Man Bun Full Of Raisins

Posted on by Chester Stillwater

EUGENE, Ore. — A local man bun was discovered to be full of gross raisins, sources who had already made it home with the bun and aren’t going back now confirmed.

“We met at hot yoga, and the first thing I noticed about him was that he had what must be a huge, Fabio-like mane of golden-brown hair tied up into a tight bun,” recalled Skye Galagos. “After some small talk, I asked him if he wanted to go out sometime. We went on a picnic a few weeks later. When he let down his hair, imagine my disgust when I saw it was full of raisins. And it wasn’t even caramel holding it all together — it was that gross royal icing or whatever that totally chips apart when you touch it. Barf.”

The man bun’s coworkers have also noticed the raisins at the bike shop where its owner works.

“I’ve dated a lot of guys who you might describe as ‘trustafarians’ so I’m used to the occasional centipede or weed nug falling out of my date’s hair,” said coworker Scott, “You get used to it and sometimes they have a pencil or something in there that you can use. But raisins attract ants, and they are somehow worse when you don’t expect them. That bun is dripping with raisins, and they’re not even the green kind, they’re the brown ones. How has everyone not switched to craisins by now anyway?”

An executive at Grandma Rickett’s, the nation’s third-largest manufacturer of raisin-filled pastries, explained the presence of raisins in otherwise perfectly acceptable places.

“Frankly, all market research indicates that the public hates raisins,” said Ellen Cheng, VP of Development. “But we put them in everything because, to be perfectly honest, pastries are not our bread and butter, no pun intended! We primarily make space-capable optics for the global weapons and surveillance industry. The grapes are just a byproduct of our top-secret manufacturing process, and we use them up to take advantage of certain farm subsidies.”

At press time, the bun had achieved peak disgustingness after an attempt to reheat it in the microwave.

Wife Installs Breathalyzer Lock on Husband’s Acoustic Guitar

Posted on by Ted Pillow

DETROIT — Frustrated wife Hannah Gerhardt figured out how to install a breathalyzer on her husband’s acoustic guitar which would keep the hardshell case locked until he sobered up, confirmed impressed and relieved sources after taking out their ear plugs.

“This wasn’t an easy DIY job, but somebody needed to stop him from downing a bunch of hard lemonades and ruining every social gathering with his god awful version of ‘Hey There Delilah,’” Gerhardt explained while putting away tools in the garage. “I went down to one of those places that install breathalyzers in your car if you get too many DUIs. I bought one and managed to modify it to work on my husband Paul’s old Fender. He’s got to blow into this little mouthpiece and if his BAC is above .08, it activates a lock that holds the strings in place and doesn’t let them vibrate. Now, if I can just find a way to prevent my husband from speaking, moving, or thinking while drunk, I’ll be all set!”

Hannah’s husband, Paul Gerhardt, was less enthusiastic about her crafty handiwork.

“This is total bullshit!” Paul slurred while stumbling around his kitchen trying to stuff Doritos in his mouth and mostly missing. “Everyone loves when I play guitar. And when I’m a little drunk, that just helps unleash my creative energy and fearless performance skills. What’s the big deal, anyway? ​​No one ever got hurt from mixing booze and music, except for I guess Jimi Hendrix, Keith Moon, all of Guns ‘N’ Roses, and everyone at Woodstock ’99.”

Experts believe that Hannah Gerhardt’s invention could be easily replicated, and may in fact become common practice across the country.

“The Supreme Court is closely monitoring this situation,” noted Supreme Court Justice Sonia Sotomayor. “Sloppy, drunken acoustic guitar playing is a menace to society, a cruel and unusual punishment inflicted on anyone who’s ever been to a frat party, hung out around a campfire, or generally been in the vicinity of a white male trying to get laid. If Mrs. Gerhardt’s solution is effective, we are considering mandatory guitar breathalyzer locks for anyone convicted of covering a Sublime or Jack Johnson song in public. And, ‘Good Riddance (Time of Your Life)’ by Green Day would be treated as aggravated assault.”

As of press time, Hannah Gerhardt was last seen installing household breathalyzer locks on the karaoke machine, microwave, and drawer they keep all of their weed in.

Dog Uses Talking Buttons to Tell Filthiest Version of “The Aristocrats” Yet

Posted on by Tracy Kellett

MOBILE, Ala. — Local family The Jensens are in disbelief after the dog they adopted used his talking buttons to tell a version of “The Aristocrats” that is somehow darker and viler than any version previously told.

