An Inappropriate Eulogy

Scott was so much more to me than a great friend. We grew up two blocks away from each other, and every day of the summer we would go on adventures that are only possible at that age. Scott was always the most popular kid around, and when he was picked first for baseball everyone knew I was on the team too. We were a package deal, and he was always looking out for me.

We shared so many "firsts" together, from our first scary movie, our first camping trip, and our first sexual experience. With Scott you never had to ask for a reacharound, he always had a tight grip before getting shaft deep. That's just the kind of guy he was.

And as I look around I see just how many people loved him. Jenny, he always talked about you and the kids. You were his soul mate for the last eight years and nothing could break that bond. I remember back in 2005 when he told me about how he realized he would love you forever. He told a wonderful story about when you were first dating and you found yourself unexpectedly pregnant. After he explained how unprepared he was to be a father, and how he would never get a career started with a new family, you agreed to give him the most selfless gift a woman can offer her boyfriend. An abortion. Immediately after the procedure was complete he stared into your disoriented, tear-soaked eyes and knew that he would love you forever.

And that commitment was stronger than that abortion. It was stronger than cheating with a stripper at his bachelor party. And it was stronger than gambling-induced bankruptcy. You are a remarkable woman, Jenny. And even though all of his friends despised you and tried to convince him he could easily find a more attractive wife, he stood by you. Now surely your grief would never allow you to become a wife again, leaving you forever alone as a widow. But to me you will always be a WILF, and you should take comfort in that.

Scott was not only the most romantic man, but also the most resilient man I ever knew. So imagine my shock and surprise when I heard he had passed away after choking on his lunch. His untimely demise reminds me that when your number is up there is no escaping death. I have seen Scott nearly swallow an entire Corona bottle without a single shudder, and he was done in by a piece of hastily chewed sirloin. And now heaven has one more beautifully hung angel.

And I know that Scott would not want all of us crying over his passing, but rather celebrating his life. So I ask that you all join me after the wake at Seedie's, the gentleman's club for the kind of sendoff Scott would have wanted. We will be having both bushy AND shaved chili waterfalls courtesy of Scott's second favorite girl in the world, Trashy Tammi. And at the end of the night Tammi has agreed to get Scott's name tattooed above her world famous C-section scar, a memorial to be seen by countless thousands in the coming years.

We will all miss you, Scott. God bless.

COMIC BOOK BLASPHEMY

This week, a North Carolina-based comic book retailer, The Comic Conspiracy, banned the sale of the new Action Comics comic book because of one panel.  In the panel, Superman is caught in an explosion and is grunting "GD".  The owner of the comic book store became enraged by what he took as blasphemy.  The "GD" obviously stands for "God Damn".  Superman would never say "God Damn".  But it turns out the "GD" was just Superman grunting because he was caught in an explosion.  

BLASPHEMER!!

It really surprises me that this is the first time something like this has happened with mainstream comics and comic strips.  There are so many more horrible examples than a simple "GD".

Remember when the Joker went Christian?

Here is a classic gem from Batman. 

Captain America at an abortion clinic?  The Red Skull must be behind this!

Oh no... Not the Family Circus.  Come on man! 

Remember when Jughead gave birth to the Christ-Child and watched it rapidly age into adulthood before being retconned out of continuity?  DO YOU?!

That shit is upsetting.  I am going to write my Congressman and complain about all this Liberal, Communist bullshit that is being pumped into comic books these days.  The Liberal comic book agenda will be crushed and diversity struck down!  And while I'm at it, there are too many "ethnic" and "female" superheroes these days............

Auto Exotic Recreation: Road Trip Travel Tips Vol. 1

Greetings, weary traveler! The recent trend in vacation or holiday travel is excruciatingly long car trips, as most travelers are willing to pay almost $4 per gallon to avoid being groped by a TSA agent. The obvious downside is the sheer boredom and deteriorating family spirits, making many long road trips a catalyst for anger and resentment. And after all that discomfort and frustration, you arrive at your destination to being enjoying yourself and letting off steam. Just don't forget, once you get there, your drive is only HALF over! That is where Popular Irony comes to the rescue with road trip travel tips! For Volume 1 we present a couple road games to keep everyone engaged in a fun shared activity!

Car Crash BINGO Print out the two cards below for a fun two person game of BINGO! Turn every horrifying roadside accident into an exciting find by carefully identifying the auto manufacturer and try for a full row. And keep an eye out for car fires and victims...

