Can't get douchier tan that

So I win then?

...maybe...

Those dudes a screwed.

http://msnbcmedia.msn.com/j/msnbc/Components/Photos/060216/060216_stapp_vmed_4p.widec.jpg

Well done.

THE SOUTH SOUTHEAST
Beginning five miles south of the southernmost part of Swan Lake, and extending south for another twenty miles, the towns of this district are mostly nondescript, though the traveler looking for novel experiences among the suburbanites could do worse than to give this district a gander.

South of ONION HEAD and north of Route 665W we find communities with names such as Hubris, HUBRIS HEIGHTS, OWLTOWN, Jujube, Judy, JUDGE, WANNABE, Choptown, and Piewackit. South of 665W are the towns of Classical, Baby Huey, NUFFIN, City Town, and NO KNOCK (where the town boosters have devised the clever town slogan, “No Knockers Allowed.”). Other towns south of 665W and west of Pariah include Valhallaburg, HOWDY TOWN (“The Friendly City”), ZWEIBACH, and PUMPKINSEED (named for the man who accidentally took the life of James Dean).
Other towns east of these include USELESS, Comedo, Brill, and New Serenity.

SPOTLIGHT ON: NEW SERENITY

This once-great city, now a tiny village, twenty-nine miles south of the lake, and six miles south of Route 665W, was founded in 1846 by settlers seeking to establish a utopian community. However, with the discovery of gold on March 2nd of 1847, matters got quickly out of hand. Although news of the discovery traveled slowly, by March 4th of 1847 the area was inundated by “city slickers” and get-rich-quick schemers, and before long the greed of the resident idealists got the better of them, and exorbitant prices were soon being charged for even the simplest staples, such as dynamite, blasting caps, and tinderboxes. In that single month, the population of the town blossomed from 404 to 41,378. Unfortunately, in April of 1847, the residue of the mines was discovered to consist largely of worthless iron pyrites. The town’s population shrank back to 493, and things quickly returned to normal, though the townspeople were never quite the same for the experience. Having fled urban strife to found a community free from care and greed, the discovered that when riches were to be made, they could be just as ready to seize an opportunity as the shrewdest railroad magnate, Wall Street speculator or Yankee trader. Thereafter, the residents of the town turned themselves en masse to such dubious enterprises as the manufacure of wooden nutmegs and the plugging of nickels. From 1847 on, the town developed a most unsavory, and sadly, well-deserved reputation for “sharp dealing and smooth palaver,” and, based on the town’s reputation alone, many a small-time lawyer practicing in and around the area found himself called to service in the big city to lend his talents to the resolution of particularly intractable cases.

From 1866 to 1968 the Felton County Fair was held there, but when that departed for the greener and more lucrative pastures of nearby COWBIRD, the population of New Serenity suffered a significant decline, from 9,876 in 1960 to 516 in 2000. Today, the town, with a population of 563, is something of a backwater; its sole source of revenue, in fact, seems to be that which comes from exploiting its notorious past in the form of rather exaggerated and in fact downright spurious “tourist attractions,” such as “The Olmec Giant,” an enormous stone head allegedly “excavated” in 1969, and “The Betelgeuse Saucer,” supposedly “discovered” in 1975; it was touted as an enormous cigar-shaped “spacecraft” made of a “miraculous non-magnetic substance,” that, upon investigation by reputable scientists, turned out to be a crude plastic forgery. Perhaps most outlandish of all the hoaxes perpetrated upon a credulous world by the roguish townspeople was the alleged discovery, in 1998, of “Christ’s Letters to Mary Magdelene,” which were immediately hooted down as an impossibly inept forgery but which, to this day, still command the reverence of the occasional credulous bands of devotees who embark upon sporadic pilgrimages to the area to behold the wondrous sight. There, they can also purchase such spurious relics as “hay from the cradle of Baby Jesus” and “threads from the napkin that was used by Judas at the last supper.”

The towns that lie north of Route 665W, south of Hubris, and west of Pariah include such charming garden spots as WEISENHEIM (“Wise Home”), Ascham, WISEDUP, and YIP, named for the composer of “Over the Rainbow,” one ‘Yip’ Harburg. South of these are towns like Gag Rule, YOKELTOWN, Minx, Sage, and Tilden, named for “the real winner of the election of 1876.”

There are many charming towns and villages that lie due south of Pariah. These include “old-fashioned” but progressive communities such as Syringe, CONKER, Plato’s Cave, CYRLL, Oingo, and Onassis, named for the Greek shipping magnate who magnanimously married President Kennedy’s tragic widow. South of these are such quaint burgs as No Count, SHINGA, Myrrh, BONER, POORMOUTH, Macho, and SEDULOUS.

THE FAR SOUTHEAST
We conclude our survey of the communities south of Gibsonia and Anytown with a description of the towns that lie south and east of Pariah. It is in this region that the would-be exurban Magellan will find some of the oddest and most distinctively “American” small towns in the region.

Two Miles to the east of Pariah is the village of Joy, founded in 1779 and initially populated by a small and extremist sect of devout Congregationalists, “certaine of whome w[e]re gi[v]en to munching on stale ry[e] bre[a]d, yclept by them, ‘Crazy Bre[a]d’ …and they thanne w[oul]d shout, ‘It tasteth good!’ As th[e]y reel’d in ye street, they w[oul]d rave regarding ye ‘woundrous and yea, ecstatick visions’ they hadde, whil[e] all bu[s]iness in ye town w[oul]d cease.” (In 1969 the village hosted the Joy Peace and Love Festival of Peace, Love and Joy, where, incidentally, much the same behavior was observed among many of the concertgoers.)

South of Joy is where we find the hamlets of Generica, Obvious, Crybaby, and Bob Hope (founded in 1942 and named for the beloved slope-nosed entertainer, who, as far as is known, never visited the town named in his honor). South of these are the communities of Vulgar, Rarebit, Free Love, OBLIVION, CAKE HOLE, Noble, Intelligent, Lax, and Slippery Elm Club (founded in 1952 and named for Joe McCarthy’s famous remark regarding how he longed to sneak aboard Adlai Stevens’ campaign train with a “slippery-elm club” and “beat some sense” into his advisors.)

Located along Route 665W, COWBIRD, founded in 1958, has been the home of the Felton County Fair from 1969 to the present. It managed to achieve this distinction by persuading the organizing body of the Fair that the town of New Serenity was “yesterday’s town” and “full of crooks and swindlers.” As neither charge was untrue, even in the strictest sense, their appeal was successful and since that time, COWBIRD
has flourished, as well it might, for the County Fair draws crowds from over 100 neighboring communities and has established the town as an attractive summer resort, despite its lack of proximity to any major scenic attraction.

South of Route 665W, and also benefiting greatly from the annual Fair, are the towns of SHRIMP, CHUCK BOX, ARROWROOT, Mangia Fagigli, Mockey Point, Ampersand, and Slabtown, founded in 1970, the latter so named because of the cheap “slab basement” houses built to accommodate the workers drawn to the area by the County Fair.

Four miles east of Joy and a half mile south of Zither is a community with a very interesting story, one of the very few named after Richard Milhous Nixon, the disgraced former President of the United States.

SPOTLIGHT ON: NIXONTOWN

Nixontown, founded in 1952, has never had an entirely wholesome reputation. Some have even characterized it as “the land of smash and grab and anything to win.” Its reputation is not entirely undeserved, though in the mid-1970s the town underwent a fiscal crisis which saw it nearly going into state receivership, only to be rescued in 1974, when its reputation was rehabilitated in part by a new appreciation for those who would, indeed, do “anything to win.” Nixonland accomplished this feat in a way that may prove useful and instructive to small towns everywhere, particularly those which have seen their industries desert them and their populations abandon them.