“When we saw him listed for free on Facebook Marketplace, it was love at first sight,” described Mary Jensen of their first encounter with the newest (now former) family member, Mr. Tummy Sprinkles. “He was listed as great with kids, and his previous owners explained they trained him to communicate through talking buttons. He sounded more like a babysitter than a dog, which frankly was pretty appealing. But the day after we got him home, filth spewed from that furry beast like the ghost of Gilbert Gottfried got ahold of a Teddy Ruxpin. I don’t know if we’ll ever fully recover.”

Jensen’s son, Mikey, horrifically recalled the extent of Mr. Tummy Sprinkle’s verbal abuse.

“I wanted him to sleep in bed with me, but he spent all night organizing his dumb buttons. At first, I thought it was kinda neat,” the eight-year-old said. “He mentioned walking into a talent agency, so I thought maybe he knew how to sit or roll over, but he never did any tricks. He talked about fetching and belching at the same time, which I’ve seen my Dad do, so who cares? By the time he mentioned he had kids, I wasn’t even excited about maybe getting puppies. My mom started screaming and threw him outside. Then we got froyo!”

Mr. Tummy Sprinkles described how the afternoon didn’t end quite so sweetly for him.

“Can you believe it?” Mr. Tummy Sprinkles tapped aggressively. “Bitch comes in and makes the kid miss the punchline. No light, no warning, just a grab by the collar and swift kick to the chopped nuts out the doggy door. What’s the point of describing human-centipeding my own family straight raw dog for 35 minutes if I don’t even get to say The Aristocrats?!”

At press time Mr. Tummy Sprinkles had been rehomed to a one-bedroom apartment where he continues to be doted on by eight open-mic comics.

Photo courtesy of YouTube. 

We Tried Looking Back on HBO’s “Real Sex” but They Scrubbed That Shit So Yeah, Okay HBO, I’m the One Who Got Me Into Clown Orgies

Posted on by Dan Rice

If you’re anything like me, by which I mean anyone between the ages of 10 and 45 in 1995, then HBO’s docu-series Real Sex had a profound impact on the way you now masturbate to things that physically repulse you the second you’re done climaxing.

We thought it would be fun to revisit the series that permanently deviated our sexuality into objectively disgusting avenues forever. Unfortunately, the show is mysteriously missing from HBOmax.

In fact, one would be hard pressed to find evidence that Real Sex was ever on HBO or that it even existed at all. So okay, yeah HBO, I guess I go to a seedy fuck-machine competition in Reno every year now because I sought that shit out of my own volition. I guess I’M the fucking weirdo here, huh?

It’s so weird because my ENTIRE GRADUATING CLASS has this shared memory of being scarred permanently by clown sex and masturbation groups for the elderly because our hotel rooms had HBO during the 8th grade Washington trip but no, I guess we all just simultaneously IMAGINED the whole fucking thing, is that right HBO?

Here I am sitting back to back with my partner in the lotus position, me dressed as a giant baby and her as Fidel Castro, trying to make each other cum through tantric energies alone, under the impression that some EXTERNAL THING we saw on late night TV put this shit in our heads but no! I guess we’re just really fucking creative!

Oh, I know, maybe it’s a rights issue, like how they don’t have Tales From The Crypt because someone else owns The Crypt Keeper. Maybe that couple in San Francisco who owned that puppy-players exclusive bakery were someone else’s intellectual property, and that’s why it’s not on HBOmax with like literally everything else they’ve ever made including Arles. Oh they’re not? Well then what the FUCK HBO?!

If you’re going to turn an entire generation of people into incurable perverts disgusted by their own browser history, fucking OWN that shit. Star Wars took responsibility for the incest porn boom, now it’s HBO’s turn to do the right thing.

Opinion: I’m Only Eating This Baby to Gain the Mental and Physical Prowess I Need To Hunt Baby Eaters in the Deep State

Posted on by Dan Rice

Ever since Q provided all free-thinking patriots with irrefutable proof that our country is controlled by a shadow governing cabal of baby eating devil worshipers who themselves are in the pocket of shape-shifting lizard aliens, I’ve dedicated a lot of my free time to fighting the good fight. It’s been an uphill battle, but I think I’ve finally found a way to change that, unsavory as it might be.

