Theo Epstein Sets Sail To Burma To Break The Curse Of The Jade Macaque

CHICAGO, IL -- Having vanquished the "Curse of the Bambino" in Boston in 2004 and the "Curse of the Billy Goat" in Chicago just this past week, Theo Epstein has embarked on an entirely new quest: to venture deep into the Burmese jungle to break the centuries old "Curse of the Jade Macaque."

It remains unclear how Epstein expects to break the infamous curse that emerged sometime in the mid-16th Century when a war between two rival tribes culminated in terrible hex upon all neighboring villages for many, many generations. It is also widely unknown what role, if any, his baseball acumen will play in his battle with ancient black magic forces; but those who know Theo aren't worried.

"The man just knows how to break curses," says Cubs first baseman Anthony Rizzo, speaking from his locker in Wrigley Field. "I mean, sure his specialty is putting together winning baseball teams, and I don't exactly know how his ability to make smart trades and draft well translates to lifting some otherworldly evil from Southeast Asia. But if anyone can do it, it's him." Rizzo added with a smile- "He already got Rossi to join him."

Indeed, the now-retired Cubs backup catcher David Ross was last seen in the busy marketplace of the Port of Yangon, a single duffle bag slung over his back, greeting a tanned, fedora-wearing Theo Epstein-- who apparently has already picked up conversational Burmese.

Cubs outfielder Kyle Schwarber was eager to join the adventure but has been ordered to stay home in order to continue to rest his ACL. Instead, "Schwarbs" will assist Theo and Rossi from a remote command center that has been set up in his Chicago condo. Schwarbs will also be linked up to a satellite phone that will allow him to keep up communications with the pair as they voyage far up the Ayeyarwady River.

Reports are that Theo and Ross will face any number of challenges in their quest to break the Curse of the Jade Macaque, including black market antiquities collectors, conspiratorial government officials, bands of robbers, belligerent local tribes, and, of course, the dark forces of the Jade Macaque itself-- a small carved statuette which is said to house over 10,000 cursed souls.

It is even possible that some larger geopolitical forces will have a vested interest in Epstein's journey, most likely trying to harness the power of the curse to further their own economic interests.

Rizzo acknowledges the challenges, but isn't terribly worried: "Nah, those guys will be fine. Theo knows what he's doing and I'm sure that they may find some unexpected help if things get a little too hairy." With that, Rizzo bid adieu, making sure to clandestinely slip an airplane ticket to Nyaung U International Airport into his back pocket before departing.

Donald Trump Asks Reince Priebus When He's Gonna Get The Glengarry Leads

NEW YORK, NY-- As a storm thundered outside, a raincoat-wearing Donald Trump burst into the disorganized New York office of the RNC and leaned over the desk of RNC Chair Reince Priebus and demanded, once and for all, that Reince hand over the premium leads-- the Glengarry leads.

Before a befuddled Reince could ask Trump why he wasn't at his scheduled speech to the New York Chamber of Commerce, Trump launched into a diatribe against the RNC Chair while pacing around the moody, cage-like office-- "I need those leads, Reince. I could put this whole thing away, close it up, and drive home in a brand new Cadillac if I just had the fuck-king leads." Mr. Priebus took a breath and massaged his temples before attempting to explain to Trump that he didn't need the leads and that the polls we're really starting to look up.

"Fuck the polls, Reince! The polls are shit," said an exasperated Trump-- "I need the leads. The premium leads. Just give me one. I could sweep the whole fucking rust belt with one of those leads."

Mr. Priebus sighed and subconsciously glanced at a locked safe nearly buried among a small tower of donor folders. Mr. Trump then walked over to the safe, tapping it repeatedly: "They're in there, aren't they? C'mon. Just give me one."

"You know I can't do that, Donald."

"You little shit!" exclaimed Mr. Trump, "You couldn't get a dogcatcher elected on cat island with the fucking shit leads I've got. I can make this happen for you and Paul and all the guys downtown but I need you to give me the motherfucking leads!"

With that a clearly frustrated Mr. Priebus stood up and pulled his raincoat from a mess of binders and papers, looking at Trump as he straightened the coat out: "This isn't my call, Donald. I can't give you the good leads. Not yet. This is me doing my job. Now why don't you go do yours?"

As Mr. Priebus wrapped his hand around his smooth leather suitcase to finally exit he was confronted, face-to-face, by Mr. Trump-- "You know what I'd call guys you when I was growin' up in Queens? ... JuicyFruit... cause I'd have to scrape you off my fucking shoe!"

