Recent developments deep in the heart of the Amazon reveal that the environment is once again in jeopardy. That's right, again.
"Ugh," said prominent environmental activist Warren Thaid. "Again? I just replaced all my lightbulbs with flourescent. What does the environment want? A fucking kiss on the head and a tuck-in goodnight?"
Recent Gallup polls reveal that only Americans are less worried about the more recent environmental jeopardies.
"The environment is just so gol-darn needy," said local business owner Sheila Craven. "Oh, the environment needs this. The environment needs that. It's like those annoying kids who come around every week trying to sell magazine subscriptions. And I'll tell the environment what I tell them: I don't care if you're constantly in need of aid; I'm only interested if Paul Newman is on the cover." Paul Newman was not available for comment.
"The first time someone told me the environment was in trouble, I quit my job and traveled the country planting trees," said random bystander Jimmy Treepleseed. "But the last time? I bought a Hummer and ran them over with it. I'm tired of this shit."
This reflects a growing trend of apathy among Americans who just want to be able to strip the Earth of its resources and be done with it. Philosopher David Hachoo, author of the book "But Mom I Don't Want to Clean My Room," writes:
"Everything is just too much effort nowadays: recycling your paper, not leaving the car running overnight, turning off the television when you're done watching it. Who wants to deal with all that inconvenience? All this caring is boring. Just kill the planet already and get it over with. Come onnnnnn."
Thousands turned out last Friday in Washington for their "Let the Environment Die Already, Geez" march. Chanting "Where do we want to drive? Everywhere! When do we want it? All the time!" they swarmed the White House and forced the president to sign into law a bill making sure that people don't feel guilty for not helping the environment more.
"It's just common sense," said President Bush. "All that environment stuff just takes up too much of our time. That concludes this press conference, I'll now be taking Air Force I to the 7-11 down the street. Hot dogs."
Monday, September 29, 2008
Surviving the Economy
There's toothpaste in the lead and dead children in the streets. Decaying bastions of industry run wild, picking up cars and tossing them against buildings as they let loose their dying wails. So we all ask the most pressing question: what does this all mean for my bank account?
Thankfully, there are solutions. Professional analyses finds that the most secure and growing industry in the country is theft. Invest in a piece of businessman's garroting wire, wander the streets, and take down the guy who looks like he has the biggest wallet. A good way to spot them is if they're wearing big pants. BIG MONEY TIP #1: BIG PANTS -> ROOM FOR BIG MONEY.
Don't count out the service sector. There's always someone looking for top-notch service. Any of your orifices is pretty much an ATM and some random guy's dick is the bank card. BIG MONEY TIP #2: DICK IN -> CASH OUT. Remember, you're in the free market, and the solution to anything is deregulation, so don't demand condoms! Worker safety is for communists.
Despite financial insecurity, one area remains as strong as ever. That's right, it's time to book it to a third world country and just start oppressing the HELL out of those people. BIG MONEY TIP #3: POOR PEOPLE -> MAKE THEM POORER. You see, money functions on the concept of scarcity. So if you make other people more miserable, your net value goes up! Don't ask why, it's economics!
There's no excuse for being poor, not even "but I'm dead!" Which is what you will be if you're poor. And you'll deserve it. Fucking poor people.
Thankfully, there are solutions. Professional analyses finds that the most secure and growing industry in the country is theft. Invest in a piece of businessman's garroting wire, wander the streets, and take down the guy who looks like he has the biggest wallet. A good way to spot them is if they're wearing big pants. BIG MONEY TIP #1: BIG PANTS -> ROOM FOR BIG MONEY.
Don't count out the service sector. There's always someone looking for top-notch service. Any of your orifices is pretty much an ATM and some random guy's dick is the bank card. BIG MONEY TIP #2: DICK IN -> CASH OUT. Remember, you're in the free market, and the solution to anything is deregulation, so don't demand condoms! Worker safety is for communists.
Despite financial insecurity, one area remains as strong as ever. That's right, it's time to book it to a third world country and just start oppressing the HELL out of those people. BIG MONEY TIP #3: POOR PEOPLE -> MAKE THEM POORER. You see, money functions on the concept of scarcity. So if you make other people more miserable, your net value goes up! Don't ask why, it's economics!
There's no excuse for being poor, not even "but I'm dead!" Which is what you will be if you're poor. And you'll deserve it. Fucking poor people.
