To say that Reynard's carpentry was unpopular with the locals would be the frailest and most laughably pale understatement the newspaper had ever issued in its sad, obscure history. Of course, in the journalistic service of a sad, obscure hamlet, the editors ever preferred to err on the side of safety when it came to such delicate matters as sodomy. The article of the 24ème de mars shows that the carpenter's name was Reynard, as his rural shop's sun-cracked sign said simply “REYNARD / LES MEU...

My housemate, my ever-belligerent, ever-arrogant housemate, died last week. He didn't lose his life, mind you. He simply vanished - he picked up and left. It wasn't unexpected. He had been planning to move before September, out of necessity. His debt had been mounting, rising like a tombstone over his head. He needed to follow the jobs, or regress to parental dependency. It was eerie, come September - he was still here, a cancer patient who lived a year when told he'd last a month. He was alr...

Welcome to the Vatican. Our doors are always open - to baptised, paying customers, of course. We needn't taint our soil with infidels. On the right, you'll see our department of gender identity. Here, helpful decisions are made which protect the Catholic world from the evils of alternate sexuality. On the right, you'll see our foreign relations department. Here, experts choose which genocides and other large-scale abominations to support. On the right, you'll see our historical library. Many ...