring and compassionate, going so far as to enroll in JCTC’s Homeless Studies program. The program — which includes courses like “Dumpster Diving” and “How To Be Invisible To Public Officials” — also was open to the homeless residents at Wayside, located directly next door to the community college. But that all changed when the city inexplicably altered zoning laws and shut down Wayside at its, uh, landlocked location.
“The board has decided the most reasonable place for any homeless shelter in Louisville is the Ohio River. It’s the only classified area that is willing to welcome them,” says Connie Warrick, a spokeswoman for the Department of Codes and Regulations. “What’s that old saying? Out of sight, out of mind. But not in a bad way.”
Nina Moseley, chief operating officer of Wayside, is outraged by the permanent banishment.
But not everyone shares that sentiment. One homeless individual — a self-proclaimed sailing enthusiast — proclaimed, “I’m on a boat, motherfucker!” as his new floating home left its dock.
Target is threatening to leave Louisville due to lagging sales after white T-shirts, wife-beaters and now button-downs were recently banned at Fourth Street Live and bars along Baxter Avenue. Sales have decreased so rapidly that Target’s St. Matthews location is closing later this month.
“The button-down ban was the last straw,” a spokesman for the corporation said. “We’re going to Jeffersonville, where we hope our efforts to provide quality button-down shirts can gain a greater appreciation.”
A staple of professional wardrobes for decades, the white button-down shirt has come under scrutiny as its use has reportedly risen among gang members.
“There are certain ways in which gangs can button their buttons,” said Louisville Metro Police Detective Mallory Valere. “Some wear the shirts inside-out and use different colors to signify different things. At this point, we’re not exactly sure what it signifies, but we’re assuming it can’t be good.”
Target says a new buttonless version of the collared shirt is in development, but that it’s still several months away from being completed.
Louisville-based KFC announced this week a new line of “Lunch Injectables,” complete meals available in syringes suitable for intravenous dining. The company hopes the new line of products will be popular with hungry people on the go who don’t have time for nuggets. “In under 10 seconds, experienced diners can tie off a bicep and inject a complete meal — two moist and juicy pieces of chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, slaw and a biscuit — and tweet about the meal before the stoplight even changes,” says company spokesman Chick Slaughter. “Mainlining lunch is not only convenient, but it makes our roads safer, too.”
The unusual new meal plan was motivated in part by the nation’s obsession with — but inability to provide — affordable health care, Slaughter says. “The Injectables will provide the next best thing: “an inexpensive synergy of food and medicine that makes you feel great — at least for awhile.”
The business move is considered risky by industry analysts, who point out that children — an important target demographic in fast food sales — are injection-averse. However, KFC says it hopes to attract kids by offering cookie dough sublingual lozenges with each Injectable Kid’s Meal. “And even if that doesn’t work, our forecast predicts we’ll make up the difference in sales to the homeless population, many of whom will be excited to reuse the syringes,” says Slaughter. The $2.99 Injectables are available in Original Recipe, Extra Crispy, Buffalo, Mesquite and Honey-Smack.
