Hammond, IN-There was an uproar at an unofficial Buffalo Wild Wings franchise, which turned out was just a tube TV, a case of keyboard duster and several live chickens under a pier in Hammond Indiana, on Sunday morning. As a group of inbred shit bags prepared to watch football, huff duster, skid out their undies and perhaps slaughter a few chickens, they quickly mistook an Arby’s commercial for the National Anthem and promptly removed any soiled burlap sacks resting on their heads. But one lowlife goddamn coward decided to kneel.
Doing duster and threatening a malnourished chicken in the same language those aliens used in Avatar during the anthem is acceptable, kneeling is strictly forbidden. Protesting correctly is no protesting at all. It means giving up. Succumbing. Settling. Protesting is eating a case of Slim Jims at halftime and pissing your pants because going to the bathroom is simply too much effort.
Fortunately the crisis was averted, because there was, in fact, no protest of the atrocities occurring in the country. As it was explained later, the man was kneeling in order to see up the skirt of a woman which turned out to be a mud sculpture of Steve Harvey. Thank god. Nothing to see here, just sexually harassing an inanimate object. Now who wants to continue to ignore social injustices and watch some FUCKING football you brain dead shit heads!?
Chicago, IL-An area man proved just how cool he perceived himself to be by posting a boomerang of him doing something that has been marketed as cool by the site Trip Advisor, a canon of sorts for the hordes of Life Is Good acolytes in search of a lukewarm adventure that could perhaps turn their spiraling life around. The boomerang has since compiled 11 views.
“Sorry for partying,” said Grayson Tipton-Murry, regarding the experience of sitting in an air conditioned, highly regulated environment, hurling dull axes at soiled pieces of cardboard. Him and his goddamn loser friends exchanging knowing glances that this is how our ancestors must have felt. Dangerous. Alive. Proud. Boastful. Instagram worthy. Filters. Influencers.
The boomerang itself adds more girth to the posturing shit log that won’t seem to finally die and mercifully go down the toilet. The constant competition of expelling enough goddamn waste to exist as a unique smear on the log before being engulfed and forgotten.
So have a Bud Light and boomerang the shit out of yourself axe throwing today.
Hollywood, CA-The steady fart stream of an entire generation and dead animal comedic pioneer, Logan Paul, has officially started his next unforgettable venture…the launch of a signature Spencer’s Gifts franchise as an outlet store in Six Flags Great America, and he needs your help. After getting banned from YouTube for live streaming himself smoking K2 spice blend out of Cecil the Lion’s skull, he’s launched a Kickstarter to fulfill an incredibly deserved lifelong dream.
“I was conceived, born and raised in a Spencer’s Gifts, specifically on a backlight poster with an alien on it which read: Take Me to Your Dealer. My only food source, until I was old enough to eat Auntie Anne pretzels, was boner pills and 90% of the air I breathed was incense burnt from a sculpture of a cats butthole…I owe a lot to that place,” reminisced Paul, in an oddly fond manner given the horrific circumstances.
Now in an attempt to relive those joyous memories, Paul is humbling asking for your donation. The hungry and sick be damned, nothing will warm your heart more than reuniting a YouTube vlogger with a godforsaken mall rat’s nest that has been relocated to live inside of an amusement park.
If he reaches his goal he’ll permanently maim himself by sticking his junk into a scolding hot lava lamp…and boomerang it! So donate now!
I’ve been ALL about life hacks lately after a segment on The View revealed that smoking K2 synthetic weed has a similar effect to coffee if you’re feeling EXTRA tired in the morning. And once Whoopi Goldberg revealed the time she’s saved by shitting her pants instead of going to the bathroom, I was truly inspired! So when the opportunity presented itself to develop a game changing life hack while exiting a plane, I jammed a fidget spinner up my ass and started hacking!
Even if you’re at the back of the plane, getting off first is easy! All it requires is sacrificing your soul and becoming the sniveling little shit bag you always knew you were! Follow these quick steps and you’ll be off the plane in a jiff as the rest of the passengers wish death and disease on you and the rest of your family.