Without flinching, Reince responded: "Do better, Donald. Then you will get the leads."

Mr. Priebus then sidestepped Mr. Trump to leave the office before turing back-- "Do better and I'll open that safe and you'll get the leads. The good leads. The Glengarry leads."

With a clattering slam Mr. Priebus was gone, leaving Donald alone with only the pounding rain and muffled cacophony of traffic outside. He shuffled over to the safe and tapped it gently before suddenly slamming his fist on top.

Then again, and again, and again until Mr. Trump was pounding on the top of the safe like a paramedic trying to jump-start a heart that had stopped beating long ago.

The desperate assault continued until Mr. Trump's hand slipped off the top of the safe, causing him to stumble forward before finally finding a free patch of carpet to collapse onto.

Donald then pushed his back against the safe, sitting on the ground and looking out at the cluttered RNC office. Quiet but not calm.

"What am I going to do?" he said aloud for perhaps only God to hear.

"What am I going to do?"

The unforgiving rain-soaked streets outside of the RNC office.

U.S. News & World Report Is #1 In U.S. News & World Report Ranking of Magazines Most Qualified To Rank Colleges

WASHINGTON DC-- In rankings put out in the latest issue of U.S. News & World Report regarding magazines most qualified to rank colleges, U.S. News & World Report has ranked U.S. News & World Report as #1. “We emphatically stand by the results from our editors’ exhaustive search to find the most qualified magazine to put out an annual college ranking issue,” said U.S. News & World Report Editor-in-Chief Mortimer B. Zuckerman. The magazine’s first-ever such ranking comes as critics have raised questions about the annual college rankings put out by U.S. News & World Report, the most repeated one being “What the fuck is U.S. News & World Report anyway and why should we give two shits what they say about colleges? Are they even a real magazine? It kind of sounds like a tabloid or something.”

Indeed, some of the key findings of the U.S. News & World Report ranking include that “U.S. News & World Report is a real magazine, definitely not a tabloid or anything weird like that,” as well as “Some people like us better than Time. Don’t you think it’s about time for Time to give it up? That was Brian’s joke.” When asked if factors like circulation or digital traffic were considered, Mr. Zuckerman seemed to freeze for a moment and break out into a sweat before saying, somewhat loudly- “Of course we did. We looked at all the factors like that. And we’re still number one. Always will be.” 

Mr. Zuckerman then backed away and, loosening his tie, offered further comment- “This is our thing, you understand? Our. Thing. Without an annual college ranking we don’t fucking exist, okay? It's the only thing keeping us around. Kapeesh? If we aren’t putting out our annual college ranking then Brian doesn’t have a job and who’s going to pay for his sister’s rehab then? Thomas?! WE ALL FUCKING KNOW THOMAS ISN’T GOING TO PAY FOR SHIT SO JUST LET U.S. NEWS AND FUCKING WORLD REPORT JUST KEEP PUTTING OUT IT’S ANNUAL MOTHERFUCKING COLLEGE RANKINGS, OKAY?!!? JESUS. MOTHERFUCKING. CHRIST.” Mr. Zuckerman then ended the press conference and hurried to a nearby door which he thought was an exit but turned out to be a janitor’s closet. Nevertheless, Mr. Zuckerman remained in the janitor’s closet, weeping softly, for roughly thirty minutes or so before the assembled press dissipated.

The Princeton Review came in second on the list, followed by Forbes. 

New Poll Shows Donald Trump Has High Support Among Ghosts, Leprechauns, And Chupacabras

A new Monmouth University Poll conducted in swing states and beyond the mortal realm has revealed that GOP presidential nominee Donald Trump has opened up a very large lead over his Democratic rival Hillary Clinton among various creatures that move freely between reality and our collective subconscious. 

According to the poll, Mr. Trump has the support of 65% of ghosts, 73% of chupacabras, and a dominating 96% of leprechauns. The GOP candidate’s high support among these groups has been linked to Mr. Trump’s perception as a sort of kindred spirit among supernatural creatures—many of them saying they see him as one of their own due to his policy positions that only work in a kind of make-believe fantasy land of walls and ogres. Additionally, Mr. Trump’s whimsical facial features— his orange skin, pudding-like jowls, and wispy golden hair with a mind all its own— further add to the belief among many mythical beings that Trump is one of them.

