A lot has transpired here at the Reglar Wiglar in these many months past. There has been a lot of soul searching amongst the staff, a lot of spiritual journeys taken. A couple people got shit-canned. All par for the course in the heavy-hitting, no-holds-barred, take-no-prisoners kind of journalism that we aspire to here at the Reglar Wiglar. It's a rough-neck, cut-throat, backstabbing business this paper business we find ourselves slashing through day in and day out. Just last week I had to fire Joey Germ's kind-hearted old grandmother for pilfering out of the whiskey fund. That shit doesn't fly around here. Take it to New City for god's sake, we're trying to run a "freebie" here, not some charity for aging alcoholics.
The most recent development has been a move for us. That's right, we lost our lease—lost our lease, got evicted, you know, whatever. Bottom line is we had to get the hell out of the area. Since being forcibly moved from our comfortable headquarters on scenic Western Avenue, we have secured a suitable substitute to serve as the basis of our operations: a quiet and spacious alcove tucked into a tree-lined street of a clean and courteous north side neighborhood (gang disputes are settled by ten o'clock on school nights.
The move itself brought about substantial change as well as growth. A new trash can was purchased for the northwest corner of the office so that the garbage needs to be taken out less frequently than in the past. Muggsy McMurphy's desk has been moved closer to the door so his co-workers don't have to smell him as he comes and goes and Malcolm Tent's long and hard fought battle for toilet paper cozies for the employee bathroom ended in a concession on management's part. (They really do look nice.)
Some things have stayed the same, however. Complaints, for example, still fall on deaf ears as do requests for raises. Hints at certain people's resignations were again unheeded as the attempt to get some new blood (lower salaries) into the ball game was once again aborted. Big heads remain inflated, their egos constantly being self-fed bullshit to sate their voracious appetites. A thesaurus was procured as well.
Other than that, for you nostalgia buffs, here's the same old bullshit.