Dateline: New York—Morris Jenkins suffers from a debilitating fear of homosexuals, commonly called homophobia. When in the presence of gay people, he ceases to function.
“I remember the first time the terror struck me,” he said. “I was at work on my computer, sitting in my cubicle, and a co-worker told me he’s gay. My lower lip quivered, I screamed like I was looking into the face of Death, and I fell back away from him, landing on the floor and kicking my chair into the computer, shattering the screen.
“I turned over on my stomach and began clawing my way out of the cubicle, cutting my hands on the pieces glass, gasping for breath, and crying for help. My heart was hammering in my chest. The terrifying coworker tried to help me up and I shrieked and twisted my arm as I violently spun to avoid contact. I crab-walked out of the cubicle and ran to the opposite end of the office, clutching the wall behind me, sweating buckets and trying to catch my breath. Read more Homophobic Man struggles with his Fear ›
In a stunning turnaround, billionaire and silicon valley legend Tom Perkins who earlier this month compared the plight of the rich to nazi holocaust victims, stated that the poor should not be allowed to vote at all.
A highly respected writer for The Onion was found dead in near Fargo, North Dakota Thursday. The cause of death is still being investigated. The body of Kilroy Kovacs III, who went by the pseudonym “Kilroy”, was found in an abandoned house with a typewriter on his lap and an empty bottle of Jack.
Citing career fatigue and the desire to sleep in on Super Bowl Sunday, Punxsutawney Phil announced today he will delegate his annual weather prognostication to longtime Louisiana business associate Maringouin Mike.
“I’m proud to announce that Maringouin Mike will take center stage this year. Mike has many years experience in predicting weather patterns based on nothing more than the visibility of his own shadow. Let’s all join me in welcoming Mike back to this annual pagan ritual. And don’t wake me up on Sunday!” announced Phil from a pre-written statement before ducking back into his hole. Read more Punxsutawney Phil Delegates Groundhogging Duties to Maringouin Mike ›
New York, NY – Pop icon and cultural wrecking ball Miley Cyrus is scheduled to headline the festivities in Times Square, performing just before the ball drops to start the New Year. According to forecasters, the weather at midnight should be about 26 degrees Fahrenheit, with 12 mph winds, putting the wind chill in the low teens. While frostbite does not typically begin to set in until the wind chill has dropped down to -20, the charts were made by doctors who assumed that people would be wearing clothes. If the past year of Miley Cyrus’ life has suggested anything, it’s that this is a bold assumption.
In an official statement, ABC stated that “[p]aramedics will be standing by with buckets of warm water and new clothes for Ms. Cyrus” if frostbite should begin to set in during or after her set. The statement did not disclose where Ms. Cyrus’ old clothes will be at that time, hinting at the nature of her performance.
“As if it’s possible for her to do a show and not strip down,” 24-year-old single male and typical Miley fan Seth Hanes said, adding that, if she didn’t, he’d ask for his money back.
“I’d use her tits to hang up my coat,” another fan told us, with a wink and an “if you know what I mean.”
“Of course she’s going to have exposed skin,” Rolling Stone reporter Biz Jenkins scoffed, “Really, the only question is what part of her starts going blue.”
Reports of numerous betting pools on this exact topic have been confirmed, with wagers on which part of Miley’s skin would turn color the quickest. The current 3 to 1 favorite is her tongue.
Twas the night before Christmas
and all through the house
not a creature was stirring
we were all totally soused.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care
with the kids still in them so they’d be out of our hair.
They were stuffing candies into their heads
as visions of cavities filled us with dread.
Momma and I settled down for a long winter’s nap
right after a run to the bathroom for a late night cr__.
When suddenly outside I heard such a clatter
that sounded much like someone’s skylight had shattered.
Away to the window I ran to the crash
tore open the shutters and threw up the sash
just in time to hear a very loud bellow,
“Rudolph, you’re dragging your hoofs too low.”
When what to my gin-bleared eyes should appear
but some guy in a clown suit with a really big rear.
