UnNews:Hallucinating Kettle called black by Pot

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Hallucinating Kettle called black by Pot

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11 August 2006

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Pol and pa kettle go to town

Pol and Pa Kettle in better times. Vaudeville was their life, warming the hearts of America, their mission.

GIBLET CREEK, Kentuckistan -- Pol Pot's notorious transvestite younger brother Pol Kettle, aka Ma Kettle, was arrested today on his property in Giblet Creek, Kentuckistan today by federal agents for failure to pay taxes on "corn squeezins". In addition to keeping a huge stockpile of white lightning about his property, Kettle has been charged with possession of "killer Thai stick", with a 7% opium content with intent to distribute, to wit, 400 tons.

Nervous lawmen crouched behind their various vehicles outside the front gate of the Kettle residence, as ace hostage negotiator Oliver O'Reilly exhorted the last remaining relative of the Pots and the Kettles to come out with his hands up.

"It was touch and go there, for a while." said a sanguine O'Reilly. "Kettle was pretty baked on his own product, and he had been raving about the IRS and Monica Lewinsky for a while, and then he got all still and quiet. Next thing I knew, he was hallucinating his brother, Pol Pot, was standing in front of his drying racks, calling him a nigger! He sure shot up the place something fierce! Now if that don't beat all!"

Round the corner gun

Ma Kettle thought he'd have the edge by using state of the art weaponry.

Hardened felon Ma Kettle was determined to take a stand for his White supremecist views and his right to bear arms. Unfortunately, being continuously stoned for 6 years eroded his common sense, and his arms of choice were Israeli-US made round the corner automatic weapons. Unable to control the direction of his fire, Kettle sprayed much of his own compound with explosive tipped bullets, entirely missing the hundreds of law men and military personnel gathered to take him down.

Led away in shackles and a paisley evening gown past a line of reporters, Kettle had little to say in his defense. When he vomited on a State patrolman's shoes, it belied the quality of liquor he'd been manufacturing. Glancing back towards his beloved acreage, now flaming with occasional small explosions, he said, "Vaudeville cursed me! I was never any good at anything else. My fans let me down, and I'm not going to apologise for being irate."

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