Road Rage Golf This one will get your blood pumping! Another great game that requires a minimum of 2 drivers alternating in shifts, a passenger picks out a car and the race is on. The objective is to get the driver of the "tagged" vehicle to show off that universal gesture of discontent, the middle finger, in the fastest time possible. Count each minute, and PAR for each round is 4. At the end of your trip the totals are tallied and the winner is crowned. The only rule is that the driver cannot yell, gesture, or honk at the driver of the "tagged" vehicle.

As the passenger, do you choose the Hummer with the American flag decal on the side, or the bluehair grandmother driving the Cadillac monstrosity? The strategy changes with each pick!

As the driver, do you cut them off and then slow down, or do you tailgate with your bright headlights on? Your choice could mean victory or defeat when you play... Road Rage Golf!

Unholy Union

Melvis Therman

I work in a large office building full of many mystical beasts.  I know I am surrounded on all sides by magic but magic hides itself well.  Alphonso the janitor is a Necromancer of the highest order, Mary in corporate services is an extra-dimensional being of darkness and Mr. Haverni dwells within an utter half life of despair craving the taste of human flesh.  

Almost every one of my coworkers is a demon, monster, mutant or alien.  They are all here for a reason,  I can't let them know that I know.  I must continue my job in accounts receivable until I have a plan.

I watch them in the lunch room, their faux-faces barely hiding the monsters underneath.  Their arms jerking and jaws wagging as they mimic human speech.  I know they are planning something I dare not tell anyone, there is nobody I can trust.  After months of observing, I am no closer to obtaining any answers.  I must act.

I have a plan to lure and ensnare of the creatures.  There is a She-Beast who is a Sys-Admin in Tech Ops.  Her name is Jennifer Goodin.  Her skin suit is very well crafted.  You can barely tell that it is fit to burst from within with tentacles and gnashing teeth.  I must be wary,  I can't let it know that I am terrified.

I see the Jennifer creature outside of the lunch room.  It is perfectly replicating a middle aged, female, human conversation.  I wait for the other lumbering beasts to wander off to the cafeteria.  The Jennifer creature is alone.  I calmly approach the reeking animal.  "Hi Jennifer, how's it going?" I ask.

"Oh, hi Melvis, I'm fine, how are you?"  The creature responds.

Horrified by the monsters proximity I barely manage to speak "I am doing great!  Say, I was wondering if you would be interested in going to see a movie with me, maybe some dinner?  I promise that I am a lot of fun outside of the office."

"That sounds like fun!  I am free on Friday night,  how about 7:00?" The creature spits sentences at me like putrid chunks of potato. I could barely keep from retching.

"Sounds great.  I will see you at 7:00 on Friday."  I responded.

Friday night  came and went.  The unholy beast acted like it enjoyed itself and I played the part of  the overanxious suitor.   Ridding the world of this monster was going to be harder than I thought.  I would have to dedicate myself to a long strategy.  This demon woman is not yet mature.  I must keep an eye on it and when the time is right, I can strike it down for the good of humanity. 

I continued dating the creature until one day, I proposed.  The monster did not see through my charade and accepted.  Little did it know that it was all part of my master plan to extinguish her taint from this earth.  The unholy union was attended by my parents and the beasts from the deep from which she was spawned.  They play the part of Florida retirees quite convincingly.  

In fifty or sixty years when the demon within her reaches maturity, I will be ready will lethal vengeance.  Until then, we are buying a house in a really good school district where we will one day raise our infant demon spawn.  This is a good plan.

Vic Musket, Amateur Carpenter (Part 6)

The fat guido sat on the floor with his hands tied behind his back, nude from the waist down. Vic never missed an opportunity to upgrade to a new pair of drawers and slacks, and for some reason the greaseball refused to trade. Now he gets to sit with his bare asscheeks on the cold concrete.

The pants were too big, but Vic was able to keep them up with the application of two tied-together bootlaces. After scooping two handfulls of feces from inside the pantlegs they stopped smelling so bad. That reminded him... he needed to wash his hands.

“You must be a coward” Vic pulled a switchblade from one of the pockets. “You had this for the whole trip here, and you didn’t make a move?”

“I am not a violent man. I’m really a good guy. Please don’t kill me…” The fat man looked like he was going to cry again.

Vic was not convinced. “So you are the kind of good guy that would help plan the vicious rape of a teenage girl? You sound like a regular saint.”

