Friday, August 31, 2012

Jenna Tull

Jenna Tull
Hey ya'll, it's me, Jenna Tull.  I knows what you're thinkin', what kinda a name is Jenna?  Well it's a cross 'tween my auntie and my grannie's names.  Jennie and Anna.  So they'sa call me Jenna.  Boys tell me my names exotic, that's just the kind a girl I am.  I'm all kinds of exotic. 

This one time, we all went to that there food court at the Shop N' Strut.  Mable, Dylan and Brandy all went to get some BBQ, but I said Nuh Uh!  I'm a get me some of that China Food.  They were so shocked that I thought they would burst.  But that's just the kind a girl I am.

This one other time, me and Darla were down at the Chug N' Hug, eatin' pretzels, when all of a sudden we saw us a man walkin' a ferret on a leash.  I thought I would die of the giggles.  My life is a roller coaster, ya'll!

There was this other time that Churly, Billy, Uncle Grand Dragon and the Filster sisters all had us one of them sex orgies atop this dark alter after the raffle in the church's basement.  We use a blood and semen sacrifice to obtain the blessing of the dark ones.  In the middle of it, Churly farted somthin' awful.  We all had us a good laugh at how red Churly's face got.  It got even redder when we bathed him in all that baby blood.  We are so silly!

This one time I was carvin' Black Runes into the flesh of this drifter.  He was all screamin' and beggin'.  When all of a sudden the doorbell rang.  I almost pee'd my pants I was so surprised.  Lucky for me it wasn't Sheriff Pilburn, it was a delivery guy.  And guess what?!  He brought me my new carvin' knifes!  What a happy day it was.  The runes glowed black in his wounds and I feasted on his insides while he was still a livin'.  I had such fun but I bet that there drifter wishes he didn't ask me for that change.

Well my break is almost over and I should really get back to the Slurp N' Burp.  It Double Dog Friday today.  Two hotdogs for the price of one!  I know right!?  What a freakin' bargain.


Thursday, August 30, 2012

Diary Of A Degenerate 6

I dreamed of an ugly woman that I was inexplicably in love with that helped me solve the murder of an unrepentant rapist, and woke up with false pride. It's amazing how little you can get done when you have no deadlines. I barely managed to get myself out of bed long enough to get to the liquor store let alone get another job. I thought I had it made until I called my former employer and realized they intended to challenge my unemployment claim. After ten years I thought they could offer me at least the courtesy of collecting a little free money.

Luckily under the laws of my state I was entitled to my final paycheck on my last day and was able to buy 30 days of leeway with my landlord before spending the rest. Predictably I wasted most of it on drink, spending the brief hours between intoxication shivering from nausea and reeling from the headaches. I kept my hands buried in the pockets of my jeans convinced that my fingernails would fall off and rattle like loose change. It was heaven.

But I knew that if I wanted to keep up this glorious lifestyle and avoid sticking my pistol in the face of some poor store clerk I was going to have to find a new job. I prepared to venture out into the job market the only way I knew how, with a coffee cup full of whiskey and a breakfast of dry toast and dill pickles. I checked every liquor store in the area for openings, but the ones that recognized me knew I couldn't be trusted with the stock, and the ones that didn't recognize me thought they did and guessed likewise. I downgraded my employment ambitions to basic labor, and filled out two applications for janitor positions, one at an elementary school and another at a church. Both were places I had no business anywhere near.

My brain was still swimming in the morning's booze and I wasted no time in drowning it again. I was sitting at an unfamiliar bar stool deciding if I wanted a ham sandwich or another drink when she sat down next to me. Her name was Vanessa and she was all smiles, leading me to the conclusion she was probably a prostitute. She wasn't ugly enough to be the type to approach me, but it didn't add up. A whore would notice that I was ordering only well whiskey, a sign of vagrant, and I certainly looked the part, and she even took it upon herself to pick up my tab. We drank together, I ate a sandwich that I sorely needed and she chain-smoked cigarettes. She had kids but made it clear they didn't live with her for some unspoken reason, and stared me down with her giant brown eyes while we chatted. When she got up to take a piss I watched her ass shake pleasantly and I wanted to bury my face in it. The bartender must have heard the thought go through my mind judging by his soft laughter as he shook his head. He was either jealous or he knew her all to well. Regardless I knew it was time to take her home.

At my apartment she wasted no time in tidying up the coffee table like she owned the place. I let her play house while I put some music on and drank on the couch. She was taking care of me. I wondered if she knew just how bad it was with me, or if she even cared, and decided that she was mothering me to make up for some maternal failure years ago as I slipped off to sleep. Unlike the other women I brought home I didn't want her to leave, and figured I had nothing of value to protect from her. Besides, if she wanted what little I had I might be willing to simply give it to her.


Wednesday, August 29, 2012

Sad Soup

The first ingredient is tears.  Lots of tears.  Human tears expressed at the height of sorrow will comprise the majority of this soup.  Now here is the problem.  How to get them.  If you are making Sad soup you are obviously not sad.  How could you be?  Sad Soup is delicious to eat and exhilarating to prepare.  It is impossible and possibly illegal to frown while making Sad Soup.

Now then, There are many ways to get fresh human tears.  One of the easiest ways is to observe funerals.  Keep your eye out for inexpensive funerals with young crying widows.  Because the funeral is cheap, it probably means the widow is having financial trouble and could barely afford the funeral in the first place.  Bills are probably piling up and she would be much more apt to take your hard earned money in exchange for her constant grieving tears than a widow with a large inheritance.  Just keep offering her money to collect her tears and remind her about her husband any chance you get.

If trolling funerals isn't your bag, why not try Ebay?  I have purchased tears many times on Ebay, always from verified sources.  There are Sad Soup aficionados across the globe.  We are quite a friendly and welcoming community.  There is always Sad Souper with ingredients to sell buried within the tastiest depths of Ebay.  You just have to look.

Can't afford to pay a widow or Ebay?  Well, this is always a last resort for me.... There is always.... Kidnapping.  You won't believe how much a person cries when they've been kidnapped.  Nonstop.  I'm a big fan of the night vision goggles and dark room approach.  With your abductee comfortably tied to a chair, you can really get the waterworks flowing with the sound of a chainsaw.  I am also a big fan of sharpening knives and laughing.  Continue collecting the tears until you get enough for your recipe. Be sure to keep your tear supplier well hydrated!  Once you have enough tears, release your abductee unharmed far from your home and worry not.  Your abductee will have a great story to tell at parties for the rest of their lives.

The problem with kidnap tears, while easy and cheap to procure, is that they are mostly "Terror Tears", which is not exactly the same thing as "Sorrow Tears".  While they both taste very similar, a true gourmet would easily be able to tell the difference.