The little old driver seemed like a real hick
I knew I was wasted ’cause it looked like St. Nick.
More rapid than beagles chasing down game
he made damn sure they knew who’s to blame.
“Now Dasher, now Dancer get off poor Blitzen.
On Comet, on Cupid we’ve got to be gitzen.
Then what he said was even more off the wall
“Now dash away, dash away and try not to fall.”
As dry leaves that before the hurricane fly
they tried to take off with this big, fat guy.
So up to the house tops the courses they flew
with a sleigh full of toys and the big red loo-loo.
As I stood there silent like a hypnotized goof
I heard them land upon my very roof.
Down my chimney St Nicholas came with a bound
crashed through the floor and onto the ground.
His clothes were all covered with ashes and soot
which dirtied the floor when I gave him the boot.
The cute little toys that he had on his back
felt just like bricks when he gave me a whack
His eyes how they twinkled, his fist how hairy
as he punched me in the nose when I wasn’t even wary.
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
I noticed as I staggered about from the blow.
I saw the stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth
as I gazed up from the table I hid underneath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly
that could indulge and digest an entire deli.
“I had better watch out!” I said to myself
“I wouldn’t want it known I’d been done in by an elf!”
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
as I lay on the floor pretending to be dead,
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work
and cleaned out the fridge right down to the cork.
They laying his finger aside of his nose
without even a tissue the damn thing he blows
the sound of which made my backbone gristle
as he sprang to his sleigh and to his team gave a whistle.
But I heard him exclaim as he drove out of sight
“Seems you can’t even come in for a bite
without someone wanting to get into a fight
but Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!!”
I then got an aspirin and went back to bed.
Screw the rhyming.
Wayne LaPierre, chief face for the National Rifle Association, has been secretly burdened by the fear of having helped to suppress laws that would have controlled the guns that have been ravaging American society.
Knowing that he was instrumental in the deaths and injuries of thousands of citizens across this land, LaPierre has taken up where Sarah Winchester, wife of rifle manufacturer William Winchester, left off.
Sarah Winchester, made fabulously wealthy by being married to the man who created the rifle that helped shoot up the West, allegedly felt guilty about the people whose lives were ended by bullets from her husband’s guns. She deemed that the souls of those killed hovered around and that her family was responsible for their ordeal.
A medium warned that these spirits wanted her own death even as they had taken those of her daughter and husband. To ward them off, she must move out west and build a house that would never end. To stop building on it would allow the disembodied entities to take her life. Taking the advice she moved to San Jose California where in 1884 she began the work on what was to become known as Winchester House from the ground up.
Hiring workers 24 hours a day to erect additions on to it, she had false hallways and doors leading to nowhere built to confuse the entities that wanted her blood. This went on for the remaining 38 years of her life. The famous Winchester House has since become a legend and is a major tourist attraction that draws thousands a year to visit its twisting staircases and hidden rooms.
Now LaPierre, also crippled by fear, has been building on his own home, although not on quite the same scale as Mrs. Winchester. Doing a lot of the work himself, he has injuring himself a few times and takes full advantage of Obamacare to pay his hospital bills.
Bathed in sweat, he invests fervent energy into that which is almost Biblical. “They ain’t gonna get me! They ain’t gonna get me!” is a mantra he repeats continuously. “I know that most of them are liberals and deserve to get shot, but now that they are dead they are like zombies and will stop at nothing to get me!” he says, his eyes rolling feverishly.
NRA sponsors have not been supportive of his project; in fact they are embarrassed by it. “This is the guy who is supposed to be pushing our gun agenda for us, and he is letting himself be pussified by a bunch of spooks? It is time we find someone else to get our way in the government. Does anyone know Dick Cheney’s telephone number?”
Thanksgiving, once a proud cornerstone of our traditional American holidays with roots harkening back to our Pilgrim forefathers, is now comatose on the border of rigor mortis.
At one time it was considered to be the most family oriented of celebrations, a quiet, low keyed, non-commercial affair centered around rejoining with loved ones and a day of relaxing and feasting.