“None of that shit was my idea, mister. I fucking SWEAR it wasn’t! What, are you her dad or something?” That did it. He was crying.

“Worse” Vic said. “I was hired to punish the people responsible. You are going to have to give me a real good reason to go after somebody else, otherwise you are through” Vic pulled heavily from a child’s lunchbox thermos, whiskey overflowing into his three-day beard.

That was all the incentive the cowardly man needed, and he spilled his garlic-tainted guts about the whole ordeal. The deeper Vic got into this sordid tale the more he wanted to drink. Apparently a Puerto Rican registered sex offender named Benny was hired to carry out "an aggressive rape" as it was specifically requested. He took the first half of the payment, but never returned for the second half. Good for him, because the second payment was going to include complimentary gunshot wounds. The victim's family confirmed the rape via phone, so the Cangiani family had to smoke Benny out. When Vic ambushed the restaurant he interrupted a planned raid on a trailer park by the railroad tracks. The notorious trailer park in question was built in that location because it is far from any public schools, for legal reasons, and was known locally as "Pedo Park".

Vic had never been to that part of town and he was hoping he didn't run into any friends out there. Finding Benny was going to be a dangerous task, and he couldn't keep dragging the greaseball around. Without a word Vic gathered himself and started for the door.

"Are you leaving?" The man tentatively asked. "You can't go. They will know I talked... God, no! They will KILL me! You have to rough me up, so they believe me!"

Vic tried. He doesn't seek out violence. Shit, he stopped enjoying dealing out beatings years ago, and now he viewed it almost like exercise. But sometimes they ask for it. In this case, literally.

After a few moments of scavenging the area and finding a broken brick and a bent nail, Vic gained his inspiration. He grabbed a wooden chair and placed it in front of the big automatic garage door.

"Can I have my pants back?" The man asked sheepishly. "No. Sit in the chair." Vic said in an annoyed tone, lifting the bound man to his feet and setting him in the chair. "Oh God, thank you! My ass is so cold I can't feel my balls!"

"Lucky you" Laughed Vic as he swung the brick, driving the nail through the man's scrotum and effectively pinning him to his seat. After several seconds of agonized screaming and hilarious failed attempts to stand up, the man gave up and resorted to crying again. Vic took this moment of calm to tie his victim's hands to the garage door, still bound behind his back, then walked over to the control panel.

"So what do you think happens first? Do your shoulders break, or does the chair drop?" Vic could barely hear the banging rattle of the garage door opening over terrified squeals. Once the door was fully open both men had their answer.

"I'll be damned" Vic thought as he walked out the back door, the squeals now downgraded to a barely-conscious moan. Twenty minutes later a wooden chair fell to a concrete warehouse floor, but Vic wasn't there to enjoy it. He had to go undercover as a pedophile, and according to an unfamiliar female he propositioned by the post office he already looked the part. Next stop, Pedo Park.

To be continued...

POPULAR IRONY COLORING CONTEST

Hey Kids!!  Hooray!!!  ITS POPULAR IRONY CRAFT TIME!!

September 5th is the birthday of Freddie Mercury, the lead singer of Queen!  They were a famous British Rock group with many smash hit songs!  He would be 65 today if he had not died from a slow, painful, AIDS related death. 

Get out your Crayons kids because its time to...

COLOR ME MERCURY

Freddie Mercury was so distracted by grooming his mustache that he didn't realize he was late for a concert.  He left the house is such a rush that he accidentally left all his color at home.

OH NO!  Can you help Freddie Mercury get ready for his concert by coloring him?  He'll be ever so grateful, maybe he'll let you feel his mustache bristles on the back of your neck.

COLOR ME KIDS!

This is so much fun that I just had to join in.  I went with a ginger, Puerto Rican Freddie Mercury with the mildly offensive tank top who works at an old timey gas station.  You know, one day he is going to run that gas station, old Mr. Dodson just needs to give him a chance.

THIS IS FUN!

 ENTER THE "COLOR ME MERCURY" COLORING CONTEST

One extra special winner will receive their winning Freddie Mercury displayed on the site AND they will have a custom Popular Irony post written in their honor?  More than likely, it will be extremely offensive gibberish.

Send your best "Color Me Mercury" to 

POPULARIRONY@GMAIL.COM 

Please include:

Email Subject Line of "Color Me Mercury"

First Name

Favorite Endangered Species

Favorite Incurable Disease

THOUSANDS WILL ENTER, ONLY ONE WILL WIN!!!  