The first thing the town administrators of Nixonland did to rehabilitate the community was to change its informal motto from “Law and Order” to “Anything Goes.” Police looked the other way when racketeers took over the town, doled out protection money to top town officials, dealt cocaine out of the Laundromat, opened up a house of prostitution directly across from City Hall, openly flouted ordinances against gambling and public drunkenness, and recklessly violated traffic laws. Thus, Nixonland became something of a felon’s playground, a veritable paradise of outlawry that was also attractive to convicted criminals, psychopathic playboys, junkie celebrities, disgraced royalty, wealthy foreigners, and eccentric millionaire recluses. All of these new arrivals were happy to pay the town the various fees it demanded in return for turning a blind eye to their misbehavior. It is said that Nixonland catered, not only to every known vice, but to ones which hadn’t even been invented yet. Its high school was used as a testing ground for new forms of hallucinogenic drugs; its tobacconists and even its candy stores openly peddled reefers, and its X-Rated movie theatres admitted all comers, regardless of age. It was said that when a man wore out his welcome in his own community, even one as notorious as Pariah, Nixonland would welcome him with open arms. The town was, and is to this day, a virtual clearing house for miscreants. Pickpockets and former CIA men often jostle up against each other in its grocery stores and pharmacies. Pimps are often seen ‘hoisting a few’ in the presence of disgraced former politicians. Defrocked priests, disbarred lawyers, and Doctors who no longer had a license to practice medicine all find a new, and most congenial home from the moment they set foot in Nixonland. Strangely enough, its rate of reported crime is among the lowest in two counties. (In all likelihood, this has less to do with the behavior of its citizenry than from the fact that, in the words of one law official, “Crime? Chances are, if you do the crime in Nixonland, it’s not even considered a crime.”)

South of Nixontown are quite a few communities with reputations nearly as bad. For the most part, towns such as BRAVO, Buzzard, KITH, MOREL, and STINGY BRIM still cling to the “rough-and-ready” ways of their founders, many of whom were themselves former desperados keen to make a new start and “live clean,” only to discover, in many cases, that rascality was thoroughly embedded in their very natures. To the south of these are more respectable communities, many originally populated by decent folks who fled the towns peopled by “miscreants and evildoers.” Towns such as Therma, MORBID, BOOMTOWN, PURITY, Armageddon, RASHER, BOOSTER, and TOM TOM fall into this category.

Three of the newer towns in this area have interesting origins behind their names. Big Crayon, founded in 1924, was named for its major tourist attraction, an enormous crayon. NEW MARACAIBO, founded in 1971, was and is a haven for immigrants from Venezuela. The village of Orwell, founded in 1948, celebrated 1984 with a “1984” festival, with Big Brother balloons for the kiddies and “all manner of fun rides for young and old alike,” including “Down the Memory Hole” and a scary trip through the spooky “Room 101.”

At the easternmost extreme of this region are those communities that are either on or near Route 666S. Though far from the city proper, their proximity to a major road has made them newly popular among families just starting out who wish to purchase an affordable home. These communities, which are experiencing something of a revival after years of comparative isolation and neglect, include OH BOY, AMEN, Streetcar, Maroon, and ASH CAN. South of these are the even more remote, semi-wilderness communities of Ornery, BEAR CLAW, PURTY MOUTH, BETTERN NOTHIN, Antimacassar, GOOCH, ITCHY BROTHER, and, at the intersection of 666S and 665E, the town of Shoofly. However, those planning to relocate to the area should be advised of the following: Although they welcome newcomers (and their tax dollars), these communities are not anxious to embrace big-city crime and “lousy attitudes.” Newcomers are well-advised to lay low until the townspeople get to know you. Acquiring a pickup truck, a shotgun, and a hound dog is a useful first step. Chewing tobacco will win you many “brownie” points. (Even an ability to play the banjo would be a step in the right direction!)

OK?

Are you asking me if I'm satisfied with the douching? I think some of you could have done much better. Dimenno, you're all set.

OK. Here you go!

That would go under the "I just douched" thread.

How about Tron Guy?

Ewwww! That should go under the "I should have worn a cup" thread!

Better.

If you were forced to get an emo haircut you'd be pretty bummed too.

Good. Now I can go back to working on my Evil Plot to Blow Up Batman, which, not coincidentally, is also the name of a track on the final album by the Mssrs. Berry and Torrence; namely, JAN AND DEAN MEET BATMAN.

OH. MY. GOD.

No doubt. The one in glasses has to be pushing 13. What is up?

“You know, there are a great many matters of far more consequence you could be looking into. You have in interest in history, I can see, from the intelligent look in your eyes, so let me give you a brief run-down on why we are in the state we are in today, as regards our country’s position on the global stage and our current regrettable financial dilemma. It all started with the Sumerians, and the rise of the written word. I doubt that the Egyptians and their enigmatic hieroglyphs were even remotely as influential. A mere blot of the escutcheon, so to speak. But the Code of Hammurabi was vital. However, a development many too frequently discount is India’s great epic poem, The Ramayana. And, of course, Moses, Buddha, Christ, Muhammad, Martin Luther, and their ilk. Did I mention Joseph Smith? Note that I did not. Nor Mary Baker Eddy. Now, after the Peloponnesian war and The Trojan War, which some say never happened, though I can’t say I agree with that theory, there were Alexander's Wars of Conquest, and the Decline and Fall of the Roman empire. And now we’re verging vaguely closer to the modern era. Leave us not forget 1066--The Battle of Hastings. The Magna Carta. The invention of moveable type. Columbus discovers America. Joan of Arc. Forgive me if my chronology is flawed; I’m making a larger point. The Italian invention of capitalist system of finance, which led, of course, to the modern-day Mafia which has had such a baneful influence on our politics. Oh, yes! They have penetrated to the very topmost reaches of our system of jurisprudence, though now is not the time or place to discuss it. Besides, I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s see—we have the Crusades, The Black Death—thank God for cats—do you have a cat?—I have seven—hmm, The Hundred Years War, the Thirty Years War, The Seven Year War—do you detect a trend? And the revolutions: the American Revolution, the good old French Revolution, the industrial revolution, the invention of the telegraph & laying of the transatlantic cable—it’s been quite a while since I’ve laid any cable, if you get my drift—do forgive my lewd digression--the Revolutions of 1848, the American Civil War, The Soviet Revolution, World War One, the influenza pandemic, World War Two, the dropping of atomic bomb, the Cold War, the Chinese Communist Revolution—patience—I am going somewhere with this—isn’t it odd how, in the historical account, wars have been supplemented by cataclysms and revolutions?—the Korean War, the so-called Suez “Crisis”—hah!--the Bay of Pigs, the Cuban Missile Crisis—now there was a crisis for you--the Kennedy assassination—and if that ordinal listing doesn’t make feel as through the three are somehow connected, then shame on you—and finally, the greatest event since the Crucifixion--The Moon Landing. We should never have gone there. Ever since then, we’ve been having a lot of funny weather lately. Full moon makes all the crazies come out, or so they say. For instance, the unfortunate occurrences at the Fine Building. Lots of burglaries lately, right? Well, I’ll tell you something, I’ve been looking at the census figures, and in just the past three years, the rate of property crimes had gone up over 200 per cent in that area. It was about 800 back in 67, then it dipped down to 783 in 68, maybe because violent crime was up, and in 69 it was back up to 890. Now, the figures for 70 and 71 ain’t in yet,” he conceded, “but I’d be willing to bet they’re still above 800 for both them years. Now think for a minute. An average of about 2 break-ins per day. Rounded down to whole numbers. Actually, more precisely, about 2.2. per day, if we assume a figure of 800. Now, look at the historical record, and you will see what a comparatively minor phenomenon we are talking about here. It’s all part of nature’s simple plan, though—from the biggest event to the smallest. All these events, I am convinced, are designed to remind us, over and over again if need be, that the entire history of humanity is little more than the squabbling of mites on a plum. That’s a given. Now, the chances that your father and mother would meet and fall in love and have a child who happened to be you—the chances are infinitesmal. So what makes you think that on any given day I was responsible for any one of them break-ins? The chances are 1 in 800, ain’t they?” he said, with a queasy smile, as he saw I wasn’t buying it.

Welcome to Howdy Town!

CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CCCP 1920-1973

The Cesspit of Anytown was and is still located far to
the West. I have briefly mentioned it before, but I
will now take the opportunity to explain how a town
can live and die and live again. By 1973, things got
so bad in the formerly independent City of Cross
Country Plaza that the town nearly went into
receivership, and was only rescued at practically the
last moment from that fate by becoming a part of the
larger city proper.

CCCP is divided into three areas: Madport and Vine
Street, at the juncture of the Red River and the Salt
River; Haven, the riverside south of Madport, and the
Interior, which is the name that designates the inland
portions of the city where it borders communities such
as Mayfair to the south and Bigtown to the east.

Although it was always known, from the earliest
frontier days, as a place where ambitious bunco
artists and prostitutes invariably gravitated once
they were exiled from more respectable communities,
from what I've heard, things in the CCCP only started
getting really bad right after the First World War.
Because, after Prohibition hit home, the Police pretty
much did as they pleased; they worked fist in glove
with the mob and the crooked pols, and as long as the
suits and big shots could holler Red ever time the
labor unions put up a squawk, they were happy as a
dummy cutting out paper dolls with a pair of blunt
scissors.