After procuring the precious tears you can finally make the soup!  Everybody has their own recipe.  I heat my tears to near boiling on the stove.  Do not boil, it will evaporate the sorrow.  Once an acceptable temperature is reached I garnish with a parsley sprig and serve.  Mmmm, lightly salty.....  During the holidays, I add a little clove instead of parsley, so festive.  Experiment away and come up with your own tasty recipe.  ~Enjoy


Tuesday, August 28, 2012

Date Rape Cassanova

I don't generally like to brag, but I'm pretty much the cassanova of date rapists. That's right, I can basically bag any girl I want at any given time. If you put me in the same room with twenty beautiful women I will end up taking home the hottest one, guaranteed! But I don't really get the kind of credit and recognition that I think I deserve, just because I use unconventional methods. Instead of relying on charm, good looks, and charisma, I go with a meticulously-selected mixture of farm-grade livestock tranquilizers and an arsenal of psychological attacks designed to instill a sense of personal guilt while simultaneously fostering overwhelming sympathy for their attacker akin to stockholm syndrome.

The night usually starts with me approaching my victim sheepishly, plying her with compliments and free booze until she sees me as just a pathetic and lonely guy and lets her guard down. I clean up just well enough so that she doesn't feel ashamed to be seen speaking to me, but not so well that I seem overtly sexual. It is really a difficult balance, and a remarkably complex skill to master. Most guys would just walk up to her and "be honest", or "seem confident", but to my experienced eyes these dudes are just amateurs. To get a sure thing you have to MAKE it happen.

So I wait until she orders a round of drinks, something cheap that she feels obligated to buy me for being such a nice guy and picking up the tab for the last hour, then I spike it. Girls are way less protective of a drink when they ordered it themselves, as if it was the bartender they had to worry about. Ha! As soon as the drugs take hold I ask the bartender to call her a cab, you know, because I'm such a nice guy and all, and when he shows up I slip in the car and we're off for some non-consensual fun!

The trick is to keep the lights down and wait for her to get sick. When the carousel is spinning she has a hard time getting off the ride, if you know what I mean! Sure, sometimes that means it gets a little messy, but that's all part of the fun. If you wanted to have her at her best you would have to put WAY more effort in, building a foundation of trust and mutual respect, and so on, and so on... and a guy like me doesn't have that kind of time. So you make it quick, getting off before she has a chance to fully articulate herself and make a memory of a struggle stick through the drugs. It won't last long, but you will have the video to last a lifetime!

And if she has a strong constitution that gets her through the whole ordeal fully conscious, just make sure you're the one doing the majority of the crying afterward. Chances are she will pity you long enough to establish plausible deniability in the mind of a jury. And remember, if she doesn't make it to the hospital within 8 hours then you are pretty much home-free as far as the rape kit is concerned.

And there you have it, my friends. The trade secrets of one of the most experienced players in the rape game. I'm not sure why I'm giving up my methods to everyone who reads this, but I guess it's because not everyone can pull it off. Just because you see Tiger Wood's swing doesn't mean you can win the masters four fucking times, am I right?


Monday, August 27, 2012

Who's In My Mouth!?

Hello friends and welcome to Who's In My Mouth!  The game show where you identify friends and family with only your mouth! I'm your host, Luis Lippley.  Let's get started...

Our contestant today is Sarah Whityled from Halifax, Novia Scotia.  She is a school teacher and her favorite hobby is drift wood whittling.  We have her seated on the contestants chair with the noise canceling head phones and blind fold already in place.

Sarah's first challenge is to correctly identify her best friend, Karen Marlihan, with only her mouth!  Karen please spin the Wheel of Body Parts! .......... Look at it go!  It's slowing down... and it landed on... Tits!  Karen please place your naked tits in Sarah's mouth, let's see if she can guess correctly!

Go on, Karen.  It's just a game show, no big deal.  Don't be shy.  Whip and your tits and shove them in her face.  ... This isn't what you expected?  The shows title is "Who's In My Mouth?"  What did you expect?  .... What's that?  Guessing different types of foods?  Seriously?  That's fucking stupid.  Seriously Karen, you are ruining this show and everyone is very disappointed in you.

Just look at your friend there.  Sarah, all blind folded and deafened.  Her mouth looks so inviting doesn't it?  You don't want to ruin your best friend's big day, do you?  Now why don't you, calmly, take off your shirt, on camera, and place your nipples into your unsuspecting friend's mouth.

Fine, fine.... You can take another spin.  But if you'll look closely at the Wheel of Body Parts, you'll see that every category is Tits.  Well, tits and BANKRUPT  Every game show wheel needs a BANKRUPT.  So......??  Tits or no?

What do you mean "Is this a secret amateur porn shoot?"  I am insulted.  That is such a despicable thing to say.  But to avoid any possible lawsuits... Yes.  Yes this is a porn shoot.  A porn shoot with a chance to win a NEW CAR!!  WOOO!!!  I know!  All right, the shirt is off, that's the spirit Karen!  Smother her with tits!


Sunday, August 26, 2012

Diary Of A Degenerate 5

When I got home I finished the job I started at the adult book store, drowning out the world with a too-loud playing of Otis Redding's Tramp. I was hoping someone on the floor would pound on the wall and complain, but no such luck. I washed my hands and headed out to the bar.

I was two beers and three whiskeys in before I got the mojo going and started harassing the women. Two walked away before I found one with low enough self esteem to talk to me. I played the gentleman and complimented her. When she pretended to be modest and said she wished she had a chance to clean up after work before going out I leaned in and audibly sniffed her and said, "I disagree. You don't smell dirty enough" When she smiled I knew I had her.

I pumped drinks into her until closing time and then tried to convince her to come to my place and fuck. She resisted hard enough to indicate she thought I was some kind of serial killer or something, but I eventually got her into my back seat. Her breath fogged up the glass until the bar owner banged on it and told us to beat it. Luckily I came inside her before she had a chance to scurry out the passenger door and run off to her car. She was a good lay but she had kind of shallow pussy. It was either only four inches deep or took a hard left that stopped me cold in mid-thrust. On the way home I got all sentimental and thought about marrying her and having kids and shit. I make myself sick sometimes.

I spent the better part of sunday examining my dick and convincing myself she gave me herpes. It was probably just friction burns, something I suffered from weekly but was too paranoid to realize on the fly. Despite my distress I slept well. Well enough to barely make it to work in the morning.

My manager was waiting for me when I came in. He always stood up straight when we spoke, trying desperately not to be five inches shorter than me, and he had terrible breath. His breath was bad enough to inspire self awareness, and besides, he had a wife! There's no way he doesn't know about it. When I have booze on my breath I at least have the decency to exhale through my nose, for christ's sake.

"I need to schedule you for some overtime" he said. "And don't give me any grief, okay? This is coming all the way from corporate, so it's mandatory." Only assholes used the word "grief" like it was a proper curse word. And he was certainly an asshole.

"You know what Wayne?" I said. He went by Scott but his real name was Wayne. "Go fuck yourself!" I looked him straight in the eye when I said it. With a look that forced him to acknowledge that I was more powerful than he was. And more angry. He threatened me with his only power, an HR meeting, before I walked past him and gathered the shit from my desk and walked out. And that was the end of that career.

I celebrated the loss of employment with eight 2oz shots of hard proof rum and a three hour nap on my carpet. When I awoke I couldn't have felt better about it.