- Just as the plane touches down, start frantically moving your limbs about and nervously looking from front to back, this creates the anxiety vortex that should signal surrounding passengers you’re about to screw them all over
- Pinch off an eye stinging fart to create a diversion of sorts and maximize the amount of hatred directed toward you
- Consider and promptly disregard the fact that exiting the plane 15 seconds faster than the people in front of you qualifies you as a burden to humanity and an inarguable disappointment to everyone you know. But the sweet glory of saving 15 seconds make it totally worth it.
- Start creeping uncomfortably close to passengers in front of you, your stale peanut breath hissing into their ear and around their neck as you edge closer
- Skirt in front of them and stare like a goddamn aloof moron at the ceiling of the plane as the boos rain down
- Enjoy your 15 seconds like the shit king you are
Chicago, IL-As the annual nest of flies prepares to hatch with its larva descending on Grant Park, seeking rotten flesh, keyboard duster and mediocre EDM, Lollapalooza organizers scramble furiously to appease the hordes of retching insects. This year, the festival is offering something that will lure even the most entitled suburban millennial from their ivory palace.
“We’ve installed a series of changing stations around the park where deluxe VIPs can have the malnourished loaf in their designer diapers removed by one of the performing artists,” said Lollapalooza organizer Chet Thompson, proudly showing off a crudely fashioned cardboard box and single ply toilet paper.
Festival goers are encouraged to indulge in as much food and drugs as humanely possible with the full understanding that Sam Smith, Mumford and Sons cover band, Skrillex or one of the other reheated acts will be there promptly to clean up the mess in their pants and prepare them for another few hours of wandering aimlessly in a field.
“Their encouraged to Instagram the whole thing, so there’s def. a social media aspect which millennials love! And who doesn’t love being pampered by a complete stranger wiping their ass! Plus it brings them so much closer to the music!” continued Thompson taking down a goat shaped nitrous balloon in one foul swoop.
Chicago, IL-After being spiritually and physically demolished by a neglectful, bordering on oddly resentful, wait staff, a heaving tray of unmistakably raw chicken wings and a sex on the beach garnished with a sexy fist sized chunk of dander, one brave Midwestern couple decided to draw a line in the sand.
“I told my wife, look we’ll suffer in silence here for another two hours, consume the raw wings (bones included), drink the pube forward cocktail, and when they come over to ask if everything is alright we’ll smile and nod like two sniveling pissants, that could be considered revenge in itself, but there’s a storm brewing too!” said Michael Violi raising his head barely out of the toilet bowl from which he had been puking in the past two days.
The storm he referred to was a staggering 3% knocked off of an already generous tip. The unbridled and awe-inspiring power of true Midwestern scorn. An act of such incredible defiance by a Midwesterner that he could be reincarnated as a glory hole in a northern Indiana Cracker Barrel bathroom.
A lesson to all that as a Midwesterner, we will never cause a scene, never draw attention even in the most excruciating scenario and suffer in consuming silence, but in some cases will only leave a tip that is only slightly above what is considered an adequate tip amount.
Hollywood, CA-CBS is filling the slop pen back up in preparation to feed the masses again, with another heaving portion of unseasoned gruel that will leave people feeling physically and spiritually unwell, but still slightly better than they feel on a day-to-day basis.
Two Men documents the trials and tribulations of having no real opinion on anything in particular, but rather an ability to uninterestingly reference varying forms of internet content. Uncanny mediocrity mixed with a spineless allegiance to disposable content, these two men are ready to launch into a hilarious story about a GIF they saw on Barstool Sports last night.
An inability to form unique thoughts that transcends even having an arguably bad opinion on something.
Watch as two right skewing males spend an entire season offering grunts of approval to varying gifs and memes while trying to learn how to wipe their own ass. Terry Wiley played by Matt Leblanc and Will Vickers played by Kevin James will have you howling as they stare blankly into their phones before retreating to their bedrooms to beat off alone before a fitful sleep.
