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Sales of HerpEase STD Treatment SkyrocketDecember 20, 2004 |
New York City Algor brochure Finally, beautiful people will no longer be afraid to gobble down STD drugs like they were circus peanuts he pharmaceutical niche player Algor released startling fourth-quarter projections this week, a reversal of fortunes many in financial circles attribute to the company renaming many of its medications for the treatment of sexually transmitted diseases. Realizing that social embarrassment may play a part in the afflicted avoiding treatment for their cursed states, Algor saw fourth-quarter sales of their best selling herpes treatment ClearVue skyrocket after the drug was changed from its longstanding name of HerpEase.
Finally bending to pressure from marketing experts, Algor has begun renaming its other not-quite-popular-enough drugs under the now commonplace industry practice of drug names that have nothing to do with a condition or its treatment. By the beginning of 2005, the ...
he pharmaceutical niche player Algor released startling fourth-quarter projections this week, a reversal of fortunes many in financial circles attribute to the company renaming many of its medications for the treatment of sexually transmitted diseases. Realizing that social embarrassment may play a part in the afflicted avoiding treatment for their cursed states, Algor saw fourth-quarter sales of their best selling herpes treatment ClearVue skyrocket after the drug was changed from its longstanding name of HerpEase.
Finally bending to pressure from marketing experts, Algor has begun renaming its other not-quite-popular-enough drugs under the now commonplace industry practice of drug names that have nothing to do with a condition or its treatment. By the beginning of 2005, the company hopes to offer a complete line of attractively-named treatments for the unfortunately STDed.
GonorRid, the company's industry-standard drug for the treatment of puss-laden malcontents suffering from gonorrhea, will be shipped to pharmacies under its new label of SmoothOperator beginning in January.
A similar fate awaits the company's pride and joy, Crabex, Algor's floundering treatment for pubic lice. After months of focus group testing, Algor has recently decided to rename the drug PartyZone.
Last but not least is SyphiLess, the company's breakthrough treatment for syphilis sufferers. Though Algor has yet to make an official announcement on the renaming of this drug, early leaked reports indicate that the drug will be called either Blissex or PissFree in 2005.
But will Algor's new approach be a success? To answer that question, we went straight to STD sufferers for the real dirt.
"Oh yeah, I'd definitely buy more if it was named something like Smurfies or something, that would definitely boost sales," according to porn impresario Tori Anus, a frequent Crabex user. "Then I'd stop getting those dirty looks from the dried up old bags at the Wal-Mart pharmacy. They'd just think I'd been fucking Smurfs or something."
Determined to dig deeper into the beans of the story, this reporter conducted further research among the loose women of 1-900-HOT-DATE, likely to be experts on the treatment of cock-borne illness. In addition to providing hours or stimulating conversation, Misty and Chakra also provided great advice about writing off the cost of the toll call as a business expense.
"Algor definitely has a hot idea on their hands there," insisted Misty, a buxom brunette with smoldering green eyes. "You're getting me hot just talking about it."
"Hot and naughty," agreed Chakra, a Thai-Scottish delight who insisted on conducting the telephone interview in the nude.
No doubt the executives at Algor have done similar research, since it's loads more fun than the alternative of company execs experimentally contracting STDs themselves to see if they feel embarrassed about getting treatment. So the New Year looks to be a happy one for Algor shareholders, who haven't heard news this good since the company changed its name from Cock Rot Ltd. in 1999, amid reports that investors were too embarrassed to purchase their stock. the commune news is a staunch believer in safe sex, which is one reason why this seat belt just ain't coming off, honey. Truman Prudy is the commune's expert on public shame and the midnight train to Georgia, which is a lot to fit on a business card. Office pervert Ramon Nootles could not be reached for comment on this story, as he was at the doctor getting a pap smear.
| December 20, 2004 |
Washington, D.C. Whit Pistol The Iraqi Elite Republican Rubble Patrol, which could be rousting the leaves on your streets as early as this January. n an unprecedented decision in settling world deficits, Iraq's $4.1 billion debt to the United States will be forgiven in exchange for the labor of individual Iraqi citizens, the White House announced Friday. Starting in January of 2005, the hard work of the men, women, and children of Iraq will be paid to the United States and all outstanding monetary debts will be considered paid in full.
