Chicago, Midway-As a group of unfortunate Southwest customers stood absently in line waiting to get cattle prodded and dragged onto the plane in a burlap sack, one diva was planning something far more nefarious.
Though a boarding pass indicated that Samantha Allen was nothing more than a B45 as a Southwest customer and in life, she disregarded the designation and inched her way up to board faster. A look of absolute privilege washed over her face as she tussled her hair in the reflection of her phone. Inarguably mediocre even amongst the horde of constipated trolls also waiting to board.
This very special little snow flake certainly deserved to sit in a fart filled winged sausage skin, she owed herself that much. She had earned that right by devolving past the already lowly moral compass of other drooling customers. The other customers would just have to deal with it.
She worked at an L.A. Tan in northern Indiana and sometimes did yoga after all, which certainly put her on a skid marked pedestal of ginger ale and crushed peanuts. She was a B35 that day even though her boarding pass indicated otherwise.
Chicago, IL-On Friday, a painful text exchange between two adults who were incapable of dispensing actual thoughts or desires climaxed with the promise of intermittent status updates. The illusion of actual attendance had been precariously dangling from the beginning as words like, if, maybe and possibly were hurled about in regards to actually showing up to the party itself. But in order to cheer the person up who may or may not have wanted them there in the first place, a string of texts teasing an imaginary arrival followed.
“We’ll definitely try and get there at some point.”
“Still at this party, trying to leave soon!”
“Are you guys still partying over there? Might be able to come in about an hour.”
“Uber is surging! Going to wait it out a bit, save me a beer!”
“I’m with like 20 other people, is it cool if they come too?”
“Sorry man, it’s getting late, let’s chill at some point in the next 5 years! Hope tonight was a blast!”
The vague promises functioned only as a nuisance to the host of the party who was more or less indifferent to their presence while also confirming an inevitable fact that could have been solved in a text message with ten or fewer words.
But the game of mundane, inconsequential chicken must be played because we are human and we are cowards.
Chicago, IL-After 7 years of wholehearted neglect, bordering on purposeful sabotage, Mayor Emanuel has decided to give back to the city he destroyed. Unprecedented rat swarms, soaring murder rates, and failing schools are all prized achievements for a city being used as the Mayor’s personal glory hole. Though as his resignation looms Rahm now scrambles to save his legacy while also properly lubing the glory hole for the next sadistic fuck to have a go at it.
“One thing that I have never faltered on in my disgraced time as Mayor is the idea that if we can teach at risk youth to slack line even half as good as any given Phish fan, it could save this city,” said Emanuel looking like an absolute sniveling little tattletale on the Brown Line.
Formal education, economic assistance or fundamental investments in community have all been passed on in favor of blowing the rest of the city’s budget on a top of the line school which will teach an activity generally reserved for unsuccessful burnouts.
“Watch me do it! I mean this is really hard!” said a grinning Emanuel to a group of uninterested and confused students as he wobbled on the idiotic rope hung between two trees.
So as the city crumbles, we’ll at least have several pockets of children who have been forced against their will to learn how to slack line.
Mundelein, IL-The executives at Sundance Beverage Company have officially ceased production of bong water flavored La Croix. The short lived flavor was rolled out as a promotional drink at McDonald’s to accompany the start of McRib season and to function as the alleged perfect pairing to dislodge the rib shaped patty that will undoubtedly get stuck in the windpipes of Americans everywhere.
“This country has come a long way. We thought that given the current social and political climate, by adding bong water essence to normal water we could tantalize the cardboard palate of morons everywhere. It will mean salvation for most, as they lay down their palm leaves for the second coming of coffee flavored Monster Energy and worship at its carbonated alter,” said Sundance Executive Bill Biscane, cracking into a test can of ground beef flavored La Croix.
Unfortunately American’s will have to go back to the old fashioned way of licking it off of a shag carpet after their hesher buddy spilled it trying to reach for a well worn and particularly crusty Playboy issue.
Hollywood, CA-The show Man vs. Food on the travel channel is seeking a new driveling slob to function as a beacon of sadness for all of humankind to relate to. The previous Man vs. Food host Casey Webb, who replaced the rapidly deteriorating Adam Richman, left the show after a dispute in his contract in which he refused to eat a rotting donkey carcass in front of a crowd of nude elders in a sauna at XSPORT Fitness. Though a week before he had consumed a cat turd off of a white hot hibachi grill, there are some lines that can’t be crossed.