The crooks were basically unbeatable. People liked
liquor and they especially liked illegal liquor and so
they looked the other way when the racketeers carved
Cross Country Plaza into a patchwork quilt of turfs. I
wouldn't be surprised if the mob boys gave out
licenses to their fellow crooks to run every variety
of scam from high to low, just so long as it didn't
involve bootlegging and they got to wet their beaks a
little.

In Haven proper, for instance, you had the thieves who
broke into the boxcars along the railroad tracks that
skirted the wharves. By the 1930s these petty crooks
were a big problem for the railroad bulls, but there
were so many of them that they couldn't do an awful
lot to stop them, other than to shoot to kill. And
that wasn't allowed. Usually.

Madport itself in those days was overrun with all
sorts of clip joints, knock-out dives, and bordellos,
and sometimes one operation served all three purposes.
I'm told that right after the Second World War, for
whatever reason, there was a crack-down of sorts, and
the hustlers had to lay low for a spell, but there was
so much money to be had from graft that corruption
seeped right back in. And the reform movement just
plain fizzled when even the mostly honest Johns were
beginning to feel the pinch in their wallets--after it
looked like they were no longer going to benefit from
the small-time hustles of the criminal element. As in,
say, no more back-room poker or buying steaks that
fell off a truck.

Another thing: extra police cost extra money, which
meant higher taxes and fewer services.

So the reform boys got the old heave-ho in '55 and the
place has been a wide-open town ever since:
streetwalkers, bag-men, bookies and dope dealers
started swarming into the area, and Madport
attracted the best and the brightest. If you wanted
to get a cup o' kindness after hours, it was no problem--
there were plenty of blind pigs and key clubs
that the police turned a deaf ear and a blind eye to.
Taxes went down, but sensible businessmen
started fleeing the town for less corrupt environs,
places where they wouldn't have to grease
the garbage collectors, the fuzz, and the local
shake-down artists and their myriad protection
rackets every other week.

It didn't have to play out that way.

During the prosperous times of the 50s and 60s, you
could almost make a halfway decent living by playing
it on the square, but I guess the old saying holds
true: Once a crook, always a crook.

Furthermore, all through the fifties and well into the
early sixties, it seemed like the town bigwigs were so
nutty about Commies under the bed they were blind as
bats to the fact that crooks were stealing the
mattress, the bedsprings, and the headboard. Town
Hall, of course, as in a lot of these towns that are
on the skids, was a hotbed of gossip. Heard it in the
road, the assistant chief of police would say to the
town clerk. They're selling hot furs out of the Dirty
Warehouse. Call me a liar, the DPW Man would say to
the DPH Man, but there's a chiseller who owns a
restaurant on Vine Street that needs an "inspection."
You sure didn't hear it from me, the fire chief would
say to the Mayor, but it looks like all those
suspicious fires just might be arson, only we got
nothing to go on because all the evidence has somehow
disappeared. Of course, they both knew very well that
evidence kept in a police storage locker doesn't walk
away all by itself, but they were also wise in the
ways of the world.

By the mid-to-late sixties, the town fathers were up
in arms about all the rag-tag bands of hippies walking
around stoned and begging for alms. Their solution:
the thin blue line. Isolate the problem. So the Vine
Street section of Madport became the stomping grounds
of all sorts of indigent children and young adults. A
sort of hippie concentration camp.

And it wasn't too long before folks in the Big City
neighborhoods to the east started cracking wise about
Madport. And so the good citizens of Cross Country
became defensive. You'd hear them say, "It's the
Jews," or "It's the niggers and the chukes," or "It's
them dirty hillbillies coming in here from Hickory
Hollow" or "It's them damn hippies."

By the early seventies, the hippies were driven out
and a real estate boom developed. Old Victorian-era
mansions were torn down and gleaming condominiums
erected in their stead. But decent folks were loathe
to move back to occupy these vacant towers until
something was done about the lawlessness and
confiscatory taxes.

In 1971 the lawlessness was addressed by a grand sweep
in which all homeless and unemployed people were
detained or driven out, presumably to populate the
outer boroughs.

In 1973 the tax situation was addressed by merging
with the City of Anytown. Predictably enough, this
merger was fraught with a great many problems, which
will be addressed in some detail in future chapters.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CCCP 1973-1980
PART ONE

Over the course of the last 35 years the progress of
the City of Cross Country Plaza (CCCP) has been, at
best, halting and incremental. Regrettably, for the
most part, during the 1970s, incorporation into the
City of Anytown has only slowed, and by no means
halted, its almost precipitous decline into a seething
cauldron of drugs, vice and chaos.

In fact, it is difficult to say precisely what, if
any, benefits accrued to CCCP when it first became a
part of Anytown. Instead of having its own budget for
school, police, etc., it had to rely upon allocations
from the greater conurbation; grants that, during that
time of recessions and lines for gas, weren't
necessarily generous ones. The town's main library,
already an antique, shambling wreck, was more heavily
used than ever due to the sudden closing of three of
its five branches. The town police dismantled their
fabled 'red squad,' and relied instead upon a
diminished force of undercover operatives to observe
questionable activities. Several of the town's fire
substations also faced closure during that difficult
transition. And its school system, now merely one of
fifty-two neighborhood entities spread throughout the
city, found itself strapped for funds and its teachers
threatening to go out on strike. This was averted at
the last possible moment, but only by means of
expensive concessions that would later come back to
haunt the municipality.

By 1974, businesses continued its flight away from the
easternmost neighborhoods of CCCP, and their
unemployment rates were among the highest in the
entire municipality.

The Ford and Carter years were disastrous for
virtually every one of the vital signs that measure a
community's viability.

Firemen, as per a fiercely negotiated union
contract, were paid overtime for work they didn't perform,
receiving twenty-four hours of wages although they
were only on call for sixteen-hour shifts. The terms
of their contract practically ensured they would be
paid for the time they slept as well as the time they
were expected to work.

Teachers, on the other hand, were compensated at a
miserly hourly rate which failed to account for the
many extra hours they devoted to their students, as
well as the classroom materials which they nearly
always paid for out of their own pockets.

The Police Department during those years was not only
top-heavy with management but riddled with corruption.
Starting pay for a CCCP officer was insultingly low, and
morale, almost non-existent among newcomer and
long-time veteran alike. Owing to the racial strife
which had enveloped the town during the sixties and
early seventies, new "community policing" standards
were introduced which many of the officers derided and
routinely ignored. As a result, accusations of police
brutality, many of them settled out of court, proved a
steadily increasing expense for the town, which was
spending far beyond its means in virtually every other
area.

Meanwhile, the town's infrastructure was being
neglected and, as a result, many of the community's
advantages—such as a riverside location and a rich
history—were nullified. One example may suffice. In
1952 the town planned and eventually built an
expensive Marina district on its northern coast along
the Salt River. This was done to attract tourist
dollars to the area. But cost overruns levied by
crooked contractors by way of sweetheart deals doomed
the Marina project almost from the start. It looked
decidedly shabby next to other lakeside and riverside
improvements which had been constructed by nearly
neighborhoods in Anytown and by the lakeside
communities in the greater metropolitan area. To some
extent, during the 1950s the Marina project was an
ongoing expense; when it was finally completed, in
1960, it failed to draw the tourist dollars the CCCP
town fathers were depending on, and in the 1970s, as
we shall see, disincorporation of the town as an
independent entity and the "secession" of its outlying
neighborhoods meant that at the very time when the
Marina was beginning to bring revenue to the area, the
town as a whole was in no position to benefit from it.

CCCP 1973-1980
PART TWO

It was also at about that time, 1973, that CCCP began
its devolution into its distinctive neighborhoods,
each with its own singular solution to the ongoing
crisis of urbanization.

To the far west, along the border of Bigtown, a
rectangular area of the neighborhood of about
one-and-a-half miles square "seceded" from CCCP in
1974 and, naming itself "The Vineyard," which set
itself up as an agricultural area. The people who
lived there were mostly farmers and some fishermen.
These residents were somewhat reclusive and area
teenagers often let casual visitors know they were
unwelcome.

In 1976, an area about a mile east from The Vineyard
also "seceded" and named itself "Easthaven". These
were mostly wealthy would-be suburbanites who wished
simply to distinguish their new community and its
property values from the abysmal record compiled by
CCCP. Many new homes were built to be accessible only
via a bewildering series of cul de sacs that were
almost unnavigable to those from outside the area. The
first gated communities also began to be built at this
time, many with armed guards.