Yes, I have access to a baby. Yes, I am going to eat said baby. But unlike those sicko pedophile Soros/Clinton acolyte fucks running our democracy into the ground, I won’t enjoy it. I’m only eating this baby for the mental and physical powers it’s adrenochrome will grant me, so that I can use them to STOP baby eating once and for all.

It’s time to level out the playing field, and unfortunately, that means making some difficult choices. Not only do these deep state lizard-shills enjoy the political/economical security and protection afforded by their elite status, even if you do manage to square off with one face to face you will be bested by the superpowers they’ve gained eating innocent little babies. Sometimes you need to fight fire with fire, or in this case a “California cheeseburger.”

A few years back, one of the heads of Greenpeace spoke out about her use of insulin to treat her diabetes. Greenpeace frowns on the use of insulin as it was tested on animals, but as she put it “I do so much positive work for animals that the ends justify the means.” So you see, me eating this baby, while horrible, is actually the best thing FOR babies in the long run, because of all the baby eater hunting I do.

I’m not looking for judgment here, I’ve already weighed the moral and ethical repercussions and determined that this is the logical course of action. What I am looking for is advice. Babies are hard to eat!

At first I was going to deep fry it like those songbirds rich people eat and swallow it whole. Unfortunately this may ruin the freshness of little Kevin here, and I need every drop of sweet sweet adrenochrome I can get if I’m gonna dismantle a whole dang shadow government by myself!

Fuck, why did I call him Kevin just now?! Ugh, naming this little tyke is going to make eating him all the more challenging. Oh well, you gotta do what you gotta do I guess. If anyone knows a good aioli recipe that would pair nicely with little Kevin here, hit me up!

Custodian’s Heavily Used Mop Mistaken for Rob Zombie

Posted on by Chris Bowen

GAINESVILLE, Fla. — A raggedy mop caused confusion among several attendees of the “Days of the Dead” horror convention when they confused the cleaning instrument for headlining guest Rob Zombie, confirmed disappointed, but not fully convinced sources.

“That mop is a family heirloom passed down from my father, from my father’s father, and eventually to me,” said head custodian George Crandall while fumbling through a huge ring of keys. “I could barely get any work done because a bunch of nerds would run up and ask to get their picture taken with it or to have it sign their DVD of the ‘Halloween’ remake. I tried everything to get people to stop bothering the mop, I dressed it in some old jeans, a crappy leather jacket, and a top hat, but that only made things worse. Way worse.”

Convention attendee Rachel Yueng explains her confusing run-in with the grotesque tool.

“The people that ran this convention should have never allowed that mop to be inside the building, it’s basically like having a Rob Zombie impersonator leaning up against a wall waiting to clean up a spill. I stood in line for an hour and a half because I wanted a photo only to have it by a smelly, wet mess. I guess I assumed the big cloud of flies over the front of the line must have been hovering over Rob,” Yueng said. “I wish I could say this was the first time this happened to me. I was at SeaWorld, and I could have sworn Marilyn Manson was standing right in front of me! Turns out it was just a really skinny girl in a grey wetsuit. My embarrassment never ends.”

Rob Zombie says these mistakes are still common despite efforts to clean up his look over the past few years.

“Back in the 90s and early 00s I would hear about this happening on a daily basis,” Zombie explained. “But being confused for a smelly dingy old mop has its advantages. Like if I have a lame photo shoot or promo to do, I just get a mop nice and dirty, maybe soak it in an old spittoon or something, and have it take my place. No one has ever even noticed it. Which actually kind of annoying because no way any stupid mop head could ever be as spooky or have as many dead bugs and shit in it as my hair does.”

At press time, several sources reported seeing the Toxic Avenger angrily swinging around Rob Zombie in his hands in front of the convention’s Troma booth.

City Stencils Image of Bicycle on Highway to Make it More Bike Friendly

Posted on by Harley Murgatroyd

TALLAHASSEE, Fla — City workers were observed adorning a busy four-lane highway with white stencils of bicycles early Tuesday morning in efforts to make the area ‘more bike-friendly,’ confirmed swaths of traffic-jammed onlookers.

“Hybrid cars are so popular now, I want you all to think of this like a hybrid lane,” stated city mayor John E. Dailey. “Our constituents were very direct with their needs. They want progress and to raise awareness for cyclists and I believe we’re achieving that here. Now drivers who are reaching speeds of up to 55 miles per hour will be aware they may need to swerve violently into other lanes. Safety is our priority here. No, this ‘bike lane’ will not be separated from normal highway traffic, the entire directive is based on a whopping budget of 72 American dollars for spray paint and the patience of highway drivers.”

