Chicago, IL-In an effort to appease the perpetually deprived ego of men whose personalities can be distilled into the revving of a motorcycle engine, Harley Davidson has finally created a motorcycle those same men can have sex with.
“We realized that merely revving the motorcycle was no longer enough, sure it sounds really fucking cool and in theory it should get you laid a shit ton, but in reality most of these men were getting absolutely no pussy whatsoever,” said Frank Horvath, the designer of Harley’s new motorcycle, the Ham Beater V5000.
The name suggesting, inexplicably, that there were roughly 4,000 iterations of the bike before what is being called the Rolls Royce of masturbation forward motorcycles.
“The rider lays fully nude and flat on the cycle with toes pointed backwards, their assumed micro-penis can be inserted into a ribbed crevice roughly 2 inch deep. After a few pumps and a predictably quick finish the fluid is blown back into the face of the rider in an ultimate act of self-congratulations.” Continued Horvath adjusting his athletic shades and Affliction t-shirt.
The rest of us will continue to look on, unsurprised, with vague annoyance and confusion.
Chicago, IL-On Saturday, a girl was seen attempting to infiltrate various lively conversations at a local house party by waiting for a momentary pause in banter and asking “So…what does everyone do!?” The question was accompanied by an aggressive pointing motion toward one unfortunate soul in the circle, signifying that it was their respective turn to stammer through an explanation of a job they hate, to a group of indifferent onlookers.
The process unfolded in a predictably excruciating way, as each job description grew more ordinary than the next. A culmination of individuals wholly uninspired for at least forty hours a week. A complex web of personality and emotion distilled into a characterless corporate identity.
Several people suffered through their freshly poured drink as quickly as possible, desperate for a retreat to the kitchen where they could pound shots of vodka in solitude, others took this as the perfect opportunity to dust off their long forgotten smoking habit. Anything to escape the wrath at hand.
“I just try to engage everyone, I’m just a really engaging person…like when I’m at a party I can literally talk to anyone! I’m legit friends with like everyone that went to that party now…” said Sarah Kibby, meticulously adding party goers to her LinkedIn professional network, the only true testament of a real friendship.
The party ended uncannily early.
Chicago, IL-On Tuesday, an area man eased his way onto a crowded escalator like a dying old man into the last bath he’d ever take, though unlike lying motionless and in solitude in a pool of your own filth, the escalator during rush hour can sometimes beckon mild physical activity and vague awareness of surroundings.
“When I get on that escalator, it’s ME time. I require total stillness for personal reflection in the form of listening to the Chainsmokers and consuming fucking content. If you’ve got a problem with that you can take it up with my oversized JanSport,” said Terry McDonough, inching his way down the escalator as hordes of angry commuters miss yet another departing train.
The spiritual war McDonough wages transcends merely him, an escalator, and the furious mob behind him. By not allowing people to pass by McDonough serves as a beacon of indifference and a prophet of immobility. A revolutionary that is brave enough to admit that being stationary and refreshing uninteresting social media feeds is more important than being courteous.
When it comes to being a brooding, wildly misunderstood “sensitive hardass,” Vin Diesel is unrivaled. There may not be another in existence actually. Sure, at times it seems like it’s a robot struggling to learn human emotion and maybe some of his lines are delivered with the vigor and pronunciation of Sylvester Stallone after a swift blow from a sock full of quarters. But it’s that type of uncompromising nonchalance has earned him the right to have a kind of gasoline as his last name. How does one become a ruthless badass while still abiding by a complex moral compass? How can you be the most extreme man on the planet while also basing every single decision on family loyalty? How can you invoke both terror and tears?
Having a shaved head and being the physical manifestation of NOS is a start. Using melted down Stacker 2s as arm butter, wearing a white wife beater to your wedding and living your life a quarter mile at a time are more steps in the right direction. There’s something else though, perhaps more attainable and less questionable that may be the foundation of the bad boy persona. Something that won’t warrant an instant dismissal from your current place of employment or cause you immense sadness looking back on what was otherwise a beautiful wedding. The illusive genesis of being perceived as a threat to everyone around you is none other than…how you drink your beer. Scientists have worked painstakingly to extract this essence, and if you follow the steps below you too can drink beer like Vin Diesel.