In short order, the mile-square patch now sequestered
in-between Easthaven and the Vineyard also seceded,
and named itself "Noton". Its only noteworthy feature
was a small riverine island less than a quarter mile
off its coast called "Scalp Island" which it re-named
"Historic Scalp Island." However, plans to build a
historic museum on the site never came to fruition,
owing to the lack of investment capital.

Due west of Easthaven, in the year 1978, the
communities of Rocky Top, to the north, and Slab Town,
to the south, also broke off connections with CCCP.
Rocky Top was so named for its woods and hilly areas
along the coast. It also had access to the easternmost
half of the riverside Marina, built at great expense
by CCCP in the 1950s and since fallen into almost
ruinous disrepair. Situated about a mile to the south
of Rocky Top's East Marina district, Slab Town
acquired its name owing to the preponderance of ranch
houses cheaply built for the use of factory hands in
the period from 1880 to 1920. These were constructed
on rocky soil, and without basements, and were known
as "Slab" houses.

In 1979, still further to the east, the communities of
Pleasant Vista to the North and Poletown (quickly
given the mocking name "Proletown") also seceded.
Pleasant Vista was also built upon hilly ground, and,
as a result, many of its houses, many of recent
vintage, loomed at eccentric, almost crazy angles
along its newly-paved streets. Pleasant Vista had the
advantage of access to one of the area's few remaining
tourist attractions, the central portion of the
riverside Marina. Poletown, a mile south of the
Marina, was a former shanty town that had been left
half-renovated in the 1960s during an abortive urban
renewal drive. Houses built during the 1930s, the
1950s, and the 1970s existed in uneasy equilibrium;
some of the residents of this area were solidly
middle-class, while others were of the less desirable
blue-collar class and still others were of the lowest
sorts of laborers who had inherited their three-family
domains from their kinfolk.

These breakaway communities to the east and west left
a large diamond-shaped patch of land about
one-and-a-half miles square isolated between the four
communites. This patch of nondescript land, mostly
undeveloped, named itself Centralia and "seceded" in
early 1980. It also reflected a yawning disparity
between rich and poor; the well-off tended to live in
newly constructed mansions in the Northern tier of the
community, while the poorer folks tended to take up
residence in tarpapered sharecropper shacks and other
types of substandard rental housing. Centralia had
relatively few houses newer than 100 years old; those
that were newer tended to be less than ten years old.

CCCP 1973-1980
PART THREE
CCCP was greatly diminished as a part of this drive to
break away from its eastern-oriented core along the
Red River. In 1973 it ran roughly two miles north to
south and eleven miles east to west. As of 1980 it was
only about two miles square. It was now essentially a
much-smaller and exceedingly cash-strapped community
with only five neighborhoods.

In a small corner of its southeastern quadrant,
bordering the Mayfair neighborhood, lay a scattered
community of trailer parks occupying otherwise
uninhabitable land. This area had long been known as
"Bogtown".

To the north of Bogtown, running west of Vine Street,
was the core of Cross Country Plaza, known as "The Old
Town". Here were found the Easternmost portion of the
Marina, and, bordering that tourist attraction to the
south, the Town Hall, the central branch of the
Library, and the central police station. At that time,
and to this day, the tracks of the Subway line bisect
this area so that only a thin strip a mile from north
to south and a quarter mile from east to west is
occupied by residential housing, usually in a state of
run-down decay (though in recent years this has
started to change). To the east of the subway tracks
lay many splendid older houses, many of which had been
converted for small business and municipal government
use.

On the Western side of "The Old Town" and Bogtown,
west of Vine Street, were three distinct communities.
To the far south, bordering the Mayfair neighborhood,
was the neighborhood of Haven with its two parks on
the southern border. The Park on the border of Bogtown
is called Myrtle Park, though cynics had a habit of
referring to it as "Murder Park". The Park along the
border of the Red River in the Southeastern portion of
the community is called Perfect Park, though its
long-ago perfection had been irredeemably marred over
the course of some 120-odd years by an outlandish
assortment of wharf rats, homeless persons, and
criminals.

Just north of Haven is a neighborhood with no distinct
name other than "Vine Street". Its detractors referred
to it as "the Ghetto". It was at that time overrun
with pawn shops, candy stores, low dives, liquor
stores, check-cashing services, bodegas, "social
clubs," and "dollar" and "discount" storefronts behind
which illegal enterprises were undoubtedly operated.
These included off-track betting, gambling parlors,
drug-dealing establishments, and prostitution. The
CCCP, and, later, Anytown police were quite
circumspect about entering the Vine Street Ghetto more
than once a month, when emissaries were sent and
bundles of cash exchanged hands.

