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3/11/26   
Kids in China would be happy to eat this
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Fresh-Out-of-Prison Blogger Unleashes Such a RantApril 9, 2007
Dublin, CA
Ansel Evans
The world’s most wrongfully imprisoned blogger sings his favorite showtunes while besieged by publicity-hungry members of the lesser media.
L
ike Nelson Mandela… like Rubin "Hurricane" Carter… like my cousin Nick who didn’t even know that somebody put that gun under his seat, professional blogger/journalist, or boggelist, as I just now coined, Josh Wolfe was held prisoner for his principles for a brutal and unforgiving 7½ months. It may not be 27 years, but how many years have you served for something you believed in, hotshot? And now that he’s a free man again, for skirting those principles just a bit, boggelist Wolfe has fought back the only way his small, spindly body knows how—a take-no-prisoners blog update.

"Prison is total crap," grumbled Wolfe, "they always tell you what to do and they never let you out. I don’t know who came up with the idea of prisons, but they… that guy just needs t...Read more...


Grief-stricken Bush Sr. throws self out of plane

Lazy girl charged in father's assisted suicide didn't assist much at all

Global warming ruse official resigns; tired of "how's the weather" jokes

U.S. bubonic plague plan hopelessly out of date



October 18, 2004

Click for Biography

Damn, You Ugly: The History of Beauty

Throughout all of history, human beings have gone to excessive lengths in an effort to not be so damned ugly. Few have succeeded, but we humans have kept bravely banging our ugly heads against that wall in vain hopes of fooling others into letting us be near them for purposes of a brief, sweaty sexual encounter. Has it all been worth it? The human race has survived, sure, but at what cost to our personal dignity?

Early prehistoric attempts at plastic surgery involved smashing in an ugly person's face with a rock, in the hopes that they would either stop being so ugly, or else go die somewhere. Problem solved either way. Modern plastic surgery involves the same basic principals, only due to inflation, the face-bashing is no longer provided free of charge to the afflicted.

Uglies unwilling to go to such radical extremes for the sake of modest downgrades in their retch factor have faced any number of bizarre alternatives throughout history, depending on what part of the world they'd been uglying up.

In Borneo, unattractive natives would stretch their earlobes down to shoulder level in an attempt to draw attention away from their unfortunate natural physiologies, preferring a lifetime of hearing "Holy shit! Look at them earlobes!" to cries of "I'm gonna sick up my monkey meat!" As an added benefit, the elongated earlobes could be tied behind the head for carry extra food, or let loose to give the impression that the wearer was running...Read more...


º Last Column: Slap Me Some Skin:A Brief History of Hand Gestures, Part 3
º more columns


December 10, 2001

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Your Honor, the Whole Damn Vending Machine in the Hall is Out of Order

One night several weeks ago, I got home after a grueling day of communing to find a strange-assed envelope in my mail box, wedged between the usual offer for Sea Monkeys and a Carmen Electra poster catalog. At first I thought I might have won a Harley or maybe my report card from the third grade had finally shown up. No such luck. When I studied the return-address more closely, I realized it was from the Jury Commissioner's Office, and that could only mean one thing.

The game was on.

Ever since the I was in shortpants, watching my dad do battle with unseenfoes over the telephone line, I'd waited for this day. The time had come to do what any honest, red-blooded American would do when they got the call: to match wits with the American justice system and try like hell to get out of jury duty. This is what our fathers have fought and died for time and time again, compadres: the right to outsmart The Man and avoid having to find parking downtown.

I decided to warm up by trying my old stand-by dodge. I called the number listed on the back of the summons and, in a bone-chilling facsimile of my mother's voice, told the jury duty operator that Omar would be unable to make it, because he had the measles or some shit. Looking back now, it was probably throwing that "or some shit" on the end that sunk my subterfuge, because the operator said I'd have to reschedule for another date. I thought fast and tried adding on that I had whiskey-dick as...Read more...


º Last Column: A Three Hour Tour of Conspiracy
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Milestones
1992: Lil Duncan's alternative band Fuck Off is signed to a major label, on the condition they replace Lil and change their name to The Cranberries.
Now Hiring
Genie. Duties include magically delivering gifts of high monetary and social value on demand. Must have own lamp or bottle, no backtalk. Evil "wish becomes curse"-type genies need not apply.
Best-Selling Video Games
1.Grand Theft Ottoman
2.The Al Qaeda Flight Simulator
3.Rockabilly Jeopardy
4.Jerry Seinfeld's X-Treme Game About Nothing
5. Final Fantasy XI: Judy and Audrey Landers
Last IssueLast Issue’s Lead News Story

North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie

View Past Columns
BY Mitch Kroeger
2/13/2006
The Aristocrats
Everyone knows I come from a show business family, and the stories from those days have more than once enthralled huge pockets of the coach section on boring trans-Atlantic flights. The best story of all, however, can’t be told on an airplane due to its tendency toward self-incrimination.

It all starts with my father, a proud and foolish man, who once had a bright idea for how to spruce up the family’s sagging vaudeville act: he had us all drop acid before the show. Everyone: my sister, my brother, our baby brother, our mother, our grandmother, and the family dog, Lucas. And dad was so confident in his newfound scam that he invited a top talent agent to the nightclub where we were performing, in hopes of spinning the new act off into a variety show on ABC.
Read more...

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