Tax Evasion
As Jeff was led away in handcuffs for tax evasion, he tried to hide from the stinking paparazzi and wondered what form you used to report rodents caught . .
Brown Eyed Girl
Candace, a Brown Widow spider, was miffed; her cousins–the Black Widows–got all the press, mostly bad, but also some good. She should be famous–she had quite a record, she had produced thousands of children, had eaten her last 14 mates, and had bitten three cats, four dogs, and two humans, and still the stinking paparazzi ignored her.
Licking Their Wounds
After a thorough drubbing in the midterms, a number of former candidates were looking for a quiet place to lick their wounds without the stinking paparazzi sticking a camera in their face or some news goon doing the same thing with the microphone, asking for comments. Though the location they found was off the beaten path, there was some question if room service would be up to the standards they had come to expect while on the campaign trail . . .
Where Politicians Come From
Jonathan wasn’t all that happy to be labeled one of the “Stinking Paparazzi”, but being one had had its rewards Like the day–following a very iffy lead–he discovered the factory where politicians are made. While governments or political parties could specify color, language, basic ideology software, and diatribe to suit, the mold and the basic platform were the same for all. Lying, treachery, deceit, and insincerity were all standard no extra cost items . . .
Unauthorized Photos
The White House Press Office and the Secret Service were livid; they had no idea how someone had gotten a camera into the President’s suite in his Hawaiian hotel room that the wags called the Hawaiian White House. Some stinking paparazzi must have bribed a maid, and now, photos of the president getting out of the shower had gone viral on YouTube. Some wondered if it was revenge by Angela Merkel of Germany for the NSA tapping her phone . . .
Stinking Paparazzi Again
The General, reporting to the Armed Services Committee and known to be quite “hawkish,” had categorically stated “No comment at this time,” but there they were again, the stinking paparazzi, dogging him as he walked to his armored Hummer. Maybe his tail gunner could sort them out or at least generate a little respect. . . . . David, Sf.G.