DEAR READERS: David Schmader is busy banging his face against a new play. To preserve the creative process, his loyal intern, Cienna Hahn, has compiled a special edition of the "best of" Last Days--timeless, sexy pieces that will make you fall in love with the news all over again, complete with up-to-the-minute annotation by the compiler herself. Enjoy.


MONDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1999

Today Starbucks was hit with a $1.5 million lawsuit from a Canadian tourist who claims the Seattle-based coffee monolith is guilty of crushing his penis. According to his attorney, Canadian Edward Skwarek was seated on a Starbucks toilet in New York City this past August. When Skwarek reached behind himself for a roll of toilet paper, the toilet seat shifted, causing Skwarek's penis to be caught and crushed between the seat and bowl. Today, Skwarek's lawyer announced that his client was seeking $1 million from the Starbucks corporation for its carelessness in "allowing a defective toilet seat to remain in use," resulting in Skwarek's suffering the aforementioned crushed penis, as well as Peyronie's disease (which causes the erect penis to swerve to one side), retrograde ejaculation with a reduction in sperm count, infertility, severe penile bruising, and impaired sexual function. Skwarek's lawyer is seeking an additional $500,000 for Skwarek's wife, for being "deprived of her husband's services."

Despite the mass appeal of a story about a man and his beloved penis, no resolution could be found concerning this enigmatic story. Was Skwarek's crotch ever again open for business? What did his unfortunate wife do? Did Starbucks pay? Retired to the ranks of legends along with Ichabod Crane, Skwarek and his wee headless horseman were never heard from again.


TUESDAY, JUNE 29, 1999

In a surprisingly sane move, today the House of Representatives voted down a bill that would have urged national, state, and local leaders to "call the people they serve to observe a day of fasting, solemn prayer, and humiliation before God." Sponsored by Idaho Representative Helen Chenoweth--an admitted adulteress who knows a thing or two about humiliation before God--the nonbinding resolution (and horrifying mingling of church and state) was designed to help heal America in the wake of chronic school shootings and murderous hate crimes against blacks and gays. However, the well-meaning but Constitution-mocking proposal fell six votes short of the necessary two-thirds support (with all Washington State Republicans voting "yes" and all Washington State Democrats voting "no"), and will now die a fast, solemn, and humiliating death.

Last Days missed a great opportunity to explore the babbling freak show that is Rep. Chenoweth, author of such memorable quotes as, "A species goes out of existence every 20 seconds. Surely a new species comes into existence every 20 seconds," and, "The warm-climate community just hasn't found the colder climate that attractive. [Idaho] is an area of America that has simply never attracted the Afro-American or the Hispanic." Now married and retired from politics, Chenoweth spends her days harmlessly roaming the Nevada rangelands of her rancher husband. Nevertheless, in deference to the many Idahoans forever scarred by her fucked-up politics, Helen Chenoweth should have her tongue removed and stapled to the side of her face.


WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 29, 2000

More than 500 Iranians have pledged to sell one of their kidneys to help finance the killing of Salman Rushdie, the "blasphemous" British author condemned to death by Islamic religious decree in 1989. BBC News reports that a total of 508 people have thus far offered kidneys and signed up to help pay the $2.8 million bounty on Rushdie's pompous but ultimately harmless head, and fatwa supporters hope to further boost their kidney pledge drive by taking it to the Internet.

The bounty has since been upped to $3 million. February 14 will mark the 15th anniversary since Islam declared fatwa against Rushdie, suggesting that, like HIV, an Islamic fatwa is no longer the automatic death sentence it used to be.


THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1999

The Germans call it gestalt, a combination of elements amounting to more than the sum of its parts, and it is exactly what Last Days experienced today when we stumbled upon two of our very favorite things combined to create a glorious whole: Porno Bloopers. Beginning with the fascinating anal puppetry of porn diva Janet Jackme, this stellar videotape collection provides an inside glimpse of the goofs, gaffes, and blunders that make the adult film world the funniest place this side of Almost Live's grave. Highlights include an eager young fellatrix nearly choking to death on a Sweet Tart, a wide assortment of farts, and an exposé of what is known as "the fake pop"--the practice of having male actors restage their orgasms in order to film their facial expressions, with results ranging from Brando-esque levels of method-acting perfection to grimaces reminiscent of a hobo with a stubbed toe. Porno Bloopers may be found at Capitol Hill's illustrious Video Vertigo.

Even my mother has a soft spot for porn bloopers. Rent this video.


FRIDAY, FEBRUARY 18, 2000

And now, a story so freaking weird it makes our face hurt. From the front page of today's edition of the Hollywood industry rag Daily Variety came the news that Robin Williams (AKA Mork, Mrs. Doubtfire, and "that loathsome, unbearable freak") has purchased the film rights to The Kid, the 1999 adoption memoir written by Dan Savage (AKA editor of The Stranger and "that goddamned doorknob-licking faggot"). Never mind that in a recent Savage Love column, Dan listed "no more Robin Williams movies" as an upside to the end of the world; Blue Wolf Productions (run by Williams and his former babysitter/current wife, Marsha) has ponied up what Daily Variety describes as "a very substantial option" for the chance to develop Savage's heartwarming, buttfucking tale into a TV series. Asked to elaborate on the substantial sum, Savage said, "No comment," as he mopped up a puddle of toddler vomit with a handful of $1,000 bills.

The Savage saga has yet to hit TV screens, and according to the author, the project is indefinitely stalled in unapproved-rewrite purgatory. Does the lack of a final product affect the aforementioned option? "No comment," said Savage, as he helped his now 6-year-old son blow his nose into a mink stole.

SATURDAY, FOR ALL TIME Nothing happens on Saturdays. Ever.


SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1999

Blessed are those who defend themselves against naked, Samurai-sword-wielding freaks by brandishing instruments of worship. In the latest act of church-based violence, today in Surrey, England, a naked man with a Samurai sword ran amok during Mass at St. Andrew's Roman Catholic Church, slashing at churchgoers' throats and faces and injuring 15 people, reports the Associated Press. But the real story is in the rescue: In an act of quick-thinking, pragmatic heroism, off-duty Police Constable Tom Tracey (who had been singing a psalm) ripped out an organ pipe and struck the attacker over the head, while another member of the congregation protected himself with a big metal cross. There are no clues yet as to why the swordsman was naked.

Who doesn't love a happy ending?

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