A Look Back Through the Ages by The BEAST's former Editors.

100 BEASTs of Gratitude
A brief note from the asshole in charge.
Al Uthman

Father Knows BEAST
A few unkind words from our founder.
Matt Taibbi

Outrage 101
A BEASTly education.
Paul Salamone

Me & My Buddy The BEAST
Chris Riordan

Viva El BEAST!
Recollections of an undocumented BEAST Staffer.

The Truth About our Intentions
The very 1st BEAST Editorial.

The BEAST Government Kids Page Review
Ian Murphy

Murtha's My Lai
Stan Goff

Call me Old Fasioned, but I Think the President Should be Killed
A BEAST Reader Opinion
by Gengis Khan

The BEAST Page 3 Deposed Nepalese Despot

Kino Korner
Da Vici Code, Poseidon, Just My Luck, See No Evil.

BEAST-O-Scopes
Your cosmic fortune...
in insult form.

[sic] - Letters
Judge Punch, toilet reading, and Moses in denial.

Still Scum, Still Sucking
Our local Rep, Tom Reynolds.
Paul Fallon

A Prank of Two Cities
The incredible true story of how we propositioned the mayor’s wife and rigged the NHL playoffs.
Paul Jones

Top 10 Signs of the Impending Police State
Hey America, freedom's just around the corner... behind you
Allan Uthman

A Preview of this Issue
...By Sabres play-by-play man Rick Jeanneret!

I Know More Words Than You
An editorial of verbose contrivance.
Paul Jones

 
 


Viva El BEAST!
Recollections of an Undocumented Editor

For a brief period, BEAST publisher Paul Fallon decided to cut costs through the employment of undocumented workers. The project was soon cancelled when Fallon realized that illegal immigrants weren’t willing to work for the meager pay than domestic BEAST staffers receive. We asked one of these temporary editors, who went on to further success, to relate his memories.

When I feers to meeten Meester Paul [Fallon], I wuss a supposeen to work on thee strobeddy fahm. To peeck tha’ strobeddy. Me llamo Jaime . My moother, she sendses me to Ameddiga, to peeck thee beddies and to mage thee mooney. To send eet bag to my country, sos my familia gan buyses brayd and cheecken. But Meester Paul, I sees heem woon day, ovare by thee troocks weeth all thee peeckers. He pools oop een hees nize acar: a Bee Em Doobleyoo. He walkses ovare to me and he sayza, “I know how you gan mage mooch bayter mooney than thees, workeen only a leetle beet oof thee tine.”

I wuss astunned to heered thees. Meester Paul, he askses me, “Wouldeen you lige to do thees eeasy work, Jaime? Eets mooch bayter than peeckeen beddies.”

“Oh, yes,” I says, shakeen my cabesa. “Veddy much, Meester Paul. Eet soundses wondarefool.” I open hees acar and then I sees all of thees noospayperses evereeware. There ees no ware for mee to seet downed een thee car. “Oh, thot’s joosta tha Bees’,” Meester Paul sayza. “Just pusheeng them ovare,” he sayza to me. Then, he sayza, “You lige noospayperses?”

I tell heem I don’t know nootheeng aboud noospayperses. “I ganno reed or wride nootheeng, Meester Paul. Ees thees a prooblen?” I ask heem. I wussa veddy sod aboud eet.

“Oh, no, not at all!” heesa yelleeng and laffeeng to me. “Don’t woddee about eet at all, Jaime.” I wussa so hoppee to heeren heem sayza thot to me. Heeza keeps on laffeeng on the ride teel we gets to hees houze. I wussa leetle scaresed by thot. But I don’ts woddee—Meester Paul, he seemses so nize. Ot leest, thot’s ees whot I theenkeen then.

Boot veddy soon, Iyen learneeng whot eet ees really lige to worg ot thee Bees’. Meester Paul, he breengses me to hees awfeez to worgs weeth all thee oother Bees’ worgers. Boot, eet wussa craysee for heem to sayz we should mage thees noospayperses. Noboody worgeen at the awfeez speakses eeny Eengleesh! En’ one of Meester Paul’ses worgers wussa noot eben a ghumeen peersoon. He hos a horse worgeen there! Joos’ lige Caleegula!

“But Meester Paul,” I sayz to heem, “How gan we mage a noospayperses weethoud knowseen thee Eengleesh?” Meester Paul, hees astoop heesa smileen for the feers tine seence he peeks me oop in hees car. Hees gets veddy ongree and rolls hees ojos en’ sayz, “Thot’s noot my prooblen!”