But, with quiet, low keyed, non-commerciality and families themselves being out of vogue, Thanksgiving is about to pass into history without hardly a tearful eye at its passing.
The once proud holiday is being pummeled from both sides of the calendar by the more famous holidays that can rack in big bucks- Halloween and Christmas.
It is hard for big business to make money off of a day which is concerned with getting together with family and friends and only adds revenue to the turkey and cranberry farmers.
The intrusion began decades ago when television, already an established intrusion into the sanctity of the family home, decided that people sitting at home on a day off was too good a financial mark to pass up and started hosting football games on that day to tear father away from the table and from wife and kids and glue his eyeballs to the TV screen for a good five hours of the day.
This also brought beer into the Thanksgiving diet due to the ubiquitous suds commercials that go along with the macho game.
Now retailers, ever greedy for as much dough as they can squeeze out of consumers for the holidays, have all but thrashed Thanksgiving to death with their huge Halloween and Christmas merchandising. Walmart last year and Sears this year have decided to force employees out of their warm homes on Thanksgiving to work when they should be having the day off (Last year the Walmart in our area didn’t pay anyone extra for working that night, just the usual minimum wage.).
As a result of this and the general attitude in the country of ‘all that matters is me’, the Federal Government has voted to change the name ‘Thanksgiving’ to ‘Selfish-Taking’ to more correctly reflect the true reality of the holiday. Certain Corporations are pushing their Washington lobbyists to get it renamed ‘Walmart Day’, ‘Sears Day’, ‘Kmart Day’ since there is little thanks or giving left in the holiday anyway.
Who or what is at fault here? The problem is multi-faceted, but the “bottom line,” so to speak, should be quite clear. It is all being perpetuated by big corporate retailers, who through their ever-present slick marketing schemes—schemes designed to dangle the “carrot-of-potential-savings” in front of our faces, while serenading us with the siren song of gratuitous materialism—attempt to entice us to drop everything in order to robotically pass through their doors without a momentary thought.
I realize that I went a bit astray in that last paragraph as my rant progressed, but it all ties into the point I’m striving to make. If you delve deep enough into this greed-induced wreckage, you’ll find much more than just the killing of a holiday. ~M.J.C.
Disclaimer:The previous statement contained views expressed by the image editor (that would be me) and do not necessarily reflect the views of the article’s author. Thank you. Buy bonds where you work or play!
GOSHEN – As most Americans were busy celebrating the coming of 2012 at midnight last night, the Albrecht family of Goshen, Indiana were surprised to find that they had not just ushered in the year 1987.
Rocking away the night to a cassette recording of Aerosmith’s Permanent Vacation album – a favorite among the Albrechts – the family insisted that it was an “enormous shock” to find that Western civilization had advanced some 25 years since they last checked. Read more Indiana Family Shocked to Find It’s Not 1987 ›
In the latest craze to hit the Halloween crowd horror fans are creating Haunted Houses for very specific groups. Each is tailor made to scare the bone marrow out of their target audience.
Democratic Party Horror House- Horrors of a Republican dominated government are the main theme of this scary house. Ronald Reagan, Bob Dole and Strom Thurmond disguised zombies roam the halls terrorizing the Democratic pure of heart. Read more Specialty Themed Haunted Houses ›
MTV, long known as the first choice in late-night music and regular hours infomercials and reality porn-fer-tainment has set an ambitious goal; to double their gross by 2015, and they’re committed to scraping the gross bottom of the barrel to make it happen.
“We’re thinking maybe a show about sexy little people who are also mentally challenged, or a show about sufferers of gigantism who have very small genitalia, but very high sex drives,” said MTV president Stephen K. Friedman. “That would easily be twice as gross, right?” Read more MTV Promises to Literally Double Gross by 2015 ›
Billionaire businessman David Koch, known for his political activism, entrepreneurial prowess and world-renowned collection of money has invited photographers and journalists in to see his private collection first hand.