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
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.
Chicago, IL-A guy riding the CTA on Monday morning was spotted proudly wearing his big boy backpack. Originally thought to be an enormous goiter, because of his inability or refusal to place the object on the ground where it belonged, turned out to be a Jansport backpack filled to the brim with an outdated Encyclopedia Britannica edition.
“My mom wakes me up, wipes the dribble from my chin, then uses the same tissue to wipe my butt first thing in the morning, then she fireman carries me down the stairs and feeds me coco puffs, then she packs my backpack up nice and tight and lets me ride the train all day long!” said Colin Cummings, an object of hatred for everyone riding the train.
Cummings, a 35 year old strip club DJ intern of 10 years, says that wearing his enormous backpack on the train has given him the confidence he needs to DJ matinee sets at Industrial Strip in Hammond Indiana every other Tuesday. “When I wear my backpack I’m the center of attention, just like at the strip club! I see the ladies staring!” continued Cummings swaying obliviously.
Cummings existence remains an inconvenience for humanity as a whole, who can only find solace knowing that he’ll likely die alone and have a sparsely attended funeral.
Several Chicagoans got quite the unwelcomed surprise when arriving at their office and discovering that their umbrellas were covered in eyeballs, human hair and other assorted debris. Like most commuters they had all but forgotten that they were even a holding an umbrella as they hastily jabbed their way through the crowded streets. “I generally just open my umbrella right when I get out of bed in the morning and forget about it! Who wants the hassle of maneuvering that thing? By not thinking about it, I can keep it in one place and let other people do the worrying!” said Ashley Adams giggling as she shook some additional blood from her umbrella onto an unwitting coworker.
Several others around the office around the office followed suit, negligently shaking off hair and eyeballs much to the chagrin of the office cleaning staff. They all ended up having a good hearty laugh about it in the end. “When I saw that Ashley’s umbrella had blood on it again, I couldn’t contain myself, we all just started laughing! Then the hair on mine, it was the icing on the cake! I can be so forgetful sometimes, I noticed several audible thumps but just assumed it was the rain and not someone’s scalp!” said Allen Williams wiping tears from his eyes.
Being forgetful can be hilarious and zany especially when it causes direct grief on strangers, but it’s not all fun and games, at another office the mood was far more somber.
“Losing a massive chunk of hair that got snagged on umbrella wasn’t a great way to start the day, may even classify it as a full blown day ruiner.” Said a downtrodden Steve Jones who was on the receiving end of umbrella negligence. “On the plus side I’ve been getting pretty decent at parkour.” He continued as several others around the office nursed varying injuries.
As the rain continues to fall, the moral dregs come gurgling out of the stinking potholes and cracks, adding insult to injury to your soaking wet jeans.
Chicago, IL-On Monday, a generally incompetent coworker who had blown several deadlines prior and grossly mismanaged an entire project, smoothed things over by asking the candidate of their eventual wrath how their weekend was. Before the first sip of coffee of the morning was taken, the awkward interaction that would undoubtedly ruin the entire month was set into motion with an empty cordiality.
The sense of dread was already palpable as the contour of the coworker sidled into sight, casually adjacent to the end of the cubicle wall, its presence always suggested an unreasonable need or demand.
Neither had ever hinted at an even remote interest in the happenings of each other’s respective weekends which rendered the question even more unsettling. Like most office relationships, they tolerated each other at best and loathed each other at worst. Nonetheless the inquiry was made in a feeble attempt to camouflage incompetence with politeness and pacify the situation.
“Hiya,” said the coworker sheepishly, arms crossed over the top of the cube wall. “How was the weekend?” The shrillness of the question infuriating anyone within earshot.
Before a response could be mustered, a barrage of unclear, irresolvable and time sensitive demands rained down with reckless abandon. Like a swarm body blows in a prized fight chopping down the reigning champ and reducing him to a mound of bloody, whimpering flesh.
Fortunately because the soul crushing tasks were delivered after a vacant nicety, the coworker can retreat to her desk void of any remorse. In fact, encouraged by the start of a blossoming relationship.
Elmhurst, IL-Expressing gratitude for a lifetime of personal sacrifice and unwavering love is often manifested in the form of a cotton candy scented Yankee Candle. But this year one man living in a piece of shit Chicago suburb had other plans for Mother’s Day. Something unique, timeless and able to garner over twenty valuable likes on a given social media platform.
“Posted a pic of her on Instagram WITH a black and white filter,” said Phillip Biggins, with a look of excruciating contentment on his placid face. “I also did 500 words on how she made me the man I am today and how fucking sweet my life is right now. The only thing she has ever wanted in life is validation on a curated social media account in the form of likes from friends that have never met her,” continued Biggins scrolling through a swarm of completely identical Mother’s Day tributes.
When asked, Biggin’s mom confirmed she hadn’t seen the post, didn’t know what a post was, didn’t have an Instagram account and wasn’t aware what Instagram was or why she was being interviewed by a largely unknown surrealist culture blog in the first place.
“Oh yeah…did I mention the hand lotion from Bath & Body Works and the $20 Talbots gift card? #bestsonever #winningatlife #dadsandgrads” concluded Biggins huffing on his finger nails and polishing them against his popped collar, extra medium, Hollister shirt.
A couple eager to decorate their apartment with some homemade art were sorely disappointed after discovering the two paintings from their Wine & Paint class were not only identical, but also complete abominations. “I guess in hindsight we should have anticipated them being identical, but there was no way to foresee the gross over-estimation in our creative ability.” Said 29 year-old Robert Mansfield staring glumly at the atrocity in front of him. His wife’s was equally disgraceful, an embarrassing mess of excessive acrylics.
The night before they had deemed them their life’s work.
“We honestly thought they were pretty good…who wouldn’t want a painting of a ship and a full moon with the saying Swim to your Dreams under it…it seemed incredibly original to us, something to really make our apartment stand out.” Continued Mansfield with his head planted firmly in his hands. Him and his wife oblivious to the fact that there have been several hundred other versions of this painting made from the class in varying degrees of crappiness.
It took several weeks but the honeymoon phase with the paintings they had convinced themselves were somehow good finally ended one fateful Wednesday night. Rob described walking by the two paintings and having a moment of clarity that snapped him from his previous delusional state. “They’re really bad, I was drunk off red wine again for the first time since that night and finally noticed the ugliness; my stomach hurts looking at them.” Said Mansfield crudely jamming the paintings into the dumpster.
Not everyone snaps out of the delusion like Rob, hundreds of basic paintings hang around houses as we speak, so be weird and for the love of God don’t do wine and paint.