Funding Free-for-All as Tobacco Livery nets Full Presidential Approval.

  CWMC Racing Headquarters, Ardrossan, Ab:  Following the devastating loss of Satan as a sponsor this year, the CWMC Racing Division was relieved to find another source of unholy evil sporting staggering fuckloads of semi-legal-tax-dodgin'-tender and happily welcomed several reviled mega-corporations aboard with assurances of front page performance and professionalism.

High hopes; higher drivers.

   Banned from sponsoring major-league motorsport, tobacco giants have had to rely strictly on the ruinous addiction factor to shore up sales, and they were desperate to get their colours back on some iron and tacked up on some bedroom walls, even if it meant handing over an irrational amount of "startup funds" to possibly the least effectual group of individuals in the history of motor sport, the CWMC Racing Division.
   With the promise of a bottomless cash cow funneling spine-chilling amounts of dough into the Racing Division's bank account, the Prez , in the hopes of feathering somewhat of a nicotinic nest-egg, had already begun drafting the plans for Operation Ultimate Safety Meeting Showdown, a complex series of protocols designed to demoralize even the most tenacious of accounting firms and ensure a tidy skim to help offset the cost of his own habits, both automotive and auto-destructive. Of course, this meant taking the actual cash out of the budget for the cars, which, if the skim had been a subtle series of feints and phantom delivery charges, would not have presented itself quite so obviously as it did this last season, with ferocious cost-cutting taking its toll on maintenance, and, inevitably, reliability.

Satan's money and connections will be missed.

  "I don't see any downside at all," said the President today, inter- viewed from his bed on the 11th floor of the Jiffy-Park on 132nd where he sat, propped up and somewhat ashen, burning through pack after pack of Marlboro Kings and Viscount 100s, pouring effective G&Ts one-handed and causing occasional flare-ups as gin-soaked sheets came in contact with falling butts, "I really can't imagine how this can go wrong."

Season shortened by Agent 406's killer Sunbird.

  The missing funding seems to be headed in several uncomfort- able directions; a decent chunk of it is immediately appropriated for narcotics and a similar wedge cut to keep the delivery trucks full of Beefeater and Bombay Dry backing up to the door. The rest gets harder to trace; the French Car Division is a likely suspect again here, but the sheer size of the Company makes a mockery of any attempts to navigate its convolutions.

8771's JPS in happier times

  "The potential for abuse here is just about impossible to overstate." said Agent 8771 today in a laborious telephone interview from Maui where he has been been "training" for several weeks now, apparently to improve his skills at shuffling around shit-headed, looking for his hotel after a rough workout of touristy, triple-umbrella cocktails at the beach, chaining free JPS Kings courtesy of his generous sponsor and throwing the butts at the playing dolphins while hollering incoherently about the "goddamn track conditions".

Lack of funding for maintenance is starting to show.

  Satan, meanwhile, has decided to concen- trate full-time on robbing the entire working middle class of their savings and his day job doesn't leave time to concentrate on motor sports as much as he wants to.
  "Look," he said, opening the door to his Prius, "just keep borrowing more money to buy depreciating assets. That's all I'm asking. And buy some stocks and shit like that; remember, you gotta be in for the long term."
  The President wished to remind all Agents that "You can print money, but you can't print stupid; that you have to supply yourself."