“Huffington Post started as a hoax.”

Johnny Knuckles Exclusive Report

Two years ago, an idealistic Jenny Trenton accepted an internship at The Onion, self-described as “America’s Finest News Source.”

Young Jenny has the charm and confident manner of an ex-cheerleader and journo-school graduate. “You have to understand,” she said carefully wiping a drop of vodka from her glistening lower lip. “The Onion is all about parody and satire and other comedy. Amusing and funny. And not always ha-ha funny. Sometimes it was some-schmoe-living-with-his-aunt funny.”

“For us interns it was super competitive. We all tried catching the attention of the editors during the story meetings. I worked so hard but the editors just didn’t take any of my ideas.”

A little over a year ago, a discouraged Jenny was at the brink of giving up her dream of becoming a comedic content provider. That’s when she took one last shot at impressing her Onion bosses.

“I had an idea that I though was funny as hell. I'd start a hoax site where I’d write fictitious articles under the name of dim-witted celebrities about the most important issues of our age… or the very least important issues. Brilliant, huh? What could go wrong?”

Using nothing but her pluck and ability to write inanities in the name of others, Jenny started the Huffington Post.

“I named it after this dopey foreigner I caught on a cable talk show.”

Jenny’s plan was simple. “I was going to start it up and then show it off on my iBook during one of the zany roundtable discussions at the Onion. Applause and laughs. Hugs from the editors and drinks afterwards. What could go wrong?”

For young Jenny, just about everything went wrong when The Huffington Post was taken seriously by legions of readers. Soon the celebrities themselves agreed to contribute more articles—at no charge.

“It was still very funny. But since the comedy came from the real life Laurie David, Richard Bradley, and Deepac Chopra, who would credit little ol’ me?”

Multi-millionaire Arianna Huffington (who spoiled the plot to the Sixth Sense in her syndicated column before its DVD release) successfully sued Jenny for control of the site that now generates millions in ad revenues.

Between weak punches to her own leg, Jenny fought valiantly against the tears. This reporter kindly refreshed her glass of premium Polish vodka. As he waited patiently for brave Jenny to collect her thoughts, he carefully studied Jenny’s legs for self-inflicted bruising. Then he studied her tanned thighs and exposed mid-rift for biker-boyfriend bruising. None, thankfully.

“What really hurts,” Jenny continued after the impromptu examination ended, “is that now the Onion editors will never think I could ever write anything funny. Intentionally, I mean”