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Our dad can beat up your dad's dad
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Hurricane Carter Jailed in Preventative MeasureSeptember 26, 2005
Paterson, NJ
Junior Bacon
Too-close-to-the-beachfront property in Louisiana is hit hard again by a recent hurricane, while another famous Hurricane (inset) demonstrates one of several ineffectual hand signals to keep from getting shot by the police.
T
he United States Department of Homeland Security has been given the difficult task of dealing with the recent spate of hurricane attacks and, after weeks of standing back and assuring the public everything would be alright, settled into the more familiar job this week of arresting non-white people, taking into custody New Jersey boxer Rubin "Hurricane" Carter. The arrest, according to Homeland Security Secretary Michael Chertoff, is only designed to verify Carter is in no way connected with recent Hurricanes Katrina and Rita, or any other potential natural disaster threatening the country.

With a proven record of preventing catastrophes on U.S. soil, the Department of Homeland Security seemed the natural choice for protecting the populace from acts of God as well as acts of A...Read more...


Library fiction section now officially forbids masturbation

No rule against dog running in Kentucky Derby

Documents reveal NASA sealing shuttle gas tank with oily rag

Tom Cruise? Who gives a fuck already?



December 13, 2004

Click for Biography

Man, That Clown Kicked My Ass

Talk about your shitty weekends. I've heard of Tijuana coke mule vacations that went better than this. What can go wrong at a parade, right? Try everything.

It all started out well enough. Nice day, sun's out, chicks in majorette outfits, right? Sweet. Couple of brewskies with the guys, taking in the sights. Families are out with their kids, which is always a sweet reminder that you're not saddled with any little snot goblins of your own. Old people there too, reminding you how great it is not to be them. Could have been the perfect day. Then this fucking clown shows up and it all goes to hell.

For the record: Sure, I was making fun of his poofy pink hair and all that, but ain't those dudes supposed to be all jolly and shit? Not this guy. As soon as I started clowning on his tired purple dot pants, that freakshow flew into a berserk clown rage. That dude went all postal clown on my ass. I'm telling you, this was one clown who wasn't secure in his sexuality.

It's not like I've never had my ass kicked before. Meter maids, mailmen, Tommy Frithy's auntie May—they all know how to bring it. But this clown was something different. Normally when I'm getting my dork kicked in, eventually my pathetic screams are enough to make the assailant lay off for a sec, at least long enough for me to grab the fender of a passing car and be dragged to safety. But not this clown. That dude was enjoying this shit.

I'd be at the pearly...Read more...


º Last Column: All She Wants to Do is Dance
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September 1, 2003

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Admit it, You Think Cancer is Funny

Cancer's just not as funny as it used to be. I mean, seriously, remember when cancer used to be hilarious? Like dad would come home from work and you'd be like "How's your day, pops?" and he'd say "Just found out my liver's rotted through with cancer!" and you'd both laugh and laugh? Those were the days.

Nowadays you have to pretend like it's breaking your heart that somebody's going to start pooping out lungs soon and you can't even giggle when they're moaning "I'm dyin' here, I'm really dyin'!" It's a total drag. People just don't have any kind of sense of humor about themselves anymore, everything's all "Woe is me, I live out every moment in agonizing pain." Thanks a lot for bringing me down, asshole. I just spent four bucks on this ice cream for nothing.

When I was a kid, if one of your classmates had cancer you were allowed to push him down the stairs and say his dad's a fag; that made you popular. And I don't remember the kids with cancer complaining, they just appreciated the attention. That's all anybody who's got three months to live wants, anyway, is attention. It shouldn't matter if it's "pretending to listen to all your crybaby stories" attention or "pushing you in your wheelchair off a ski jump" attention, that's really splitting hairs. And hey, don't give me all that sore-loser bullshit about your wheelchair being all ruined now, if you hadn't bet on yourself you'd have plenty of money to buy another one. I know I do.
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º Last Column: I Just Wanted a Card That Said "Sorry For Kicking Your Grandma in the Kidneys"
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Quote of the Day
“Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal. They have to, because let's face it—you're never going to support yourself as a fucking poet, cheech.”

-B.S. Eliode
Fortune 500 Cookie
Expect a big upturn in your finances when a bag of silver dollars dropped from a skyscraper nearly kills you. People flock to your show when The New York Times calls you "Stomp for people who wish Stomp would just fucking die already." The court case is decided this week and you now legally have bragging rights. Lucky meat substitutes: Soy, tofu, tofurkey, a McDonald's hamburger.

Try again later.
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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 Roland McShyster
9/6/2004
Booya, America. I'm not sure what that means, but it seemed appropriate. Whatever sentiment that expressed, you can file it in triplicate because Roland McShyster's in a good mood today. Good? Nay, agreeable! I've seen the proverbial bluebird of happiness and I ate him on my salad this morning. What better time to review some of Hollywood's finest handiwork, September-style? I don't know.


In Theaters Now:

Anacondors: The Hunt for the Blood Orchard
Leave it to Hollywood to make a big-budget fright flick of out of one of my doodles from seventh-grade art class. That's right, it was me, when I was twelve I drew the first half-snake, half-endangered bird hybrid to ever terrify a hot tub full of blonde cosmetics models. I don't have...Read more...

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