Saturday, August 25, 2012

10 out of 10

Police Briefing: 8/24/2012

Good morning everyone, let's get this briefing done quick so we can all get out on the streets and start protecting people.  Now then, first order of business, we received a bunch of those "Rate the NYPD" comment cards that the city has been giving out.  Big trouble people!  We got a bunch of 1 out of 10's on those comment cards.  Do you know how that makes us look?  I mean Officers, come on!

I want everyone giving 110% today!  We need to score some 10 out of 10's on those comment cards, not these measly 1 out of 10's!  So, for every jaywalking ticket you give out today, I want you to give out 9 more... 9 and 1 makes 10!  10's are what we are shooting for here people!

If you would normally give 1 speeding ticket, I want 10!  Catch 1 robber?  Not enough, 10!  If you help 1 little old lady across the road, I need you to help 9 more!  That's the way the game works now people!  You know what?  I am too damn excited to get started, let's skip the rest of the briefing and hit the streets!


Oh crap, most of you have already left.  Oh well, I'll tell you guys and you just pass it on.  This 10 out of 10 thing does not apply when you shoot someone.  So, if you have to shoot 1 person today, you don't need to shoot 9 more.  I mean, I would really prefer if you didn't.  But for everything else, I am going to need that extra effort, capiche?


Friday, August 24, 2012

Creepy Kix

What happens when you combine the music of Alan Silvestri from Predator with a 1953 Kix cereal commercial?  Well, this I guess....


Thursday, August 23, 2012

Exclusive: Prince Harry's Vegas Nude Photos Unleashed

Popular Irony has been able to secure the exclusive copies of the now-infamous Prince Harry vegas party photos!  And since we have no respect whatsoever for the sanctity of the royal family, we actually have the guts to show them.  So sit back and enjoy a never-before seen side of the british monarchy.

This shot was taken by a close friend of Harry in the vegas desert landscape.  The story is that he was enjoying a game of volleyball with several members of his entourage as well as olympic swimmer Ryan Lochte!  He disrobed after a friendly bet was lost, and now we know that it's not just his cheeks that are red!

Here we see Harry in the buff at his hotel suite in the MGM Grand casino hotel.  Obviously suffering the effects of more than a few drinks, Harry shows off the crown jewels to the ladies that had been invited up to partake in the impromptu royal party.  The queen has been asked to comment on these nude images, but has declined.

Whoa!  Party animal alert!  As if we hadn't seen enough of Prince Harry's undercarriage, here he gives us the full monty.  One wonders how the military will view these disgraceful photos, taken after a game of billiards from the MGM suite.  But one thing is for sure, these pics will devastate the english countryside in a way that hasn't been seen since the air raids.


Wednesday, August 22, 2012

Diary Of A Degenerate 4

Someone was pounding on my door.

I got up and marched to the door in my underwear, ready to scream at the asshole that had the nerve to wake me up at noon on a saturday, but it was just my landlord. She was an old, used up broad. She was probably worth buying a drink for ten years ago, but now she was a novelty fuck at best. The kind that you never told your friends about.

I told her that next wednesday was payday, and surprisingly she left it at that. It was only after I headed to the bathroom to take a piss that I noticed the three inches of my shriveled cock hanging out of my boxers. Good thing I have no shame. I peeled off the five-day-old shorts and took a cold shower, got dressed, then carried two garbage bags full of empty bottles down to the dumpster. It smelled like dog shit and immigrant cum in the alleyway.

I cleaned up the apartment for about two hours, wiping and mopping up every body fluid I had to offer and then some, even washing the dishes and the coffee maker. Then I drove down to Sullivan's, the adult book store and arcade, to jerk off in a booth. I had a computer and my neighbor had an unprotected wifi connection, but I always got harder in a filthy booth, masturbating to 80's porn on a 16 inch tube tv like I when I was a kid.

"Psst!" Some guy whispered, tapping his fingers on the top of the stall door. This was the one downside of the porn shop. Fags always trying to sell blowjobs to desperate men. I pretended I didn't hear him and tried to keep my erection. "C'mon, man. I'll suck yer dick for free, I swear!" I only had eight minutes left in the booth and I was now as limp as overcooked pasta. I unlocked the booth door.

It was a fat asian guy with glasses and a big grin. He didn't say anything, didn't even look me in the eye as he closed the door behind him and reached for my dick. I couldn't punch him. I was too angry. I grabbed him by the sides of the head and squeezed hard, clenching my teeth until I felt one of my molars crack. The whole thing happened so fast, no shouting or struggle, it was like he knew it would be worse if he fought back. I pushed his head down into the tile floor of the booth where he turned onto his side to protect his face. His t-shirt was pulled over his fat gut, exposing the tip of his tiny boner poking out of the top of his sweatpants. I stomped on it hard twice before he got his hands down to protect it. He was whimpering as I gathered myself and walked out of the shop. Thanks to him I will never go back again.




Tuesday, August 21, 2012

Little Known Lady Facts with Todd Akin

Todd "Legitimate Rape" Akin
Well, a warm southern greeting to you all.  It's me, the esteemed Todd Akin.  All them political types are in an uproar over some comments I made recently about woman not being able to get pregnant in cases of "Legitimate Rape".  A lady's body is an amazing thing and it hides many secrets.  If a real rape occurs, not one of them dames who were "asking for it" a woman's body puts out hormones and such to stop their bodies from making a baby.  God made a woman's biology to have the ability to choose when the baby gets to a bakin'.  Interesting fact huh?  Well, I got a few more of 'em.

1. Did you know that if frivolously educated, a woman runs the risk of spontaneously "gender swapping" and growing a vestigial micro penis?  It's true!  That's because science has proven that the Y chromosome is the primary source of logic and reasoning.  On the inverse, gay and transgender men are just men with very low I.Q.s.  That's proven Missouri Science right there!

2.  It's amazing that even though they are mostly made of rib bone, some woman are able to get very fat.  This is God's will so that if involved in a water landing, woman can be used as a flotation device.  I guess them fatties really are "big boned".

3.  Woman also have an affinity for diamonds.  This demonstrates their propensity to be easily distracted by shiny objects.  I once had a mistress chase a highly chromed care for 3 city blocks before she got tuckered out.

4.  Woman are notoriously clumsy beasts.  To best protect your property, wash the cutlery yourself and buy shatterproof dishes.  Also, did you know that most cable boxes will allow you to password protect all channels other than food network?

5.  Like any other animal, women respond positively to a variety of training methods.  I personally employ both positive and negative reinforcement on a daily basis.  Reward her with treats of chocolates.  Unless she is fat, then you make her shake for her treat.  Everyone has such fun.

6.  After childbirth, a woman needs to consume copious amounts of milk to keep her breast sacks full for baby feeding.  Even if she doesn't like milk or uses that lactose intolerance excuse, keep making her drink it.  Plus, more milk equals bigger boobs!

7.  Women love to imitate, so they may feign reading and writing.  Save time by signing your wife up for a mail in ballot.  It will save countless hours teaching her how to vote.

8.  Want some tips for finding a good wife?  Look closely for signs of dental work.  Contrary to instinct, this a good thing as it indicates she was well cared for by her previous owner.  For best results, choose a wife early and have her parents raise her to your specifications.  When you first meet your prospective mate, approach her slowly with palms up.  If she sniffs your hand and smiles, you are free to stroke her mane.

