Myrtle Beach, South Carolina-After decades of painstakingly seeking the cradle of Mexican inspired American-tourist forward cuisine, Celebrity Chef Rick Bayless has finally unearthed the mossy keystone from which everything was born. Following several days of grueling travel to reach a remote fishing village known as “Myrtle Beach,” Bayless set forth to uncover the mysteries that had lay dormant in the city’s underbelly since the beginning of time.
In particular, a quaint beachside bungalow known by locals as Señor Frog’s became an object of fascination for Bayless. Señor Frog was originally a name given to a beloved goat who regularly graced the bar that kind of looked like a frog if you were drunk enough, he was immortalized in the bar name after being decapitated in a gruesome Jet Ski accident.
Bayless spent countless nights there, submerging himself to the point of madness, as wet t-shirt contests were held, lava lamps were butt chugged and free beer koozies were given to people who agreed to be kicked in the nuts by Dog the Bounty Hunter impersonator. This was culture. This was heaven.
“Farm to table nitrous balloons, hand crafted Red Bull Vodkas rimmed with organic Stacker 2 energy pills, 60/40 ground chuck blend shaped into a fist, and a VR gravity bong experience, will all be available at my new restaurant Donkey Dick’s Bar & Grill,” said Bayless furiously scribing pre-emptive Trip Advisor reviews.
The bar will cater to people who want to appear interesting and adventurous but are actually quite dull. Wading through a cultureless abyss of Michelob Ultra buckets and acid fueled three legged races.
Chicago, IL-On Tuesday, a faceless and wholly beige employee with a productive cough was scene proudly riding the elevator down a single floor. The prospect of ten or so stairs proved too daunting for the person who spends the entirety of their day resting like cloth goiter from an outdated desk chair.
The rest of the elevator suffered in silence, a quiet rage settled in as the additional several seconds spent dropping the insect on his floor becomes an excruciating undertaking. Audible sighs were exchanged coupled with a ceremonial passive aggressive jamming of the close button in a futile attempt to humiliate the person enough into reconsidering their decision next time.
The employee remained predictably unaware, apparently having a me week, a me month, a me year. Gazing purposefully into a rousing game of bubble shooter. After the doors opened on their floor, the sick fuck looked almost surprised, as though they expected the elevator to somehow take longer, or drop him off in an unknown land. Uncertainty takes hold and more precious seconds dissolve as they grow inexplicably more confused.
Finally satisfied with the floor choice, the employee exited the elevator, to promptly become someone else’s burden.
Inspiring triumphs like slowly gating down a dozen concrete stairs certainly lie ahead for this person, just not today.
Seattle, WA-Amazon is at it again. After realizing that nobody else in the voice-computing home assistant industry was creating a product voiced by an alt right skewing male, they jumped on the opportunity. Alex is Amazon’s bastard stepchild to the product Alexa, and is made specifically for the American public that has grown weary of completely impartial, female voiced artificial intelligence.
“Alex is a huge proponent of the All Lives Matter movement, he believes that the shape shifting reptilian elite have found the Arc of the Covenant and have begun merging with the machines, and he makes snide remarks about the global warming myth when it’s snowing outside, but he can also order a case of pamplemousse LaCroix!” said head of product development Alfonso Knutson.
Alex is voiced by Rick from the show Pawn Stars, who may or may not be alt-right, but is certainly on board with diversifying the voices contained in computer assistants and promoting his new show Pawn Stars XL, “The bigger they pawn, the harder they fall.” He’ll also be awarded $20 from Chumlee, who bet him he would never be immortalized in an Amazon product.
This product represents the current state of our country, paranoid, depraved, fucked up and still very much so into reality television shows about pawning.
Universal Studios, Orlando-A bachelorette party, which required guests to spend over $400 on disposable bride themed swag and take a full week off work, proved to be a truly unforgettable and not at all burdensome experience after a boomerang surfaced of party attendees boastfully cheersing plastic champagne flutes full of Barefoot Rosé.
“It took about 20 minutes to get the right boomerang, but that kind of persistence, adherence to personal branding, and disregard of interests outside of Instagram is what THIS bride tribe is all about…am I right ladies?!? Who’s having a good fucking time!?” screamed Kelli Barnett while dragging the hungover and sunburnt group of girls to get their picture taken with a wax statue of Draco Malfoy at the Wizarding World of Harry Potter.
Because the heavily curated and patrolled bachelorette Instagram hashtag permitted only joyous, albeit naturally joyous and not doctored looking posts, the rest of the world can only imagine the underlying misery. A weekend distilled into tears and vomit.
“What we lack in personality, we make up for in sheer volume of posts…I mean…we’re all just a little EXTRA…mmmmkayyy?” continued Barnett furiously applying filters to a dreadful looking picture.
Chicago, IL-The office is by all accounts a minefield of mundanity, the prospect of triggering each godforsaken interaction somehow more dull and uninteresting than sitting at your desk and heaving another piece of digital waste into the collective corporate trash vortex. In fact, the fear of being emotionally maimed by another conversation involving elevator speed or low hanging fruit has caused most employees to spend the majority of their days methodically plotting to avoid any and all human interaction.
Though gazing unresponsively into your computer screen and looking vaguely constipated can be an effective method of maintaining solitude, certain bodily and professional necessities can force employees to wade into the treacherous sea of lukewarm tap water and eager mouths of forthcoming coworkers. Bathroom and water fountain trips are executed with the precision and discretion of Sean Connery escaping from Alcatraz.
