Man Must Choose Between Crappy Chair and Girlfriend

chair

Aaron Greene, 26, is facing the greatest decision of his life as longtime live-in girlfriend Miranda Hendrick has put her foot down and demanded the ouster of Greene’s best friend, a decrepit armchair which he’s owned since he was a teen.

“Miranda’s great and all, but this chair has been with me forever,” said Greene, who has no sense of proportion and considers the early 2000s as prehistoric. “I mean, at the end of the day, she won’t always let me sit on her, but the chair never complains.”

“I’ve put up with a lot,” said Hendrick. “The X-box, the drinking, the Beanie Baby collectibles. I mean, you get a decent man, you have to expect a few bumps in the road. But I’ve reached a point where I can’t drown out the odor of the chair with even the strongest doses of Nicki Minaj’s Minajesty. That’s my go-to perfume for serious environmental problems.”

The chair, which is made of three kinds of leatherish material, wood, and some kind of crumbly foam manufactured from rendered horsehair, made its appearance in Greene’s garage when he was a sophomore in high school and was going to “make it big with his band.”

“It was great for crashing in after a really hard session,” said Greene. “I don’t really know where it came from, but it was, like, so non-judgmental.”

Since then the unwieldy chair, which weighs approximately 200 lbs and is prone to deposit both splinters and flakes of decaying leather and foam on the floor, has followed Greene to every house he’s occupied, often taking center stage in the living room “because it’s the most welcoming thing in the house.” The chair currently has pride of place opposite the X-box, lurking defiantly in the corner of the living room and scaring the cat.

“I think the chair hates me,” whispered Hendrick, with a worried glance at the malevolent heap of misshapen cushions. “I think Aaron talks to it sometimes, which is way creepy. And I think the chair talks back.”

The potentially possessed chair had no comment, but its pungent odor and aggressively decaying surface reminded this reporter that he had somewhere else to be and something better to do than write about a hideously funky chair and the dysfunctional relationship of a pair of entitled twenty-somethings arguing over the furniture.

“If I don’t survive the night, tell the police it was the chair,” said Hendrick. This reporter promises to do no such thing.

 

Infamous Rabbit Spreads Terror Nationwide Once Again

bombs

The unrepentant terrorist commonly known as Peter “Boom Boom” Cottontail has once again strewn his dangerous wares in yards around the nation, causing widespread panic and pushing bomb squads to their limit as local law enforcement struggles to deal with the situation.

“Cottontail’s predictable, we expect him to strike according to his own bizarre calendar,” said Lieutenant Karl Lowry of the Chicago PD. “Every year, first Sunday after the first full moon of the Spring season. But this year it seems especially bad. Damn things are everywhere.”

Cottontail is known for his colorful bombs, which are garishly decorated and about the size and shape of an egg.

“They’re not usually well-hidden, but there are so many of them,” groused Lowry, grimacing as he watched a bomb-defusing robot carefully scoop a handful of the treacherous orbs into a kevlar-lined barrel. “We just don’t know how the bastard does it.”

Most perplexing to law enforcement is the fact that, although millions of the ovoid explosives are deposited in suburban lawns around the nation in literally a single night, Cottontail is commonly thought to work alone.

“Drones,” said Lowry. “I bet he uses drones.”

Although none of the orbs has ever exploded, law enforcement officials stress that families should stay indoors until the hazardous objects have been removed and disposed of properly.

“The worst part is how colorful and pretty the things are,” said Evelyn Wemple, a mother of three who stood huddled on her doorstep watching the bomb disposal unit tramp over her lawn until they gave the all-clear sign. “It’s almost as if Cottontail is trying to lure children to find them. What kind of sicko does that sort of thing?”

Thanks to years of practice, the bomb disposal teams across the nation expect to have the nation’s yards cleared of the fiendish devices by the end of the day.

“Until that time, we recommend everyone keep their kids indoors and away from anything colorful and egg-shaped,” said Lowry. “Can’t be too careful these days.”

Woodchuck Refuses FOIA Request

woodchuck

Woodchuck “Chuck” Dubois has told petitioners that they can take their Freedom of Information Act request and shove it where the sun don’t shine.

“The quantity of wood I chuck is my own damn business,” snorted Dubois. “This is racism pure and simple. Nobody’s asking Obama how many goddamned pieces of wood he chucked, or whether he could chuck them in the first place.”

Dubois contends that his wood chucking activities are completely irrelevant to his job performance as Undersecretary of the Interior in charge of Arborial Product Aerial Dissemination.

“APAD isn’t just about the airborne relocation of wood and wood-related products,” said Dubois. “It’s about educational outreach, and meetings, and important government contracts! Leave me alone!”

The FOIA request was filed by Gwen Hawkins, age 7, of P.S. 35 in Staten Island, New York. The request was part of a nature project submitted to the science fair.

“I want to know if, how much, what the woodchuck chucks, and also what chuck means, and what is a woodchuck,” said Gwen in an exclusive interview with CBS News. “It looks like a gerbil, but it’s too big.”

“I am not a damn gerbil!” yelled Dubois, pounding the podium. “This FOIA request is illegal! I deny its legitimacy! I deny everything!” The agitated Undersecretary then picked up the wooden podium and tossed it across the stage before disappearing down a hole.

“Looks like about five and a half feet,” said a reporter, measuring the distance from the place where Dubois was standing and the resting place of the podium.

