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      Meet the U.S. President

                                  Hecate

Greetings from Deathpage, New York, armpit of Long Island and Official Home of the Long Island Yenta and their gelded mates. Are you a nancy? Does John Grey make you weepy? Passionate about pumps -- on your own feet? Rejoice. You've found a home as well. We are delighted that you've dropped by to visit our special little village, unique in all the world. And you'll soon discover why.

Are we our brothers' keepers? You betcha --zookeepers. Here in Deathpage we understand our civic (and possibly our apostolic) duty to calumniate our neighbors and hey, anyone else for that matter. Do you have personal issues but cannot decide if you should go public? A troubling question we've all faced. Come here, we'll decide for you. We can ensure that all your personal laundry gets the public airing we believe it and you so richly deserve. There's nothing quite like a heaping helping of gossip to warm the heart, especially on a blustery fall day, no? Inane blather? Our specialty.

Having sifting through the flotsam of lives broken over the years, we've discovered that a few lives sacrificed is a small price to pay if the psychological stability of an entire community hangs in the balance. Ahh, the sheer pleasure of wading in the debris - SQUISITO! As a predominantly Christian community, we know a thing or two about the value of sacrifice -- particularly when it's someone else's. Do you long to be hip deep in nepotism, smarmy cliques, and rabid jackals? Your prayers have been answered, though you may want to bring your waders.

Just climbed down from a 747 wheel well? Were you recently scraped off the seventh layer of carefully stacked Asians aboard the SS Garbage Scow? Relax. We're located a scant twenty-five miles east of the East River, a stones throw from JFK International Airport and three miles due north of Hades. If the current's right, it's no problem hopping on the flotsam to get across. No, that large wake isn't a Loch Ness Nellie or a Russian sub. You'll be please to discover that New York rats are big as beavers -- can feed a family of six; pelt makes a decent comforter too. (Canines are not for consumption.)

Need a ride from the airport? Talented with locks? JFK's parking lot is overflowing...with cars, not bicycles. But please don't abandon the vehicle on the parkway shoulder; it's so unsightly. Over here we drive on the right side of the road. The large red octagons with four white symbols mean step on the left-side pedal. Road kill is yours for the taking; however if it appears human, please take a moment and move it out of the HOV lane, OK?

To our friends from Asia-Minor: unlike the Ganges, we prefer our waterway foam "au naturale", regardless of the pleasant fragrance genuine lard soap leaves behind; a rinse will do just fine. A word of caution to smokers: that oily residue on your skin may be sufficiently combustible to light you up like a sacrifice to Kali. Oh, you're repaying a karmic debt? Then please bring a companion to cart away the ashes. Nighttime flameouts are prohibited though; pilots on approach to JFK may confuse you with the nearby aviation beacons.

Those who just backstroked across the Rio Grande may want to avoid 26 Federal Plaza New York City. It's the local INS Field Office. Taco Bell is on every other street corner. Julio's no longer by the schoolyard. A maximum of 30 people per apartment. Try to shower once a week. Garlic is not cologne. Don't roast geckos over an open fire and no, we don't sell taco shells large enough for a Chihuahua. Be advised, New York cockroaches are immune to everything from "RAID" to small nuclear explosions -- grind em' up and use em' as granola. Los Lobos: no malo. Salma Hayek: muy, muy, bueno. Ricky Martin: El stinko. Pancho Villa: dopey muerto bandido.

Curious about our rabid town mascot, 'Dingo', depicted in the logo? Well, Deathpage yentas share the same shrill cackle, pack mentality, and powerful jaws capable of eviscerating bone in a single bite as our hirsute hyena friend. So, if you decide to visit, take care not to get too close. A rabies booster shot may be prudent. Forewarned is forearmed.

Unjust! howled some -- where's the male logo? Isn't fair play a hallmark of democracy? The town elders are now engaged in a raging debate about this very question. The leading candidate is to the lower right. Methinks it fits like a thong on Pam Anderson. C'mon, join the fray. Send us an email telling us what you think. Thinking. A mental process that you control. Give it a shot, you just may get the hang of it. If the strain makes you woozy, place your head back between your legs until it clears.

The voluptuous wench below exemplifies our baleful beauties. Click to see the pageant Runner-Up. You're thinking fat, right? Wrong. That's gossip. Our women are not only world class gourmands, but are renowned for the novel way they store mountains of delectable, high-calorie gossip. Such a unique trait has anthropologists investigating the possibility that they are actually a parallel species -- Homo Humongous. Punctuated equilibrium? Hmm. Could be. We only certain that those working on this project have properly adjusted their lithium dosage.

You know how hard you search to find a unique gift for that special someone in your life, the gift that "says it all." Do you need an intimate yet succinct statement of your true feelings for your beloved? Your search ends where the Gift Shop begins. Go ahead, browse; just click on the "Gift Shop" link in the green section to your upper left. In our humble opinion, the first item you'll see not only captures the very essence of our community, but is particularly suitable for law enforcement types. (Also, don't miss our Hausfrua page.)

Need to express congrats? If you find you simply cannot contain your joy after viewing our sight, then sign our guestbook, or drop us an e-mail; both links are to your left. We'd love to read your vacuous drivel, maybe add it to our own, though we doubt you can plumb the depths of knavery as well as a genuine Deathpagian.

In the immmortal words of our hero, Ace Ventura: Allrighty then! -- enough of our introduction. To get the skinny -- having met the fatties - visit our very own online newspaper, 'The Deathpage Picayune Tribune'. Discover more of why Deathpage is so special. For our inaugural issue, we've decided to keep it simple, like our intellect, and to provide a general overview which will familiarize you with some important events, people, and places in Deathpage and on Long Island.

In the future we hope to further enlighten you about the derrings-do of the blottoed bloviators and nattering nimby-ites who continue to do us proud and make this such an irrepressible place. Consider popping a tub of Orville Reddenbacker before you cruise our site -- which tub you'll find doubles as an excellent hurl bucket. Our site remains modest, so please be patient. Bon appetite.