A Hunter's Guide to Rare Human Game

World overpopulation and advances in modern medicine have created a perfect storm of human diversity. And as a big game hunter it quickly becomes clear that the most dangerous animal in the world is also the most satisfying to hunt. So with the spirit of a collector and the personality flaw of a borderline obsessive-compulsive teenager with a pokemon addiction, I bring you a wish list of trophy kills. Anyone could bag more common fare, like non-english speaking teenage American resident with more children than completed years of public education, or an obese ICP "juggalo" with at least one meth head parent. But the true hunter will have to leave his local community in pursuit of more exotic game.

The Lopsided Bodybuilder: This rare specimen defies the traditional perfectionist mentality of the bodybuilder. The name of the game is symmetry for competitive bodybuilding, and focusing too much on individual muscle groups throws the entire equation off balance. Traditionally sporting exceptional upper body development with the spindly legs of a lifelong paraplegic, this game is most commonly found seated at tables, where it's trademark legs can best go unnoticed. When startled the lopsided bodybuilder stands it's ground, having accepted immobility as part of it's very being. Beware that a downed beast can be very dangerous should your lower limbs be unprotected. Treat these creatures with respect.

The Racist Dwarf: As uncommon as they are diminutive, the racist dwarf has lashed out against any and all minorities as a response to their own genetic misfortune. Finding a specimen that is displaying it's full Nazi uniform "plumage" is a once in a lifetime opportunity, as such a display is most often perceived by the public as adorable rather than threatening. The same qualities that make them adorable make them excellent at hiding: their size. Considering this disadvantage a prepared hunter will consider baiting or trapping this game.

The Hermaphrodite Nun: This is the true "holy grail" of the dedicated oddity hunter's wish list. It's incredible scarcity is inherent in it's chosen profession, as the Catholic church has a long history of condemning any hermaphrodite birth. This is best evidenced by the recent change in Catholic policy regarding abortion, where restrictions have been lifted against the practice in cases where ultrasound images support a hermaphroditic diagnosis. The few documented cases of "hermie" nuns were all the result of gradual acceptance of the nun after abrupt discovery of their condition following decades of dedicated nunning. Prevalence of these creatures is declining after changes in nun enrollment policies introduced a physical examination to prevent further hermaphrodite enrollment. Since certainty in identifying this game requires intimate contact, serious hunters must consider close quarter hunting methods, such as knife or choking techniques.

I hope this guide helped make your next hunt a safer and more rewarding experience. Remember to send us your best hunting stories/pictures to PopularIrony@gmail.com and we will make sure to share them with our dedicated viewing audience. Until next time, happy hunting!

Time For Zardoz

 Howdy folks!

Open your mouths, its another one of our miraculous gifts to the Internet.  It is the finest to date example of our sexual prowess.  Please enjoy "Time For Zardoz".

Smooches -Terlet & Hamtackle

The Lady's Fancy -Love and The Tracheobezoar-

Rosella Thornbramble

After his kerfuffle with Edison, my dearest Nikola moved out west.  I have neither the constitution nor the funds to accomplish the westward journey.  I have come to the realization that I may never dine upon sweet Tesla's discarded follicle leavings.  I am growing a baby made of hair inside of my body.  Has my tracheobezoar grown as big as it will grow?  What will become of my child?

I lay nude, broken-hearted upon my latticework of old potato sacks and  pigeon feathers.  My attic lodgings overlook the busy city.  I see the people animating their limbs, lurching down the street, their shadow beasts following closely.  Why is it so easy for these soulless mechanations to find love and so hard for me?  I see them frolicking about the city, dancing and exchanging fluids.  I must press on.  There must be other men worthy of my tedious attentions.  I cannot give up on my hair baby.  I will find him a new father.

I begin my love safari at the local slaughter house.  The strong odor that exudes from butchery inflames my sexual fortitude.  I hide within the midden pile watching the man-beasts brain and dismember creature after creature.  The elderly heffer's lulling eyes as the hammer-man ends its existence unleashes memories of passions past.  The final guttural squeal of the hogs sounds of my mother being taken upon by lover after lover.  

 

My life-mate must be here.  The one with which I will share my body, inside and out, exists within these blood stained walls.  I can feel it.  But I look and look at the shambling men working the killing floor.  They are all shimmering transparencies of life.  They are nothing but reflections of demons trying to be people.  These are not men!  I will smash their mirrored lies with my rage made manifest!  