Good luck men and happy hunting!


Monday, August 20, 2012

Greasedaddy Is Looking For Love

We at Popular Irony are convinced that there is someone out there for everyone. No matter how strange, pathetic, controversial, or just plain disgusting a person is, their perfect match is waiting for them. In the past it was more difficult to find somebody that shared your odd habits and tastes, but online anything is possible. And we intend to prove it

Meet Greasedaddy. We carefully constructed his profile to appeal to a very specific person, mainly an exceptionally strange one. He is a white bisexual male from Iowa who frequently sports a neckbeard, very tall at 6'5", has comments like "I am an open book with a few pages stuck together", and claims to be "well-known throughout the streets". I included a mugshot background for the profile pic for added effect.

 If Greasedaddy can find love, then you can too. Check back for actual corrospondence (with identities protected, of course) as it rolls in. We hope to find that one-in-a-million person that will look past all of the red flags to find the non-existent person within. Hopefully a little desperation will go a long way here.


Sunday, August 19, 2012

Figuratively Literal

Smear your poop all over me. -Toilet Paper

You turn me on and make me gush. -A Shower

Why don't you stuff that big stallion inside of me? -A Small Barn

Pee in my gaping hole. -A Toilet

Squirt your syrup on me. -A Stack Of Pancakes

Lick your finger first and then open me. -A New Book

Fill me up with your meat and then eat me. -A Taco Shell

I could stay in your pussy all day. -A Tampon

I've got a huge donkey dick. -A Donkey

Lick my bean! -A Vanilla Plant That Became Ice Cream

Little boys make me wet. -A G.I. Joe Beach Towel

Don't worry baby, I'm sterile. -An Autoclave

I brought a friend, we can suck and blow at the same time. -A Leaf Blower and A Vacuum

My hot white foam is all over your upper lip. -A Cappuccino

Put your nuts in my mouth. -A Nutcracker

Please let me up your ass. -A Suppository

Go ahead, deflower me. -A Rose Bush

Put your meat inside of me.  -A Refrigerator

Put your meat inside of me.  -A Hotdog Bun

Put your meat inside of me.  -A BBQ

Put your meat inside of me.  -A  Meat Grinder

I'll swallow your seed. -A Parakeet

That pussy stinks like fish. -A Cat That Lives On The Docks


Saturday, August 18, 2012

HILT... can you dig it?

Who is the man
That can get you off with just one hand?

HILT... Can you dig it?

Who is the smooth mofo
That will leave you satisfied fo sho?

HILT...  You goddamn right.

He's the one packing purple heat
That drags on the ground between his feet!

HILT...  Right on

And who has the veiny neck
That can keep your appetite in check?

HILT...  You know I'm talkin' bout Hilt!

Hilt's the guy with the magic seed
Who gives the protein boost to all in need

Todd Hilt.


Friday, August 17, 2012

Meat Whittling - Lil' Chub

Meat Whittling Man
Hi.  ..... uh...  Hi.   I'ma Meat Whittler.  That's what I do.  I ... uh .... Whittle Meat.  You.. uh. .. uh.. can whittle all kinds of meat.  Meat whittling is a proud and ... uh ..  proud tradition.  My great grandpaps ... uh ..whittled meat for the war.  My grandpaps won my ... uh .. grandmams heart with a fine .. uh ... whittled meat.  My daddy .. uh .. well, my daddy .. uh.. well, he... painted meat.  It's OK, while he was living, he would .... uh ... paint my meat whittles.

Steakses and roastses make  .. uh... great ... uh...  carving blocks.  But sometimes I like to branch out with other meats.

When I went to the corner store today.  I found a meat .. uh ... treasure.  It'sa Jack Links Lil' Chub.  A tiny Summer Sausage.  Summer Sausage makes for good ... uh ... whittling.

 See how the .. uh .. summer sausage is nicely shaped.  They are easy to ... uh .. whittle.  The meat is tender and fatty.  I use a freshly sharpened ... uh  .. pairing knife.

Like many .. uh ... sculptors, you have to see the shape and free it from your medium, with your tools.  I saw Michelangelo's ... uh ... David, when I looked at this sausage nubbin.

Do you see how I skillfully .... uh ... whittled art?  If my daddy hadn't .. uh ... asphyxiated himself, he would paint it and it would look exactly like a miniature ... uh ... person.

It'sa .. uncanny isnt it?  Like a miniature .. uh .. meat baby.

Don't let it go to waste.  Half the fun of the whittling is the ... uh ... eating.  Until next time!  Keep whittling your meat!


Thursday, August 16, 2012

Diary Of A Degenerate 3

At work the next day a pretty younger girl showed concern when I started coughing to the point of choking. I could tell by her eyes that she was desperate for some man to come along and love her, desperate enough to reach out to an older, fatter, balding man that she barely knew. But I would only use her up. And even though I would love every minute of it I couldn't shake the image of the crucifix she wore between her perfect breasts. I just didn't have the heart to prove to her that God didn't exist. So I assured her I was fine and went about my business.

When I got home I spent two hours trying to cry. I thought of all the horrible things I've done, contorted my face and made pathetic weeping noises, but didn't manage a single tear. I suppose I just wanted to have an emotion that wasn't contempt or anger, but maybe I am too far gone for it. Instead I drank straight from the bottle in my underwear and spent the evening listening to my neighbors scream at each other until I yelled at them to shut the fuck up. When Dave screamed back I threatened to kill him in the hallway and then stood outside their door until it was clear he wasn't coming. They were actually very nice people, normally. I went back to my apartment and finished the bottle before falling asleep on the couch.

I was twenty minutes late for work the next day, and got halfway through my shift before I realized it was friday. It was the last day for one of the receptionists there, and she was going to retire after finding out she was really sick. She told me what she had once, but I don't remember what it was. The staff were all signing an oversized retirement card with the words "Miss You Already!" scrawled across the front, and it made it's way onto my desk. When I signed it I could see that everyone was planning on meeting up later that evening to say goodbye. At least they had the good sense not to invite me, and I knew what bar to avoid that night. I hate seeing people that I know.

I went to the same bar from a few nights ago, and was drinking for some time until I noticed the whore was there again. Luckily she was with some other loser this time, trying her damnedest to make me jealous. But I had already been there, and it wasn't worth visiting again. Instead I flirted with the bartender until she gave me a free drink, the equivalent of patting a dog on the head to a lonely drunk.

After paying my tab the bartender offered to call me a cab, but I explained I would be walking. "But it's raining, mister!" she said. I assured her I didn't mind, and pretended I didn't have car keys in my hand. Male bartenders didn't give a shit if you killed yourself and a family of four out on the highway, but women will call the cops. I drove home carefully.

Walking through my doorway I stepped on an envelope that had been slipped under the door. Apparently my rent was late. I thought about calling the whore back but decided she probably had a dick in her mouth by now. I spat blood into the sink and it left a heart-shaped stain on the porcelain. How romantic.




