Scary-ass Rottenwiler doesn't make any fucking sound whatsoever.
Whirled HQ reporter, Lane Chamberlane, came across this beautifully domesticated animal
while reporting on an insider investigative insinuater underground story involving politicians and prostitutes and money and even sex.
Anyhow, Lane is walking around Teenth St. where prostitutes and pimps and johns hang out and Lane is pretending that he wants sexual favors in exchange for cash when he comes across the gate that guards the reputed "King of Pimps", Edward "Heavy" Johnson and when Lane passes the gate this dog just walks up and looks at him with a cold regard and never barking or even panting and when Lane approached more closely the scary-ass thing just looked at him quietly and you could see his brain saying, "I'm not saying nothing right now but if you come over here I'll rip your collarbone off and then I'll sit next to you while you bleed to death." Damn.

Mafia Hit Man Caught in Traffic Dino DeDinatti, trigger man for the recently attenuated Concetto Crimo Familiariario, got stuck in a crapload of traffic on interstate 75 near Hahira, Georgia, while packing the body of the still warm yet extremely decapitated Tony "Hats" Clemente-Finzi (minus the hats) on the roof of his V-8 1991 Chevron Algonquin City Villanese Town Car Primo Connally SuedeLuxe Dreamboat Swallow Supreme. DeDonati, drinking steadily from the barrel of a whiskey flask disguised as a colt .45 since Florida, and flummoxed by the jam on the supposed "freeway", swerved impulsively into the HOV lane, reasoning that the trusty Algonquin was after all carrying more than one body on its way north, and anyhow did the Pope say both bodies had to be actively respirating or what?
Dino grabbed a bit of daylight, and floored the fifty-five hundred pound behemoth, plus the "dead weight" of Clemente-Finzi lashed to the roof rack with bungy cords and duct tape. Soon after, DeDinatti was clocked by a local highway patrolman at ninety-nine miles an hour, which piqued the lawman's dormant doughnut fed curiosity, not to mention the nifty suede wingtips protruding between the grommets of the blue vinyl tarp on the roof as it sped past the Exit 361 Cafe Erotica billboard they usually parked behind.
"SO? . . what's your hurry, need a shoe shine?" inquired Officer Ed "Hoss" Lumbah, Lieutenant Major First Class of Willowcoochee County, Georgia, sauntering up and leaning a hand against the open window of the Algonquin.
Responded a deadpan DeDinatti, "Officer, That is an excellent question and requires an honest and straightforward answer which I am more than glad to provide, that is, and I say this with all sincerity, so listen close -- we're traveling rapidly in the HOV Lane only because the my good friend and confidant, the late Mr. Finzi, requested to be laid to rest beneath the moss topped permafrost located in the deep northern and icy wastes of.... Chicken, Alaska."
To which Officer Lumbah responded with a derisive chuckle, "Chicken, Alaska, really? Well, mister Dee-do-knotty, I think you better get your bering strait, good buddy."
At which moment Mr. DeDinatti drifted off into a zone of rapt inattention pregnant with possibility. He pondered aggressively flooring his Chevron Algonquin Swallow Supreme, once again harnessing the explosive power of refined petroleum to propel him at brisk yet breakneck speeds across the county line and towards Clemente-Finzi's final resting places and then keep driving and leaving behind his life of crime and perhaps settling on a corner lot in Chicken, Alaska and living the thin life in the witness protection program but without the government stickin' a speculum up his ass.

Can Nature & Man Coexist? Hmmmmm...?
With a beautiful, restful, clear and delightful sunset sky dotted by a vagrant cloud and juxtaposed in the distance to a cell phone tower's silhoutte , one can easily contemplate a mutually beneficial coexistence between man and nature. Why can't we have cell phones and tv and world wide interwebness and at the same time live on the beach with aqua blue waves lapping lovingly against an isolated seashore licking the soles of our feet as we press our sexual things against one another in the raw heady physicality of carnal desire and enjoy the air and and boogie boarding or simlpy dry humping a sand castle on the white and sunny seashore and reading a totally crappy mystery novel as it "races" to its inevitable conclusion?

Creative Uses for Government Crane
The Georgia state government has found new and creative uses for its new 250, 000 dollar crane. It is used to keep a ladder from being stolen. Each night crane operator, Felix Algernon, attaches a 12 foot aluminum ladder to the crane and hoists it 5 stories in the air and out of reach of thieves and insidous ladder looters who skulk around government buildings looking for unsecured items suchs as 12 foot ladders, ropes, industrial work gloves, road paint, road cones, road reflectors, WD-40, tire irons, keys, bits of string and tin foil. Since the crane has been used to secure this ladder no one has stolen the ladder which is valued at about 90 government bucks.

Rural Dweller Comes to Big City
Clay Burfield, from Roopville, GA came to visit his second cousion Monk Perkster in Atlanta, GA and was quite taken with the sites, sounds and smells of the big city. Said Burfield, "It had an unpleasant aroma at times but then again so does Roopville on a hot summer day when you are standing in the cow pasture. They tol me that a guy from Buena Vista, GA painted the head I'm sittin' next to and that his name was Saint E.O.M. I was mighty impressed and asked Monk to take my picture which he did and there it is. The folks back at home are going to be sorry they missed this trip because not only did I sit next to a giant painted head I ate some stinky cheese and drove a rental car down the freeway at 80 miles per hour with only a couple of feet separating me from everyone else. You gotta have a large pair in your nutsack to do this everyday. Whew!"

Manhole Out of Wank
Workers in Le Mars, IA neglected to realign a manhole after a sewer repair and that has been worrying drivers and pedestrians by its out of alignment look. According to ace Whirled HQ reporter Lane Chamberlane, resident Jane Flookster said, "It makes me nervous. Its out of wank. How long would it have taken to turn the manhole 10 degrees left. Sheesh. Everytime I pass by I feel unnaturally apprehensive. Its like I'm waiting to take off in a plane or sitting in the dentist's waiting room just before a root canal. Our government is not working!"