The announcement has earned both criticism and praise for the U.S. government, as well as a lot of questions from foreign powers on how to get in on that sweet debt-paying labor. According to the president, exchanging manual labor for on-paper debts is "good news" for the U.S. and Iraq both, allowing a people plagued with infrastructure damage, caused by us, and years of accrued financial ...
n an unprecedented decision in settling world deficits, Iraq's $4.1 billion debt to the United States will be forgiven in exchange for the labor of individual Iraqi citizens, the White House announced Friday. Starting in January of 2005, the hard work of the men, women, and children of Iraq will be paid to the United States and all outstanding monetary debts will be considered paid in full.
The announcement has earned both criticism and praise for the U.S. government, as well as a lot of questions from foreign powers on how to get in on that sweet debt-paying labor. According to the president, exchanging manual labor for on-paper debts is "good news" for the U.S. and Iraq both, allowing a people plagued with infrastructure damage, caused by us, and years of accrued financial burden, also caused by us, to give back to its debtors something they can afford, and "get some fresh air and work off a few pounds" in the doing.
The White House plan, not yet approved by congress, added a smirking Press Secretary Scott McClellan, is for Iraqi citizens not currently in the employ of the new puppet government or Iraqi police to join a U.S. "workforce" for three months at a time. During the period of employment, citizens are trained to "give something back" to the country that has given them so much, from free bombs to help getting their oil rigs up and running. Most work forces will join civil service outlets for returning the debt, operating at state or federal levels in open positions. Some individuals may join highway work details, litter patrols, or low-level security positions, such as post exchange night watchman.
Relatives who have family members serving overseas in Iraq, or who have lost family members in combat during the Iraq War, may apply to have one or more Iraqi workforce members put in their personal employ. While restrictions will exist, tasks such as painting houses and fences, washing cars, or cleaning out the crapper are all perfectly acceptable.
While naysayers call the deal "legalized slavery," proponents of the debtor workforce say, "lighten up, cochise." And those people sound like they throw much better parties.
Treasure Secretary John Snow finalized the debt plan on Friday when he set fire to a box full of handwritten Iraqi "I.O.U.s," some of them once written by Saddam Hussein himself, and announced the Iraqi $4.1 billion debt "gone for good." President Bush followed that tough act by asking all other nations out there to follow the U.S. lead in an effort to help Iraq enter a prosperous new age. Ambassadors from Rwanda, Honduras, Guyana, and several other African and South American countries among the most debt-ridden in the world began to ask questions in a confusing muddle of various languages until they were forcibly ejected from the press conference.
"Well, I think it's super," said conservative economist Howard Blocher-White, lighting a fat cigar hand-rolled by a small Filipino boy standing in a corner of the room. "Finally, no more welfare for these countries who keep asking for handouts. It's 'work-fare' time. I can't wait to get me a little Iraqi lady to fix up my recreation room. Do they know Feng Shui over there, or will I have to buy her a book? I say it's about time we get cracking on all them other nations, too. Do you know how many of them countries owe us a big fat paycheck? And all of them have empty pockets. When do you think Ethiopia's gonna pay back all that money Lionel Richie and friends gave them in the eighties?"
As this reporter attempted to leave Blocher-White's home, I was reminded I had greedily consumed two and a half cups of coffee without so much as a tip; but if willing, an arrangement could probably be worked out hanging some expensive European artwork in the den. the commune thinks Iraq should fall back on the well-tested "dine-and-dash" method of debt relief, and hide out in Pakistan for a few years—worked for bin Laden. Washington Correspondent Lil Duncan is no stranger to unusual debt relief, just ask anyone who bought her an expensive dinner on a date.
| U.S. responds to potential "laser pointer" terrorists with army of ushers Ukraine's Yuschenko falls for Yanukovych's old poison apple trick Failing Saturn promises big change to "same kind of car company" Homeland Defense nominee withdraws name; no longer eligible for free ham |
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December 13, 2004 The Search for Mrs. RightI am an old-fashioned guy, and by that, this time, I do not mean that is my drink of choice. I have traditional values, as anyone who knows me can tell. You know this, good people. And just as ice must melt back to its natural state, not-ice, I must find a woman to complete half of the Rok Finger/unknown woman couple. It is my natural state to be with someone else. As someone once said, "a man needs a maid," and boy, did it piss off feminists.
Unable to deal with the bar scene, or anything that would have "scene" added to its description, I sought the old reliable method of Internet dating. Of course, not at first. At first I attempted to write a classified ad. I consider myself something of a master of the classified ad. I unloaded over 65 free kittens, two old lawnmowers, a...