Wednesday, August 15, 2012

Fun and Profit - Domains

Today on Fun and Profit, we will present you with a few ideas to get your own highly lucrative website up and running.  The most important part of a website is the domain.  The web address at which your customers can find you on the endless tubes of the Internets.  Checking with a domain provider, I have found that all of the domains I am about to present are available for purchase forthrightly.

The top earning website is an "Internet Search" site.  Google.  You can find pretty much anything you are looking for on  Why not take their idea and make it your own with a flashy new specialty "Internet Search" site?  A search aggregate that is focused on specific topics.  You could really corner a niche market and make billions!

Here are a few available domains that would be perfect for earning massive profits....

Are you always looking for the fattest tits on the Internet?  Well toil no longer because with, you will never not find fat tits again!

Not into fat tits?  Why not try  Every mouth is full of a dick when you search with!

Do you consume endless amounts of news and information?  Are your current search methods failing miserably?  Why not start your own news aggregate?  With you can find anything about anything.  It's like Wikipedia and Google had a retard baby! 

Are you a nudist and are always having trouble finding nude friendly restaurants?  Well, worry no more!  With you can dine with your innies and outies exposed for all to see while you wolf down bowl after bowl of delicious Clam Chowder.  Clam Chowder, the nudists soup of choice! is the perfect place to view pictures of people having embarrassing diarrhea is public.  I know that your photo album is swollen to it's purple hilt with humiliating photos of bowels gone bad.  Put em to good use, why don't you!?

Are you a closet cannibal?  Do you have trouble locating human flesh for feasting?  Everyone knows that the tastiest type of person is a baby.  Now you can scratch that cannibal itch with  Connect with other cannibals and share recipes!

Our last, but certainly not least domain idea is  Today's granny pornography is so fake and Hollywood looking.  DentureBlowjobs is your one stop shop for real, amateur, geriatric junk suckling.

You better act fast!  These domains will not be available for long!  Your Welcome!!


Tuesday, August 14, 2012

Diary Of A Degenerate 2

I awakened again at around 10 o'clock, happy to see that the sun was down. I was much more comfortable knowing most people were sleeping in bed next to their spouse, their judgmental eyes closed to the sight of my disgraceful life. But without any liquor with which to enjoy myself I was at a loss. I brushed my teeth and bypassed a shower again, then ventured out to the bar.

"Double whiskey, and keep them coming." I told the barkeep. With a couple drinks in me and my hands occupied with cold glass I could sound like a genius to the common bar patron. Confidence and intelligence. Lying about both could get me laid most nights. Before long I was in a combination argument/flirting session with an increasingly beautiful older woman. She told me I was insufferable, I told her she smelled like a whore, then we kissed like we were trying to eat each other.

"Take me home" she said. But I hadn't drank my fill yet and I was willing to lose her over it. She understood and let me drink.

I had no idea what ghetto we were in, but she lived there. She tasted like cigarettes and other men, but I was happy to taste. I decided I would never speak to her again when she made a big phony spectacle during sex, screaming like she had something to prove to her neighbors. "Hear that? I'm getting fucked! And you all get to listen to it!" She wasn't massaging my ego, she was massaging her own. And for it she would win even more rejection, as I abandoned her used-up, snoring body and crept past her sleeping kids to make my escape.

At home I ate some canned sausages and crackers, watched a movie about a sled dog race that ended predictably in an inspiring moment of triumph, then went to sleep hoping I would accidentally swallow my tongue. But I woke up in the morning, disappointed.

My phone showed three missed calls and two voicemails. Fuck. I forgot I had given the whore my phone number. I brushed my teeth and washed my cock in the sink, then used the toilet. Upon inspecting the bowl I was not surprised to see the shit was dark like asphalt, reminding me that my ulcers would probably get infected and septic one day from all the drinking. A less-than-pleasant end to a less-than-pleasant life. But I was no quitter. With any luck I could manage a more epic and violent end.

I listened to the whore's messages, deleting the one where she was screaming and saving the one where she was crying. I didn't call her back, confident that a woman like her knew the look of a man's back when he was walking away. In all likelihood she was familiar with being rejected since her father climbed off of her when she was nine. I fed the dog for the first time in two days and got ready for work.

I worked 8 of 9 hours I was scheduled for, smiled at my coworkers like I gave a damn if they lived or died, then hit the liquor store on the way home. Two more missed calls on my cell, but the whore didn't leave any more messages. I decided to only drink enough to get to sleep, then finish the rest tomorrow after work. I wrote a story about a young boy that killed his school bully with a broken bottle, then slept like a baby.


Monday, August 13, 2012

You Best Watch Yourself!

You best watch yourself, friend.  I am liable to put a mean wuppin' on your naughty bottom.  I have spent many of my years studying the mystic art of the orientals.  I feel quite confident that I am more than capable of dealing with a ruffian like you.  I will give you such a Juno Chop!  Your arms and other extremities will feel numbed and tingly from my acute nerve touchings.

Just imagine it.... My decades of study culminating in smacking you in your dirty mouth.  I could use my Krotty or Kong Foo to flip you around like a dusty rag.  A dirty dusty rag.  That is right buffoon!!

I happen to own many very scary weapons and sticks and such.  I could poke you in the ribs with my Bow Stuff or bonk your noggin with my Nonchalks.  You will beware the slice of my mighty Sords. 

I bet you know better now, huh Mr Fool?  You have been duly warned of my skill levels and power readings.  There was this one occasion when I was forced to display my learnings.  The person from whom I was forced to defend myself regretted his decision forthrightly.  I gave him such a tussle and even a bit of a jostling.

If you would like to spar, we could go back to my loft.  I have rustling mats and Krotty bath robes.  I could teach you many a thing about becoming a rough and tumble oriental master!  We can take turns being the victim or being the aggressor.  Whom soever pins the other in an official way, wins a prize.  If I happen to win, I would like a soft peck on my cheek from you.... Maybe two.  It will be such a gladdening of joy!


Sunday, August 12, 2012

Introducing The TFC!

From the producers of Toddlers In Tiaras and the industry leaders in child exploitation television worldwide, Authentic Entertainment, comes the newest advance in sports broadcasting. Ladies and gentlemen, introducing the TFC, the Toddler Fighting Championship!

You the viewer have proven that you can't get enough of the sexualization of america's youth with the timeslot-leading ratings for the syndicated reality television beauty pageant extravaganza that is Toddlers In Tiaras, so now get ready to cut your teeth on the newest violent sensation to strike MMA, the TFC! Watch as the nation's most dangerous two-through-six year olds battle to bloody victory to prove their preschool yard dominance.

The rules are familiar, but the faces are fresh and innocent. Victory comes by way of knockout, tapout, or ref stoppage, and all glory goes to the winner as we crown the first-ever TFC champion this Friday night at 9 eastern standard! In lieu of weight classes the fighters will be broken into categories by age, with the rattle division (2 and 3 yo), the sesame division (4 and 5 yo), and the heavy-hitting crayon division (6 yo)!

And there is seemingly no stopping the exploitation train when you see TLC's own Jonbenet Ramsey Ring Girls rile up the live audience and get them ready to watch the blood get shed and the baby teeth get flying! So remember that this Friday YOU have ringside seats reserved for the fighting spectacle of the century...