Monday, September 15, 2008
The State of Axiomatics
IN THE DARK you see a fire. A fire in the darkness? But doesn't the fire make it light? Not this fire. This fire BETRAYS you. This fire makes you backwards. Let me introduce you to a little word I call "phlox." Phlox is the entirety of the way. The way of the fire and the way to REBEL against THE fire. You know it's time. Let me endure you for a little while longer. I will do so. You have a very pretty dress.
Axiom. Aziom? Axiom... atics. Red fire burning on the soles of the feet of your soul. Let me show you. There is a clock. That clock turns around every twenty four hours and controls the world. How else do you think the world turns? Trick question. The world doesn't turn at all. Scientists burrow into your mind at night and lay eggs. Descartes was the product of a violent Serbian uprising. You think you've heard it all but you've heard NOTHING. Do you love me? Not yet. You can't. They say you shouldn't. But you will.
The phlox axiom. You haven't heard it before. Nobody would let you hear it. But now you have. And now that you have you must never forget it, but you can't forget it, even if you try. Your head is knocking against my head. Stop. Stop hitting yourself. Stop hitting myself.
You must understand that I have to explain. Let me explain. Underneath every person's skin is a demon lurking to get out. We are only our skin. Everything else is an organ playing the song of the church. March to the beat of the church's drum which is your heart. Beating. Beating. I have tried to teach my message everywhere. But do they understand? Do you?
And let me say another axiom: the paper axiom. Understand that it is paper, and that is all that it can be. Paper cannot be anything else, anything else at all. That is why it is special. When you have a piece of paper you must never, ever throw it away. For you will be throwing away yourself. Do you see yourself on a piece of paper? You were a slave to the paper the first time you signed your name. Now it is too late. They say I wrote this article and it must have a joke in it. Okay.
Do you know what happened to the axiom? The axiom drowned. The axiom was me. Do you see?
Axiom. Aziom? Axiom... atics. Red fire burning on the soles of the feet of your soul. Let me show you. There is a clock. That clock turns around every twenty four hours and controls the world. How else do you think the world turns? Trick question. The world doesn't turn at all. Scientists burrow into your mind at night and lay eggs. Descartes was the product of a violent Serbian uprising. You think you've heard it all but you've heard NOTHING. Do you love me? Not yet. You can't. They say you shouldn't. But you will.
The phlox axiom. You haven't heard it before. Nobody would let you hear it. But now you have. And now that you have you must never forget it, but you can't forget it, even if you try. Your head is knocking against my head. Stop. Stop hitting yourself. Stop hitting myself.
You must understand that I have to explain. Let me explain. Underneath every person's skin is a demon lurking to get out. We are only our skin. Everything else is an organ playing the song of the church. March to the beat of the church's drum which is your heart. Beating. Beating. I have tried to teach my message everywhere. But do they understand? Do you?
And let me say another axiom: the paper axiom. Understand that it is paper, and that is all that it can be. Paper cannot be anything else, anything else at all. That is why it is special. When you have a piece of paper you must never, ever throw it away. For you will be throwing away yourself. Do you see yourself on a piece of paper? You were a slave to the paper the first time you signed your name. Now it is too late. They say I wrote this article and it must have a joke in it. Okay.
Do you know what happened to the axiom? The axiom drowned. The axiom was me. Do you see?
Sunday, September 14, 2008
LOLCats So Funny
"Oh my god," said Sophomore Casey Phriden, "I love those cats, they are so funny!"
Casey is simply on the verge of a new phenomenon, the "Lol Cats," popular in college dorm rooms and college posters everywhere.
"It's pretty simple," explained Junior Corey Spalding, "there are these cats, and they can't quite speak correctly. 'I can has'... anything! It's hilarious. It's the kind of joke you wait all your life for. It's the kind of joke that you wake up to find sleeping next to you, and even though it's pretty ugly by your own standards and maybe two years past its prime you lean over and you kiss it. You don't really know why. It's that kind of joke."
The LOLCats are the latest in a long line of jokes that never, ever get old no matter how many times they are told. Joke museum curator Caley Johnson weighed in.
