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!?
Hollywood, CA-The steady fart stream of an entire generation and dead animal comedic pioneer, Logan Paul, has officially started his next unforgettable venture…the launch of a signature Spencer’s Gifts franchise as an outlet store in Six Flags Great America, and he needs your help. After getting banned from YouTube for live streaming himself smoking K2 spice blend out of Cecil the Lion’s skull, he’s launched a Kickstarter to fulfill an incredibly deserved lifelong dream.
“I was conceived, born and raised in a Spencer’s Gifts, specifically on a backlight poster with an alien on it which read: Take Me to Your Dealer. My only food source, until I was old enough to eat Auntie Anne pretzels, was boner pills and 90% of the air I breathed was incense burnt from a sculpture of a cats butthole…I owe a lot to that place,” reminisced Paul, in an oddly fond manner given the horrific circumstances.
Now in an attempt to relive those joyous memories, Paul is humbling asking for your donation. The hungry and sick be damned, nothing will warm your heart more than reuniting a YouTube vlogger with a godforsaken mall rat’s nest that has been relocated to live inside of an amusement park.
If he reaches his goal he’ll permanently maim himself by sticking his junk into a scolding hot lava lamp…and boomerang it! So donate now!
I’ve been ALL about life hacks lately after a segment on The View revealed that smoking K2 synthetic weed has a similar effect to coffee if you’re feeling EXTRA tired in the morning. And once Whoopi Goldberg revealed the time she’s saved by shitting her pants instead of going to the bathroom, I was truly inspired! So when the opportunity presented itself to develop a game changing life hack while exiting a plane, I jammed a fidget spinner up my ass and started hacking!
Even if you’re at the back of the plane, getting off first is easy! All it requires is sacrificing your soul and becoming the sniveling little shit bag you always knew you were! Follow these quick steps and you’ll be off the plane in a jiff as the rest of the passengers wish death and disease on you and the rest of your family.
- Just as the plane touches down, start frantically moving your limbs about and nervously looking from front to back, this creates the anxiety vortex that should signal surrounding passengers you’re about to screw them all over
- Pinch off an eye stinging fart to create a diversion of sorts and maximize the amount of hatred directed toward you
- Consider and promptly disregard the fact that exiting the plane 15 seconds faster than the people in front of you qualifies you as a burden to humanity and an inarguable disappointment to everyone you know. But the sweet glory of saving 15 seconds make it totally worth it.
- Start creeping uncomfortably close to passengers in front of you, your stale peanut breath hissing into their ear and around their neck as you edge closer
- Skirt in front of them and stare like a goddamn aloof moron at the ceiling of the plane as the boos rain down
- Enjoy your 15 seconds like the shit king you are
Hollywood, CA-After a disgraceful exit from network television, ABC executives met last week to discuss the future of Roseanne. In the meeting it was determined that the cardboard palettes of American’s dumb enough to watch network television needed to be cleansed. Washed over with another reheated, cereal bowl of skim milk and chased with a fistful equally hot cantaloupe innards.
It was time to truly show the country what the network stood for and create something that the country as a whole could cherish and call their own.
Enter Roseanne 2, ABC’s newest and most ambitious endeavor yet.
Roseanne 2 is set to launch next week and will star the only man 100% of American’s trust, Steve Harvey. Steve Harvey will star as Roseanne and, as such, has agreed to undergo a scalp replacement surgery with the real Roseanne Barr in an effort to capture the true essence of the character. Similar to the surgery seen in the movie Face Off, but fortunately limited to scalps only.
The horrifying monstrosity that is born will undoubtedly unite the nation with zany hijinks. Watch at Steve Harvey wheels around New York City on a Segway made out of deli meat pegging people in the face with full cans of Mountain Dew Code Red and drawing caricatures of rat families by the peer. And once a week, he’ll play a solo game of Russian roulette with a t-shirt cannon full of garlic knots from Sbarro.
So tune in now, because you can’t even wipe your own ass!
Chicago, IL-A person with absolutely no more platitudes to offer about varying friend’s birthdays has hired New York Times best-selling author David Baldacci to pen a vaguely sentimental and undoubtedly lengthy caption to accompany a lifeless picture of a, now distant, acquaintance.
After several years of posts celebrating every national puppy day, national cry yourself to sleep day, national sibling day, national butthole day, take your goat to work day and every single birthday from a lifetime of formative friendships, Kristina Hodges finally had nothing left to say.
An entire deflating Instagram feed oozing oblivion like old Kikkoman bleeding from a rice heart at a Hibachi Grill in middle Indiana.
“Much like my novels, by rearranging a few words, you can make a one-of-a-kind birthday dedication for any friend. Forever my inspiration can be changed to My forever inspiration or Inspiration my forever, because ultimately no one cares, I employed a similar method to my novels Man Down Below and Below, Man Down!” said Baldacci taking a long pull from a Virginia Slim cigarette.
Chicago, IL-On Tuesday, an employee turned to the divine in an effort to sustain solitude whilst in the throes of a midafternoon ring piece onslaught after dabbling in a tray of Potbelly sandwiches, which were left out for an indeterminable amount of time.
