Rockford, IL-When the crew from America’s Got Talent came to Rockford, they expected very little from the city known best for its Tilted Kilt franchise. It’s also referred to adoringly by locals as the Gary of Illinois. But as auditions commenced, Heidi, Simon, Howie and Mel B were impressed by most of the acts that functioned as a perfect representation of Middle America: A guy attempting to and failing to wipe his ass for 45 seconds, a woman doing a whole can of duster and eating a 12 oz. Yankee Candle, a masturbating ostrich…all received standing ovations.
But one act stood out in particular…and in the end got the golden buzzer from Howie sending him directly to the live finale. The tear jerking act that united a country involved a man of undetermined age in clown makeup shuffling onto stage silently wearing a diaper made of burlap. He stood as the judges made terrible clown puns as the audience laughed hysterically.
No sooner had the laughter stopped, the clown began to sing an acapella version of Taylor Swift’s smash hit “Shake it Off.” During the song several fits of noticeable and violent diarrhea rendered the clown a crumpled mess on the stage, but he persevered. During the final note the clown stuffed a pigeon into a beer bottle and swallowed it whole before breaking into tears along with audience members.
“This is what makes this show…unlike…anything on T.V.!” proclaimed Howie aghast.
“I didn’t like it…..I LOVED it!” shouted Simon while Mel B and Heidi wept openly next to him.
Just as the clown was going to get the approval necessary for the next round, Howie stood up and to the joy of the crowd pushed the Golden Buzzer, sending the clown to the live finale and ending his life.
Chicago, IL-The existence of a genuine friendship is most commonly rooted in years of significant life experiences, hilarity, hijinks and the unique happiness experienced in the presence of that friend. But one friendship has defied all odds and exists solely on the threat of at some point hanging out and complaining to each other via text about the infrequency of time spent together.
“We’re planned this SUPER fun girl’s night! We’re going to do a fancy dinner and then dancing all night and Instagraming the whole thing with its own unique hashtag!” said Nicole Cox already considering excuses for why they’d have to reschedule.
“I suggested the third week of June but she has improv that whole week, so she said she was free the second week of August, but I’m in Wisconsin Dells for a Dan Brown writing workshop that week, ultimately we landed on the third or fourth week of February 2025 #cantwait!” continued Cox shopping for the perfect little black dress that will never be worn.
The next 8 years will be spent meticulously crafting texts of excitement for the impending hang out and remorse that they both feel like they haven’t seen each other in forever. This will continue perpetually, reaching climax immediately before their scheduled rendezvous, in which one of them will inevitably cancel…much to the relief of the other. And the cycle will begin once again.
Chicago, IL-Bottled Blonde in River North is embracing the backlash experienced after the bar’s questionable dress code was leaked like a steady flow of asparagus piss down a pair of pleated khakis. The dress code, which banned things like Jordan brand shoes, sagging pants, bright clothing and other discriminatory items, has been celebrated by management, as they begin a transition to the new bar, owned by Last Man Standing’s Tim Allen, known as Blondes & Bigots Bar & Grill.
“A bigot is a type of super elegant French pastry,” said bar general manager Chase Wiley installing a new confederate flag glory hole in the bathroom. “The & is self explanatory, any restaurant worth a damn has a & in the name, but while we wanted to stay extremely classy, we also wanted to relive the glory days of segregation and give people hope that some day the South could rise again,” continued Wiley hanging a massive signed picture of Michael Richards.
Blondes & Bigots Bar & Grill is being pitched as a cozy speak easy where racists can gather without fear of judgement. With a cocktail program that includes something called David Duke On the Beach and more traditional horrible drinks like Vodka Mudslides, the restaurant and its piece of shit owners should go belly up in less than 24 hours, to be mercifully replaced by another Rainforest Cafe.
Fort Wayne, IN-In an effort to, once and for all, prove to aloof digital aquintances that she in fact enjoys the start of the weekend, one Fort Wayne resident posted a zoomed in picture of herself smugly drinking a beer on her couch with a timeless TGIF caption and respective hashtag.