- Drink exclusively Corona and belittle anyone drinking anything else
- Place thumb behind top of bottle with the rest of the fingers wrapped around the top of the beer, it should feel completely unnatural
- Hold bottle inches off of the table, and retreat completely inside of yourself
- Make small loose swirling motions with the bottle, moving the stale beer around in unison with the thoughts in your head
- Contemplate and cherish the concepts of family, loyalty and lifting for several seconds
- Glance up slowly from bottle with eyes fixated on nothing in particular, thousands of miles away
- Recite thoughtful but clever line leaving the person you’re currently talking with dumbfounded
- Smirk and lift the bottle to your lips, leaving your head completely stationary, your head should not move at all, the bottle can at times be tilted up to 90 degrees to deliver the last few morsels of beer
- Enjoy the incredibly mediocre beer as the person stands there, in awe of how completely badass and unstable you look
Indianapolis, IN-An Indianapolis resident is still struggling with the perceived fame that accompanies almost attending the open casting call for American Idol back in 2003. Phillip Biggins, the only one aware of this non-existent happening, now desperately attempts to stay connected with the less famous people surrounding him. Tethered loosely to reality by the indifferent applause of strangers in karaoke bars in Indianapolis.
“I’ll tell you what, I was damn close to registering for the initial round of auditions, I woulda’ made that competition spicier than the cocktail sauce at St. Elmo! Wooo!” screamed a tearful Biggins, after his fourth mediocre version of Hallelujah at Wild Beaver Saloon, Indianapolis’ best dam karaoke bar.
“Pro-tip tell the crowd your dog just died before the song and watch the applause roll in, sympathy is the key to any memorable performance” continued Biggins with the knowing grin of a crafty veteran. The audience surrounding the stage, having heard the comment, appeared completely horrified.
With a repertoire of somber songs, a persistence that affords him at least ten songs a night and a propensity for trying way to hard Biggins is the perfect celebrity hype person for any karaoke bar.
“He’s up there a lot…and he doesn’t really ever buy any drinks…Though I guess his version of On Eagles Wings is fairly tolerable,” said owner of Wild Beaver Saloon, Boyd Hopkins. Biggins maintains that he resembles a beacon of hope for the plebian customers, a karaoke mentor of sorts, a reminder that karaoke doesn’t have to be fun.
Chicago, O’Hare Airport-A third party survey conducted by an unemployed copy writer from the now extinct SkyMall magazine, found that Auntie Annie’s remains America’s favorite microwaved airport soft pretzel. The survey universe consisted of several people farting it up in the Southwest cattle pens, as they wrestled for pole position for a flight that wouldn’t leave for another three hours.
The sample size was vaguely paunchy and unwell, wore soiled pajama pants and ill-fitting Life is Good shirts covered in old egg from Einstein Bros., an accurate representation of the entirety of the airport.
Four of five surveyed said they preferred Auntie Annie’s over any other microwaved soft pretzel options the airport had to offer. The one outlier maintained that buying a bag of pretzels from Hudson News and filling it with water to soften the pretzels before eating and drinking the salty water, was comparable to an Auntie Annie’s pretzel at a third of the cost.
After the survey, the ex-SkyMall employee retreated to his hidden compartment under one of the Sunglass Hut display cases, where he will slumber until an airport pretzel survey is requested once more.
Hammond, Indiana-A hangover that seemed like a manageable affair on initial onset has, within the confines of a twenty minute Uber ride, transformed into a terrifying examination of mortality and panic. The waves of nausea were angry that day, but nothing stirs the rotting excess in the belly of the beast like a 2005 Honda Civic with the heat blasting.
That and a driver who is hard-pitching a low-risk investment in his 3D printing company, are everything needed to consider the prospect of quietly passing away in the stained cloth seats without having made the slightest impact on the world.
