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Showing posts from 2012

They're Trying to Take Tracks the Poo Destroyer out of School!

This just in from Mugwumpville High School: the school board has narrowly voted to stop allocating class time for goofy jive dances to appease Tracks the Poo Destroyer. Students who wish to shake, shimmy, and jiggle what they wiggle may still do so, but the school is no longer allowed to endorse the practice or make these dances compulsory.
The Mugwump Corporation thinks this is a terrible idea and can only hope that the ban doesn’t last. Can you even begin to imagine what’s going to happen now that Tracks isn’t allowed in school? Shit ball fights in the hallways, sharting during lectures, and poo graffiti on classroom walls are merely the first things that come to mind. You simply cannot replace the moral authority of Tracks the Poo Destroyer with the unrestrained whims of our dumbass species.

When we asked school board president Shanks Landslide about the controversial decision, he had this to say: “Not everyone believes in Tracks. It would be unfair to force the beliefs of others on…

A Tribute to the Ramshackle Factory

Making ramshackles is very important work. Luckily, Mugwumpville has its own ramshackle factory, with a generations-long mission to manufacture all manner of ramshackle. Nearly everything can be ramshackled, but there are a few things that are more popular than others:

The ramshackle marriage comes with an addiction of your choice, a pair of broken vows, and a complete disagreement on all political and social issues. Extra features include an affair with a one-legged clown, unbearable in-laws, and sausage fingers that are too fat to hit any of those tiny buttons on your cell phone. These extras may be purchased piecemeal or as part of a package.

Almost as popular as the ramshackle marriage is the ramshackle home. Inside, you’ll experience varying degrees of internal strife ranging from a sense that things aren’t quite right to a full-blown existential crisis. And that’s just the living room. The ramshackle house will cancel your homeowner’s insurance right before collapsing into a pile …

He Can't See Shit!

Mudwhistle Taint, winner of Mugwumpville’s prestigious  Radioactive Telephone Booth award for the past three years, was spotted by an eyewitness on a bench in Uptight Cracker Park completely covered in shit. It wasn’t long before old Granny Foxtrot, that gallopin’ gossip, approached Taint and poked him with her cane.
“Wake up!” she said. “You young rapscallion!” Finally, Taint began to stir. “Boy,” Granny said, “do you realize you’ve gotten shit all over them nice clothes of yours?”

“Madame,” Taint said as he sat up, “I can see the birds and the bees and the little squirrels in the trees, but I can’t see shit.”

“But son,” Granny Foxtrot said, “you can smell it, can’t you?”

“Oh yeah. That neither. No.”

Granny Foxtrot’s eyes watered. “Young man,” she said, “I don’t mean to be forward, but do you have someone special in your life? You see, sometimes I gets to poopin’ myself and I just can’t stop. I’m a regular turd factory. It sure would be nice to have someone sweet on me who don’t judge me …

Sergeant Wimp Revealed to be a Hopless Optimist

Sergeant Percy Wimp of the North Mugwumpville Silly Billy Death Squad made a shocking confession to his partner, Private Missle Underpants, while they were on a routine patrol Saturday night.

"Sergeant Whimp looked very strange that night," Underpants confessed. "He looked -- but what's the word? Happy? He was smiling. I'd never seen him like that before. I mean, we're assasins, man. This ain't tea time with the girls. What was he doing?"

According to Underpants, Wimp then said, "You know, I've been wondering about something -- and hear me out on this, okay? I've been wondering if humans are maybe beings of pure love and compassion. What if anger and hatred and violence don't even exist as such? What if those emotions only exist as a reaction to our attempts to deny our innate compassionate nature? I mean, that would change everything, wouldn't it? There would be no need for us to fear anything. And everything would be wonderf…
I don't know not enough not to buy weird things...

I Don't Believe in Pangea!

Some say that people of my religious persuasion don’t believe in evolution. Nonsense. After all, my religion evolved from a simple cult of asceticism and peaceful worship into a cynical tax shelter that believes God is freaking out over who people are having sex with. So, yeah, I do believe in evolution. I am, however, totally against the idea that we came from monkeys. Have you ever seen a monkey give birth to a human? I have. How Ron Paul got ahold of that sad creature is a mystery, though it’s said he does have high-powered contacts in the fast food industry. Gee, that sure was the weirdest birthday party I’ve ever been to. The unicorn salsa was pretty good, but did they have to slaughter the mythical creature in the living room using nothing more than dental floss and plastic spoons? And was it necessary to dress it in bondage wear first?

Look, just like Pitbull writing a marriage advice column, some things are just plain wrong. For instance, did you know that some people actually …

Republicants Begin Debating Whether Women Have Souls

Over five hundred Republicant lawmakers, bigshots and underwear salesmen gathered at the Slather City auditorium on Tuesday for a friendly debate. The topic? Whether or not women actually have souls.

