MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 13 The week began with an absolutely thrilling display of outsider performance art on the streets of downtown Seattle. The show commenced at 2 a.m., when a woman in her 30s, dressed only in a one-piece bathing suit, began running frantically back and forth in front of the Days Inn on Aurora. Her dazzling physicality was underscored by a deceptively simple text, delivered in a piercing scream: "I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die! I don't wanna die!" The performance climaxed as the artist ran screaming into the Days Inn's glass front doors, drawing the attention of the hotel's security guards, and soon after, the Seattle Police. Unfortunately, the attending authorities took the woman's incisive, anguished drama to be a rollicking slapstick comedy; eyewitnesses report police and hotel guards chortled like French men at a Jerry Lewis film fest as the now-restrained woman kicked her performance into high gear: "WHOA, MAMA! I DON'T WANNA DIE!!" An ambulance soon arrived, and the howling artist was strapped to a stretcher and hauled off.

TUESDAY, SEPTEMBER 14 Sluts rejoice! Today the Miss America Pageant revealed that it will lift its 49-year ban on women who have had divorces and abortions, reports the Associated Press. Since 1950, contestants vying for Miss America's coveted rhinestone crown (and buckets of scholarship money) have had to swear that they have never been married or pregnant; new rules would only require women to sign a document saying "I am unmarried" and "I am not pregnant and I am not the natural or adoptive parent of any child," thus opening Miss America's doors to both divorcees and abortioneers, as well as women who had children who later died (nothing aids the grieving process like slapping on a bikini, smearing Vaseline across your teeth, and submitting yourself to the judgment of a panel of nobodies and has-beens). Officials say the new rules are needed to protect the annual Atlantic City extravaganza from New Jersey's anti-discrimination laws; opponents say the change is a slap in the face to Miss America's tradition of purity and respectability. "It [the change] is totally unnecessary and will ultimately lead to the destruction of the Miss America program," said Leonard C. Horn, former pageant CEO. But Horn shouldn't fret too hard: On Wednesday, after a mere 24 hours of backlash, Miss America officials will revoke the rule change, rendering the Miss America pageant hussy-free once more.

WEDNESDAY, SEPTEMBER 15 Speaking of hussies: In the latest issue of the popular soft-core porn magazine Men's Fitness, the real Miss America, Pamela Anderson Lee, opens up on topics ranging from what she likes to do to her butt to where she keeps her new placenta (place it on the Butt Blaster exercise machine and in the refrigerator, respectively). The highly informative fitness article goes on to reveal the V.I.P. star's favorite male body part (the iliac crest -- one of the pelvic bones) as well as the worst pick-up line ever used on her ("My bologna has a first name, it's L-A-R-G-E."). And while it is decidedly cheesy for Men's Fitness to boost their circulation by exploiting the willingly exploited Lee, it is just as cheesy for Last Days to exploit their exploitation, so we'll just shut up now.

·· Also today: A psycho in Texas (not too redundant) armed with two George W. Bush-sanctioned, legally concealed handguns burst into a Fort Worth Baptist church, where he gunned down 14 people, killing seven before killing himself.

THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 16 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 re-stage 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.

FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 17 Today, a thoroughly revolting story all the way from Riverside, California, where the mother and grandfather of a 6-year-old girl are facing charges of torture and child endangerment after sheriff's deputies found the mute child chained to a bedpost, weighing only 30 pounds, clothed in a diaper, and covered in feces, reports the Associated Press. Grandfather Loren Bess, 76, and mother Cynthia Topper, 39, have pleaded innocent to the felony charges, defending their harnessing of the emaciated child to the bed as necessary disciplinary action and characterizing the girl as "healthy and happy" in their care. "I don't care if I drop dead," said mother Cynthia. "But I want her to have a beautiful life." "We kept her as contented as we could -- she was as happy and healthy as I am," said Grandpa Loren, despite the fact that he was neither chained to a bed, clothed in a diaper, nor covered with feces. Both parties are, however, full of shit.

SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 18 Each week, Last Days ventures fearlessly into the chaotic world to bring our readers tales of humor and heartbreak, magic and mayhem. However, there are some places so fucked-up scary even we won't go there, and so we send our gullible lackeys, who this week brought back the goods on today's Wallingford Wurstfest. Billed as a benefit for Saint Benedict's Catholic School ("Where Kids Love to be Learning and Learn to be Loving!"), the Wurstfest brought together a stunning array of tripe-filled intestines cooked to perfection, along with delightful baked goods and terrifyingly rickety old carnival rides. Says our Wurstfest correspondent: "All of the rides were beyond filthy, covered with several generations of cotton candy-colored vomit and operated by people most Wallingford residents would report to the police if they saw them walking down the street. Still, parents happily lined up to buy their precious wurst-stuffed children $1.50 rides on these rickety death traps." Thankfully, no children were killed at the Fest, due to the intercession of St. Claudia Nadine, the patron saint of linked meats.

SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER 19 This morning, after a particularly egregious malt liquor-and-painkillers binge, Last Days awoke to find ourselves in beautiful San Diego, where we were immediately whisked off to an event that made us long for even the Wurstfest: The San Diego Gay Rodeo Pool Party. Under a sunny California sky, a veritable ranchful of gay cowboys and those who wanna fuck them cavorted around the Marriott Hotel pool, playing such community-building games as "Stuff My Speedo With Ping-Pong Balls" before competing in deadly serious "Best Butt" and "Best Basket" contests. And while Last Days can't dismiss the entire rodeo (if it weren't for gay rodeos, who would ever break the gay livestock?), this embarrassing event filled us with so much disdain for the homosexual lifestyle we almost bashed ourselves.

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