Critics are saying that the boredom is seizure inducing and are calling the show perplexing on virtually every level. So tune on Thursday and watch Two Men, because you’re too big of a goddamn slob to change the channel. Two Men…who needs women!
Hollywood, CA-Ariana Grande just took the relationship that has captivated the nation by way of mindless content water boarding to the next level. The blitzkrieg of highly irrelevant happenings, which have been inexplicably force fed to the nation like a biscuits and gravy milkshake from Cracker Barrel, has officially reached a frenzy. In response to Pete Davidson’s tribute tattoo, Ariana Grande just unveiled a monstrous back piece that makes the guy from Red Dragon look like an absolute pussy. Omg! Steamy!
The piece itself is a lifelike candid of Pete Davidson taking a dump while reading the third installment in the Sisterhood of Traveling Pants series. Adorbz! Even more romantic? It was designed and executed by a Raven Symone impersonator at a county fair in Northern Indiana. Stahp! Just Stahp!
“I wanted to create a great piece of marketing content that would make me more relatable with the American public while also artificially moving our relationship forward, I’m really excited with how it turned out, I love when he reads Y.A. on the can!” said Grande of the monstrosity.
What will happen next in this blossoming romance? I’m sure you’ll find out whether you like it or not you piece of shit slob, so have this meaningless information push another childhood memory from your withering brain and enjoy!
-Characterless TMZ Reporter
Editors note: a representative from Butcher Box reached out to me directly and explained that the extra shipping time was because of the 4th of July, I just got another box, completely frozen. I will be assembling the meat into one giant log and consuming it with a pint of Red Stag, Kid Rock’s cherry flavored whiskey.
Butcher Box is advertised as a local butcher’s hand selected meats shipped conveniently to your door, which would absolutely be true if the local butcher’s shop kept their meat in a deflating baby pool of old bath water behind an abandoned Cracker Barrel and the butcher himself was a Ted Nugent impersonator fucked out of his mind on acid who seemed indifferent as to whether or not you lived or died.
In some ways I would have preferred that to my experience, at least an Instagram with the right filter applied, playing in a pool of festering meat would have garnered a modest amount of likes from fellow beef enthusiasts. The prospect of dying at the hands of a fully nude Ted Nugent impersonator would make a hell of obituary as well.
Instead I waited an inexplicable three weeks to receive a box of sustainably sourced, barely cooled meat which I responsibly and soul crushingly tossed in the trash can. Farm to dumpster. A pasture in the heart of the Pacific Northwest trash vortex. An iconic celebration of goddamn waste. The chicken could have been used in a super soaker at a summer cookout.
The type of waste that is truly heartbreaking.
It was certainly an honor to flippantly throw away an entire box of animals and I’m sure they were just as grateful to give their lives for the sake of burdening someone with immediately discarding their corpses. I got a refund which is a plus, but goddamnit this is a Mickey Mouse operation.
Chicago, IL-The founders of the Pink Taco have done it again. Created a restaurant concept based exclusively off of a nickname for genitalia given by a guy who once gave Dane Cook a high five at a Fuddruckers in rural Illinois. Beige Log is set to open next month and will be located adjacent to Pink Taco, giving this city the food based sexual innuendo it needed to legitimize itself in the restaurant world.
Much like Pink Taco, Beige Log will serve up unmemorable food to the hordes of Chicago residents with no discernible personality, interests, or ability to recognize themselves as fucking losers.
The restaurant will be khaki forward, in the sense that everything served there must be of taupe origin and must be brutally minced into a grotesque log by the executive chef which happens to be a Bobby Flay sex doll. The first sex doll executive chef in history. We have progress people!
The flesh colored logs come in all sizes, each as boring and tasteless as the person consuming it. Slather up your whistle with a few $9 Michelob Ultras before making a boomerang of yourself suffering down the restaurant’s signature dish “The Dog Log.” And be sure to ask for extra knee caps!
This restaurant proves that no gender should be left out in choosing a horrific restaurant name, though it will still likely have a racially charged dress code. Because if you’re not wearing a pair of crotchless Lululemons, you certainly don’t have the social status to eat at the truly divine Beige Log.