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Showing posts from April, 2012

What I've Learned About the Kardashians Simply From Looking at Tabloid Covers

You can learn a lot while standing in line at the supermarket. For instance, did you know that rubbing butter on your skull while sticking your big toe up your ass will result in absolutely nothing of value? Neither did I! And where does all this cool information come from? The tabloids, of course. Now, I've noticed that over the past year or so, there've been quite a few covers with these "Kardashian" ladies on them. I'd like to share a few things I've learned about them just from reading these covers:

The Kardashians are man-eaters: Every week there's a new story about how one of these girls has met the man of her dreams. And then the next week we find out that this supposed dream guy has been chopped into little pieces, salted, and then used as the main ingredient in a prize-winning souffle. I have no idea why the authorities let them get away with this. Such is fame, I suppose. Still, after all this publicity, if these guys keep falling for the Kardas…

Mugwumpville Man Not Surprised to Learn his Boss is a Complete Sociopath

Twenty-five year old Infinite Sweatervest wasn't surprised at all when he heard that his boss, Trickling V. Oilspill, had been arrested for painting fourteen pigs completely blue and feeding them bacon, ham sandwiches, and olive loaf.

"Yeah," Sweatervest said, "I could see something like this happening. I mean, my first day on the job he has everyone take off their shoes and bronze each other's feet. He said it was a team-building exercise. Do you know how hard it is to walk around without the ability to move your toes? I've never had a boss as mean as Mr. Oilspill. I mean, all my life, all I've ever wanted was to design hats for hamsters, and here I was at the biggest hamster accessory firm in Mugwumpville, supposedly living my dream. Only, it turned out to be a nightmare. Bah! I can barely bring myself to talk about it. Once, I was on deadline and only had hours to design a spring mechanism that would allow a small plastic flower to pop out of a top h…

It's Getting Harder and Harder to Hide the Mermaid from my Wife

Well, yes, see, I have this mermaid friend and her name is Biddyboom. She recently broke up with her boyfriend and needed a place to crash for a while. We've known each other casually for about a year or so, having met on a belly button lint enthusiasts website. So I filled my bathtub up and told her she'd be welcome at my apartment.

Well, welcome by me, at least. Because, as awesome as my wife is, she can be quite prejudiced at times. I mean, you can't even mention mermaids when she's in earshot. See, she was bullied by some minnows as a child and that affected her dealings with sea-creatures for the rest of her life. Anyway, I knew that if she discovered Biddyboom in our friendly domicile, then the shit would really hit the fish tank. In other words, she would freak the fuck out.

I had to distract her. The first thing I did was place lamps with green light bulbs all over the bathroom. When my wife came home, I turned out all the lights in our place except for the on…

Occupy Asparagus (Guest Post by A. Jarrell Hayes)

Science has recently proved what we Twenty Percenters have known all along: asparagus makes everybody’s urine into a foul(er) smelling stream, but only 20% of the human population have the necessary olfactory receptors to detect it. We, the Twenty Percenter, are members of the populous oppressed by the much larger 80%--the ones who have no clue how putrid their consumption of asparagus makes their urine.
We, the Twenty Percenters, will suffer this egregious affront no longer. Not without a fight. We refuse to be held hostages in our own country, having to wear gasmasks to enter bathrooms after someone who has eaten asparagus has used them. We demand liberation from the 80%, and we are willing to employ revolutionary tactics to achieve this goal.
We, the Twenty Percenters, have spearheaded the “Occupy Asparagus” campaign. In grocery stores, both large chains and mom-and-pop shops, we shall continue to occupy the space in front of the asparagus section in the produce aisle. We will contin…

Depressed? Make Your Cat Sad and Feel Better Instantly!

Maybe you've been feeling a bit down lately. Maybe you own a cat. Success! Did you know that you can easily transfer your depression to your cat by reminding it of the things it is unable to do? Myself, I like to stand naked before my cat, point at her, and say things like, "You'll never be a fireman. You don't have the thumbs for it," or, "Wouldn't you like to go to the bakery and order some muffins or a nice warm loaf of bread? Well, you could if you were able to form proper words. But, as it stands--"

Some people will say that it's impossible to transfer your depression to your cat, because they don't have any interest in doing people things like bouncing on Pogo sticks or training a baby seal to wear combat boots. They'll tell you that cats are only interested in eating, pooping, ignoring their owners, and getting rubs.