Saturday, August 11, 2012

Fuckable Pig

Fuckable Pig
Pardon me, sir?  Whoa!  No need to panic,... Yes, yes, I am a talking pig.  Amazing, I know!  I was just passing by and I happened to notice that your left hand is lacking adornment.  What I mean to say is, you are without a wedding ring and with that, without a bride?  Am I safe to assume that, you sir, are single?  You are?! 

Well, that is just wonderful.  As you can see I am a very beautiful lady pig and I just happen to be without an escort this evening.  Could I possibly tempt you with a bit of inter-species experimentation?  .... What do you mean, what do I mean?  Tee-Hee, I guess I will just cut to the chase.  Sir, how would you like to fuck a pig?

Oh, come on!  You didn't even think about it.  I promise that it will be a night to remember.  I will let you do anything.. .ANYTHING.  That's right.  You can totally fuck me Piggie Style.  It's like Doggie Style but you are fucking a real pig.  I'll do things to you that you never knew you wanted.  I'll root around your ass-end like your butt is full of truffles.  I'll bet you've never had your salad tossed by the bacon before, huh?

I see that I have peaked your interest.  Why don't we go back to my sty and we can get to Makin' Some Bacon.  .... What's that?  Ah, you have noticed my turgid pig penis and swine balls.  .... Yes, I am a talking pig and also a proud transgender pig.  Now, don't let this dissuade you.  I can assure you that pig vagina is sandy, stinky and fucking disgusting.  Pig ass is the way to go.  My tight piggie hole don't ever quit.

Hmmmm?  Isn't bestiality illegal?  Well, yeah, of course.  That's only because normal animals can't consent to the lustful act.  But as you can hear sir, I can clearly voice my consent.  So let's make it official.  "Sir, would you please come back to my sty and fuck my pig ass and pig face with your quivering human wiener?  I grant you full access to all of my piggie orifices and freely invite you to pleasure yourself with my hot piggie body."  Good enough?  Excellent!


Friday, August 10, 2012

Diary Of A Degenerate 1

I resented the power my parents had over me. They had the house, the money, and the reputation. I was destined to be a disappointment. I decided long ago I would never see them again and spare us both the awkwardness.

This was the thought going through my head as I lay back in my bed, masturbating for the third time that morning. Even in my fantasies I was pathetic and disgusting. It was a mystery even to myself why I haven't blown the barrel of the revolver in my end table yet. Probably because in the list of my many negative qualities is total cowardice. I came, wiped my belly off, then got out of bed. A good start to any day.

I brushed my teeth but didn't take a shower, then got dressed. Not that I had anywhere to go. The television was showing nothing but sit-coms, which was making me feel sick. I hate comedies because enjoying them means pretending to be happy, which I hadn't been for some time now. It made me uncomfortable to buy liquor before noon, but fuck it. The booze store clerk knew what I was anyway. There was no hiding my addiction anymore. My nose was swollen and red, my breath was sweet with last night's drunkenness, and I was sickly pale. There were probably dozens of other men like me that rang the bell attached to his doorway.

"Jameson please", I said. Funny how you feel the need to be polite to the man selling you death in a bottle. It was like tipping your hangman, not that I wasn't grateful.

Once I had downed half of the bottle I had the nerve to face the world. I climbed into my car and turned on the radio to the nearest politically divisive channel I could find. They always told the truth I wanted to hear, that the world was bad enough to justify my constant attempts to avoid it. Compared to the sound of their angry rants my vomiting was poetry. I wiped my lips, spat twice, then drove through the city fast enough to deserve the attention of the cops and the disdain of the other drivers. When they pulled up next to me at the lights I stared back. They always looked away when they saw the dead eyes I had for them.

When I got to the park I sat alone on a bench and read some Chinaski. It was the only thing that kept me awake, kept me walking through the desert. I looked up only to evaluate the bodies of the passing women, deciding whether I would fuck them. But who was I kidding? I would fuck them all if they would let me, or if it was up to me alone. "Fucking pig!" the fat lady with the baby carriage said under her breath, noticing my gaze. I just looked back at her. I couldn't disagree. Better yet, her comments made me desire her more. I thought about fucking her in the bushes that lined the bike path while she screamed. It made me smile for the first time today. I walked back to my car, hungry for the rest of my bottle.

While leaving the parking lot I drove up and over the curb and cut off the guy merging with traffic from across the street. He honked but I honked longer. I turned the radio up. The drunker I got the louder it needed to be to get through. I shamelessly mouthed the bottle as I drove, unconcerned with the odds of collision or capture.

Seemingly in the next moment I became aware that I was again alone in my room. All around me was the evidence of a sloppily devoured fast food meal and an emptied bottle, telling the tale of the three or so hours I spent blacked-out before taking an involuntary nap. I checked my cell to make sure I hadn't made any embarrassing calls or texts while I was down, and satisfied, I changed out of my piss-soaked pants and went back to sleep. It was 4pm.


Thursday, August 9, 2012

Dick Scustin and the Big Bad Wolf

Richard Theobald Scustin
Once upon a time, nestled amongst rolling hills and green valleys, just beyond a babbling brook, there was a beautiful enchanted kingdom.  The kingdom was inhabited by a amazing assortment of happy villagers and magical creatures.   

Skipping down a flower lined cobblestone path was a pretty young girl.  She carried a wicker basket overflowing with delicious treats and sweets.  Roast chicken, mince pies, chocolates and puddings, all of her grandmother’s favorite foods.

The little girl wore a bright red cloak, it’s hood barely covered her bright yellow hair.  She had a soft, sweet voice which produced a giggly song.  She skipped and sang accompanied by an entourage of adorable woodland creatures. 

Happy as she was, the little girl needed to be careful.  Not every creature in the forest was kind of heart.  Her sweet smelling food, as delicious as it was, attracted an unsavory character.  Watching from the bushes, drooling slightly was the Big Bad Wolf.

The wolf wanted that basket of food and badly.  If he were to snatch the basket now, the entourage of forest creatures would see and report him to the lumberjack.  The last thing the Big Bad Wolf wanted was a visit from that pearly toothed, mountain of a man.  But how could he get this delicious basket without the other creatures witnessing his crime?  He traveled further up the road and sat down on a log on the side of the cobblestone path.  The wolf straightened his frayed, musty black suit and tried to act nonchalant, waiting for the girl to pass by. 

Moments later, the red clad girl skipped up the lane right in front of the wolf.  The wolf greeted the girl.  “Good day my dear, what brings you so deep into such dangerous woods?”

The girl responded with a beaming smile. “Me granmoffers sick she is. I’m off to give her treats and such, I am.”

“Treats you say?” asked the wolf with a devilish smile, his stomach gurgling.  The wolf smiled wryly at the girl and said “How much further is your journey, surely your grandmother cannot live too far away?”

The girl replied “Nah, she lives just aroun’ the bend, she does.  Little cottage with a white picket fence, it is.”

“It sounds lovely” said the wolf “Have a safe journey and please tell your grandmother to get better for me.”

