Since 1999, the US Mint has been releasing a series of state quarters. Each one has a different back on it that outlines some highlight or another of the state in particular. They all try to do some sort of justice to the state from which they come, but they’re kind of relativist, choosing not to single out any states as being “worse” than any others.
But we all know that there are places like Tennessee, Alabama, or Utah, which may be given the honor of having half-decent representation on actual legal tender, but are often poked fun at, because they’re fun to poke fun at.
So, the authors of Clunkline have been asked to create their own state quarters. Though only two so far have responded to the call of duty, more installments will follow.
“I killed all of them in hand to hand combat while ducking sniper fire.”
Hillary Clinton today denounced critics who said she should pull out of Vietnam. “The war’s not over yet. Not everyone has fired off all their rounds! Let’s stop letting the pundits say who’s won this war and just let everyone shoot.”
Comedy, as we all can agree, finds its roots in storytelling. All the way back to the Ancient Greeks, and even the Greeks before that, stories were made interesting by the comedic juxtaposition of events. Therefore it seems only natural that comedy evolved into jokes, a kind of short, poignant storytelling where a friend assumes the role of the narrator, and takes you along for the proverbial ride. Jokes have been the vessel of comedy for years, but in recent times they have begun to wane.
That’s why today, The Surgeon is taking it upon himself to re-vitalize, re-invigorate, and re-furbish the joke form (just when you thought you were as furbished as you could be!). Now, a new generation of storytellers may arise and give us something to fill the awkward silence at dinner after your brother has come out to your parents, and you know… your dad starts to pour gasoline all over his own loins for producing his children. (Speaking of where the matches are, dad, I heard a great one the other day…) So without further ado, I give you… JOKE LESSONS!
Every year, Seneca Valley High School in Germantown, MD holds a men’s beauty pageant poignantly titled “Mr. Seneca.” In my capacity at Clunkline, I somehow uncovered some footage of a previous contestant from all the way back in 2006. Though I cannot speak much to his methods, or much on the subject of copyright infringement, I will say this: it seemed like a hell of a show that year.
This shouldn’t surprise anybody: people don’t like assholes.
Not actual assholes, the ones poop come out of, those are gross but still OK. No, what people don’t like are gen-u-ine, ruin your day, poo in your coffee, run-of-the-mill, assholes. Most everyone agrees that yes, assholes suck. Not actually suck though. Lips suck, and never on assholes. Not actual assholes, but on asshole-people. I assume that assholes rarely get kissed, like real body-assholes.
Space Duke Arubus, the people of Arubia, Mr. Tanz “soon to have a dynamite buttplug” Metall, the jury has deliberated the facts and your defense and have made their opinions on this matter perfectly clear to me on this case, and I am now ready to render my verdict.
It is late and I can’t sleep. I’m petting your cat and eating your food. Your cat is getting his snot on your pillows. I’m using your computer to post to my website because your router doesn’t like my computer. I am wearing only my sports jacket and gym shorts because my girlfriend is in the guest bed breathing through my shirt. After that many layers, I question whether or not I even own myself.
There have been a number of times this campaign season when a candidate said or did something retarded. But sometimes, they overlook the most basic facts and forge ahead triumphantly, like a naked explorer in the arctic with a plastic bag over his head.
Wow I love this! Just us musicians, here, exercising our right to use our talent to make ourselves happy. You know, I think this is the best thing in the world. Who cares what that tall skinny kid across the way in the blue turtleneck, sport coat, and fedora hat who is scowling and giving us the double bird thinks. Know what, I’ve never cared what my audience thinks of my music. Its my art, and if they don’t like it fuck em. Music should be played for the musician not the listener. So I don’t care if they hate my stuff, I don’t and I’ve never let what anyone thinks of me drag me down. And look! I make enough money that I can just relax and practice my technical proficiency anytime I want with you guys.
For your reading pleasure, I’ve analyzed some of the finer points of the Ronnicles and provided a lot of context and anecdote to help the reader enjoy the Ronnicles experience. I’ve compiled it into a word document, as it is too long for a Clunkline post, and would be a pain to format. You can acquire it here.
The Ronnicles: Exercises in Literacy from one of America’s Finest Convenience Store Managers
Yes, sadly it is the end of the Ronnicles. These are the last few examples of her illiteracy that I collected after she was gone in an effort to ensure that The Ronnicles was an exhaustive collection of everything she wrote to which I had access. It’s been great fun, and don’t forget to look for Analyzing the Ronnicles to be available soon.
Eliot Spitzer recently stepped aside to allow Lt. Governor Ray Charles to assume the duties of the office. But that does not mean he doesn’t have a sense of humor! In an exclusive interview with Clunkline, he made a bunch of stupid image macros.
Image macros are easy as hell to make. Maybe that’s why they’re frowned upon by the comedic establishment. But then again, Eliot Spitzer sure is frowned upon by the political establishment, but he’s still my hero.