“He-e-e cares about what I-I-I care about,” moaned a poltergeist at a recent seance in a Southern mansion haunted by the tortured spirits of slaveowners, “and he tells it like it i-i-i-i-i-s-s-s-s-s-s-s.”

The GOP candidate's support among chupacabras is widely viewed as surprising, due to Mr. Trump's fiery rhetoric against Latino populations, as well the fact that few experts have ever known a chupacabra to express any opinion beyond its ravenous snarls for the blood of goats... snarls which exist only in myths whispered among livestock farmers in South and Central America. Calls for an official comment from the Trump Campaign's Latino Outreach Board went unanswered, while an off-the-record source whispered in terror as he stared deep into a burning campfire before him: "Miedo al chupacabra. Miedo al Trump." [TR: 'Fear the chupacabra. Fear the Trump.']

Trump polls highly among mysterious beasts that live only on the lips of men who fear them.

Mr. Trump’s strongest support among any group— real or imaginary— comes from leprechauns who appreciate the Donald’s penchant for trickery, deception, and faustian bargains. One leprechaun, who was briefly interviewed before disappearing in a billow of twinkling green smoke, professed his unwavering support for the Republican nominee— “Ay, he promises people riches in exchange for their trust, treats serious matters with a jesting giddiness, and talks only in senseless riddles… the man is our first leprechaun president I tell ya! Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

The robust numbers may only be a moral victory for the Trump campaign, however, as many of the fanciful beings are barely known to exist in this world at all, let alone be registered to vote in this, or any, country. “We’re doing all we can to make sure these fictional entities have every opportunity to cast their votes in November,” says Trump campaign manager Kellyanne Conway. “Talking to these groups fits with our campaign’s mission to reach across party lines and beyond the dominion of our sentient world." 

"In fact,” Conway added, “traversing the plain of reality is a crucial component to our winning the White House this fall.”

Scientists Say Kid Who Wants Summer To Last All Year Long Will Get Wish By 2060

DAYTON, OH -- While launching water balloons across the park this past Saturday, nine-year-old Billy Sherman expressed a desire that the summer season lasted for the entire year and scientists were quick to point out there it is very likely little Billy will get his wish by the year 2060. "The lazy days of August... with their water fights, ice cream trucks, and 90+ degree days.. they could stretch well into October and November in just half a century if nothing is done to halt climate change and global warming," said lead NASA Space Studies researcher Jonathan Wilkinson, "which would bring about a nightmarish 'permanent summer' for the United States."

"I'm so bummed we have to go back to dumb ol' school," confirmed Billy, "and that summer can't just go on and on." When pressed if he would mind that a possible actualization of his dream could come in four decades and with a price tag of widespread drought, potential famine, and thousands of heat-related deaths, Billy shrugged before unwrapping a fresh ice cream sandwich -- "I guess not, as long as we didn't have to go back to school!" However, in a cruel twist of fate, Mr. Wilkinson made the point that the potential 'Year-Long Hell Summer' would mean that the actual summer would see temperatures skyrocket well into triple-digits on a regular basis in Billy's hometown, meaning that keeping kids indoors and in school over the summer would be a matter of public health and safety.

"Letting children play outside during the hottest months of a possible 'Super Summer' would be as inhumane as keeping a dog locked in a car on a regular hot day," said Mr. Wilkinson, who added - "Oh! That reminds me: most people's pets would almost certainly die from heat exhaustion if left outside for just an hour in this dystopian summer inferno that we are collectively hurtling towards."

The thought of a mass canine holocaust during a June-thru-August 'Season of Fire' seemed the furthest thing from young Billy's mind as he and his friends ran around catching fireflies while dusk settled over the park (additionally, the fireflies and even the grass-covered hills of the park itself would likely cease to exist in 2060-- the new endless summer reality transforming most of southern Ohio into a Mediterranean/desert climate, similar to drought-and-wildfire-plagued Los Angeles County).

Rendering of Billy's park in 2060

Regardless of the horrifying side-effects, the very mention of Billy getting his wish of a year-long summer made the nine-year-old Dayton resident smile - "That's pretty cool if a scientist says my wish could come true!" Mr. Wilkinson was happy to hear of Billy's optimism towards a future he personally would not wish on his worst enemy: "The 2060 that we have forecasted depresses me to no end... so much fire, hunger, and death mixed with the possibility of a complete breakdown of civil society if governments are unable to mitigate the extreme hardships of their people...it has stopped me from having children of my own..."

"But... if that barely livable existence makes the dreams of a kid from Ohio come true, then I guess it can't be all that bad."