Don't believe them. I once found my cat in my bedroom closet, pawing at a Mad magazine as if she was trying to …

Kirk Cameron is Alive and Well and Living in the Big Rock Candy Mountain with a Hoard of Wart Yaks

Kirk Cameron's new documentary, Monumental, about America's Christian roots, opened in theaters last Friday and, as you might expect, it brought out the crazies. Can you fathom that there are still people in the world who don't believe in Kirk Cameron? I know! Look, people stop me in the street at least seven times a day and say something like, "Kirk Cameron is just a little fella who lives in my TV. Fun is fun, but you tell me if he appears anywhere outside my set and we might be in business. Kirk Cameron just doesn't exist. How could he?" It gets annoying that I have to answer these questions all the time, but, luckily, I only have to use one simple, yet oh-so-complex word: Faith. Have you ever seen a fart? Of course not, but you can certainly smell it, especially if you've been eating cantaloupe. You can't touch it (well, you could, but you wouldn't want to, what with the after-smell all over your finger and all that) but you still know it'…

Morgan Freeman Not Actually Marrying His Step Granddaughter, Sill Hella Badass

In an interview with the Chicago Tribune, Morgan Freeman said that he was not going to marry his step-granddaughter, and they hadn't even been dating. While we hope that he had his fingers crossed behind his back, and we were absolutely shocked that the National Enquirer was wrong about something like this, we're convinced that this was still an act of badassery. I mean, we all know that Freeman was the first African-American to play a white guy in a non-comedic role, convincingly, at least. It was like, suuure, this fella just happens to be the only black dude in an all-white prison. Okay. Cool. But, more than that, there's his military career to consider. In World War I, he was nicknamed Sgt. Bananacakes. Manly name! Freeman and his men invaded the tiny South American nation of Pogo Stixx in an effort to kill the last remaining unicorns on the planet. Was it right that they were simply killing the animals so that they could wear the horns as codpieces? Maybe not, but, a…

The Joy of Jorts!

Spring is here and summer is on its way. Which is to say, we're almost ready for jort season! It's a joyous time when people are gay and carefree, and, if things work out right, show off just enough testicle to class up the joint. But Jort etiquette can be confusing for a first-time wearer, which is why the Mugwump Corporation is proud to present to you this short jort guide, which will keep you stylin' and profilin' all summer long:

1. One does not simply buy their jorts off the rack: Jorts start out as regular jeans and when they become worn out or hostile to the point where they need to be taught a lesson, they are cut with scissors around the knee area. Some upscale clothing places like Walmart and Target sell things that look deceptively like jorts. But don't be fooled. They were made with heartless machines in heartless factories. Jorts, by definition, are made with love and sweat. You don't buy jorts, you earn them.

2. Cutting your jeans too short will …

The Easter Bunny's Huevos

This sanctimonious bitch I was talking to the other day was telling me a really cool story. Thought I’d share.

“This is Krazy Karen down here at Karen’s Things ‘n Stuff! We’ve got deals you won’t believe. Three slinkies for under a grand; a gas grill that fits in your pocket for only eight dollars; toothpicks made out of cars, sold by the pound; cars made out of toothpicks, sold by the yard; a fine selection of hand crafted furniture that’ll make your eyes bleed! Hurry on down now before our Easter Bunny gets neutered and changes his mind.”

A few minutes later, when I was in line for the bus, this old maid walked up to me and kicked me in the hip. She started shouting, “Repent, sinner. Repent now or forever hold your piece.” I held my piece out of fear. “He cometh for our sins, he cometh for our wants. He doth not cometh for our needs. Have you ever felt the touch of him?” I smiled and nodded, like a good soldier boy. I was mortified for my balls at that point. “IT IS BE…

The Monster Underneath the Stairs is Actually Kind of Nice

Scantly P. Mortified heard the sounds of a monster underneath his basement stairs for about three weeks before he decided to investigate. The sounds of singing tater tots and Shakespearian soliloquies horrified him, but his laundry was getting stinky. So down he went, poo-stained underwear in tow, to confront his torturer.

After breaking the ice with a few dirty jokes, the monster offered to help Mr. Mortified with his laundry and said he was even willing to babysit his cat if needed. Mortified said that although he didn't have a cat, his turtles and rats could use a massage and a teeth cleaning, provided his insurance plan would cover it. He then offered the monster a handful of dried beaver chops and asked his name.

Though the monster declined the food, he said that his name was Willoughbee Straightshooter and he had recently realized that he was a failed monster. He couldn't scare anyone. "I remember the last basement I lived in," he said. "I was trying to s…

Album Review: Damaged Goods by Hellbound Glory

Hellbound Glory is a damn fine honky-tonk band.  I can see why the folks over at XXX dig them so much.  They really are that good.

Recurring themes on Damaged Goods include drinking, drugs, heartache, and loneliness.  This is 21st Century outlaw music.  You like that sort of thing?  Then you'll love this album.  Hardscrabble down tempo tunes like "Better Hope You Die Young," "Lost Cause," and "Barroom Beauty" treat death, addiction, and other dark topics with, if not grace, then a kind of humility.  The uptempo tunes can be moving, too, but they're also great foot tappin' good-timin' songs.  Listening to this album, it's easy to picture yourself in a roadside tavern, drinking a few and dancing with strangers.

Damaged Goods is an album any country music fan should enjoy, but it doesn't hurt to bring some sort of hard-living personal experience to it.  These are amoral songs, but in the best sense.  The album explores working-class r…