City planner Damien Dugal, a partner with Wood+Partners, elaborated further on the cyclist safety efforts.

“Listen, we sent our best guys out there to spray paint these bike stencils and that paint is expected to last at least six months before being chipped away to something less than a shadow,” stated Dugal. “You’ve heard of five-over-one apartment architecture? Well these generic monuments to human cattle wouldn’t be complete without upgrading the highway they live on with massive amounts of medians adorned with brickwork and shit instead of installing space-wasting bike lanes. They’re all going the same direction anyway.”

Bike commuting citizens have shared mixed reactions to the city’s efforts.

“So what we’re seeing is clear progress, I’ll admit to that,” commented Logan Spotler, a long-time bike safety advocate. “Before the bikes were stenciled on the highway, drivers drove aggressively around us. It was as if they didn’t know we were allowed to share the road. Now they clearly can see we are sharing the space and, um, actually? It’s them being assholes when they’re frustrated to the point of angrily flooring it and screaming at me for going 15 miles per hour on a highway. I can’t help but notice the driver’s screaming and dangerous situations haven’t decreased in any sort of way, but there is absolutely a certain satisfaction of being in the right. They gave us that.”

At press time, city workers were spotted painting a massive “Black Lives Matter” stencil in the middle of a busy intersection.

Hawkins Teen Opts to Die in the Upside Down Rather than Admit Favorite Song is Wang Chung’s “Everybody Have Fun Tonight”

Posted on by Ben Friedman

HAWKINS, Ind. — Local high school senior Jenny Dowd, currently trapped in the parallel universe of the Upside Down, opted to accept imminent death at the hands of Vecna rather than have her mind freed via his favorite song, Wang Chung’s “Everybody Have Fun Tonight,” terrified sources confirmed.

“You know what’s worse than being chased by mutant bats and stalked by a superhuman mind invader? When your classmates are trying to lure you out of your personal vision of hell with the corniest song of the decade so far. I can’t believe I forgot to take that goddam cassette out of my Walkman,” said Dowd. “I mean there are kids in my school listening to collegiate-level music like Kate Bush. So yeah, I’d rather have my skull crushed by a demonic demigod than walk through that portal and be known as ‘the Wang Chung Girl’ for the rest of high school.”

Fellow classmate Robin Buckley, who discovered that playing one’s favorite song will snap them out of the Upside Down’s most powerful monster’s trance, said it was easy to discern what would bring Dowd back to reality.

“It only took us like, two seconds to find what song would break her out of Vecna’s spell because she had Wang Chung paraphernalia everywhere in her bedroom. And I mean everywhere, pillowcases, bed sheets, even curtains. Not sure what’s taking her so long to return to reality, but boy is she going to fucking get it when she comes back,” said Buckley as she started the song over for the fifth time. “I hope she likes being called ‘Dance Hall Dork’ until graduation if her eyeballs don’t explode first.”

The psychic serial killing monster known as Vecna began to grow tired of his quarry’s complacency about being brutally murdered.

“She’s more consumed with the guilt of loving an insipid Top 40 pop song rather than being responsible for the drowning death of her cousin. I must admit the satisfaction of breaking every bone in her body is diminished when she clearly wants me to do so. I saw her ‘trip’ over a vine earlier and didn’t move for ten minutes,” said Lord Vecna. “I do understand the embarrassment of loving a song that would so flippantly use the band’s name as a verb, but the least she can do is embrace death with dignity.”

Veca decided to just put Dowd out of her misery after looking into her mind and seeing that her second favorite song was Styx’s “Mr. Roboto.”

We Caught up With Jeff Bezos to Talk About How Keeping All of His Pogs in Mint Condition Made Him the Richest Man in the World

Posted on by Dan Rice

You can call Jeff Bezos many things; Bald Hitler, Slave driver, fragile ego poster boy, etc. But one thing you can’t call Jeff “The human personification of overcompensation itself” Bezos is unsuccessful. Oh, and dipshit! I’m trying to bring dipshit back, and you can totally call him that, but regardless, Bezos is a highly successful dipshit.

