One of YouTube's least popular videos ever—MTV's"White Guy Resolution 2017"—was pulled forty-eight hours after its pre-Christmas debut three years ago. It had received 89 "thumbs up" votes on The 'Tube and 11,922 "thumbs down."
Pot is dead. Deader than a pile of stinking roaches in a dirty ashtray. Deader than Jerry Garcia, phone booths or analog clocks, the draft or smoking on airplanes. Deader than vinyl, even.
Explaining that Jesus is too valuable a property to enter the heart of "every loser with his putz in a wringer," the Lord God Almighty warned that Jesus would be entering fewer hearts this year; and he would not be doing back-to-backs, i.e., entering two hearts in consecutive minutes.
Wanna know what to get that genderfluid person you friended last summer? Facebook can steer you to Etsy without your feeling a thing. How about those polygenders you haven't got a clue about, literally and gift wise? REDBUBBLE will welcome you into the bubble.
Trompe l'oeil (tromp LOY) or "trick of the eye" is the technique of using realistic imagery to create an optical illusion of depth and thereby fucking with people's minds. The term originated with a trickster named Louis-Léopold Boilly (1761-1845), who used it as the title of a painting he exhibited in the Paris Salon of 1800.
Kirill Morozov is a twenty-year-old from Belarus with a bad haircut, some incriminating facial tattoos, and hell hounds on his trail. Postcards from the Pug Bus is the first U.S. satire site to break his story.
Those of us who would rather brave root canal without the benefit of anesthesia than submit to invasions of our personal space can take joy in the fact that "tree hugger" and "bunny hugger" are terms of derision in some enlightened circles.
If a nation can be judged by what it celebrates, the United States is fucked six ways to Sunday and back. Today is National Gingerbread House Day, If that doesn't curdle your testicles, how about these gems: National Rubber Ducky Day, National Frozen Yogurt Day, National Barbie Day, National Hairball Awareness Day, et al.
Those soccer moms and their male-pattern-baldness, girly-man, yes-ma'am allies are at it again. Having come for your candy cigarettes and Four Loko, they're coming for your plastic straws. Here's how to thwart them.
To correct that übersehen we celebrate National Ask Nietzsche Day. Instead of asking yourself what Jesus would do, say, when his girlfriend starts yelling out for god during sex, we suggest you ask Nietzsche instead. He is, after all, a savvy advice columnist.
In 2009 President Barack Obama warned that "a critical shortfall of gravity brought on by the "failed gravitational policies of the past" was the greatest existential threat facing this country. "The United States, which is home to 5 percent of the world's population, consumes nearly 60 percent of its gravity," the president explained.
Need a gun, drugs, and counterfeit money? Software to hack into your fucktard neighbor's computer or somebody to kill the bastard outright? What about login credentials to a $50,000 Bank of America account for $500? If these sound tailored to meet your personal needs or if you're truly into kiddie porn, you ought to be X-mas shopping on the Dark Web.
Baltimore Mayor Bernard “Jack” Young urged citizens not to park near white vans because "evil, evil people in white vans" are trolling the city searching for young women to enslave, force into prostitution, and murder, before selling their body parts, the ones that haven't been worn out by prostitution, to Dark Web laboratories.
Few activities enrage feminists more than side-saddle riding. We're talking horses, now, not some perverse spin on scissoring. Feminists of every sort—classic, non-binary, echo [sic], inter sectional, intercollegiate, separatist, and beard wearing—lose their shit at the sight of a female sitting side saddle on a horse.
The Romans had an expression for it . . . "it" being a foul, snot-flinging, food-showing, ass-kicking mood that envelops a person for no reason. The expression was In lectulo surgens sinistram: He got up on the wrong side of the bed. (When Roman women were in a foul mood, it was assumed they were in rag, an expression that doesn't need translating.)
Those income figures, however, do not convey as much information about the quality of life in Port Allegany as its crime statistics do. Witness the following annotated crime report for November 14 through 21, this year. Prepare to be staggered.
This one doesn't need an instruction book; no assembly is required. You've got a brain, an imagination, and at least one good eye. What are you waiting for? Start coveting . . .
It's a 1970s game show, a 1932 movie, and a late 1920s marketing ploy designed to bait people into using more matches. It's three on a match, that's what it is, Skippy, and today is its national celebration day.
Do you remember what you were doing when Beatle George Harrison died eighteen years ago today? Of course not. Most people don't remember what they were doing when "The Quiet Beatle" was alive.
Who wants to put up with drunken relatives, tryptophan poisoning, holiday traffic, shitty football, and severe gastric distress to celebrate a land grab that doesn't merit celebrating?