"There are only so many jokes which survive past the first telling. This... this will be the swan song of the generation. Very nice! My name-a Borat! When people born in the late 80's and early 90's need something to unite themselves and prove to the younger generation that they are no longer hip, this will be it. But, there is one thing I must ask you," said Johnson. "And that is... do you know the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"
Caley Johnson interrupted our interview by laughing for seven hours straight.
There is no shortage of appreciation for this iconic laugh factory. At the recent Reed alumni convention, many groups could be overheard: the 1980s graduates chuckling over "Where's the Beef?" the 1996 graduates finding new and incredible ways to signal "wazaaaaaaap" to each other, and the 1999 graduates gyrating their hips and beckoning "yeah, baby, yeah!" Finally, the 2007 graduates celebrated in their own small corner squeaking out "alumni cat is watching you drink" and smirking knowingly to themselves.
"I think it's clear," reprised Caley Johnson, "there's no end to this joke. It will just keep going on and on and on and keep being fresh and original every time! There may be a doubt about how long longcat is, but there's no doubt about this." Caley Johnson then stretched his mouth into a horrible reminiscence of its former self and proceeded to eat his own head. A haunting laughing sound emenated from what was once his lips. Two onlookers mumbled "cats" to each other and giggled.
Casey is simply on the verge of a new phenomenon, the "Lol Cats," popular in college dorm rooms and college posters everywhere.
"It's pretty simple," explained Junior Corey Spalding, "there are these cats, and they can't quite speak correctly. 'I can has'... anything! It's hilarious. It's the kind of joke you wait all your life for. It's the kind of joke that you wake up to find sleeping next to you, and even though it's pretty ugly by your own standards and maybe two years past its prime you lean over and you kiss it. You don't really know why. It's that kind of joke."
The LOLCats are the latest in a long line of jokes that never, ever get old no matter how many times they are told. Joke museum curator Caley Johnson weighed in.
"There are only so many jokes which survive past the first telling. This... this will be the swan song of the generation. Very nice! My name-a Borat! When people born in the late 80's and early 90's need something to unite themselves and prove to the younger generation that they are no longer hip, this will be it. But, there is one thing I must ask you," said Johnson. "And that is... do you know the airspeed velocity of an unladen swallow?"
Caley Johnson interrupted our interview by laughing for seven hours straight.
There is no shortage of appreciation for this iconic laugh factory. At the recent Reed alumni convention, many groups could be overheard: the 1980s graduates chuckling over "Where's the Beef?" the 1996 graduates finding new and incredible ways to signal "wazaaaaaaap" to each other, and the 1999 graduates gyrating their hips and beckoning "yeah, baby, yeah!" Finally, the 2007 graduates celebrated in their own small corner squeaking out "alumni cat is watching you drink" and smirking knowingly to themselves.
"I think it's clear," reprised Caley Johnson, "there's no end to this joke. It will just keep going on and on and on and keep being fresh and original every time! There may be a doubt about how long longcat is, but there's no doubt about this." Caley Johnson then stretched his mouth into a horrible reminiscence of its former self and proceeded to eat his own head. A haunting laughing sound emenated from what was once his lips. Two onlookers mumbled "cats" to each other and giggled.
Postcard from Thesis Hell
"Oh man," I say, buckling into my thesis safety seat. "What a bonerkiller."
That's right. Through all the hysteria, panic, and late-night naked thesis meetings with my advisor, one thing has remained constant: my thesis is a fucking bonerkiller. I'm sitting in a sauna with a bunch of other dudes, a boner comes out of NOWHERE and all I have to do is think "fall break deadlines" and BAM that boner goes the hell down. I try. I do what I can to maintain that boner, but there's no greater bonerkiller in the universe than my thesis and that is a tool to be wielded wisely and precisely.
You can't just drag your thesis into any sort of bonerkilling situation. You're talking with your grandmother and you get a boner? You're out of god damn luck, man. Kill your boner however you want, but don't include my thesis. My thesis has a bonerkilling power all its own. I won't have that being co-opted by any sort of hot-grandma action. The thesis is specific and well-defined, and none of that definition includes ANYTHING about grandmas.
What I'm trying to say is that doing a thesis is lame as hell. However, for all the times you wished you had a bonerkiller you will now have one. Just talk to your advisor and say "hey, I am not really interested in doing a thesis but I wanted a bonerkiller. Please just let me keep that part and never graduate. I promise to stick around the poolhall if that is a requirement." Then, if you ever need a bonerkiller, you are set for life. You could even meet the president. You could even write a book. You could even be a girl.