º Last Column: The Passion of Camembert º more columns
I am an old-fashioned guy, and by that, this time, I do not mean that is my drink of choice. I have traditional values, as anyone who knows me can tell. You know this, good people. And just as ice must melt back to its natural state, not-ice, I must find a woman to complete half of the Rok Finger/unknown woman couple. It is my natural state to be with someone else. As someone once said, "a man needs a maid," and boy, did it piss off feminists.
Unable to deal with the bar scene, or anything that would have "scene" added to its description, I sought the old reliable method of Internet dating. Of course, not at first. At first I attempted to write a classified ad. I consider myself something of a master of the classified ad. I unloaded over 65 free kittens, two old lawnmowers, and a refrigerator that no longer kept things cool through mastery of the classified ad. And I composed my most charming classified ad when searching for the most valuable property of all—a wife.
"Wanted: Woman, female only. BGOCMWCMWAH [Backyard Grill-Owning Currently-Married Whitish-Colored Man Who Adores Hyphenating] seeks SHITHEAD
[Single Highly-Interested Total Hottie Eager for Action and Dancing] to marry without meeting. Must be able to tolerate the handicapped and enjoy being bossed around. Owning a motorcycle a plus. Send pictures (of you on motorcycle)."
Since I received no responses, except for a few teens only eager for hi-jinks, I can only assume women have stopped reading the newspaper altogether. Thank you very much, Lifetime.
However, I will not be discouraged. After all, I met my last wife over the Internet, didn't I? And we're still married. What a strange and charming thing it is. The Internet, I mean—the wife is a foul-mouthed harpy. So I immediately hooked up with a matchmaking site, called WebTouch. With a name like that, how could it not deliver everything I want?
It's all very warm and personal, as you sit at home in a dark room lit by a glowing computer screen and fill out the blank spaces on a form to find the woman of your dreams. Actually, the woman in my dreams is 9-foot tall and chases me while swinging a cat by its tail, trying to strike me down, so I'm seeking someone better than the woman of my dreams. There's quite a lot of choices, too, so don't go overboard. I found when I put made "doesn't go to the bathroom" one of my requirements, I got very few responses. I suppose we all have to be a little open-minded. So I changed it to "seldom goes to bathroom."
I also told them I didn't want any foreigners, no one of a different religion, must be very pretty, must be very trim and shapely, without opinions, or at least keeps all opinions to self, will worship me with every step I take and keep her head bowed as I walk ahead of her, and if possible, will let me name her.
I'm too demanding, you say? To hell with you, good people. I say there's no point in listing all your desires in a perfect woman if you're going to wimp out and "accept" flaws. I also say "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" Because I think that's quite funny, and my father once owned a cow.
And to those of you who say I'll never get any responses when asking for so much, I say shows what you know. I've already received a wonderful opening email from the elegant Lady Buttsfree, who lives in Somewhereland, England, or as I know her, the good lady writing from 2funnypricks@hotmail.com. She's a princess, and though it's early in our email exchange, she's already suggesting I move into her castle. I'm waiting for her to send a picture, of course, and she will, once they come in from the beauty contest she just won.
True love, you've found Rok Finger again! º Last Column: The Passion of Camembertº more columns |
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Milestones1994: Omar Bricks arrested after setting a statue of the Virgin Mary ablaze atop the Ferris wheel at the State Fair. Gets off on a technicality that goes down in legal history as the Proud Mary defenseNow HiringFlamenco Dancer. Leggy Latin beauty needed to, well, you know. And dance. Must be disease-free and light on the orthodontia. Garden hose-based qualifications a big plus. Mus- wait. Really? Then what the hell's flamenco?Top Reasons Why You Couldn't Have Killed Your Dead Wife1. | What, and miss the prime Christmas Eve fishing season? | 2. | Too busy having extramarital affair to plot murder | 3. | Pregnant wife-killing totally against religion | 4. | Ha. I wish! | 5. | Spirit too crushed from living with soulless bitch for years | |
| Army Operating With Mannequin Troops, Says Soldier-ReporterBY roland mcshyster 12/13/2004 Greetings, America! I hope you enjoyed the trip and didn't encounter any disturbing horse porn on your way over. We're here, as we always are, time without end, to lend a judging hand as Hollywood turns its head and coughs up another week's worth of ripe, ripe shwag. So let's waste no more time before scraping together Hollywood's best efforts with the side of a credit card and exposing them to the cold, cold light of day, shall we?