To the north of this ghetto was the neighborhood known
for over 140 years as Madport. It functioned as a sort
of Barbary Coast for the community back when it was an
independent municipality, and its early history was
covered in a previous chapter. The curious thing about
Madport was that as the City as a whole fell apart,
this neighborhood's more desirable residences were
bought up on the cheap and converted from slum
dwellings to luxury apartments and condos, sequestered
from the squalor of the ghetto area by an ingeniously
planned complex of walled and gated residential zones.
Even Holly Park, in the northwest part of the
neighborhood, was soon emptied of its drug dealers,
vagrants and immigrant families with their barbeques
and blaring cassette boom-boxes. It instead became a
veritable Residents Only area closely monitored by the
community's private security forces. Throughout the
1980s and the 1990s the area, and the remnants of
CCCP, saw a wave of gentrification that caused it to
develop in a distinctive fashion.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
1. Your secret love does not reciprocate.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
2. You will work harder, until broken.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
3. Ungrateful children will break your lonely heart.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
4. You childhood sweetheart now finds you dull.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
5. They are close to finding and crushing you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
6. Push away dessert, Fatty--Doctor's orders!
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
7. Your competence will soon be questioned.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
8. Your mentor concludes you are a punk.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
9. You will be forgotten long before you die.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
10. You come into money; ensuing happiness eludes.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
11. Secret foes industriously plot your destruction.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
12. Flocks of birds portend personal disaster.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
13. They will no longer tolerate your feckless shenanigans.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
14. The weakling you once bullied is now your boss.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
15. Your family wearies of your financial problems.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
16. It is far too late for you to catch up on your reading.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
17. People secretly scorn your taste in movies.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
18. Why are you rushing when disaster is around the corner?
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
19. You have good reason to be paranoid, crazy one.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
20. The croaking raven bellows forth revenge.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
21. Your crude pranks are no longer acceptable.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
22. Did you honestly think you would escape punishment?
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
23. Your bellowing laughter is an embarrassment.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
24. You feel compelled to get in your own way.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
25. Ringing bells will portend disaster.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
26. They have good reason to stare at you.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
27. Your foolish eagerness to please will prove catastrophic.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
28. You have a reputation for wasting people's time.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
29. You are compelled to stubbornly repeat past mistakes.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
30. Your insights are derivative and foolish.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
31. One more mistake and you are doomed.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
32. You have been seduced by attractive delusions.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
33. You are in far more trouble than you realize.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
34. They no longer pretend to believe your excuses.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
35. You are at the very top of their secret list.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
36. You are no longer being mentioned on Facebook.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
37. They flee from you, that oft-times did you seek.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
38. Secret cameras are recording your misdemeanors.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
39. You'll never live it down.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
40. You are neither young, nor a professional.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
41. You will never escape your destiny.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
42. Your so-called friends are not who they seem.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
43. Putting matters right is beyond your control.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
44. The police detective needs to ask just one more question.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
45. Everyone can see through your disguise.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
46. No matter what you do, the problem will remain.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
47. You will never emerge from behind your wall.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
48. Your search for love will end in disaster.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
49. Your secret shame is obvious to all.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
50. You have waited too long to leave town.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
51. Everyone makes mistakes, but yours is deadly.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
52. They will never believe you thought the gun was unloaded.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
53. The police say they are powerless to protect you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
54. It is your son who is murdering the neighborhood pets.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
55. Your efforts will never pay off.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
56. Your unchained demons will destroy you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
57. The boss knows you are skimming the take.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
58. That monkey on your back is now a gorilla.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
59. They will find you no matter how far you run.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
60. The Big Man knows you are wearing a wire.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
61. You will be shot while stealing from a clothesline.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
62. Remember--a stool pigeon can sing but he can't fly.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
63. You will be disarmed by Hoboes and beaten senseless.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
64. The ex-champ will take offense at your disrespect.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
65. The Hotel Dick suspects you are a cat burglar.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
66. Nobody will believe you were only a Patsy.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
67. The loan shark is beginning to lose his patience.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
68. You know too much--soon they will rub you out.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
69.Your lawyer is afraid to return your calls.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
70. Someday that big mouth of yours will get you killed.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
71. Your accountant has just turned State's Evidence.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
72. Your loving wife is a lady of easy virtue.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
73. Your youngest daughter has run off with a Chili Pimp.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
74. Disregard that hot tip--the race is fixed.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
75. You will be stabbed for holding out on "Mr. Lucky".
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
76. You can't tell the police--they're in on it too.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
77. Flophouse tramps will steal your only shoes.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
78. Authorities will disbelieve your stories of a secret spy ring.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
79. You would be better off forgetting you ever saw anything.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
80. You will never convince them it was an accident.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
81. Your alibi is not as airtight as you think.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
82. Your self-defined moral code will prove inadequate.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
83. You will rue the day you ever stole that accursed diamond.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
84. Your influential friends are no help to you now.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
85. Drunkenness is never an excuse for murder.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
86. They will never buy your plea of self-defense.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
87. Degenerate companions lure you into abject drug slavery.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
88. That lonely woman at the bar is nothing but trouble.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
89. The savvy insurance adjuster is onto you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
90. You call it gentle persuasion--the D.A. says it's Extortion.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
91. The honest cop you cannot bribe will be your downfall.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
92. The cigarette girl will testify your alibi is false.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
93. Your misfortunes will cause you to forsake sobriety.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
94. It was no dream--they are all dead.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
95. Your cheating spouse will make your existence a living nightmare.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
96. The police will naturally consider you their prime suspect.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
97. Your ill-planned caper will go sideways fast.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
98. The deathbed confession of your accomplice implicates you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
99. Your credentials will be mocked as a crude forgery.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
100. You might have escaped but greed was your undoing.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
101. You will end up like your father--a hopeless drunk.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
102. Your brother will recant his exculpatory testimony.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
103. They'll refuse to believe it was actually your evil twin.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
104. A ricochet will incapacitate your youthful sidekick.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
105. Suicide? A suspicious detective will conclude otherwise.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
106. One more stupid wisecrack will earn you a fat lip.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
107. You'll certainly rue the day.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
108. Don't you get it? You are already a dead man.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
109. The old man kept a notebook. He wrote it all down.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
110. Someone's got it in for you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
111. Everyone is fully aware of your utter impotence.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
112. Your opposition is more than a match for you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
113. They are monitoring all your calls.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
114. Scratch all you want--the insects will never go away.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
115. Even your lapdog is addicted to the fumes of opium.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
116. You will never be able to locate all the hidden bugs.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
117. Your life as you once knew it is now over.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
118. Your legal problems have only begun.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
119. You will never live to spend that stolen loot.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
120. An escaped lunatic is lurking in your garage.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
121. You're thinking you can't sink any lower. You are wrong.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
122. You are only a pawn in their evil game.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
123. You should have known she was another man's wife.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
124. Your friendly pawnbroker has ratted you out to the cops.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
125. You never should have double-crossed the Syndicate Boys.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
126. Both you and your associate are doomed.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
127. You haven't gotten away with it...yet.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
128. You want something done, go see the Boss.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
129. Who benefits? Everyone but you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
130. Looks like your luck has finally run out.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
131. Stupid! You never say "No" to the Big Man!
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
132. You just made a deadly mistake.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
133. They can practically smell your desperation.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
134. Heads, you lose; tails, you lose again.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
135. The old lady across the street is spying on you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
136. For you, one drink is one too many.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
137. You will soon be murdered by your psychotic sidekick.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
138. All of your actions will have unwanted consequences.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
139. Everlasting grief and sorrow will be your destiny.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
140. You were born dead. So die, already.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
141. They are just beginning to pay you back.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
142. Trouble is all you know.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
143. Sanity has left you, forever.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
144. Misfortune is your middle name.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
145. What part of 'surrender' do you fail to understand?
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
146. Your wound is far more than merely a scratch.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
147. It is far too late. They are inexorably closing in.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
148. You have lost everything but you will lose even more.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
149. It's a trap. Even a child could tell you that.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
150. Just when you think you're safe is when they'll strike.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
151. Mister, you do not have a lucky face.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
152. They are doing this to you simply because they can.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
153. Vital information they withhold will seal your fate.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
154. There is nothing you can do to stop them.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
155. Everybody knows you are a stupid coward.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
156. This is indeed happening. This is very much happening.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
157. You will be trapped by your own excuses.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
158. It is far too late to try to make amends.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
159. It is you who are your own worst nightmare.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
160. You have signed your own death certificate.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
161. She never had eyes for you. Only your money.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
162. They just can't wait to throw you under the bus.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
163. When you're dead, you're dead, and you...are dead.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
164. God has never liked you and He never will.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
165. They will dance at your funeral, and scalp tickets.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
166. They will call your parrot to the witness stand.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
167. Confess? Forget it. The police will laugh in your face.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
168. Your dealer has been arrested, and you're next.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
169. You only think you left no fingerprints.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
170. Your new best friend is an undercover cop.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
171. Dad would be very disappointed, if you hadn't killed him.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
172. You are not feared in your neighborhood or anywhere else.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
173. That girl from the church social is a crack whore.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
174. You will be interrogated by Bad Cop...and Worse Cop.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
175. Your paranoia will be your downfall.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
176. The elderly pensioner knows your secret.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
177. You will never again experience serenity.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
178. You can cheat the casino, but not the hangman.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
179. Peaceful death was never meant for one like you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
180. You were set to take the fall from Day One.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
181. Past indiscretions will haunt you forever.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
182. Whatever is under the bed wants to kill you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
183. The police blame the crime wave on you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
184. You have run out of veins to stick the spike.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
185. The police dog snarls at the smell of your guilt.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
186. Nobody makes the Big Man look like a chump.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
187. You will be murdered by a vengeful psychotic clown.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
188. The Doctor knows you were a shaken baby.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
189. Your enemies operate at the highest level.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
190. The conspiracy is real but you will never prove it.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
191. Spring flowers portend renewal for everyone but you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
192. That snooping reporter will never stop until you are arrested.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
193. Your Malibu's belt-driven pulley-type fan will decapitate you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
194. The nosy pensioner reports that he saw you do it.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
195. You'd have escaped detection, if not for those meddling kids.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
196. The crooked sheriff will murder you in your sleep.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
197. Your evasive answers deceive nobody.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
198. You are trapped in your own web of deceit.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
199. Your wife is secretly a stripper who dances for ruffians.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
200. Your daughter is in love with an evil stranger.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
201. The dentist will not see you without an appointment.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
202. Even a quick and painless death will be denied you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
203. No one considers you anybody special.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
204. Those fiendish voices in your head are actually real.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
206. You will never be forgiven for the pain you caused.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
207. You are no real man--you are only a weakling.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
208. You will be mutilated by a vengeful doctor.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
209. They will laugh as they refuse to hear your case.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
210. Great misfortune is far too good for one like you.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
211. A drunken spiteful nurse will handle you too roughly.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
212. Your quavering superstitions are self-fulfilling prophecies.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
213. Those you seek to impress despise your fawning attitude.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
214. You are easy prey for those who would wrong you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
215. You have been prescribed the wrong dose of medication.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
216. Once on the white horse you will never get off.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
217. Every day you live the pain will only get worse.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
218. Your eyes reveal that you were born to lose.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
219. Your crimes do not allow you restful sleep.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
220. Innocent you may be, but they'll hang you anyway.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
221. In time your black despair will only worsen.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
222. You have already been judged, and been found wanting.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
223. Your personal Bounty Hunter is the world's best.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
224. You will flunk night school and go back to jail.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
225. By day you condemn sins and by night commit them.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
226. You cannot dodge the landlady forever.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
227. The lousy fuzz will never believe you, an ex-con.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
228. The fat man in the white suit will betray you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
229. The landlady has reported your activities to the police.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
230. That woman you wronged is a widowed mobster's daughter.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
231. What is your shoe size? Cement overshoes await.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
232. Men with banjos will make your life a living hell.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
233. Shoot yourself now, to spare yourself a fate far worse.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
234. The world is nothing but great suffering and hungry worms.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
235. You will not escape to fight another day.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
236. That Feeb you'll try to rob has an iron grip.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
237. The slimy, drunken drummer is the secret mastermind.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
238. The hostile circus clown blames you for his broken heart.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
239. The Detective assigned to your case is named "Bulldog".