That's right. Through all the hysteria, panic, and late-night naked thesis meetings with my advisor, one thing has remained constant: my thesis is a fucking bonerkiller. I'm sitting in a sauna with a bunch of other dudes, a boner comes out of NOWHERE and all I have to do is think "fall break deadlines" and BAM that boner goes the hell down. I try. I do what I can to maintain that boner, but there's no greater bonerkiller in the universe than my thesis and that is a tool to be wielded wisely and precisely.
You can't just drag your thesis into any sort of bonerkilling situation. You're talking with your grandmother and you get a boner? You're out of god damn luck, man. Kill your boner however you want, but don't include my thesis. My thesis has a bonerkilling power all its own. I won't have that being co-opted by any sort of hot-grandma action. The thesis is specific and well-defined, and none of that definition includes ANYTHING about grandmas.
What I'm trying to say is that doing a thesis is lame as hell. However, for all the times you wished you had a bonerkiller you will now have one. Just talk to your advisor and say "hey, I am not really interested in doing a thesis but I wanted a bonerkiller. Please just let me keep that part and never graduate. I promise to stick around the poolhall if that is a requirement." Then, if you ever need a bonerkiller, you are set for life. You could even meet the president. You could even write a book. You could even be a girl.
MAN DOG & WOMAN DOG
MAN-DOG RETURNS
WOOF WOOF comin’ at you from all sides, bringing a fuckin’ A GAME. You got to be tellin’ them crazy broads trying to show you UP. You ain’t gotta take any of that shit because you a MAN DOG hot shit MAN DOG WOOF WOOF.
Ladies all tryin’ to be all “hey you are not so hot in fact you SUCK” but you gotta put them right. You gotta be all checkin’ into a high price hotel and lookin’ out your window and yellin’ all “HEY YOU AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME WOOF WOOF” then you pull out your DOG SALAMI and be all rubbin it up against the window bein’ all “HEY THIS WINDOW PRETTIER THAN YOU” and then the lady snaps her fingers ‘cuz she just got SHOWN.
Another way to show a crazy broad who be steppin’ on your god damn GAME god shit god DAMN be a MAN DOG is to get a stool and climb up on the table and take off your shirt and flex your crazy big muscles and then she is all “damn I did not know muscles could be that big” and then she gets up on the stool and she is ready to do some CRAZY POUNDING but then you push her off and she falls on the ground and you are like I am a GOD DAMN shit CRAZY fuck HOT damn MAN DOG DON’T STEP and then she is like daaaaang.
So basically you gotta be rememberin’ all this and then people everywhere gonna be all “damn that is the guy who is not afraid to show the ladies who try to be all crazy on him, I am going to go over to him and have some CRAZY POUNDING” and then you be like “hell yeah WOOF WOOF.”
WOMAN-DOG DEBUTS
WOOF WOOF It is time for you to be all stickin’ to your guns HOT CHICAS because it is time for a little lesson on how to keep off those fuckin’ men tryin’ to cop in on your LADY JUSTICE.
First you gotta get up, you gotta get up and you gotta look in the mirror and you say to yourself “GOD DAMN IF I AIN’T THE FINEST CHICA IN THE FUCKING WORLD LOOK AT THOSE CHEEKBONES I GOT CHEEKBONES LIKE A SAMURAI SWORD BECAUSE THEY CUT THINGS AND ARE WELL PLACED” then start rubbin’ your hands all over your cheekbones and men be all breakin’ down your door tryin’ to get at you and they say please and thank you like a nice man HOT DAMN.
NEXT you gotta walk down the street and you see a dollar on the ground and you pick it up and say “hey who left this dollar here” and everybody around you go all “shit this lady be all generous and kind, returning things that do not belong to her” and then you are having sex with them on the street and people pass you by and you say WHAT and they don’t know shit because you are BOBBING WITH A HOT ONE NEAR THE SIDEWALK.
And then sometimes you gotta dole out the LADY JUSTICE so you walk into a place, you walk right in and you go “hey what does a lady have to do around here to get some god damn mother FUCK holy SHIT service?” and when they say to wait a minute you just pull out a stereo and start dancin’ and kick their desk and they are like “stop kicking my desk” but you don’t stop because you are HARD CORE STYLE WOOF WOOF.