“Right then, bye mista’ wolf” said the girl as she continued to skip down the lane, her sweet song sailing on the breeze.

Once the girl was out of site, the wolf leapt off of his stump and sprinted through the forest.  He knew exactly which cottage the girl described and if he hurried, he could beat her there.  

The wolf exited the forest right in front of the little girl's grandmother's house.  The wolf looked sheepishly over his shoulders.  With no woodland critters in sight, he knocked on the door.

A little old woman in a dressing gown opened the door.  The wolf grabbed the old woman, stripped off her gown and locked her in the basement.  "Ooh!  Getting cheeky are we!?" bellowed the excited grandmother and he shoved the basement door closed. 

The wolf quickly threw on the grandmother's clothes and nestled himself under the thick blankets of her bed to anxiously await his visitor.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door.  The wolf tried his best grandmother impression and said "Come in deary."  The wolf waited, but nobody entered.  Again, a knock on the door.  Again the wolf said "Come in my sweet."  and waited... again, nobody entered.  

The wolf, confused and concerned, pull himself out of the bed and opened the front door.  Greeting him was not the adorable girl with the basket of treats, but a surly man in camel hair sport coat clinging to a suitcase full of carpet samples, his face a patchwork of skin grafts.  "You are not the little girl, er uh, my granddaughter." said the wolf.

"What the fuck are you talking about!?"  grumbled the man "I ain't no little girl!"  

"Then what do you want?" asked the wolf.

"I'm Dick Scustin, you want some carpets or what!?"  Said Dick slamming his suitcase of carpet samples on top of a beautiful patch of begonias.  Shamford's Quality Carpets, the best carpets in the whole goddamn kingdom!"

"I don't have time for this" said the wolf "My granddaughter will be here any minute."  replied the wolf with annoyance in his voice.

"You mean that little rat in red?  I told her this is my turf!  I'm doing the door to door in this neighborhood today.  I took that basket full of crap she was selling and booted it into the fucking river!  That fucking scab!"  Shouted Dick.

The wolf, stunned by this news, stared at the salesman with his mouth agape.  

"You know what lady?" said Dick "you got some big fucking eyes.  All the better to look at my quality carpet samples."

The wolf replied "Unless there is a roast chicken in that suit case, I am not interested."

A red rage grew in Dick's eyes.  "If you don't want carpet then just fucking say so, you fucking cunt sack!"  Dick's anger caused a tirade of profanity to spill from his mouth at the wolf.  The wolf was so stunned by the onslaught, that he did not notice the lumberjack approaching the yard holding the hand of a crying little girl dressed in red.  

The lumberjack saw the cross dressing wolf  standing in the open doorway and pulled out his axe.  Before the wolf had time to react, the double bladed wood axe was buried in his chest.  

The wolf howled in pain as blood sprayed throughout the grandmother's house before dropping to the floor.  The lumberjack pried the axe from the suffering wolf and proceeded to hack him into pieces.  The little girl heard her grandmother's shouts and opened the basement door.  Dick surveyed the interior of the cottage and noticing the blood and gore strewn rug, walked right up to the grandmother and said "It looks like you need new carpet!"  It was his first sale in months.

Dick Scustin is still out there, banging on doors, swearing at the elderly, screaming at children and selling his carpets.  They are quality carpets.


Wednesday, August 8, 2012

So Many Adorable Babies!

As regular readers will know, we at Popular Irony absolutely LOVE babies. In fact, we consider ourselves to be experts in the identification and classification of the various types of babies! So we decided to do a quick rundown of a few of the common types complete with definitions. Enjoy!

Sugar Babies: This type of baby is desired by the "gold digger" category of mother, and is only produced after a lengthy and coercive courtship with a wealthy father. Although they are the result of an entirely consensual arrangement, they become a major drain on finances for 18 long years, regardless of the status of the marriage. Often referred to as "meal ticket babies", they represent financial security for the proud mother.

Anchor Babies: These adorable bundles of joy are hastily produced by illegal immigrants to create conditions in their host country that gives the parents leverage to remain in their new home without threat of deportation. Despite their cute appearances, these babies are despised by politically conservative people, and are considered to be the only acceptable exception to their stance on abortion.

Landmine Babies: Widely considered to be the product of devious motivations, this type of infant is the product of a trap-like scheme by the mother to force a commitment by the father. Common tactics include "forgetting" to take birth control pills, sabotaging condoms, or even promiscuous activity outside the relationship to achieve impregnation. The only defense to this tactic is a prompt paternity test, vasectomy, or an engineered miscarriage.

Magic Babies: So called for their propensity to "disappear" from the womb at convenient times, the magic baby is most common among very young, single, non-religious mothers. The expectant mother usually takes a short "vacation" and returns to her friends and family baby-free! Also known as "mulligan embryos", they represent a significant opportunity to further the mother's personal and professional development without the implied responsibilities associated with parenthood.

Barter Babies: The values of these babies is reduced from emotional and genetic bonds to sheer monetary value. They are most often involved in transactions for cash or drugs to human traffic organizations for the purposes of indentured slavery or the sex industry. Can be frequently found in coded craig's list advertisements or in tattered cardboard boxes in and around Walmart parking lots. When a parent's motivations for profit outweigh their desire to remain responsibility-free, the "magic baby" can quickly turn into a "barter baby".


Tuesday, August 7, 2012

Booze Reviews - Pastiglie Leone Absinthium

Dr. Sheldon Bedfeathers - Unapologetic Alcoholic
Wilco, welc...  welcome once again to..  another one of my ... booze... talk .... things... um.. chock full of insightful............ opeeno  opinin.. opinions about booze.  I am alcoholic extraordinaire, Dr. Sheldon Bedfeathers.  I like to drink and I like to write so I figured I would ... um.... write about drink.  I have decades of.. um... experience with booze ..... and such. Today, I thought we would try something a bit... um.. exoticish.

Absinthe....  Delicious Absinthe.  I am quite a fan of .. um... absinthe.  Contrary to popular belief, absinthe does not make you hallucinate.  But it will get you very ... um... drunk.  The makers of today's absinthe is an Italian candy company, Pastiglie Leone.  The .. um... absinthe is called "Absinthium" which is Italiano for Green.... um... Fairy.

Let's pop the cork and see what we got!  ...............Phew, this is ... um.. citrusy and dripping with star anise.  Dripping anise.... uh huh.... Now you really need to dive in if you are truly to ... um... enjoy absinthe.  I start by filling a large wine glass.  Don't worry if it is more than half of the bottle, it's ... um... worth it. 

Look at the legs on that booze!
First I take a tiny sip...  mmmm.  .... ooooh, that is definitely....  um...  absinthe.   Then I take a swallow.......    hhhuuuhuhuhuh..... huhuhhhh... That is good!  The star anise and the citrus are ravishing each other inside of my mouth.  They are making wet, hot, carnal love across my palate and it tastes like nobody is wearing a condom.  That is zippy!  Now tip back the whole glass... all of it...... ....... .... ...... ....    HAAAA!!  HOT BUTTERED POTATO!! WHOO!! sham shammy shamms huhuhuhuhhhhhhuuuuu.   Phew!  That's uh... That's uh..  That's good.

