Hollywood, CA-After a disgraceful exit from network television, ABC executives met last week to discuss the future of Roseanne. In the meeting it was determined that the cardboard palettes of American’s dumb enough to watch network television needed to be cleansed. Washed over with another reheated, cereal bowl of skim milk and chased with a fistful equally hot cantaloupe innards.
It was time to truly show the country what the network stood for and create something that the country as a whole could cherish and call their own.
Enter Roseanne 2, ABC’s newest and most ambitious endeavor yet.
Roseanne 2 is set to launch next week and will star the only man 100% of American’s trust, Steve Harvey. Steve Harvey will star as Roseanne and, as such, has agreed to undergo a scalp replacement surgery with the real Roseanne Barr in an effort to capture the true essence of the character. Similar to the surgery seen in the movie Face Off, but fortunately limited to scalps only.
The horrifying monstrosity that is born will undoubtedly unite the nation with zany hijinks. Watch at Steve Harvey wheels around New York City on a Segway made out of deli meat pegging people in the face with full cans of Mountain Dew Code Red and drawing caricatures of rat families by the peer. And once a week, he’ll play a solo game of Russian roulette with a t-shirt cannon full of garlic knots from Sbarro.
So tune in now, because you can’t even wipe your own ass!
Chicago, IL-A man of humble constitution was seen frantically weaving in and out of morning commuters as he attempted to commence his regular, shirtless morning jog on one of the busiest streets in Chicago. He definitely hadn’t been preparing his entire life for this moment. He definitely didn’t just hit L.A. Tan and certainly didn’t lightly mist his body with extra virgin olive oil for a perfect sheen.
There’s absolutely no chance he could have anticipated people accidentally gazing up at him as he pranced about while screaming the words left and right. His face contorting into an abyss of pain and anguish caused by a lifetime of eating $18 Açaí bowls and wearing only Lululemon. Decades spent perceiving himself as the messiah of leisure running.
He didn’t want any of this. He only wanted a seamless, half-naked jog on one of the most crowded streets in the city in which the pedestrians would simply stand motionless and worship his physique in silence instead of go about their normal daily routine. Inconsiderate little insects.
At least he can go to bed knowing that several people unwillingly looked at his nipples. Rest easy sweet prince, for you convinced several people you’ll never see again that you contain some moderate athletic ability.
Silicon Valley, CA-We’ve all seen the incredible ingenuity behind Untuckit, the New York based, men’s wear line which harpooned the fashion world by discovering that shirts contain the ability to be untucked. After decades of painstakingly studying Tommy Bahama and Life is Good, Untuckit was finally able to determine that paunchy men with no personalities enjoy remedying their looming depression by buying future landfill fodder.
Continuing in the tradition of waste, a contrarian brand known as Tuck It has birthed through a tower of skid marked jock straps in a characterless suburb of your choosing. Tuck It is a brand new shirt for men that fastens under the gooch, similar to a child’s onesie.
The patented burlap thong back fits perfectly into most sized butt cracks and because it fastens to the revolutionary “scrote-bag” in front, your shirt will stay firmly tucked in even as the rest of your life falls to pieces. As you look into the mirror at your deteriorating body and mind, you can at least take comfort in the fact that you purchased a shirt from a Facebook ad.
Imagine losing your wife and your job in the same day while still looking like the prideful asshole you are. So give up today and say Tuck It.
Chicago, IL-As formative memories dissolve through your thumb into a pool of blue light and the motion of endless scrolling, one shimmering vein in the suffocating coal mine of your head remains constant. A haunting tune lured out of hiding by tiny trembling fingers on an instrument that was born in a forbidden love affair between a flute and a goddamn tin whistle. The unwanted atrocity that was birthed would infuriate grade schoolers for years to come.
Loved only by the person foolish enough to try and teach 3rd graders music, the inexplicable obsession with the instrument could never be grasped by the students. The devotion to recorder maintenance, the torrent past of how the recorder came to be, the transcendant beauty it could produce if only it made a different noise when blown upon.
An unsubstantiated and blind zeal that was unsettling to everyone involved. Lowering their heads while maintaining uncomfortable eye contact with the class, they played their triumphant tune.
Nonetheless that plastic whistle with an engorged mouth piece and the only song anyone ever learned with it can still be found wandering the disintegrating, wallpapered hallways of your mind. Always seeking a glimpse at the outside world. Hot. Cross. Buns. Hot. Cross. Buns. One a penny. Two a Penny. Hot.Cross.Buns.
Hollywood, CA-The 2010 comedy, Marmaduke, starring Owen Wilson and a CGI dog wearing comically large sunglasses was originally set to be directed by Francis Ford Coppola but after 20th Century Fox discovered a brutal execution scene planted immediately after a CGI doggy surf competition (complete with dogs barking the chorus of Surfing U.S.A.), the script was turned over to Tom Dey.
“The execution scene just wasn’t zany enough for us…we we’re thinking more along the lines of Owen Wilson farting and then Marmaduke tilting down his sunglasses as though pondering who the REAL dog in the room was…instead we got Owen Wilson beheading Marmaduke behind a shed after becoming suspicious that the dog was sabotaging his failing marriage,” said 20th Century Fox representative Bill Biscane.