In Theaters Now:
House of Flying Buggers
The most depressing of the many downsides to the recent kung-fu swordfighting movie epidemic has been the new life breathed into the unfortunate "Redneck Karate" subgenre. Aimed at audiences who like powerful ass-kicking without all the mystical crap or Chinese people,...
Greetings, America! I hope you enjoyed the trip and didn't encounter any disturbing horse porn on your way over. We're here, as we always are, time without end, to lend a judging hand as Hollywood turns its head and coughs up another week's worth of ripe, ripe shwag. So let's waste no more time before scraping together Hollywood's best efforts with the side of a credit card and exposing them to the cold, cold light of day, shall we?
In Theaters Now:
House of Flying Buggers
The most depressing of the many downsides to the recent kung-fu swordfighting movie epidemic has been the new life breathed into the unfortunate "Redneck Karate" subgenre. Aimed at audiences who like powerful ass-kicking without all the mystical crap or Chinese people, Redneck Karate has been a stain on the Martial Arts movie landscape since Chuck Norris slithered off his cross-training machine long enough to White up the screen in 1972's Killninja. Long the unofficial Redneck American ambassador to the East, Norris' throne was usurped by the slightly less redneckish Steven Seagal in the 90's, thanks to Seagal's having worked in a Chinese restaurant for a while and having seen The Karate Kid twice, thus trumping Norris' highly-misinformed and offensive sense of "karate."
Now that the "Magic Flying Crap" genre of Martial Arts films has captured the public's imagination, the redneck nation has responded with the first "Magic Flying Redneck Karate Crap" hybrid, a monumental birth that should be celebrated by burning all remaining film negatives and promotional materials, immediately. If you thought it was painful to watch guys who don't know karate doing karate, try watching guys who don't know karate or flying, flying around and doing karate. I promise you'll kill someone soon.
The Life Aquatic with Vanilla Zissou
Who keeps giving this guy money to make movies? Vanilla Ice, I mean. He must have compromising photos of somebody important; which is likely since any photos with him in them at all would qualify. Thus the high price sometimes extracted for posing for a photo with a loser during his fifteen minutes of fame. Never before has such a one-hit wonder extorted so much from his momentary success, holding audiences hostage over the years through his various insane ego-boosting exercises like Vanilla Sky and Vanillas in the Mist.
Now he's back to claim his dubious fame once again, this time by snookering the easily-led into believing that Vanilla Ice spent most of his youth as a groundbreaking underwater adventurer. Flexing his impressive muscles for co-opting the hard work of others, Ice stretches it out this time to claim that he invented the submarine, and discovered the dolphin and the ocean, of all things. At least he didn't say he invented the ocean. I give this film two stars, and only offer that many in hopes that it will get Vanilla Ice's attention long enough for him to poke his head up, so I can sock it with my whack-a-mole mallet.
Ocean's Twelve
Everyone has a tendency to lie about their age as they get older, and aging pop stars are no different. Neither are aging one-hit wonders or largely forgotten hacks like Billy Ocean, who recently celebrated his 50th birthday by releasing a movie about how he's actually only twelve. Call it a "Caribbean Dream" or a pathetic fantasy, either way Billy Ocean's got you talking about him again. Suckers.
Ocean has always done everything to excess, including the time he wore a Velcro tuxedo to the Grammies in 1986 and got stuck to Tito Jackson's afro for the better part of a harrowing hour and a half, before a celebrity volunteer fire department could cut him free with an acetylene blowtorch. And Ocean's excessively bland cocktail parties are the stuff of Hollywood legend. But this time Ocean may have gone too far in his going too far. Even in a town whose inhabitants are routinely constructed mostly of age-defying Mylar polymers, nobody in their or anyone else's right mind is going to believe that Ocean's twelve. The movie itself is nothing but an expensive embarrassment, although it did land Ocean an invite to the Neverland Ranch.
And this is where the conga line stops, America. Hope you got yourself a good hip shake and a pat-down from someone vaguely attractive. And for those of you who kept banging the back of your heads on the floor, that's the limbo, stupids. We'll be back in this spot in another two weeks, so mark your calendars and put that baking potato in the oven now. |