Mr. Philip Bluster was the first person to take to the podium. He rode a giraffe to the stage. A red plastic slide was attached to the poor creature’s haunches, from which Bluster slid down onto the stage. He shouted “Wheeeee!” The giraffe collapsed and died, but not before singing the first verse of “Don’t Cry For Me Argentina.”

Bluster walked to the podium and cleared his throat. “A woman’s place is in the home,” he said. “Well, come to think of it, my father’s place was in the home, too. Especially when it was cold outside. When it wasn’t, my father would usually sleep in his treehouse and play with his toy soldiers. Now that I think of it, a treehouse is also a kind of home. So where is a home, really? It’s where the heart is, and I left my heart in San Francisco. I was forced to give …

Essence of Urushiol

Boy have we got a treat for you! Got a special someone in your life that deserves an extra serving of malice? Introducing Essence of Urushiol, the perfect way to get revenge on someone in the cruellest way possible. Essence of Urushiol is squeezed from fresh poison ivy, grown on acres of federally preserved land. It is the perfect refinement of the same oils found in poison ivy, poison oak and poison sumac that cause the itchy rash we all know and despise. This rash this product causes is not a mere poison ivy rash, however. This product causes swelling and pussing to such a degree that doctors have been known to amputate limbs to rid patients of it. It has been known to cause anaphylactic shock, cardiac arrest, even suicide. What makes this product so effective is the itching that starts within minutes of exposure. It becomes so intense that people have been known to go mad from it, injured themselves scratching, gone on rampages that left dozens of innocents wounded and dying, even …

The Burning City: An Interview with Brian Diemar of MMII

I first heard the name Brian Diemar a few months ago, when I was looking around for information about Stephen Bier, formerly known as Madonna Wayne Gacy, or simply “Pogo.” He was the keyboard player for Marilyn Manson and seemed to have disappeared from public view since he left the group in 2007. Until a few months ago, the latest update on Pogo’s Wikipedia page said that he was “now a photographer.” So that was that.

Except that he had been making and producing music the entire time. And his major collaborator is Brian Diemar. Brian is a veteran lead guitar player and producer. Just prior to meeting Pogo he had left the band AM Conspiracy, a group he had formed with Jason Jones, the former lead singer of Drowning Pool. Pogo and Brian first collaborated by producing other bands under the name Faultline Productions. Shortly afterward, they began their collaboration with Hoss, a drummer who had played with the Exies and Mondo Generator. Together, the trio are MMII (pronounced “em em eye…

Fuckman Sequel Rumored to be "Meh" and "Not Bad"

Fuckman Part VIII is opening in three days and there’s already lines at the box-office in many cities around the country. This is certainly the case at the Zaptastick Theater in downtown Zaptasticville. But The mood here, as in most other cities, one of sadness and despair. The reviews for the film have so far been unenthusiastic, and some writers have even gone so far as to call the film “a trifle silly.”

This year, only seventeen people have been shot, maimed, or decapitated in the presale line. Last year, during the presale for the sixth sequel, there was ten times as much violence. One man, a Mr. Wayne Hitchcock Presley, said that he was waiting a few weeks to see the movie even though last year he had one of his arms chewed off in the presale line.

“Yeah,” he said, “see, last time I didn’t mind having a bloody stump where my arm used to be. I was there on opening night to see the new Fuckman movie, and, by god, I made it. I still had one arm free to eat popcorn, though I was stil…

Are You childproof?

First question: do you like to dance while becoming one with the Weird? Of course you do. After all, you’re reading this award-winning blog (note: we have won no actual awards). You have style, you’re refined, you’re cool. You’ll dig a musical group outta Brooklyn called childproof (no capitalization on the dance floor!). The band is the brainchild of a way out there stargazer named JP Marin, sometimes known as “tv.” Also in the band are three cool cats named Cole Jett, Albert Goold and Charles Goold. This here is bonzo good music. Fun and thought-provoking stuff. The band stitches together rock and dance styles from the 60’s to the present for a sound that is both nostalgic and futuristic.

It’s a weird, funky psychedelic sound that creates a feeling of wonder and desire. Desire for childhood, when having a good time wasn’t something trivial. When it was everything. But Marin understands that being young is more than just innocence. He knows perfectly the darkness and fear that comes w…

Why You Should Probably Try Psychedelics

I don’t know if this makes me an asshole or not, but I think I might be pro-psychedelics. I feel like, if you’re relatively mentally stable, you should try LSD or mushrooms once. I mean, I’m not saying you should take ten or twelve hits and run around like ol’ Uncle Morty when he ties on a few too many and starts chasing his pet rooster around the backyard while he twirls his dick and yells “Aieeeee!” No. That’s not what I’m talking about. Take a reasonable dose. And only do it once. Or maybe twice. Okay, three times, but that’s the max. Got it?