Meetings are tentatively accepted, dreaded, rejected and re-scheduled until they are ultimately forgotten and mercifully disappear into an Outlook graveyard of irrelevance. Phone calls are gladly exchanged for a string of 200 frustrated emails which create a lifetime of resentment and bring neither party closer to any resolution. Though the outcome still is somehow more attractive than the thing that is dreaded most by any employee “Jumping on a call for a quick chat.”
No matter how exhausting the avoidance is, the alternative is exponentially worse.
Chicago, IL-On Saturday, a Chicago man spotted at Joe’s on Weed wearing shamrock sunglasses, green plaid pants and a shirt that said “Its magically delicious” with an arrow pointing towards his piss soaked jeans, ended his night attempting to beat off before passing out completely alone in a familiar computer chair. This circumstance is by all accounts a successful Saint Patrick’s Day for the braindead fucking locusts lapping up green colored Coors Light off of a urinal cake at Fin McCool’s.
“The shirt was hilarious! I mean whoever the fuck thought of that shirt KNEW that it would make chicks wanna suck on your junk! Sure I pissed myself in the first 20 minutes of the day, and ended up shitting my pants an hour later, but still!” said Terry Horvath, at a completely epic brunch in which him and the rest of his goddamn goons brought their own green food coloring to.
The perfect Saint Patrick’s Day is being crammed like sausage skin into a brutally overpriced bar where the Ed Sheeran blasting makes it impossible to actually spend time with any friends. These are the times you’ll cherish for the rest of your life. If you’re lucky you’ll only hate 98% of the bar, the other 1% are likely unconscious on the floor making them somewhat more tolerable.
“I’ll leave it at this…I was Fit Shaced last night…hahhaa” continued Horvath knowing he’s a burden that no city should have to shoulder.
Chicago, IL-On Saturday, a man was seen staring whimsically out of a window at New Wave Coffee in Logan Square, his left hand rested limply yet somehow thoughtfully placed on a mint copy of A Confederacy of Dunces by John Kennedy Toole. The book appeared blatantly without wear, with all of the shine and smugness of a freshly bought copy from Barnes & Noble, making him instantly superior to any other primitive dregs strewn about the coffee shop.
“It looks like a really good book, I’ve been threatening to read it for over 5 years now. People seem pretty impressed with my ability to carry a book around for half a decade,” said Terry Horvath
Though he’s never actually read a single page of A Confederacy of Dunces, it’s proven to be a perfect prop to brood over at varying breweries and coffee shops around the city.
“The mere thought of reading the book is so powerful, so overwhelming, that I end up just moodily staring into the abyss hoping that an attractive woman notices and approaches me,” continued Horvath, tracing his finger seductively over the smooth cover of the book.
Chicago, IL-On Saturday, a man with no personality, no discernible features and a self-described “dark” sense of humor, treated other party guests to the age old comic tradition of recycling something created by a corporate marketing team with the sole purpose of selling more product.
“Who doesn’t love Dilly Dilly? It’s all like…Dilly Dilly…then the other guy is like Dilly Dilly or some shit! It really spoke to me!” said Terry Lapadat with a knowing grin on his face, coolly tipping back an ice cold Bud Light through an absolutely idiotic looking goatee.
Lapadat falls into the unfortunate demographic of people who, due to being born without a personality and being otherwise wholly ordinary, instead rely on the consumption, digestion, and regurgitation of content designed for the lowest denominator of humankind.
A knuckle dragging, shit-for-brains, leaving an uninspired skid mark on anything and anyone he interacts with, Lapadat can be seen at varying parties quoting the 2009 comedy The Hangover or discussing the comedic nuance behind Dane Cook’s Kool-Aid Man skit.
Hammond, IN-Realizing America’s obsession with subscription services and willingness to consume whatever filler is crammed into their sagging skin, one company has come up with an game-changing idea that could revolutionize the way we consume and produce waste.
In order to satisfy the need to buy absolute fucking garbage from swarming Facebook ads, Widget Inc. has created a subscription service that will deliver a heaving box of trash directly to a rarely used closet in your house, and then will pick that box up a month later and dump the contents directly into the Pacific Ocean. The box contains all sorts of items that exist for the sole purpose of giving incompetent marketing teams something to do.
The only thing more powerful than the will to needlessly consume, is the will to promote, to create as much noise as possible until a fever pitch is reached and someone with a broken will and a dull enough life makes the purchase.
The subscription is only $29.99 a month and even comes with a premium subscription to a streaming service where users can watch their waste fester, destroy wildlife and even become part of the Pacific Northwest trash vortex! So buy more shit now!
Hobart, Indiana-Lifetime channel has been answering the questions that absolutely no one is asking about for the last decade. Questions like: Will someone desperate enough for marginal reality television fame go through with an inconsequential wedding with someone they’ve never seen before? and Where is the brink of human loneliness? Everyone assumed that Married at First Sight answered these, but apparently the human condition is far more depraved than originally anticipated.
Married at First Glory Hole is a new Lifetime original series which documents two complete strangers whose only interactions occur through a glory hole carved into a bathroom at a Long John Silvers in Northern Indiana. Over 14 weeks the two will navigate the complicated and death defying dance that people experience when flirting with the idea of putting their junk through a crudely fashioned glory hole.
Lifetime will provide glory hole experts to help the perspective couple along the way, with counseling sessions and advice to boot. In the final episode, if true love exists, there is the option to stick your finger through the hole and receive an engagement ring from the other party and a bathroom attendant will marry them on the spot.
Will it be a finger through the hole in the end or something else? Could a bathroom in Northern Indiana be the perfect place to meet and date someone? Find out on Married at First Glory Hole, premiering next week after reruns of Did I Shard Myself?