The hangover swells to maximum strength as the driver asks about voting preferences right before admitting that a wall between the United States and Mexico may not be the worst thing in the world. Completely oblivious to the jaundiced insect, squirming helplessly for a position that will make it all go away. Its face suggests retching its misguided hopes and dreams with bile and gin, yet it suffers through one word replies, unable to seem impolite. But this hangover is beyond a simple vomit.
Night terrors. Unnatural tingling. A distinct faintness sets in and it becomes uncertain whether or not vital organs will remain intact or disintegrate into the floor with the uncanny amount of white dog hair. The 10 IPA’s drank last night may as well have been neglected Jacuzzi water out of a used condom. A steady sweat sits in and the gum being chewed transforms into vodka soaked aluminum foil.
Only 5-minutes have passed in a 20-minute ride and there’s no certainty of another solid bowel movement for the remainder of the year.
Hobart, IN-A boomerang video of a child being born has compiled 19 views from horrified followers. In what is being called the official deathblow to the wonders of childbirth, the video loop of the child’s head rapidly popping in and out with a backdrop of Shape of You by Ed Sheeran, functioned as the official birth announcement for one social media savvy couple in Hobart Indiana.
“We’re always pushing the limits on social media, last week we did a duckface selfie from inside of the toilet of a porta-potty at a construction site! It was hilarious!” said Cameron Holloway while reviewing the additional SnapChat footage of the birth, which featured various his filtered facial reactions instead of the birth itself.
Other ingenious social media efforts by the couple include: a time lapse video of a 45 minute poop, placing the SnapChat flower crown filter on a deceased person at a funeral with the tagline TFW Skrillex drops the beat way too hard and an engagement proposal while riding the roller coaster, Top Thrill Dragster, at Cedar Point during a vacation to Sandusky Ohio.
As social media continues to evolve, the suffocating frequency and objective stupidity will drown the few simple joys left in life and leave us questioning the sanity of friends and family alike.
Las Angeles, CA-A steaming hot new DJ known only as “FidgetSpivva” has erupted all over the festival circuit after being recognized as a completely passable Skrillex cover band. Unlike other DJs FidgetSpivva’s relevancy is as timeless as the children’s toy he named himself after.
“I had my team rig up a big ass fidget spinner covered in strobe lights and blow torches that is mounted on my face, when I’m about to hit one of my signature covers on a Skrillex drop, I spin the SHIT out that thing,” said a muffled FidgetSpivva through the enormous prop, which due to a horrific blow torch accident at last year’s Lollapalooza has permanently fused to his otherwise maimed face. The accident rendered him blind and deaf, while also leaving only a penny sized hole from which he both consumes food from and vapes from.
The spelling of the name has been a point of contention amongst some fans, who although confused by the presence of v’s instead of n’s, admit that, like everything else in life, the product is better because of it.
“I’m not like other DJs. I’m not some pussy who takes his helmet off, it’s about taking helmet based EDM to the next level. I’m talking to a shaman about getting my hands replaced too. Fidget spinners are forever,” continued FidgetSpivva who looks at the surgery as a calculated risk given his inability to play any instruments or even DJ on a very rudimentary level.
FidgetSpivva can be seen next, this month, at the bi-yearly Furry convention held at Wiseacre’s Wizarding Equipment at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter in Universal Studios Orlando.
Los Angeles, CA-Taylor Swift finally proved once and for all that she’s definitely done proving anything that may or may not require proof. By manufacturing an edgy new music video for the cover of Eiffel 65’s Look What You Made Me Do, Taylor has proven that she’s willing to sacrifice it all for the art of music and the ability to make money for the marketing machine overlord that birthed her.
The video is classic Avant-garde Taylor as she dances furiously in a black dress, her own unique color interpretation of death, and then proceeds to chug an entire tube of ICY HOT muscle rub from an abused bottle of ranch dressing…an ode to contrarianism and the imaginary war of good vs. evil being waged inside the empty shell of a multi-million dollar mannequin.
She closes the video by provoking a fight with an ostrich at a rogue children’s zoo on the outskirts of Hammond, displaying her final evolution from a small town girl and the ability to close out a childhood grudge by slitting the throat of a prehistoric bird.