To make sure that you get the most out of your trip, there’s just a few guidelines you should follow. First of all, make sure you’re in a safe place where you’re not likely to get interrupted. There’s nothing like having a good trip ruined by a police raid. Trust me, you do not want to be mad-hallucinating while locked up. Taking psychedelics at your apartment or house will work just fine, provided you don’t do something stupid, like make a bun…

I Live by the One Beatnik Commandment: Just Try to be Cool

I know most of the great world religions have at least a few rules that you have to obey, the Ten Commandments being the easiest to recall at the moment. But I wonder sometimes, wouldn't it be better to just follow the One Beatnik Commandment: "Try to be cool." Right. The way I figure it, that phrase covers just about everything. You're covered for the big stuff, like pulling the legs off a goat and beating him with them. You're also covered for the small stuff, like forgetting to cover your ass when you're at a nude beach and having horrible projectile diarrhea. 


And the "try" part is in there because, you know, we're only human and all, so our base animal instincts often triumph over our desire to do good. For instance, I was once at a party. I was on a little too much acid and suddenly it seemed as though everyone around me had turned into a werewolf. So I broke a beer bottle and started stabbing everyone around me in the neck. Oooopsies. My …

Let's Have a Sausage Party!

Summer's almost here, so it's about time to start planning an epic sausage party.

Just remember, be inclusive. Sausages come in all sorts of varieties. Whether your friends' sausage is short and stubby, thick, skinny, or even one of them weird sausage link things you can swing above your head like a lasso, you should welcome them to your party. Variety being a spicy meat product, after all.

There are so many cool things you can do at a sausage party. For instance, you could try running around like a crazed animal, slapping your friends across the cheek with your sausage. But, whatever you do, never put your sausage in someone else's mouth without permission. Not cool, man. Personally, I love to pretend I'm a sort of Errol Flynn buccaneer type and challenge people to a sword fight.

Once, at a truly epic sausage party, I looked at my hand and realized my sausage wasn't there anymore. After looking around for a while, I noticed that my good friend Wally had slipp…

Gaiety Pride Parade Ends in Sadness

Recently fired former conservative talk show host Marpus "Meal Deal" Veal decided that, this year, he would march in his very first gaiety pride parade down Mugwumpville's Main Street. Before, he had been vehemently against things like "having a good time" and "fun." Now that he was actually participating in the parade, he decided to go all the way, dressing in a pink onesie and wearing a pair of fuzzy bunny ears.


Marpus was one of 2,453 marchers this year, each celebrating their happiness and sense of being and unity with the universe in their own unique way. Well, until the clowns came out, anyway. Nearly thirty miscreants from the Cucumber Clown College and Barber School, who had been drinking a little more than usual, staggered out onto the sidewalk to taunt the paraders. They threw handfuls of cold cuts at the marchers and chanted, "Meen meeny mo miney, like this meat, life is cold and slimy."


After he was hit on the head with a piece of …

The Mugwump Interview, Episode One was a Throbbing, Raging Success! We Interviewed all Over the Place!

Face it, folks, your life won't be the same unless you check out the very first episode of the Mugwump Interview. Co-hosts Pat King and Dave K. interview A Jarrell Hayes, Baltimore author and new suburbanite. We discuss fucking awesome things like Marge Simpson, POPULAR TELEVISION, awkward moments and dick sucking. It's great! You'll absolutely love it!







Fallen Down? Put Some Ice on Yer Overstuffed Cantaloupes and Get Back in the Game!

I know you think you ain't got a jumping bean's chance in hell of making it in this world. Well, you're right, of course. But some people are able to drag themselves up from poverty. Again, not you, but there have been at least 13 inspiring rags to riches stories in the 1,000-year history of Mugwumpville.

So don't give up. If you invent something but it doesn't make any money, remember that personal pride counts for something, too. Sure, it won't put food on the table, but you're looking a little fat anyway. So what if someone else is making all the dough? You had an idea. You've done something with your life.

Dismissal Octagon, true patriot and businessman about town, once stole a great idea from a Mugwumpville man named Theodore Doorstraps. Mr. Doorstraps had invented an ass scratcher that scratched your ass as you walked. It worked by a series of pulleys that were attached to a pair of suspenders. Wonderful device. But Mr. Doorstraps was simply too p…

Let's Scare the Onions out of Each Other!

My buddy Adrian once had one of the coolest acid freakouts. We were living in a little studio apartment in Hoover, Alabama, just outside Birmingham. It was mid 1999, so we were both eighteen. There was a kind of mid-day party going on and there were about 343,953 people in the apartment. Everyone had taken at least some LSD but Adrian was the boss supremo acidhead around them parts, so he had guzzled about eighteen gallons of the stuff.

He was in our little walk-in closet, sitting on the floor and rocking back and forth while clutching a knife that was big enough to cut an elephant in half. And all day long he had been having visions of ex-girlfriends past as they floated around his head, talking about their feelings. He was in what we called a "tight spot." Nobody in their wrong minds thought it would be a good idea to give Adrian any more acid. Nobody but Adrian.

So the drug dealer who had sold us all our stuff just a few hours before comes back over to the apartment to ha…