“Boot Meester Paul,” Iyen pleeden weeth heem, “I don’t know nootheen abou’ poleeteecal sottire!”

“Stopeen your beetcheen,” he sayz to me. “Thees ees all you needeen to know.” And he throwses a beeg bog of morreewhana at oos. Tha’ horse, hees a starteen to wheeny weeth playjor. Then, Meester Paul, heesa slameen tha’ dor shoot. “You goota two weegs!” hees shouteen behine tha’ door.

For two weegs, Iyen worgeen weeth all thee oother peopleses, eeben though they don’ speekeen what Iyen speekeen. En’ I no speekeen whoot they wussa speekeen. We smokeen all tha’ morreewhana een a few hourses. Tha’ res’ oof tha’ tine, we tryeen to mage a foony noospayperses. Eggsep for the horse—hees  a coompleetly stoneen. He wheenyeen the whole tine. En’ he getteen tha’ moonchies from the morreewhana and he spends all hees tine eeteen tha’ carpeteen en’ our shoelazes en’ shoeses. I hof to walg aroun’ weeth barefootses begoss oof thot horse.

Two weegses ees goeen by so fost! Boot I no’ sleepeen o’ nootheen. I worgeen so hard to learn Eengleesh en’ sottire. When we feeneesh our worgeen, we wussa oll so proud oof whoot we hod doone. We hod mageen so moony joges abou’ stoopeed Ameddeegens. We mageen foon oof oother coontrees and magen oop craysee stories abou’ how they threateneen Ameddeegens. ‘Speshully Orob coontrees. We preetendeen thot lyeen poleeteeshuns sayzing thot coontrees are goeen to attock Ameeddeecka weeth gian’ meesulls. And thot peebles ees goeen to die from oll kine oof teddeeble deeseeses. Eet wuss sooch foony stoof! We wussa soo hoppee!

Meester Paul, he coome to tha’ awfeez when tha’ tine ees oop. He oonlocka tha’ door en’ we squeenten from all oof tha’ light thot coomes een. Meester Paul, he lookses lige a gian’ shoddow een tha’ door. We wussa leetle scareses ot feers, oonteel we adjoost our ojos. When we sees eet ees Meester Paul, we weere eggsited to show heem the noospayperses we hod mageen. We honded heem thee eesue en’ we waiteen for heem to starten smileen.

Boot, Meester Paul, he dooeseen smileen et oll. He ees lookeen at the paginas, turneen them en’ reedeen so fost en’ getteen veddy ongry. We oll weer becoomeen escared oof heem. Soodeenly, hees throween tha’ noospayperses to thee groun’. We wussa sheevereen weeth feer.

“You eedeeots!” Meester Paul wuss shouteen. “You doon’ writeen sottire—you writeen tha’ New Yorg Tines!”

“Boot Meester Paul! Plees,”  I wuss beggeen heem. “How we writeen’ tha’ New Yorg Tines? We just mageen thees oop. We doon’ eben know how to reedeen tha’ New Yorg Tines!”

“Get out!” Meester Paul wuss yelleen. “Get out, oll oof you! I doon’ eber won’ to see you agayn!” We oll roonneen out thee door. Boot before I goeen, Iyen grob a coopee oof tha’ noospayperses. Later, when I hod stoppeen to catcheen my breaths, I remembereen whot Meester Paul has a sayzeen abou’ tha’ New Yorg Tines. I taygeen my coopee oof tha’ Bees’ en’ I osk how I gan get to where tha’ Tines ees.

Thot wuss a long years ago. Seence thot tine, I hove wreeteen moony Eengleesh wordses for tha’ New Yorg Tines. I hove wreeteen moony bookses en’ been on moony talkeeng shows. I hove becoome famoos all ober thee mundo. You hove probably been reedeen my wordses een tha noosapayperses for so moony yearses. Boot tooday, I gooen by a veddy deeferen’ name thon when I was peeckeen strobeddies and writeen for tha’ Bees’. Iyen no longer useen tha’ name Jaime, no for a long tine. Today, I am knoween to tha’ world as Tomas de Friedameen.

 

BEAST Blog

Idiot Box by Matt Bors
Big Fat Whale by Brian McFadden
Perry Bible Fellowship by Nicholas Gurewitch
Bob the Angry Flower by Stephen Notely
Deep Fried by Jason Yungbluth

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