The real problem with the plot twist was, that Marmaduke was effectively eliminated from the movie about a half hour in, which rendered all of the promotional materials completely useless as the final 3 hours of the movie contained virtually no CGI fueled hijinks.
Fortunately for us, Marmaduke was a visual masterpiece that warmed the heart of America.
Hollywood, CA-The swimsuit portion of the Miss America competition has been euthanized, but the rest of the jaundiced, dying mess unfortunately remains on life support in a piss soaked hospital bed. It’s withered skeleton only able to haunt us with arbitrary programming and a title more meaningless than a degree from University of Phoenix. Queen of rot. Savior of disposable content. Crown of goddamn leaking Tide Pods.
The swimsuit portion of the show has been replaced by a lively debate section in which contestants exchange taking ten second pulls from a canister of keyboard duster and then debate whether or not a giant computer is screaming the words laurel or yanny. The new addition is said to be an enormous leap for humanity.
“We’re not fucking animals here, sure we’ll still be casting out rash judgements of women based on looks and a couple of idiotic questions, but at least now with the duster portion, we’ll be far more accurate and civilized,” said a waiter from Cracker Barrel who once served Randy Jackson and is now considered an infallible voice in the judgement of women.
As the event draws ever nearer, millions of Americans in soiled skid marked sweatpants will gather around their TVs to huff duster with their favorite contestants. Still objectifying people, but just in a different way.
Chicago, IL-A person with absolutely no more platitudes to offer about varying friend’s birthdays has hired New York Times best-selling author David Baldacci to pen a vaguely sentimental and undoubtedly lengthy caption to accompany a lifeless picture of a, now distant, acquaintance.
After several years of posts celebrating every national puppy day, national cry yourself to sleep day, national sibling day, national butthole day, take your goat to work day and every single birthday from a lifetime of formative friendships, Kristina Hodges finally had nothing left to say.
An entire deflating Instagram feed oozing oblivion like old Kikkoman bleeding from a rice heart at a Hibachi Grill in middle Indiana.
“Much like my novels, by rearranging a few words, you can make a one-of-a-kind birthday dedication for any friend. Forever my inspiration can be changed to My forever inspiration or Inspiration my forever, because ultimately no one cares, I employed a similar method to my novels Man Down Below and Below, Man Down!” said Baldacci taking a long pull from a Virginia Slim cigarette.
Hollywood, CA-Yesterday, the nutrient deprived, loose bowel movement of ignorance that Rosanne Barr managed to squirt out of her hate filled heart provided enough lubrication to send her entire steaming hot coil of a show into the eternal depths of an unmarked porta-potty in Northern Indiana.
Rosanne now begins her redemption tour. And the only thing that can bring someone back from the depths of ignorance and hatred is performing as a beloved, day-walking human hybrid who only hates one thing…vampires.
“Much like my show and myself, it will all be very tastefully done, the script itself was actually written by the kid from Two and a Half Men, very beautiful stuff!” said Rosanne, taking a discreet pull from a can of spray paint in a baby pool made of deli meat.
Her inability to comprehend that this is a terrible idea disappearing into the air with intermittent fart streams.
“Once I play Blade in the musical remake, all will be forgiven. Blade transcends race and his hatred of vampires is as patriotic as it gets! The country will have no choice but to forgive me for my obliviousness and ignorance!” continued Rosanne, slyly adjusting a pair of athletic sunglasses.
We are all witnesses to humanity’s final plunge into madness and despair.
Chicago, IL-On Tuesday, an employee turned to the divine in an effort to sustain solitude whilst in the throes of a midafternoon ring piece onslaught after dabbling in a tray of Potbelly sandwiches, which were left out for an indeterminable amount of time.
“Once the door opens and the eager footsteps of a sniveling coworker become audible, there are certain desperate promises made to the Lord Almighty. Those promises are obviously exchanged for a moment of divine influence in which that coworker occupies anywhere in the bathroom except the stall adjacent to you,” said Bill Biscane, carefully turning his name badge over to maintain some level of perceived anonymity.
“My first born is not out of the question,” continued Biscane bracing himself for more carnage.
Like most people, Biscane is under the impression that, if there is a god, he/she/it would surely prove their existence by intervening in lifeless corporate bathroom scenarios. The perfect setting to prove their divine power and convert skeptics.
Unfortunately, the footsteps slowed and settled in the stall adjacent. Leaving Biscane sitting on the can pondering that he is in fact completely alone.
Chicago, IL-The newest way to spend money that you don’t have in order to generate Instagram content and spare yourself from any type of self-reflection or original thought is officially here! Escape Hole is the newest player, in the luxury, leisure self-confinement industry. But unlike other escape rooms in which guests are forced to solve ill-conceived riddles with coworkers and family members they find tolerable, Escape Hole is the first ever solo escape room.
Guests are locked in a tiny room, containing only a baby pool filled to the brim with a combination of Heinz Mayonnaise, 2% milk and your choice of scented or unscented Vaseline. The room itself has a variety of burlap lined holes and crevices, each unnaturally small, for the person to strip down and try and birth through.
Unlike other escape rooms, you’ll feel the crushing paranoia of having to probe and prod the different crevices to find out which one you can desperately cram your flesh into to ooze out the other side.
But there is light at the end of the tunnel! If you escape successfully, your greased and scratched body will be spewed into the adjoining Fuddruckers where you can enjoy a heaving burger with other lonely, pathetic participants.