WOOF WOOF comin’ at you from all sides, bringing a fuckin’ A GAME. You got to be tellin’ them crazy broads trying to show you UP. You ain’t gotta take any of that shit because you a MAN DOG hot shit MAN DOG WOOF WOOF.
Ladies all tryin’ to be all “hey you are not so hot in fact you SUCK” but you gotta put them right. You gotta be all checkin’ into a high price hotel and lookin’ out your window and yellin’ all “HEY YOU AIN’T GOT SHIT ON ME WOOF WOOF” then you pull out your DOG SALAMI and be all rubbin it up against the window bein’ all “HEY THIS WINDOW PRETTIER THAN YOU” and then the lady snaps her fingers ‘cuz she just got SHOWN.
Another way to show a crazy broad who be steppin’ on your god damn GAME god shit god DAMN be a MAN DOG is to get a stool and climb up on the table and take off your shirt and flex your crazy big muscles and then she is all “damn I did not know muscles could be that big” and then she gets up on the stool and she is ready to do some CRAZY POUNDING but then you push her off and she falls on the ground and you are like I am a GOD DAMN shit CRAZY fuck HOT damn MAN DOG DON’T STEP and then she is like daaaaang.
So basically you gotta be rememberin’ all this and then people everywhere gonna be all “damn that is the guy who is not afraid to show the ladies who try to be all crazy on him, I am going to go over to him and have some CRAZY POUNDING” and then you be like “hell yeah WOOF WOOF.”
WOMAN-DOG DEBUTS
WOOF WOOF It is time for you to be all stickin’ to your guns HOT CHICAS because it is time for a little lesson on how to keep off those fuckin’ men tryin’ to cop in on your LADY JUSTICE.
First you gotta get up, you gotta get up and you gotta look in the mirror and you say to yourself “GOD DAMN IF I AIN’T THE FINEST CHICA IN THE FUCKING WORLD LOOK AT THOSE CHEEKBONES I GOT CHEEKBONES LIKE A SAMURAI SWORD BECAUSE THEY CUT THINGS AND ARE WELL PLACED” then start rubbin’ your hands all over your cheekbones and men be all breakin’ down your door tryin’ to get at you and they say please and thank you like a nice man HOT DAMN.
NEXT you gotta walk down the street and you see a dollar on the ground and you pick it up and say “hey who left this dollar here” and everybody around you go all “shit this lady be all generous and kind, returning things that do not belong to her” and then you are having sex with them on the street and people pass you by and you say WHAT and they don’t know shit because you are BOBBING WITH A HOT ONE NEAR THE SIDEWALK.
And then sometimes you gotta dole out the LADY JUSTICE so you walk into a place, you walk right in and you go “hey what does a lady have to do around here to get some god damn mother FUCK holy SHIT service?” and when they say to wait a minute you just pull out a stereo and start dancin’ and kick their desk and they are like “stop kicking my desk” but you don’t stop because you are HARD CORE STYLE WOOF WOOF.
How to Reed-ify Your Music
It's the common state of every freshman on campus - your music sucks and you don't even know it yet! How sad. How can you expect to invite your quirky friends over for quirky tea and quirky crackers if you can't even play the right quirky music on your quirky Macbook? Red Hot Chili Peppers? Coheed and Cambria? High School Musical? You're going to have to do better than that.
1) OBSCURITY
You're coming from a high school where everybody listened to T-Pain and you listened to Pixies because you're such a fucking rebel. Well, now everybody listens to Pixies. What the hell are you going to do? You could listen to Neutral Milk Hotel but that shit got played out while you were still in middle school learning how to smoke. Boris? What the hell are you thinking, do you even WANT any friends who think of you as "the music guy"? And if you think The Mountain Goats are obscure you can just stop right now because you're worthless. You're absolutely worthless. Fuck you. Fuck you and take your little crybaby music and go take a shit in your own brain, because your head is already in the right spot for it (up your ass).
SOLUTION: Turn it back on those fuckers, it's time to break out the T-Pain.