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
240. They will never stop until they have completely broken you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
241. Your worst foe holds all the cards, and knows it.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
242. Drug lords believe you are a government informant.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
243. They are already gloating about your inevitable downfall.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
244. Your mother never forgave that you were born a boy.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
245. Nothing you can say will ever change their minds.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
246. The jury has been bribed, so you are certainly doomed.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
247. Your in-laws are desperately eager to rat you out.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
248. All the Boys still remember Sinatra called you a Fink.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
249. Your abject begging will only further incite sadistic atrocities.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
250. The townfolk eagerly await your come-uppance.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
251. That dame you bedded is a psycho Cop's ex-wife.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
252. Both the Mob and the Fuzz are gunning for you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
253. Broken Tail-light, Corpse in Trunk--Next Stop, Gas Chamber.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
254. Your psychiatrist is not deceived by your feigned insanity.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
255. One final score? It was a set-up from the start.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
256. For you, April Showers bring Funeral Flowers.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
257. Soon, even the stool-pigeons will shun you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
258. You will murder a Hobo over a can of sardines.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
259. You should have thrown the hatchet into a deeper pond.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
260. Police choppers will notice your 360 at the roadblock.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
261. You were born an Outlaw, but now it's official.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
262. Personal revenge is sweet--until you are the victim.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
263. Crying and screaming--your first moments, and your last.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
264. You should have cleaned your pistol before the bank job.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
265. You say you've kicked, but the Pusher Man knows better.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
266. A future undertow will drag your carcass completely down.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
267. You think you're smart, but a doublecrossing dame is smarter.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
268. The girl you molested is a childless Mafioso's neice.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
269. They are determined to stop you before you kill again.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
270. The train has left the station--you're not on it.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
271. You were a Chump, loaning Shylock money to a Dame.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
272. They'll only be happy when they see your rotting corpse.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
273. You shouldn't have poisoned that policeman's Beagle.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
274. They blacked your mother's eye--you must kill them all.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
275. Seven years you kept your nose clean--not long enough.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
276. Angry beggars will steal the clothing from off your back.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
277. Drunken Joyride; Hit & Run; Three-Time Loser; 20 Years.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
278. Even your dog considers you despicable.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
279. Anything you tell them will only make it worse.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
280. Your Higher Power has determined you will die a drunk.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
281. You are hooked on pain pills; the doctors don't care.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
282. Soon, even your sycophants will mock you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
283. You will be arrested for eating sausages on a bus.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
284. The circus clowns are actually zombies.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
285. You will arrested for inciting a riot at a carnival.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
286. Watch out, Mister! If she can't have you, nobody can.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
287. You will drunkenly mishandle forty-five sticks of dynamite.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
288. Get a grip on yourself; you look like a Bum.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
289. You are listed in the Encyclopedia of Crime.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
290. Do not tell them where the "sweetbreads" come from.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
291. That lush you rolled is an undercover cop.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
292. Why don't you get wise to yourself and blow town?
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
293. They will call you a ball of fire--literally.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
294. YOU enjoy your work--but the Police do NOT.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
295. No one is fooled by your happy smile.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
296. Nobody loved you but Dolly, and they made you kill her.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
297. There is breaking news, but it is all bad.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
298. You are too old to run and too fat to hide.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
299. Your blackmail victim will arrange to have you killed.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
300. You should've kept it on the q.t.--too late now.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
301. Only you will think your pathetic excuses are amusing.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
302. Your long-abandoned son has vowed to destroy you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
303. The Circus Dog scratched you; the infection will be fatal.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
304. The male jury will never convict your attractive murderess.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
305. Even God is tired of you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
306. Wal-Mart AND McDonald's will refuse to hire you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
307. Your final words will be uttered through broken teeth.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
308. Cheap bourbon and disappointment will be your steady diet.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
309. Your tormentor is a registered nurse, skilled in inflicting pain.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
310. A giggling psycho will throw your mother out a window.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
311. They all recognize you by your thousand-yard stare.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
312. Your backgammon technique marks you as a former jailbird.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
313. All's not right with the world while you're in it.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
314. Your employees are plotting to have you arrested and fired.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
315. Your unmarked grave will be routinely vandalized.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
316. If they gave Value Stamps with rotgut, you could open a warehouse.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
317. Broken race-track touts are not entitled to collect unemployment.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
318. The crooked sawbones who writes your scripts has been arrested.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
319. Every light you see will be a setting sun.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
320. Your bogus madhouse act is now becoming all too real.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
321. A liquor store clerk will pocket your winning lottery ticket.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
322. Pray that you never discover the whole truth.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
323. Your enemies will be the smartest people you ever know.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
324. Give up. Fifteen Rounds with Kid Destiny and you're through.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
325. The whiskey was your only friend but now it's gone.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
326. They know you as one who can be trifled with.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
327. No matter where you step the ground is shifting.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
328. You will continue to torture yourself--it was your fault.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
329. Born in the Gutter, you've never lost your taste for it.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
330. You've devised 100 ways to escape--all will fail.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
331. Your distant past is a wound that will never heal.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
332. That hostile barroom brawler is nicknamed Karate Motherfucker.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
333. The Police Captain you shot was a short-timer.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
334. The Yardbirds shun you--even they deplore your crime.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
335. The investigator knows you are an incurable Firebug.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
336. Because you refused to bend, you will be broken.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
337. Treason is the mildest name for your transgressions.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
338. Your identity has been stolen by a corrupt Nigerian.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
339. You are falsely listed as ringleader of the Subversives.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
340. You are marked for liquidation by a vengeful spymaster.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
341. Your most mundane activities are being closely scrutinized.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
342. You have mistakenly offended the Man With the Twisted Face.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
343. The Police are very interested in your friendship with "Boris".
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
344. They know you caused the Election Day race riot.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
345. They will not even allow you to commit suicide.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
346. Racketeers resent your friendship with the new Mayor.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
347. You will be sorry until the day you die.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
348. Newspaper accounts of bizarre murders hint at your complicity.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
349. Your boat will be manned by a skeleton crew--literally.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
350. You will be arrested for selling cats as rabbit meat.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
351. Surely your current infamy will linger indefinitely.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
352. A washed-up comedian will dispense wisecracks at your funeral.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
353. You are too weak to work but too sturdy to beg.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
354. Burglars will murder your teacup Chihuahua.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
355. You cannot sweep it under the rug--don't even try.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
356. You will sell your kidney to pay a loan shark.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
357. Be a man--kill yourself now, before they find you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
358. In your case, the Final Judgment is long overdue.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
359. You are even a failure at suicide.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
360. Your enemy will steal your mother's corpse.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
361. The Big Man's dead certain you're giving him the runaround.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
362. Nobody cares or understands.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
363. You were, are, and always will be Doomed.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
364. Your dead soul squats in a condemned tenement.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
365. Honestly? You will never escape your predicament alive.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
366. You are in a race against time which you will lose.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
367. Your childhood nickname was "Little Mo".
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
368. You have a well-earned reputation for selfish treachery.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
369. Nobody wants you around because you are a needy pest.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
370. The drunken quack will botch your plastic surgery.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
371. You are certainly a man they love to hate.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
372. The cabdriver remembers the address of your hideout.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
373. Opportunity will knock--Deadly Opportunity.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
374. Nature culls the Stupes, so you're shit out of luck.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
375. You didn't want to snitch but you had no choice.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
376. They are watching for your face at all the Borders.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
377. That small town Sheriff is anything but dumb.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
378. Your Last Meal: Hobo Tomato Soup and despair.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
379. In Prison you will give birth to a Yenshee Baby.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
380. Your prison sentence will set a harsh new precedent.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
381. Your best friend will engineer your downfall.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
382. No one is willing to take a chance on you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
383. Strange doings at the Old Mill are linked to you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
384. You don't look nice even when you're all cleaned up.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
385. They have stolen your identity and you are helpless.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
386. Innocent? Perhaps. But guilty of many other things.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
387. You are and always will remain a two-bit punk.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
388. You hated your mother--no, but you loved her, too.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
389. Murder Two? No dice. They know you are a Psycho.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
390. You really stepped in dogshit this time, Pally.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
391. Rivers of whiskey will never wash away your awful guilt.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
392. The first impression you give off? Professional Crumb-Bum.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
393. You're so low-down you'd even cheat a starving Hobo.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
394. The cops know all about your attic hideaway.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
395. Stowaway on a Tramp Steamer? Punishment: Forty Lashes.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
396. In the Jingle-Jangle Morning they'll come slaughter you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
397. The Road to Hell is full of scum like you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
398. You were rich before you went nuts and started drinking.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
399. The Sheriff knows the alky you sell is pure poison.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
400. You blinded your best friend swinging a lit firecracker.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
401. Satan has rejected your clumsy animal sacrifices.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
402. An alert Copper will spot your homemade dye job.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
403. Sacrificial Goat is now your Full-time Profession.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
404. Your bogus resume has gone straight into the circular file.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
405. Not even a shyster lawyer is anxious to defend you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
406. The neighbors report that you are neglecting your dog.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
407. Twenty years of wake-and-bake have left you drooling.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
408. Your obsession with Ninjas will get you killed.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
409. What's eating at your mind? Everyone knows it's Murder.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
410. Only Mother cares, but watch out for her.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
411. God's Rule: The Innocent Must Suffer.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
412. Critics deplore your recent work as "Tasteless".
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
413. Your house is constructed on a foundation of sand.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
414. Your excuses reek of premeditation.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
415. Everything is gone but your painful regrets.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
416. It's the Human Condition--but you are barely even Human.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
417. Black Muslims don't take kindly to mouthy Skinheads.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
418. The Motorcycle Gang knows you are wearing a wire.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
419. Dogs bark and shy away at your evil face.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
420. Hidden microphones record your jailhouse boasts.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
421. You lurk to overhear their slanders, but you never do.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
422. Your ancestors are all notorious axe murderers.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
423. You can't even pretend you didn't mastermind that job.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
424. The Law's Conclusion: Three Generation of Imbeciles Are Enough.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
425. Forget It: They are tired of your idiotic lies.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
426. Desperation has saturated your ill-fitting clothes.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
427. You Poor Fool--of course you can be hypnotized.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
428. The FBI resents your gossip about the Director.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
429. Cruel men await the chance to do you harm.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
430. Paranoia is not your hobby, but a Way of Life.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
431. They'll murder you solely for your share of the loot.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
432. Mister, Beware--He has walked 500 miles to kill you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
433. Mama never loved you and she never will...now.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
434. That sophisticated prostitute will horn in on your racket.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
435. The "diet pills" have turned your brains to oatmeal.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
436. Ether-soaked rags will be found in your trunk.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
437. The darkness you fear most is in your soul.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
438. Sins of omission will prove your downfall.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
439. She will sweep you from her life like a broken toy.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
440. They will list your Cause of Death as "Arrogant Stupidity".

