And never has a finer ode been written - here’s a small part.

It’s hilarious, and an apt tribute. Go read it.

I’ve always had a abnormal appreciation for the Weekly World News myself. Every few weeks I always end up buying one just to give them a dollar for making me laugh out loud at the checkout and look like a lunitic. Yes, it’s true - I (heart) BatBoy.

See, what I liked about the WWN is, no one gets hurt.

They don’t hire buttheads to crouch in alleyways to get a picture of the hot celebrity of the moment coming out of her Doctor’s office or going into cozy restaurant. They don’t prey on anyone’s private life. They never killed a Princess, or made a baby cry. They never slander anyone who ever actually existed. And if a celebrity dies, well their afterlife is certainly MUCH more interesting that their actual life ever could have been.

They are non-fictional fiction parodists. They just make just up, write it as news. And that’s a beautiful thing to me. It’s almost honorable.

I always imagine them at a large chipped up circular table in a room that smells like cigarette butts with cases of empty Old Milwaukee bottles tossed around, while two sweaty fat guys arm wrestle over who gets the by-line on a story named “atan seen driving Winnebago”.

The crazier it is the more we like it. Hire a few very skilled photoshop artists and Voila!, you have Elvis returning from the dead with Jesus, or illicit pictures of gay-lovers Saddam and Osama bin Laden dancing in tutus or getting married. (not kidding that’s a real one), and in a perverse way, that’s a beautiful thing. It’s the WWE of tabloids. You know it’s so obviously made up it should be printed in 6 screened colors so it qualifies as a comic book - but you just don’t care.

And that’s why they get at least $10 a year out of me, and probably will for years to come. I usually never even read it for more than 30 seconds, it’s the covers that are worth every dime. No road trip is complete with out the WWN from a gas station and the half a minute of fun it provides.

When I die, I want the WWN to write me a obituary so outrageous, so ludicrous I’d be proud to have it carved into my headstone. The sky’s the limit, go nuts, just fit a monkey in the scenario some how. That’s *my* last wish.