2) IRONY
In high school you could get by maybe attending an 80's party every once in a while, dancing to Hall & Oates and calling it a night. No. Fucking. More. Here at Reed we have a fucking Troy showing every year. This is the Irony: Deluxe Edition. God dammit. You're barely showing your abject contempt for shit. You could hardly wear a trucker's hat without jumping in a big rig to blow the driver. What kind of irony is that? The next time you're standing on the side of the road making that "honk your horn" gesture you'd better take that fist and shove it in the tailpipe, and as you're being dragged along by the truck and your 70's television show t-shirt is being ripped to shreds you think about what a failure your life is before the truck explodes when it can't get rid of it's exhaust because there's a bigger piece of machine shit blocking the way: YOU.
SOLUTION: Nerdcore Hip-Hop. Let poor people know that their culture is without substance and their plight is worthy of ridicule. Get back at those T-Pain assholes.
3) TEPIDITY
In the end the bland shit that people listen to here is the same bland shit that everyone listens to everywhere else. Oh hey Reed College what is the greatest band of all time? Oh it's THE BEATLES. Great, thanks. I love fucking harmonies and three chord songs and lyrics so childish they may as well have been written by the band's average listener. I bet you have sex in the missionary position listening to Barry White and then get prepared for work with the complex melodies of Explosions in the Sky while you clean off your cock (if you are a guy) with the hole of the latest Radiohead disc. If there's any band that deserves to be covered in semen it's them, so it's convenient that they manage to do it all by themselves.
SOLUTION: I give up. Your ears aren't worth saving. God dammit I need a bath. Go listen to some Iron & Wine and then kill yourself.
1) OBSCURITY
You're coming from a high school where everybody listened to T-Pain and you listened to Pixies because you're such a fucking rebel. Well, now everybody listens to Pixies. What the hell are you going to do? You could listen to Neutral Milk Hotel but that shit got played out while you were still in middle school learning how to smoke. Boris? What the hell are you thinking, do you even WANT any friends who think of you as "the music guy"? And if you think The Mountain Goats are obscure you can just stop right now because you're worthless. You're absolutely worthless. Fuck you. Fuck you and take your little crybaby music and go take a shit in your own brain, because your head is already in the right spot for it (up your ass).
SOLUTION: Turn it back on those fuckers, it's time to break out the T-Pain.
2) IRONY
In high school you could get by maybe attending an 80's party every once in a while, dancing to Hall & Oates and calling it a night. No. Fucking. More. Here at Reed we have a fucking Troy showing every year. This is the Irony: Deluxe Edition. God dammit. You're barely showing your abject contempt for shit. You could hardly wear a trucker's hat without jumping in a big rig to blow the driver. What kind of irony is that? The next time you're standing on the side of the road making that "honk your horn" gesture you'd better take that fist and shove it in the tailpipe, and as you're being dragged along by the truck and your 70's television show t-shirt is being ripped to shreds you think about what a failure your life is before the truck explodes when it can't get rid of it's exhaust because there's a bigger piece of machine shit blocking the way: YOU.
SOLUTION: Nerdcore Hip-Hop. Let poor people know that their culture is without substance and their plight is worthy of ridicule. Get back at those T-Pain assholes.
3) TEPIDITY
In the end the bland shit that people listen to here is the same bland shit that everyone listens to everywhere else. Oh hey Reed College what is the greatest band of all time? Oh it's THE BEATLES. Great, thanks. I love fucking harmonies and three chord songs and lyrics so childish they may as well have been written by the band's average listener. I bet you have sex in the missionary position listening to Barry White and then get prepared for work with the complex melodies of Explosions in the Sky while you clean off your cock (if you are a guy) with the hole of the latest Radiohead disc. If there's any band that deserves to be covered in semen it's them, so it's convenient that they manage to do it all by themselves.
SOLUTION: I give up. Your ears aren't worth saving. God dammit I need a bath. Go listen to some Iron & Wine and then kill yourself.
The Pamphlette Summer Digest
You probably didn't get a chance to read The Pamphlette over the summer. That's what we call "betrayal." But we forgive you, and that's why we're creating this digest of all the most important stories that you missed this summer.
• The El Paso, Texas police force is under investigation after raiding a meeting of people with shaved heads and flowing robes drinking Kool-Aid. The head of Buddhist Monks Who Think Kool-Aid is Delicious Anti-Defamation League had no comment, insisting that we must be free of all comments if we are truly to understand the subject at hand.
• An obese man in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania sat down on a chair, causing it to break. According to a witness on the scene, “it was really fucking funny.”