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
441. Racists hate you, and you're not even Black.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
442. Stop your foolish boasting or they'll slap you down.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
443. You will grub through restaurant discards like a starving dog.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
444. Your bourgeois classmates complacently condemn you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
445. Your criminal companions taught you--but not well enough.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
446. Cops claim that cheap slum you peddle is hot merchandise.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
447. You will be nearly pecked to death by angry swans.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
448. "If Only" just won't cut it, you whining Punk.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
449. You will finally step up, only to get beaten down.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
450. Self appointed "Reformers" are targeting your enterprises.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
451. The Sheriff knows you're only masquerading as a Preacher.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
452. Nitro is nothing to monkey around with, Gimpy.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
453. "World's Most Famous Carnival Geek"--nobody envies You!
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
454. They do not get "The New Yorker" in prison.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
455. You play like a bookworm and read like an athlete.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
456. You will sell your medals for a slug of rotgut.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
457. You have just enough time to write your Will.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
458. You will finally learn to read and write...in Prison.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
459. No Bandleader wants or needs a junkie Percussionist.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
460. You will squander your lump sum pay-out in Vegas.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
461. The Big Man has no patience for Stupes like you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
462. You swore you'd never go back. You'll break that vow.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
463. She is nowhere near as sweet as Tupelo Honey.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
464. Jimmy Crack Corn--the Mob DOES care.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
465. You will become familiar with the smell of hot lead.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
466. The truth will certainly never set YOU free.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
467. They'll get you in the end--literally.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
468. They know it was a frame-up, but they just don't care.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
469. Your friendly pusher has tripled the price of your fix.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
470. Poor Fool: One question has been answered; dozens remain.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
471. From Day One your lousy attitude has held you back.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
472. Nothing can make it right, though money will be accepted.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
473. The marriage wasn't legal--you inherit nothing.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
474. Pimp? Sucker, you're not even a pimple on a pimp's ass.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
475. Maybe another beating will penetrate your thick skull.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
476. Never let 'em see you sweat--too late for you, Fatty.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
477. New obstacles await, each more deadly than the last.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
478. You will sabotage society, one day at a time.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
479. You will fry, but for the murder you DIDN'T commit.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
480. You loved her. Didn't you? Loved her...to death.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
481. The Big Man's cold dead eyes promise dire consequences.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
482. Remember: It's Lonely at the Top. And Deadly.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
483. The Consigliore strongly recommends your early death.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
484. Listen, Jailbird--You've got nothing coming to you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
485. Dreams die hard. You will die even harder.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
486. Once your father dies, nobody will defend you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
487. You'll remain a stranger in this world...and the next.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
488. You will live--and die--by betting on the Ponies.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
489. A hard-luck two-timing Dame will suck you in.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
490. They will find you cutting out paper dolls in Stir.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
491. They will break every one of your itchy trigger fingers.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
492. She hated her Slob Husband; she'll learn to hate You.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
493. Every one of your hunches will be spectacularly wrong.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
494. If you gotta tell 'em who you are, then you ain't.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
495. Your "Doctor" thinks the world is 6,000 years old.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
496. Black Despair is not through with you just yet.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
497. You should have changed all your passwords--too late now.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
498. Nonexistent sirens will haunt your sleepless nights.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
499. First you'll see Red and then you'll see Black--Forever.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
500. It's always Darkness, standing before the Don.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
501. They are never going to stop kicking your dog around.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
502. Famed for reliability. No. They call you a "real liability".
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
503. Alcohol Tobacco and Firearms; not only a Bureau--your hobbies.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
504. Your Heart is made of Stone; your Jaw, of Glass.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
505. Haven't you heard the news? You're all washed up.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
506. The hangovers never used to be that bad before.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
507. You learned, too late, that things are different in The South.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
508. Don't try to do the thinking--it doesn't suit you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
509. Your life has been a Carnival--a Carnival of Crime.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
510. Nobody's fooled--everybody knows your name and your alias.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
511. They will hunt you like the rabid dog you are.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
512. You're the biggest drunk in town--and it's a big town.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
513. Someday you will pay and that someday is right now.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
514. You're impossible to kill but they will find a way.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
515. You are never lonely, for you are surrounded by enemies.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
516. Midgets are good luck, until they shoot you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
517. She is nothing like the Little Girl you once knew.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
518. Big mistake--referring to The Don as "Fatso".
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
519. No more Sex Kittens for you--only the sad Cat Lady.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
520. Like Jesus, you will die for someone else's sins.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
521. Eating this Fortune Cookie ensures a lifetime of misfortune.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
522. Even the Psychotics whisper that you are completely insane.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
523. Are you really Paranoid? Only They know for sure.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
524. Listen, Hillbilly--Leave the musket. Take the pork rinds.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
525. He who laughs last will be the first to die.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
526. Your craven drunken partner does not got your back.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
527. You are World Class all right--a World Class Chump.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
528. Even the indulgent priest will never absolve you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
529. She's either started smoking cheap cigars--or there's another man.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
530. Coward! You left your Men behind, to die in Tiger Cages.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
531. The Early Bird gets helplessly swept up in the Dragnet.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
532. Even your most educated guesses are illiterate.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
533. Nobody gets fat by standing in the Big Man's limelight.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
534. Only change the Dame and the tale will be told of you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
535. You always said you wanted nothing, and now you got it.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
536. Hunchbacks are lucky; all YOUR hunches have been dead wrong.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
537. You've gone straight--why must they drag you back in?
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
538. Take only the clothes on your back and flee town--now.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
539. They can easily prove your story is nothing but lies.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
540. Poor Fool. You were so sure you could outsmart The Brain.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
541. Your dog will accidentally maul the Boss's youngest son.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
542. This isn't over--they aren't through with you yet.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
543. They're not afraid of you and they will kick your ass.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
544. They'll find you long before you manage to find them.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
545. They thoroughly discussed you. You thoroughly disgust them.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
546. You're acting like a dizzy sap over that two-timing Dame.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
547. You'll never breathe easy until all the witnesses are dead.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
548. Chase her all you want--catch her, and you'll be sorry.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
549. They'll call you 'Chuckles' because you never smile.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
550. You'll forever think the Fuzz are breathing down your neck.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
551. You'll beg for cheap liquor in a bar you once owned.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
552. All men love the darkness, for their deeds are evil.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
553. You will soon see even more of the world's backside.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
554. Very few people can match your callow, vain stupidity.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
555. It's a GOOD Sterno; it's not a GREAT Sterno.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
556. Your apartment smells like cat piss; you don't own a cat.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
557. You had better change your mind; it's full of shit.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
558. A million men and a million dollars can never be defeated.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
559. Didn't you even know enough to get out of their way?
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
560. You have lit the firecracker at both ends.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
561. Hatred of you shall unite all feuding clans.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
562. Your long nightmare is only just beginning.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
563. When elephants dance, the dwarves must die.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
564. At the Laughing Academy a padded room awaits you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
565. They tolerate your cowardly fear; it is fun to watch.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
566. The strangers watch your house for a very good reason.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
567. The Boss once found you entertaining; you bore him now.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
568. No excuse can possibly explain your sinister behavior.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
569. Your troubles will never end; not even in the grave.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
570. You will never be permitted to atone for your sins.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
571. You won't know what you are until you lose it.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
