My first exposure to "The Onion" was my freshman year of college while dropping a deuce on the second floor of Aber hall. Actually, to clarify, I was perched atop a porcelain stoop grunting and straining and that's when I discovered The Onion. Ben, the floor's resident adviser, took it upon himself to post new Onion stories on the inside the stall doors. In fact, he took to this duty so diligently that I thought perhaps this task was de facto RA procedure; give official announcements, tell dorm residents to "shut the hell up," post articles from The Onion. His efforts were appreciated two fold. Not only was I able to relax enough to labor out many a brown baby boy, but The Onion provided me with enough fake news to satiate my hunger for well crafted satire and not enough real news to allow me to continue to be an ill-informed American.
Cheney waits until last minute again to buy 9/11 gifts.