“I love Fridays and people need to know that, to embrace that, I know that not everyone agrees but I’m putting myself out there!” Said Nicole Hall who after the picture was taken dumped the beer down the sink and entered into a 48 hour Netflix wormhole. Completely squandering said Friday and ensuing weekend. “Fridays are a big part of my personality.” she continued, seamlessly breezing over the absurdity in using a measurement of time passage as a personality trait.
Followers have found that Hall loves just about anything that even remotely resembles an opportunity to post on her favorite platform. With recent selfies celebrating flag day, reptile memorial day, jet pack day, sick day, drone surveillance appreciation day and Eugene Levy’s birthday among others.
As the onslaught of platitudes continue, followers remain vaguely uninterested by the perservance of posts and the ability to transform nearly any day into a celebratory selfie followed by obsessively analyzing likes.
Chicago, IL-The RompHim, a male version of an already infuriating garment, regardless of gender, was birthed into the world a few weeks ago at a Tilted Kilt in Chicago where a Chainsmokers cover band was playing. Crawling out of the self-satisfied buttholes of a few indiscernible jerks wearing athletic shades and swaddled in a bucket of Michelob Ultra until maturity, the RompHim was prepared to stroke any ego already swelling with the pride of a fraternity at its annual golf pros and tennis hos party.
Bros everywhere are excited to hop in the RompHim to drink beers, hit music festivals, hook up with dime pieces and experience the crippling stranglehold of systematic gender inequality. Say what? G-G-G-Gender Inequality…BOINNGGGGG…ARUUUGAHHHH!!! That’s right, for the first time ever entitled pieces of shit will experience their worst nightmare…being treated like a ch-ch-ch-chickkkkkk! ZOING! (EXPLOSIONS + FUCKING MAN SIRENS)
“It started out great, drinking buckets of low-carb beers, hitting on waitresses, fucking dabbing, physically intimidating BOTH fucking genders, pretty much being sweet as all hell like DUDES DO,” said one customer who chose to remain anonymous. BEING AN ALPHA M-M-M-MALE!
“The day took a weird turn though…especially when a group of other guys started cat calling me on my way home, which was right before I was accused of being a slut after politely turning down a drink in River North. I ended up in an Uber and suffered through a lengthy and completely unwanted conversation,” continued the customer looking more sunken and despondent with each passing second. S-S-S-S-SEXUAL H-H-H-HARASSMENT R-R-R-ROMPHIM! BAROOOGA!
And the RompHim isn’t limited to just the daily social tormenting suffered by women! ARUF? SAY WHAT? UGH HUH! The RompHim will instantly decrease your salary by 20%! W-W-W-WAGE GAP DISPARITY THUMBS UP! Assertiveness and intelligence will be deemed catty and bitchy! H-H-HOW IS THIS PERSON IN A POSITION OF POWER? BOINGO! And let’s not forget being asked to smile more, chicks frowning is a total bummer! SERIOUSLY SOMEONE REPORT THIS SEXIST MANAGER TO HR! ZOING ZOING ZOING HR INCIDENT BUTT CHUG!
So buy the RompHim today, drink a couple Coors Lights at a fast casual restaurant and be a chill bro experiencing debilitating gender discrimination plaguing our nation!
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.
Chicago, IL-The intricate history of humanity’s evolution in cultureless office environments just became even more nuanced. With desirable physical manifestations like stained teeth, poor posture, aggressive beigeness, smooth lifeless hands and deteriorating vision already mainstays in the transformation to crippled desk troll, this new evolutionary attribute is a game changer that could complete the transition to docile office lackey.
In a double blind placebo study conducted across indistinguishable digital entities in Chicago, it was found that most employees could completely evacuate themselves in less than 25 seconds. Comparatively time on spent on the crapper at home breached 10 minutes with regularity.
The difference of 9 minutes and 35 seconds is attributed to the paranoia that the other indifferent employees in the office would become aware of the prolonged absence and thus privy to the ruthless war being waged atop a nest of cheap toilet paper in stall three of an office bathroom. Assuming that all coworkers are constantly seeking an opportunity to envision someone they work with struggling on the can.
The fear of judgement for a bodily function, from a group of people that are forced to tolerate each other on a daily basis, has caused productivity to skyrocket across the city as the era of a leisurely pooping while doing 200 pages of Moby Dick is facing certain extinction.
