This isn’t even the right flag! That’s Liberia’s flag! As if decades of slavery were not enough, now we deface someone else’s flag just because we’re too fucking LAZY to ink the RIGHT NUMBER OF STARS!
Worse still, it’s a THROW PILLOW. It’s not even a real pillow!
It’s like a big-game hunter tracking down the last Tasmanian tiger and then calling it a dingo when he mounts it to his wall.
Patriotic holidays are just commercialist circlejerks. We don’t honor the fallen. We have sales on mattresses. It’s bad enough that Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and Labor Day have been bastardized, but why you gotta exploit the blood of our ancestors to make a $.59 profit on a refrigerator magnet?
This summer I am working for a party and tent rental company. I usually get assigned to tasks in the warehouse, but occasionally I’m sent out to drop off or pick up rental equipment. I seem to come across a more diverse range of smelly things and places while out on the road, but the warehouse has its fair share of odors as well.
Whoa. I am soooooo wasted right now. Like, you have no idea. Yeah, it’s awesome. Isn’t it awesome? Don’t you think I’m awesome? I think I’m awesome. Did I mention how totally smashed I am right now? Because I am.
The height of Yooper fashion, and the first result in Google.
The Upper Peninsula of Michigan is the Scandinavia of America: cold, out-of-the-way, and pointless. It’s like the Finnish translation of Appalachia. Somewhere along the line, someone in the U.P. thought it would be a good idea to refer to themselves as a “Yooper” (U.P.-er), and ever since, anyone with any sense has avoided it.
On my visit to the Obama Oakland office today, I thought of several things which, taken together, would surely cripple McCain’s operations once and for all.
-Late in the day, go into his campaign offices, pretend to volunteer, writing fake names on things. This is just a pretense to get inside. Then, when nobody is paying attention, turn their thermostat all the way up and leave. Do this late enough in the day that nobody will notice. On top of making the office unlivable for a few hours the next day, you’ll drive up his utility bills. Yay!
-Get a McCain sticker on your car. Put it next to a Confederate Flag sticker. Cut people off on the highway and throw beer cans at pedestrians.
With age comes many things… Wisdom, respect, cancer, incontinence, and senility all are hallmarks of aging. If you’re an aging woman, however, there is another rite of passage that you must perform before you have truly aged. You must get your hair chopped short and start wearing kitten sweaters.
28-year-old Bill Clement of Omaha, Nebraska claims to have had a “good one” earlier this week.
“People have always told me to, y’know, ‘have a good one’,” Bill told reporters. “I guess I never really gave it much thought until recently.” He says he spent an afternoon doing “more or less nothing” and that said afternoon was indeed a “good one”. Guinness recordkeepers are pending comment as to whether or not this can be verified.
This NASA mission Explorer Seven. Mission Commander Jed ‘Hap’ Staise, mission pilot Alan ‘Buzz’ Goatherder, and mission specialist Deuce ‘Good Astronaut-Man’ McHandful. Command Module USS Intrepiprise, Service Module USS Ladybug.
“I just didn’t feel the slogan fit anymore,” said Obama, shaking his head. “It was time for a change.” And change he has; at least, when it comes to his first broken campaign pledge.
There’s a Budweiser truck that drives around Harrison City and passes the store periodically that says “Fuhrer Eagle Sales and Service” on the side. I would’ve got a picture, but cameraphones can only go so far, and I couldn’t get one where the side of the truck was legible.
Still, I think we can conclude that Budweiser is a Nazi beer.
I ate a third of someone else’s bag of popcorn because I thought it was public. I ended a party by comparing the party to a prematurely-born baby that never made it off life support. My comment about how my comment had “finally pulled the plug” did not help.
Anyway, I personally believe the editorial staff should find it within themselves to endorse a true man of our time, and every other time that happened to be around an election for the last many, many years, Ralph Nader.
Oh, I know what you’re all thinking: Ralph Nader is a joke and should have stopped wasting his time at least eight years ago, and you’re absolutely right, but hear me out.
Picture this: You’re unloading all of your stuff from your parents’ SUV and carrying it through a series of self-locking doors, up flights of stairs, and into a little cell which is graced only by the presence of a spartan bed, a computer desk, and a chest of drawers.
Say hello to my little friend.
That’s right, college. The first great departure from your parents’ authority into the “real” world, or at least a strange facsimile of it in which you have no car, no job, and can sleep in until dark with minimal consequences. You look forward to it, the ultimate freedom to do whatever trivial and pissing things you might want to do. The freedom to eat an entire box of cheez-its in twelve minutes. The freedom to wear clothes over and over again until they start to smell like a sort of twisted hummus made of old Doritos, balsamic vinegar, and pickled sausage. The freedom, so long as your roommate’s away, to beat your willy to all sorts of porn coming through the incredibly wide tubes of your campus network many times a day, without fear of embarrassing discovery.