Now, a lot of people think you should only drink absinthe if you do "the ritual".  There are several ways to do the .. um ... ritual.  There's the Traditional French and the Glass in Glass method but I have mostly done the Burning Czech Method   See, you take this absinthe spatula, rest it above a glass, place a sugar cube on the spatula and pour the absinthe over the cube.  Then you light it on... um... fire and once the sugar caramelizes a bit, extinguish and dilute it with 3-4 ounces of water.  Mix it up with the .... um.... spatula and drink. 

The Ritual
 Personally, I feel the ritual is bohemian bullshit!  It's like dumping Kool-Aid into your fine booze.  I ain't no college princess drinking pucker!  I'm a Dag-blasted man!  Diluting booze with water is tantamount to watering down your semen to help get you pregnant.  It does not get the .... um.... job done!

Overall I give the Pastiglie Leone Absinthium 4 out of... um.... 5 stars.  Until next time, keep... um... drinkin'!


Monday, August 6, 2012

Mars Rover Curiosity Encounters Christian God

The first day of information streaming from Mars by the rover "Curiosity" has delivered an unexpected result in the form of undeniable proof of the existence of a Christian God, NASA said in a press release hours ago. We spoke over the phone with Curiosity team member Gregory Galgana Villar III about the startling news.

"Curiosity appears to have stumbled upon the physical embodiment of God at around 11AM EST this morning. We have not released the video evidence, as there are concerns stemming from the Department of Homeland Security that when this now clearly undeniable proof of God's existence discredits all the worlds other religions there will be massive riots and uprisings from the members of those perspective denominations of faith."

We asked Mr. Villar to describe what he witnessed in the video, and he gave a somewhat vague description that included a bearded male figure "wrapped in the light of omnicient compassion", who imparted proof of his identity and details of his message to all who viewed the video by some supernatural means. Villar was reluctant to go into detail about the message from the creator, but did say that God was very clear that He "certainly hates fags", and revealed the truth to be "somewhere between catholic and protestant doctrine, although the message has been corrupted over the years".

"I don't know how to proceed from here. I mean, pretty much all of us here at NASA were sure He didn't exist, but now we are the first human beings in history to have documentation of a visual encounter with Him. Most of us are planning to use up our vacation time to do some serious spiritual introspection, and I can tell you that I will personally be taking the sabbath MUCH more seriously from here on. And I have a lot of forgiveness to seek in the upcoming days..."

Until now the atheist movement had been gaining global traction, particularly in europe, where as many as 60% of the population are now self-identified atheists. Assertions that religion serves too great a purpose of social cohesion to not have been invented for that purpose by those seeking to mold the poor, illiterate masses to do their bidding, or that any argument that offers proof in favor of a specific religious truth could have minor details altered to argue for a different, mutually-exclusive God, have now all been discredited. We have reached out to Dr. Richard Dawkins, biologist and notable atheist, for his statement regarding the situation, but he has not yet responded.

And in the United States, an overwhealmingly christian nation, there are fears about what impact the news will have on this year's presidential election, given that candidate Mitt Romney's belief in the mormon doctrine took a serious blow this morning, and many still believe Barack Obama to be an antichrist-in-waiting. Hopefully answers to these questions and countless others will be revealed when further details are made available.


Sunday, August 5, 2012

Scum City Avengers - I'm Batman

Hey folks, Terlet here with another musical gift.  I'm so fucking generous.  I am finally going to go see the new Batman movie tomorrow.  In honor of that, I present to you an old Scum City Avengers bonus track.... I'm Batman!

Quotable Cleveland - Olympics Edition

"Ping pong aint a sport" - Dangle Hills; bus driver

"What's a water polo?" - Sam; architect

"If there isn't a goalie, how do they score?" - Dick Singleterry; youth minister, on gymnastics

"Them Chinese can't ride horses" - Lance Perry; bird feeder

"Allowing a cyborg in sprinting? Everyone knows the Nexus 6 models only have a four year life span!" - Andy Samerson; Pokemon trainer

"Honestly, his entry was amazing!" - Daryl Powers; bareback gay porn actor

"He's just so strong aggressive.  They couldn't stop him, but just had to sit back and accept what he was giving them." - Random bus passenger, on Kobe Bryant

"That ain't how you make a soup!" - Theresa Briggs; provocateur, on Ryan Lochte

"I really thought their last drummer was better.  But then again, I see them every year." - Random man who thought we were discussing the Grateful Dead

"A wink and a smile will only get you so far, girlfriend!" - Unknown drunken taxi driver, criticizing women's boxing

"He should be screened for Testosteroni!" - Bernie Waddles, on Michael Phelps

"I'm waiting for the bowling finals." - Unnamed barfly beggar


Friday, August 3, 2012

The World Series Of Political Poker

Barack "POTUS" Obama

Incredible poker face, keeps cool in the most heated battles. Seems to play the game as if he doesn't want to win, or rather, doesn't want anyone to lose. Believes all players should volunteer to pay a higher ante for each game, and if any one player falls behind he should be considered for a communal "buy in" at a higher interest rate, just to keep things fair and interesting. Although he is very personable and pleasant, all other players hate him.

Willard "Mittens" Romney

Is in favor of eliminating the ante, and indeed would rather forego the entire game if all players agree to preemptively pass along their winnings to him, as he believes he will make the wisest choices when spending the money and in the end it will be better for everyone anyway. Promises that if he is allowed to win he will pick up the bill at the end of the night, except for the beer because he didn't have any. He is generally disliked due to his habit of playing cards while wearing a $10,000 suit, and over-using the word "fortuitous".

Sarah "The Anchor" Palin

The most unpredictable player, she has a habit of going "all in" regardless of the hand dealt to her. Talks too loudly and generally annoys all other players, but is tolerated because she frequently loses and a few players think she might show her tits some time. She remains flattered by her given nickname "The Anchor", but doesn't understand it is a reference to her ability to sink a campaign in record time. But she keeps the mood light by spitting in Barack's drink whenever he goes to the bathroom.

Johnny "Two-Tone" Boehner

So named for the irregular color of his skin, Boehner insists on his invitation to poker night every time despite hating the game in general. He initiates discussions on tactics and is always the first to volunteer to deal the cards, but stalls the game and frequently declares that everyone is cheating. It is very difficult to complete a game when he is playing, earning constant claims of "obstructionist gambling" by Barack.

"No-No" Nancy Pelosi

Takes a seat at the table, but never plays. She prefers to watch the game progress from the outside and then criticize the winners. Shamelessly roots for Barack much to his embarrassment, and is always on hand with a handkerchief to blot the tears of Boehner when he breaks down, which happens frequently. She is tolerated because she is a cheap date, drinking only water and eating only bird seed.

"Lonely" Ronny Paul

Not allowed to play, Paul is present at every game venue pounding on the door and shouting. All poker players have a silent agreement that he is dangerous to the game, and fear that it would quickly degenerate into a fistfight if he was allowed in. "Mittens" Romney always calls the local nursing home to have him picked up outside, a joke that got a laugh one time so he repeats it ad nauseum.