We sat down with the Amazon founder to try and figure out the secret to his undeniable success and see if it could possibly be harnessed for good instead of evil. Unfortunately, it turns out his secret is the same as just about anyone currently rich: Start in the early ‘90s. Bezos opened up to us about how he turned an extremely fleeting children’s trend into an empire.

The Hard Times: Mr. Bezos first and foremost, thank you for taking the time out of your busy space cowboy schedule to speak with us. 
Of course. If I can’t fit in the occasional self-aggrandizing interview, do I really have it all? 

If you could boil your success down to one essential element, what would that be? A lot of people say you were just in the right place at the right time but…
Those people are called haters. You wanna know the secret to my success? It’s all in the wrist. 

In the wrist? 
Let me break it down for you, I wouldn’t be where I am if it weren’t for The Grimm Reaper, The Green Power Ranger, and Saddam Husein. 

Those are your top 3 influences? 
Those are my three most valuable pogs. 

Pogs? The little cardboard disc toys from the ‘90s? 
Damn straight. I’ve kept every pog I’ve ever won, and I’ve kept them pristine. That’s what provided the seed capital for what would become the world’s largest private space program.  

Wow. Okay, I would not have guessed that. Blue Origin is the result of… pog money? 
See, everyone thinks it comes down to who has the best slammer, but that’s bullshit. You gotta have the finesse to not only flip that stack of bad boys but to avoid damaging the pogs in the process! In one of my early games I took home a sweet-ass Clarisa Explains It All Ferguson pog, I’m talking mint fucking condition, but in my haste to obtain it I frayed the edge making it worthless. It was a harsh lesson, but I took it to heart, and the results speak for themselves. 

Okay right so, pogs were popular amongst children in the early ‘90s, you’re 58 years old now, so that would have made you about 28 back then? 
Yeah and if you think my age gave me a competitive advantage you’re dead wrong. It was hard for me to even get into the elementary school cafeterias for security reasons, and that’s where all the action was baby! Add to that the fact that slamming a stack of pogs has nothing to do with physical strength and everything to do with wrist malleability, which your average child has in spades. Plus kids are way more adept at smelling out a hustler than you might think. It was a tough grift but hey, look at me now. 

And you fully attribute your current wealth to hustling children out of their pogs in the ‘90s? 
Well it sure as shit didn’t come from Beanie Babies I can tell ya that! Richard Branson nearly went broke chasing that dragon.

And, if you had one piece of advice for aspiring young investors today, it would be… pogs? 
Pogs. 

Pogs. Okay well thank you for your time, any chance we could get a look at those pogs? 
Well let me answer your question with a question, any chance I can hunt you for sport?

 
Uhm…
Yeah that’s what I thought. No dice baby. 

Man at GWAR Show Starting to Think the Whole Thing is Just an Act

Posted on by Ernie Dixon

NEW ORLEANS – Local music writer Nate Grassfield expressed doubts of authenticity this week while attending a GWAR concert, according to sources on scene.

“As the band came on stage, I immediately noticed something was off,” says Grassfield. “They all appeared to be in need of medical attention, but no one in the venue seemed to be concerned. It also did not make much sense to wear so many serrated blades if they were going to be performing in such close proximity. At one point the band brought up a few fans and fed them into a giant meat grinder on stage. They were smiling the whole time and kind of waving their arms. It didn’t seem like their flesh was being ripped from their bones to me. I was harboring my skepticism but something seems fishy.”

“Also, I don’t even think Blöthar the Berserker is that guy’s real name,” he added.

Several attendants mentioned having heard from Grassfield during the show.

“Sawborg Destructo was jabbing his buzzsaw into the crowd at the front, and this guy just poked me and said ‘I don’t think that’s even a real saw,’” said concertgoer Delaney Cruz. “I also kept hearing him mutter to himself about not ever meeting anyone with hooved feet before. It was really ruining the vibe of the show to have this dude walking around raising his eyebrows and shaking his head the whole time. Who is this fucking guy?”

Crowd psychologist Seth Prague says it’s not unheard of for certain individuals to have trouble grasping the concept of theatrics.

“In certain people the brain is unable to differentiate between reality and the subtleties of a realistic performance,” Prague explained. “Seeing as how this was a GWAR show, however, I have no choice but to conclude that this guy is probably just plain old dumb. Just like that Davis kid that came to my son’s birthday party who left crying when the magician stole his nose.”

At press time, Grassfield was covered in several gallons of bright green semen and could not be reached for comment.