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Air Talks When we first heard that pilots for some company called "American Air Lines" were gonna go out on strike, we figured that flying Air Planes must be sort of like playing Air Guitar, and so flying on Air Lines must be about, like, snorting lines of Air coke, or something -- in other words, like, who gives a flying fuck? Certainly not drug dealers and drug paraphernalia manufacturers. And certainly not the Air. So who's left? Fortunately, just before we went public with this whole stinking expose, somebody, like, accidentally went out and got a newspaper, which sort of pointed out a few fundamental mistakes we were making in our analysis. As a result, we never ran that story, but, instead, are telling you about it now, so all the hard work we put into it doesn't go totally to waste. But having fucked-up so badly, then, we worked extra hard to try to scoop the fuck out of everybody else. We even got has-been former most trusted man alive Walter Cronkite, to stop spitting in peoples' food long enough to go find out what the fuck was going on with this strike thing. Uhh, but, like, unfortunately, everything he sent back to us, even after we painstakingly scraped off all the logies and lasagna, was, like, total incomprehensible gibberish, so, in the end, we had to rely on, you know, that same mental faculty which allows one to review books without ever reading them and to critique films without even seeing the trailer or knowing who the actors are. In other words, an informed source deep in the Airline Industry and/or the pilot industry or whichever, has just provided us with the following list of final demands being made by the Air Pilots Union, without agreement to which, American Airlines will be forced to confront the horrific spectre of tens of thousands of stranded assholes getting shit-faced and raising hell in airport bars all over the world:
We the Pilots Union, like, demand the fucking following:
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