572. People are much happier when you're not around.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
573. You will never be allowed to eat solid food again.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
574. You will die a million deaths, and yet live.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
575. It is far from over. It will never truly be over.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
576. A daily apple keeps away doctors--not policemen.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
577. Justice will always be a luxury you can never afford.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
578. None of the gossip about you can be refuted.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
579. Enjoy your day; it may well be your last.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
580. You are too experienced to ever be optimistic again.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
581. Your marriage is made in Heaven but lived in Hell.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
582. The explanation is a simple one: They all lied.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
583. Survivor's Guilt? You are fooling absolutely nobody.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
584. You are far more spinned against than spinning.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
585. Destiny whistles through your hollow existence.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
586. Your wife will always put her business before your pleasure.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
587. You are wearing a mask which will eat your soul.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
588. A hand which you know not shall lay you dead.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
589. You know everything, and yet you can do nothing.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
590. What are your saving yourself for? You die tomorrow.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
591. You're living on borrowed time; now they want it back.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
592. You are wise to run away, but not THAT way.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
593. The man with the gun is looking strangely at you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
594. Bums will ask you for directions to the homeless shelter.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
595. Magical Thinking? Magical Lack of Thinking will do you in.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
596. The small, still voice inside you says you must die.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
597. They'll call you the cutest serial killer on Death Row.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
598. She's a smart cookie--too smart for your own good.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
599. You have the virtue of being consistent--consistently troubled.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
600. Dignity and self-respect are words you never heard of.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
601. You are aptly modest about your past, which is best forgotten.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
602. Everyone's got a story, Pal--but yours is done.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
603. Tomorrow is another day--of mindless terror.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
604. Your excuses are not only half-baked but completely baked.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
605. They very much care whether you live or, preferably, die.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
606. Your punishment will be cruel but by no means unusual.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
607. There will be a technicality, but you still won't get off.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
608. Nothing personal? Forget it. All of it is personal.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
609. They will laugh at your "conspiracy," for They created it.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
610. You will find the Southerners friendly; even their Lynch Mobs.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
611. You were born to be King--King of Nowhere.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
612. The drugs are becoming more than a simple hobby.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
613. They call the man you borrowed money from "The Butcher".
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
614. Your ears are burning--because your head's on fire.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
615. Your beloved college professor is a CIA recruiter.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
616. In thirty thousand days, not one moment of justice.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
617. That man who calls you "brother" just murdered his.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
618. You are a senior citizen of the Land of Broken Promises.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
619. You will drown in the deep waters of your wounded pride.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
621. Laughter is not the best medicine, but Slaughter.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
622. You will be forced to make a virtue of Nasty.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
623. Rats like you DESERVE a sinking ship.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
624. Everybody else always ruins it for a few assholes--like you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
625. The world will always say Yes--to your punishment.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
626. Your life is the fruit of your own undoing.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
627. Those who ever done you dirt will escape all punishment.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
628. You're too outspoken about The Problem--now you're The Problem.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
629. Everywhere you go will be the prison you left behind.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
630. You are prey to the delusion that you are not deluded.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
631. You will ride your grand illusions to their gruesome finale.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
632. Pray they'll be merciful, and kill you in your sleep.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
633. Every little breeze seems to whisper "revenge".
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
634. You thought t'was all in fun--"pop" goes the Uzi.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
635. You will never be avenged against your enemies.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
636. Not one of your "old friends" will agree to hide you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
637. Your repentence is judged insincere--there will be no Pardon.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
638. Man is Wolf to Man--and you're a sickly little Mouse.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
639. You have disgraced your people so they will banish you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
640. Your slain kinfolk will cry in vain for justice.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
641. You'll accidentally shoot that kid who was on your lawn.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
642. Your false accusers are forever secure in their evil slanders.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
643. Those you have made rich shall abandon you and laugh.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
644. You'll be the #1 Fall Guy in the City Hall Scandal.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
645. You'll very soon be in love with easeful death.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
646. Once powerful, you'll be dispossessed and made wretched.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
647. You'll become the silenced victim of ambitious intrigues.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
648. Once you were the Boss's favorite--now your name is Mud.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
649. You'll never again raise your crippled hand against The Master.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
650. You are in thrall to Error and shall never understand.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
651. From your depraved lips even the word "love" sounds vile.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
652. Even your fabled eloquence will prove woefully inadequate.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
653. All dames are bad news but yours takes the cake.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
654. Your relatives will haggle over Grandmama's possessions.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
655. Fear of heriditary insanity will drive you mad.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
656. You will sacrifice your life for an indifferent State.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
657. New riches bring evil; jealous friends now hate you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
658. God Bless your Day; your Nights belong to The Devil.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
659. Your loving wife will throw you over for a two-bit Gigolo.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
660. Your pampered mistress? On the side, she's turning Tricks.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
661. Hellion--the neighbors feel very sorry for your Mother.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
662. Your budget tax preparer has made a massive error.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
663. Your check bounced--soon The Boys will see if you can.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
664. You'll never explain those motel receipts to your bitter wife.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
665. Your new "business partners" will make impossible demands.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
666. They wonder what the Devil's got into you--literally.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
667. Your oldest son will inherit only your murderous rages.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
668. Your false values will lead to your inevitable ruin.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
669. You will sell your Grandma's dentures just to buy a fix.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
670. Surprise! Your new Romance is actually...a Bromance.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
671. Your first grandchild is the spitting image of Mussolini.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
672. Even your imaginary friend has turned against you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
673. You have nightmares of never being able to sleep again.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
674. Your oldest friend has mysteriously died...and you're next.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
675. Your rival has lavishly bribed the entire police force.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
676. She says "A ring, or else"--so you wring her neck.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
677. You will look into a mirror and see the face of Jesus.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
678. Your young wife's handsome "visiting cousin" is no kin to her.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
679. You're a dead ringer for police sketches of the serial killer.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
680. Your devout wife will find your treasure trove of ladies' undies.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
681. Your most characteristic trait is the one they despise the most.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
682. You'll discover Hell is not "other people"--Hell is You.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
683. The next song you hear will be a Murder Rap.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
684. You gave your brother a kidney--now he won't return your calls.

NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
685. You will be told you have a purty mouth.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
686. You will never even make it in the Small City.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
687. The Feds will discover your self-incriminating secret journal.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
688. The Detective will catch you in a big fat lie.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
689. Your squeaking, squawking inside voices will never stop.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
690. You think you're giving them the runaround; they're playing you.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
691. Police notice your calm demeanor at your wife's funeral.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
692. You'll lose 100 pounds--on a bread and water diet.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
693. The Warden has decided you're an incorrigible troublemaker.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
694. Grandma will leave her vast fortune to her 28 cats.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
695. Your neighbor spies upon you for the police.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
696. That janitor job is suddenly looking very attractive.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
697. The Police have a warrant to search your basement.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
698. The Attorney General will investigate your bogus charity.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
699. The neighbor's wind chimes sound like they're saying "murderer".
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
700. The Secret Service seriously believes your crazy drunken threats.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
701. The world doesn't stop for an investigation. But yours does.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
702. Your friends are like one big family--the Manson family.
NOIR MISFORTUNE COOKIES.
703. The innocent must also suffer, starting with you.