 

My. . . . AAAAAHHHHH!!!  The brain-worms have begun their daily feast.  I can feel them dining,  I can hear their conversations.  Brain-worm stock market, brain-worm politics. brain-worm world affairs.  These aristocratic brains-worms are one of the most potent of my many banes.  The pain fades, my scream went unheard, disguised by the final, desparate cries of hundreds of beasts.

I must make certain that these murder-men are not up to the fatherly snuff.  I creep along a row of hanging cow quarters, gently gliding behind my quarry.  A large, shirtless, burly Spaniard works the ham hocks like an aged pro.  He does not sense my presence.  I slide on my belly behind him and breath deep of his scent.  The smell of the butchery has filled his every pore.  I am enticed.  I reach out with my pinching fingers and gently pluck a single hair from the Spaniard's back.  His head turns abruptly, my body turns with it.  His eyes do not spy me taking shelter beside his hip.  He returns to work and I slide back behind the hooked meats.  

I place the greasy back hair onto my tongue  It is sour.  I swish it about my mouth and swallow.  The hair makes its way to my baby, my sweet tracheobezoar.  I will let him decide if this Spaniard is to be his new father.  I wait for several moments and no response.  What is wrong my baby?  Suddenly my throat lurches and my stomach is emptied of it's contents.  Half digested apples and pigeon meat litter the floor of the slaughter house.  And atop the steaming pile, a single hair.  

It seems that this Spaniard did not meet my sweet child's ridiculously high standards.  I will continue my searchings, brain-worms or no!  A baby needs a father and a mother needs a husband.  I stealthily shamble out of the meat factory, unfulfilled but more determined than ever.  I will not give up on my hair child until it is forcibly removed from my cavity or either I or everyone else is dead.  All of the options sound lovely.

Bible Belt Babble with Willard "Teabag" Chinsley: Volume 4

This hat compliments my genitalia

Welcome back to reality, America! Willard "Teabag" Chinsley here. I have a lot to cover here since I have been bedridden with my water sickness. You see, my water cells are broken, and my brother says I need to take pills and sleep. People keep telling me that I should see a "real" doctor, but I am pretty sure my brother has read the bible enough times to know how to diagnose a complex medical affliction. Besides, I don't want no part of Obamacare's death panels.

Today we have a great lineup of topics: Why is Jesus attacking the East coast? Libyans for Libertarianism! and Lessons Learned from the WI Recall Elections.

Why is Jesus attacking the east coast? In recent weeks we have seen both an earthquake and a hurricane strike near Washington. How long will that atheist Muslim Obama ignore the creator's clear message about taxation and entitlement programs? Our Lord is telling us to stop taking care of the poor, disabled, and elderly so we can stop siphoning the lifeblood of the sacred rich. After all, if he were a Christian he would know that "the rich shall inherit the earth" and "it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a meek man to enter the kingdom of God."

Libyans for Libertarianism! We are at a crossroads with the situation in Libya right now, finally. Personally I think we should have never gone to war with Ghadaffi, and we should have bombed the shit out of him so this would have ended long ago. My brain hurts. But we cannot waste this excellent opportunity to try out an unprecedented system of government. Libertarianism! We just need to do nothing, and encourage the Libyan people to limit organization to local communities. In no time former goat herders and unemployed students will have erected mass transit, readily available quality education, and the kind of sanitation and health infrastructure that will be an example the world over. And with their wonderful success over the next ten years we will have no trouble rallying behind President Rick Perry to burn our own government to the ground, thus ensuring our world power status indefinitely!

Meat should be respected

Lessons learned from the WI recall elections: There was quite a ruckus in Wisconsin over the recent battles about collective bargaining. It seems some people don't understand why it is important to bend to the will of your employer at serious detriment to your health and livelihood. Democrats picked up two seats through the nine recalls but were unable to wrest majority Senate control away from the GOP, which now holds a narrow 17-16 majority. Before the recalls, Republicans had a 19-14 edge in the chamber. Many people are criticizing governor Scott Walker for making the collective bargaining issue his primary focus after never mentioning it during his campaign. Well, the people have clearly spoken, and now it has been settled. The people are wholly behind Scott Walker and the Wisconsin GOP. So what do you call it when your opponent forces you out of two districts? Sweet fucking victory.