“Once the door opens and the eager footsteps of a sniveling coworker become audible, there are certain desperate promises made to the Lord Almighty. Those promises are obviously exchanged for a moment of divine influence in which that coworker occupies anywhere in the bathroom except the stall adjacent to you,” said Bill Biscane, carefully turning his name badge over to maintain some level of perceived anonymity.
“My first born is not out of the question,” continued Biscane bracing himself for more carnage.
Like most people, Biscane is under the impression that, if there is a god, he/she/it would surely prove their existence by intervening in lifeless corporate bathroom scenarios. The perfect setting to prove their divine power and convert skeptics.
Unfortunately, the footsteps slowed and settled in the stall adjacent. Leaving Biscane sitting on the can pondering that he is in fact completely alone.
New Carlisle, Indiana-The dying toy industry isn’t done fighting yet. It won’t be mercifully put down like a Paddington Bear overrun with rabies behind the woodshed after a couple of 40’s of King Cobra. Its brain matter won’t be found on the sidewalk like a Furby after being bludgeoned with a sock full of quarters due to paranoia after smoking a cigarette dipped in formaldehyde.
No. It will continue to evolve and cater to the depravity of humankind, as evident in the newly minted Minions Fleshlight launched by Hasbro.
Licensed Fleshlights are generally reserved for porn stars, and or beloved glory holes, but because virtually everything in existence is branded or licensed, and because our species has devolved to a point in which this particular licensing seems like a good idea, die hard Minions fans will be able to finally prove just how dedicated they actually are. A gruesome game of a chicken to see who blinks first, the customer or the crudely fashioned Minions fleshlight.
“We saw a lot of adults oddly wearing around those idiotic looking Minions beanie hats, and figured why not stick with the times and absolutely fucking ruin something,” said Hasbro CEO Grayson Horvath stubbing out a cigarette into a an Angry Birds shrimp deveiner.
Cincinnati, Ohio-In an effort to preserve one of humanity’s most delicate and rare assets, the Cincinnati zoo has agreed to slaughter two giant pandas and replace them with the Walmart Yodel Kid, who will perform for zoo attendees if thrown the correct amount of petting zoo food.
“At a certain point we as humans have to shift to preserving what’s truly important, this was one of the easier decisions we’ve ever made” said head zookeeper Alphonso Knudson, blindfolding the pandas and preparing them for death by firing squad comprised of the zoo’s top donors.
An entire species can be forgotten if they can’t yodel in front of a bunch of drooling, phone wielding assholes at a goddamn rats nest in northern Indiana. The bastard child of Simon Cowell’s deadbeat second cousin. Someone born for a CBS reality show destined to fail.
“Prepare yourself you bastards!” yelled Knudson as the bullets rained down on the pandas and they fell to their anticlimactic death to the cheers of blood thirsty onlookers.
Chicago, IL-A high importance email sent Monday at 4:45 p.m. was promptly ignored by everyone sent, cc’d and bcc’d on the communication. Like most high importance emails, which generally emphasize someone’s incompetence, lack of preparedness and inability to wipe their own ass, this one contained an extensive who’s who of indistinguishable business jargon and impossible deadlines.
The sender of the email beamed with the overwhelming pride of someone who has spent an eternity meddling in lower-middle management as they baptized the email with a high importance designation before casting the divine order it into oblivion.
The the red exclamation point accompanying the email would surely instill a sense of hope and ownership in the recipients who would soon be burdened with salvaging the rotting flesh dripping from the Times New Roman serif. Wouldn’t it? No.
In a cruel albeit oddly predictable twist of fate, the email was promptly disregarded. The exclamation point functioned like a rusted anchor, dragging it to the bottom of the bloated inbox, submerging it in the depths of purposeful neglect.
Never send a high importance email.
Glencoe, IL-In a desperate attempt to salvage another floundering Tinder date, one man tempted fate with a gutsy albeit savvy move. Something that according to Drone Enthusiast Quarterly, everyone woman craves. In some obscure circles it has even been considered the greatest peacock to ever exist…slyly dropping a certified drone piloting license while picking up half of the bill.
“The date wasn’t going great, I had to find an in, something universally relatable to any woman, then it hit me…recreational and semi-professional drone usage,” said Terry Adkins, scrolling through some unremarkable aerial footage from a singular vantage point in Rockford Illinois. The city appearing as all cities do when filmed directly overhead.
“It was really tasteful, very classy, I suggested splitting the bill like I always do, but as I was pulling out my cash, my drone piloting license accidentally fell on the table…looked totally natural,” continued Adkins, recounting the incident fondly.
Though the incident could have sympathetically ended there, as most dates do. Adkins insisted on a choreographed drone demonstration right outside the bar, something that would capture her heart and an aerial view of the top of her head. But before the majestic mating ritual could commence, the drone flew directly into Adkins genitals.
As he lay screaming in agony his drone ascended into the clouds above and his date stared up with a sense of longing.