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I play Dungeons and Dragons. There, I said it. It’s out there, go ahead and mock my basement-dwelling, Mountain Dew-chugging, cheese puff-eating tushie. I play D&D. And y’know what? I enjoy it. It’s freakin’ fun. There’s something missing from the D&D experience though. At times, the adventure can seem a bit too disconnected from the reality we live in (fancy that). Noting this, I took it upon myself to add a new class to the ranks of Barbarian, Wizard, Ranger, and the like, a hero for a more refined age. Ladies, Gentlemen, and otherwise… I present the Democrat character class for D&D 3.5! Today I’ve opted to provide to you, the very fortunate reader, a review of various chemicals and how they felt in my eye. After painstaking research and lots of running into things given my now-very-limited depth perception, I bring you this, a review of the chemicals that have been in my eye today. Dear Vianda, LLC Legal Department: I am writing you to complain about your Enzyte product. Numerous times on your television ad, you claimed that the product would make me bigger and enhance my maleness. Having completed your free thirty day trial, I have not noticed any significant growth. While my partner insists that I look bigger, I maintain that is simply because I have not been trimming my hair this past month. I insist you stop selling your misleading product immediately before I report you for false advertising. Also, even though after a month of using your product I have not seen an inch added to my 5’9” height, I have noticed that my cock is three inches longer. I suggest you warn about this side effect on your television advertisements. Sincerely, What a heinous advertisement! My monocle flew from my eye.
After the child is old enough to enjoy it, you sick fucks.
Having lived with my girlfriend-at-the-time for two and a half years, I came to take some of her possessions for granted. Then, one inappropriately bright and shining summer day, all of that stuff left my home and traveled to her new one, far away. Most of those possessions I was actually happier without, because most of it was stuff for which I had no use and for which we had no space to actually store. One among those things, though, was sorely missed after it was gone: The vacuum cleaner.
Chicago is busy constructing a school for the victims of bullying. That’s great—they should build more schools like this, for my amusement. Because you see, in every social circle imaginable, someone will be picked on. I have fun imagining the guy who’s a big enough loser to get picked on at THIS school. The narrow victory of “Yes” on Election Day appears to be due, in part, to interference from Reform Party’s “Maybe”, which received 4% of the popular vote. According to exit polling data, 2/3 of Maybe voters had No as a second choice. Had Maybe not been on the ballot, it is highly probable that No would have won. Throughout the history of this country, each state in the union has existed in its own separate space; a space which usually more or less exists all in one piece. That all changed last week, though, when the east coast state of New Jersey was struck by a particularly nasty bit of flatulence and shattered into approximately 8,536 individual chunks (results rounded to the nearest 194).  Heralded by a deafening roar of thunder, a deluge of flames poured from the skies. The streets and rivers ran with blood. Grotesque beasts sprang up from vast chasms carved in the Earth’s surface leading straight to the depths of the underworld. And four skeletal riders appeared on the horizon, arriving to bring about the destruction of mankind. Dear Sir, It has recently become apparent to me that you seem to be seriously interested in pursuing a career in tap dancing. I have come upon this idea after listening to you tapping your feet (with shoes) on your bare hardwood floor for hours on end. This symphony of sounds (“thud” and “tap” being the sole two musicians in your foot orchestra) is something I don’t particularly appreciate at inappropriate times (anytime). I could probably hear a pin drop on your floor from my room in the basement of our house, let alone your feet, which oftentimes sound like a retarded wild horse on concrete. |
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