Winnetka, IL-Last Thursday a group of potential prom attendees made a decision that would undoubtedly cement the evening as the greatest thing they’ll do in their entire life. Unrivaled by any other achievement or significant life event, with a happiness that will never be experienced again, prom night 2017 will exist in infamy for an eternity.
“Me and my buddies weren’t even gonna go…then we said…what if we rolled stag? Automatically tight…Then I had this insane idea…what if we got our parents to rent a stretch Hummer for us…and what if we also had them buy us pastel tuxedos with top hats and canes…and what if we were all wearing athletic shades….” Said Terry Mitchell, visibly coveting the apparent novelty of the idea.
It’s not every night that you get to spend with several hundred other faceless dregs that you’ll never see again, so the key is creating enough resentment and embarrassment to transcend being mercifully forgotten about.
“We’ll be gods. Climbing out of that stretch limo four dudes deep, blasting Chainsmokers, maybe even sword fight with the canes! We’re all for sure getting laid multiple times.” Continued Mitchell, knowing damn well him and his friends would be retreating to an evening of PornHub solitude.
Three of the friends never made it into the dance, drinking to incapacity, severely pissing themselves and face-planting on the concrete in front of Principal Loesch…LEGENDARY. Mitchell made it into the dance but inexplicably trapped himself under the bleachers whilst attempting to retrieve a popcorn kernel, which he maintains was as historic as any lake house after party.
This is in no way a Facebook ad bludgeoning relevant content into a bloodied pulp at the bottom of your feed. Making you suspicious that the birth of your niece might be a marketing campaign to get you to buy the best vape pen designed by NASA engineers. That’s not what this is at all. This is an exclusive one time offer running for the next decade for 2% off any order of over $400 from SKIN denim, the latest trend in luxury denim and the last pair of jeans you’ll ever own.
SKIN denim is a process designed by a group of post-apocalyptic clergymen who wanted to create a pair of jeans that would truly tell your story. They studied ancient Japanese denim crafters for the last four decades and then didn’t use any of their techniques. Instead they use a super intuitive app to get you the most comfortable pair of jeans you’ll ever own…how you ask? Because they’re made out of your own skin.
The process is simple, order a pair of SKIN denim and a box arrives at your door that contains an extremely powerful laser. Read the instructions carefully and use the laser to remove a full layer of skin from belly to ankle. Place the molten skin back in the box and use the free shipping label to send it back to the good folks at SKIN denim.
The skin is then airbrushed by the same person airbrushing t-shirts at your local mall and sent directly to your door with a bottle of rubber cement. Coat the inside of the jeans with rubber cement and slip them on! Be prepared for absolute movement and flexibility while also telling YOUR story as every hair, wrinkle and blemish is on display for the entire world to see.
Be comfortable in your own skin…with SKIN denin.
Realizing that the majority of the country has no chance of actually making it to Friday to seek refuge in their customary garbage piles of bogo knuckle steak jammers, jalapeno shooters, nummy chicken nubbbies and vodka mudslides, TGI Fridays has launched TGI Wednesdays.
Described as “a midweek, strip mall orgy on a budget,” TGI Wednesdays hopes to provide a haven for the majority of the country that require getting blacked out and eating shitty food on a Wednesday to maintain sanity in the otherwise brutal state of humanity.
There will be some certifiable psychopaths in tow, as is the case with any TGI Fridays location, but for the most part TGI Wednesday will cater to the disgruntled after work crowd who have spent the entire day churning out digital waste comparable in quality to the shoddy décor in a Wednesday themed bar and grill.
With a menu that encourages gorging your sadness into oblivion, the feeling of being uncomfortably full will soon distract from what ails you. The TGI Beef Fingers, a 60-40 mash of ground chuck shaped into a knotted human hand, deep fried Barefoot Rose’ and garnished with ostrich feathers are certain to loosen your worries and tighten your waistband.
Wash it down with a frosty mug of cocktail award winning Puckered Brown Eye and watch your cares melt away like the ice your stagnant cup of nutria infused Sour Apple Pucker. Forgetting about family and loved ones and knowing only the unique warmth provided by a franchised casual dining establishment.
The slogan for TGI Wednesdays has been confirmed as “Fuck it, it’s Wednesday”. So treat yourself with a full blackout for making it halfway through another forgettable week.