Mr. Roughneck Rambo Sambo received the bad news from his doctor, the renowned Dr. Poindexter Skinflint. The prognosis is Creutzfeldt Jakob disease. All that damn boozing, over the last 45 years or so, has taken it's toll. "Certain death in about a year" were the words Sambo remembered in his convoluted-twisted-demented brain as he walked to the liquor store. Something about "disintegration of virtually all higher cerebral functioning ...what the fuck does that mean?" "Oh boy, Carlo Rossi- 1 gallon for $4.99. I'll get 20 gallons". Shopping cart loaded with 20 big jugs, standing in line with all the other goons, a faint thought passes through his water-world..."who am I?" A lot of Spanish words are being said and something about a "sacred heart" and Don Henley on the beach. "Am I here or there? Did I kill Nicole and Ron? What is dementia, anyone know?" Finally at the checkout the cashier asks Mr. Sambo for $104.79 but Roughneck can't find any money. Stalling and searching in a rather frantic fashion, sweat beads protruding from forehead pores, Sambo experiences spots before his glassy, blood-shot eyes, numbness in his arms, uncontrolled jerking of his left leg, shrinkage of his middle leg, crazy thought's such as "Is that cashier B. F. Skinner or am I Olivia Newton John?", and a general feeling of other-worldliness.

Mr. Roughneck Sambo's next recollection is being in the ICU at the East Los Angeles Free Clinic and Rest Home for Transient Bums. Looking down at him Dr. Poindexter Skinflint tells the luscious nurse he just had oral sex with "he's as good as dead". Sambo opens his blood shot eyes, startled at what he just heard. "Am I STILL alive? Man, I'm thirsty". Sambo looks around and can't believe his eyes as he witnesses a young gorgeous babe giving a man a head job right there in the room he's in. Next thing there's body fluid shooting everywhere and Sambo snaps out in a psychotic fit. Skinflint and the nurse tied Sambo down to the bed for his own safety and they had another oral sex encounter there in his temporary room. Gasping for air Skinflint told the nurse "He'll never know". Sure enough, Sambo went into another dimension were an angelic choir was singing and an endless procession of tanker trucks full of wine were headed in his direction.

Man Invents Sex Machine

Seoul, South Korea (Korean Free Press) An unemployed sewer worker, Kim Mo Bong, is the hot personality of this vibrant city of millions. Mr. Bong, who dabbles in various odd-ball endeavors when he is not collecting unemployment checks, has achieved over-night fame and success by inventing the world's first sex machine. Kim's invention was inspired by his long "dry spells" when the 39 year old uneducated shit shoveler freely admitted.... "man, I couldn't get any sex, even from the whores I paid!"

What Kim Mo Bong has done to resolve his dilemma, and in turn bring pleasure seekers from all over South Korea to his door, is create a "virtual semen sucker" that tricks the brain, and the body. "Based on simple physiological principles, my machine will keep you happy whenever you need sex" boasted Bong who, since achieving instant success and notoriety, has had at least 10 offers of marriage from women 15 years his junior. The particulars of the invention are not much more than a hose attached to the mans appendage, a blindfold, and a few electrodes pasted to the side of ones head and, next thing you know, you're in bed with Mariah, Meg, Connie- whomever you desire. Some South Korean officials worry this device could have a negative effect on the population growth rate. Bong fluffed that off with a terse "men need sex! " comment.

When asked if he will take up any of the marriage offers so far presented, he responded "I don't need no women now. I can get what I want when I want it." Bong was then asked if he will make a corresponding sex machine for women and his answer was an affirmative "NO!"

How much does it cost? You could get it cheaper than a low end Hyundai. What will he do with his profits from the sex machine? "I'll donate 50% of it to the Korean Church of Kim Chee and the other 50% I'll use for construction of a new multi million dollar virtual semen sucker production facility in the Seoul west end slum". Bong ended the interview abruptly indicating he had to go sign up for his unemployment check on the south side.

A strange and quite unbelievable story comes from old London town. Medical authorities have discovered a man who apparently has been dead for over 29 years. Known simply as Mr. Jimmy, the elderly gentleman may be alive. Chief medical assistant Intern Fellow Ollie Mason, head of the Chelsea drugstore were Mr. Jimmy has sat for the last 25 plus years, reports "he has no heart beat" yet, every now and then he will sing a little tune about being pretty ill, drinking cherry red soda and blowing his fuse. "He just sits there, in that chair, like a human vegetable", says Mason, "and I'm still not certain he's dead or alive". He doesn't shit, piss, nothing!

Ollie, 27 indicates he took over the drugstore just three years ago and he (Mr. Jimmy) "was sitting in here when I bought the place". I just figured he was waiting for a prescription to be filled at first, then I noticed he never moved much. I tried to talk with him and he didn't respond so I took his pulse and he was dead! But later he started humming and singing. "Christ, I nearly shit myself!" I told my psychiatrist about what had happened and he had me tested for drug abuse but I don't take any drugs. "I really don't know about him, but I figure he needs some place to rest. I can't just put him out on the street, even if he is dead".

So far, 12 different physicians have had a look at Mr. Jimmy and no definitative medical conclusion can be ascertained. Some doctors believe he is alive and others have indicated he is definitely deceased. None of these authorities have heard Mr. Jimmy singing or humming and a few have pegged this whole ludicrous scenario as nothing more than a practiced art of deception! The British Medical Authority chief physician Sir Heddington P. Beeffart vowed "we'll get to the bottom of this situation with the Chelsea drugstore". In the meantime, Mr. Jimmy is quietly sitting there.