“We’re looking for someone whose face can contort in such a way that the audience can visibly tell their organs are collapsing. Their eyes should be those of someone being held hostage under threat of physical violence if they don’t finish whatever grotesque bucket of slop we pile drive down their drooling cram hole,” said Man vs. Food recruitment manager Alphonso Knutson.
The turnover rate has been incredibly high for the host of the show as all prior hosts have succumbed to the same fate of a blown ring piece caused by a several month long fart.
“Someone who is discernably spiritually and physically unwell is the ideal candidate, extra jaundiced and oddly sweaty if possible!” continued Knutson using a plunger to shove an 8 lb burrito down the new hosts trembling lips.
Hammond, IN-A man’s spiritual journey across Western Europe, completed in an effort to rediscover himself and fall back in love with the man he once was, culminated with several pictures that would fit perfectly in an iStock catalog. In the spirit of Kerouac, restaurants and bars were heavily researched beforehand and TripAdvisor was strictly abided by.
Top rated Ubers were taken instead of motorbikes or walking and locals were peered at with the weighty suspicion of an elderly person watching passerby from their front lawn. But perhaps the biggest realization of the highly sought after imaginary bohemian vagabond fantasy were the stock photos taken in front of varying famous landmarks.
“I heard about this spot in London, locals called it Big Ben, it was this clock…very off the beaten path…avant-garde…and I just looked at it and thought…time…then snapped a pic so my followers could glimpse the same obscure underbelly I did,” said Ken Kibby tipping his fedora and adjusting his infinity scarf.
The transformation has continued since Kibby’s return from his trip as his insufferable interests on Tinder now include “lover of the world, hopeless wanderer and international craft beer connoisseur.” His next artistically curated adventure will be a week-long stay at Universal Studios Orlando.
Hammond, Indiana-In an effort to halt a social media free fall, full of excruciatingly mundane life updates and benign observations void of any personality, an Indiana man has resorted to desperate measures. “People generally like when I post hot takes on current affairs like “Trump is a shapeshifting reptile, like if you agree!” or “I’m house Hufflepuff in the Harry Potter quiz, what house are you!?” but I haven’t been getting the social media recognition necessary to survive,” said Derrick Kibby, as he posted an obligatory HBD on several Facebook friend’s walls whom he hasn’t actually spoken with in years. He notes that this is the only real way to maintain a friendship. HBD.
The lack of social media encouragement from people who could be loosely defined as acquaintances caused Kibby to reach deep in the archives and post a picture from his childhood, thinking the adherence to the inexplicably still popular #TBT would get him the likes he needed. The lack of response to the picture has caused him to question everything.
“How could everyone promptly ignore a picture that proved, at one point in my life, I was a child? My childhood must have been dog shit if it only got three likes…or maybe I was never a child at all and I didn’t get any likes because people found it creepy that I was posting pictures of other peoples children…that must be it,” continued Kibby despondently, visibly shaken knowing that his entire childhood is now in question and that he may or may not have posted a random picture of someone else’s child.
Whoever dies with the most likes wins. Social media validation is the only thing that matters. Three likes means you were never a child at all.
Hollywood, CA-You’ve seen the consuming misery of a 6 person family moving into a tiny house, that all but eliminates the already dwindling sex life of two offensively cheap bastards in a failing marriage. You’ve also experienced the thrill of watching someone slightly less interesting than you, tediously choose one of the several indistinct apartments which they’ll live out a year of their miserable life in.
But you’ve never seen this.
New to HGTV, Duster Brothers XL. Two unrelated and mostly forgettable men, who aren’t actually brothers but merely acquaintances that met at the Simon Cowell impersonator book signing event: It Could Have Been Me, travel around norther Indiana huffing keyboard duster and asking varying zoo animals if they’re into mid-century modern styled furniture.
You’ll laugh, you’ll cry, you’ll watch for 10 hours and question your place in this world and become inexplicably irate when the ostrich seems to not like mid-century modern furniture. And maybe…just maybe by some divine act of god, you’ll manage to scoop one more helping of chicken Kiev into your slacked mouth before you fall asleep alone.
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.