• Approximately 13.5 million people all over the world died due to various causes over the course of the summer. When reached for comment, a guy with long hair in a black T-shirt chuckled and said “brutal, man.”
• Barack Obama agreed to play the lead in a new Broadway production of The Who’s Tommy. This move on the part of the candidate comes to many as a surprise.
“I never thought of myself as a performer before,” said Obama, “but I guess I caught the acting bug while pretending to be a liberal during the primary.”
The first run will open in New York this October. Obama’s experience being deaf, dumb, and blind is expected by election analysis to give him a bump among Libertarians this November, as well as pinball enthusiasts.
• Hot on the heels of this spring’s “pregnant man” story, a woman in Seattle, Washington became pregnant in June. She is scheduled for talk show appearances through November.
• Several records were broken at this year's Beijing Olympics, including "most racist analysis of host country," and "most comedians making easy jokes about 'rejected olympic events.'"
• Star of stage and screen Matthew Broderick did nothing of any interest.
“I guess that’s par for the course,” said Broderick, hanging his head and kicking a rock, stubbing his toe. “Aw, shucks.”
• Muncie, Indiana’s annual Opposite Day was a resounding failure.
• White supremacist leader David Duke began a career as a stand up comedian. His act contains five jokes, each one a pun on the phrase “white powder.” No tickets have been sold.
• The art world has been shifting in response to the new "child criticism" movement.
"I liked the Mowa Lisa 'cuz it looks like my mommy," said renowned critic Kimmy.
Not all artists have been appreciative of the new development. "I liked the idea when I thought it was about criticizing children," said painter Dana Lehey.
• Los Angeles high school trigonometry teacher Randall Munroe has found the world's lamest math joke.
"It's an honor to be widely recognized, especially in such a high competition area," said Munroe. "Get it? Widely recognized, high competition area? Height and width in an area? Ha... ha." He then tugged on his sweater vest and grinned nervously. "I've got a million of them."
• The El Paso, Texas police force is under investigation after raiding a meeting of people with shaved heads and flowing robes drinking Kool-Aid. The head of Buddhist Monks Who Think Kool-Aid is Delicious Anti-Defamation League had no comment, insisting that we must be free of all comments if we are truly to understand the subject at hand.
• An obese man in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania sat down on a chair, causing it to break. According to a witness on the scene, “it was really fucking funny.”
• Approximately 13.5 million people all over the world died due to various causes over the course of the summer. When reached for comment, a guy with long hair in a black T-shirt chuckled and said “brutal, man.”
• Barack Obama agreed to play the lead in a new Broadway production of The Who’s Tommy. This move on the part of the candidate comes to many as a surprise.
“I never thought of myself as a performer before,” said Obama, “but I guess I caught the acting bug while pretending to be a liberal during the primary.”
The first run will open in New York this October. Obama’s experience being deaf, dumb, and blind is expected by election analysis to give him a bump among Libertarians this November, as well as pinball enthusiasts.
• Hot on the heels of this spring’s “pregnant man” story, a woman in Seattle, Washington became pregnant in June. She is scheduled for talk show appearances through November.
• Several records were broken at this year's Beijing Olympics, including "most racist analysis of host country," and "most comedians making easy jokes about 'rejected olympic events.'"
• Star of stage and screen Matthew Broderick did nothing of any interest.
“I guess that’s par for the course,” said Broderick, hanging his head and kicking a rock, stubbing his toe. “Aw, shucks.”
• Muncie, Indiana’s annual Opposite Day was a resounding failure.
• White supremacist leader David Duke began a career as a stand up comedian. His act contains five jokes, each one a pun on the phrase “white powder.” No tickets have been sold.
• The art world has been shifting in response to the new "child criticism" movement.
"I liked the Mowa Lisa 'cuz it looks like my mommy," said renowned critic Kimmy.
Not all artists have been appreciative of the new development. "I liked the idea when I thought it was about criticizing children," said painter Dana Lehey.
• Los Angeles high school trigonometry teacher Randall Munroe has found the world's lamest math joke.
"It's an honor to be widely recognized, especially in such a high competition area," said Munroe. "Get it? Widely recognized, high competition area? Height and width in an area? Ha... ha." He then tugged on his sweater vest and grinned nervously. "I've got a million of them."
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