Gwen used the figure in her science project, but did not answer the question of whether or not woodchucks are large gerbils. It is unknown if she earned a passing grade.

Trump Announces Search for “More American” First Lady

trumpsplit

Republican frontrunner Donald Trump has decided that his wife, a Slovenian ex-model, might not be the right first lady for him.

“I love Melania, she’s the best, very classy,” said Trump in hour seven of his daylong press conference on Tuesday. “The best body, she’s got the best parts. But you know, she’s got the accent thing going, and whatever, but I think for the White House we need a homegrown American first lady.”

Trump has been repeatedly criticized by media observers for his wholesale and frequently racist condemnation of immigrant groups. His supporters, however, have embraced Trump’s xenophobic meanderings, and it is likely because of this that the presidential candidate is considering whether to trade in his Slavic wife for a home-grown model.

“Trump likes the Slavic ladies,” said writer Kent Wilshire, who wrote the unauthorized Trump biography ‘All That’s Gilded Sure as Hell Isn’t Gold.’ “Melania’s just the latest. Remember Ivanka? And then there was Marla Maples… She was actually a mistake – Trump met Marla on the set of a James Bond movie where she was playing a KGB spy with a heavy Russian accent.”

Trump was said to have expressed aggravation at having just sold his stakes in the Miss USA competition.

“That was a great competition, that was super, a great supply of lovely girls every year, great talent pool,” said Trump. “You know, in case I needed a pretty girl, I already had a list of the best. Shouldn’t have sold that. Shoulda kept them around, you know, in case I needed to pick a new first lady or whatever.”

It’s unclear how Trump plans to find his new first lady, though he has vowed to apply his usual taste in doing so.

“A Trump first lady needs to be classy,” he said. “She’s gotta have the height, the beauty, the skin. A great Midwestern accent. Tatas. The whole nine yards. Someone who’ll look great on the red carpet.”

It’s unclear whether Melania is aware of Trump’s plans, or if he even plans to divorce her before taking up with a new first lady.

“There’ll be plenty of room in a Trump White House,” said Trump. “She wants to stay, no reason she can’t. We can work out a sleeping arrangement. She may not like it, but these are minor details.”

 

 

Cap’n Crunch Takes Out Toucan Sam With a Drone

crunchdrone

Animal-rights groups have condemned notorious military breakfasteer Cap’n Crunch for allegedly assassinating archival Toucan Sam with a drone attack over the weekend.

“There were only four talking toucans in the world, and thanks to Crunch, now we’re down to three,” said PETA regional commander Gray Huntsworth. “We’re talking the loss of an invaluable resource. His nose was irreplaceable. It always knew. Who do you think trained all those bomb-sniffing dogs?”

“Got that self-righteous bastard, didn’t we!” cackled Crunch in a leaked cellphone video. “Your goddamned nose didn’t smell this coming, did it!” The diminutive naval commander can clearly be seen hopping with glee as the drone delivered two Hellcat missiles directly to the palm tree where Sam’s international cereal production headquarters were located.

Crunch and Sam have been bitter enemies since the toucan first swayed impressionable kids away from the sweet, but monotone, Cap’n Crunch towards the nuclear-colored Froot Loops. Crunch has since rolled out various multicolored variants of his products with increasing desperation, to no avail.

“The real problem is, Crunch is convinced that the CIA provided Sam with assistance,” confided a source at the Navy. “The private sector had been trying to develop superchromatic toroidal breakfast cereals for years. Sam could only have achieved that technological breakthrough by using classified government research.”

The future of Froot Loops is unclear; only Sam knew the full recipe. It turns out that his three nephews, who everyone assumed were being trained to take over the business, aren’t actually sentient birds but instead repeat things mindlessly.

Despite the magnitude of the crime, it’s unclear how or if Cap’n Crunch will be prosecuted, as the attack was conducted from international waters.

“Why do you think I run my operation from a ship?” chortled the diminutive cereal magnate, rubbing his hands together. “Arr, matey. Who wants some breakfast?”

Terrorists Detonate Gluten Bomb in Portland; Thousands Sure They Will Die Any Minute

gluten

Terrorists unleashed a chemical horror on the steps of the Central Library in downtown Portland, Oregon, flooding the area with weaponized gluten particles and causing almost certain health issues for thousands of potentially exposed citizens.

“The library is basically lost,” lamented Marlene French, a passerby who valiantly attempted, but failed, to rescue a calico cat wearing a bandanna from the billowing cloud of gluten as it menacingly disseminated down the street. “The city will have to evacuate downtown. Anything else would be totally irresponsible.”

Gluten is a toxin widely known by intelligent truth-seekers everywhere to definitely, probably, almost certainly, maybe cause a range of ailments including but not limited to psoriasis, chlamydia, tooth decay, cirrhosis, pentangular uvula failure, mange, diabetes, hair loss, hair gain, earlobe paralysis, peripheral vascular ennui, toe glaucoma, septic tank top, unrequited arterial plaque, follicular ectoplasmic neomandibular rupture, “dad bod,” patchouli sensitivity, partial nostril ablation, and excessive employment abridgment.

So far, nobody has claimed responsibility for the detonation, which ruthlessly unleashed billions of gluten particles into the atmosphere, but fingers have been pointed at the “Y’all Quaeda” sovereign citizen movement, ISIL, the “Big Gluten” military-industrial complex, and the Oregon State Police as possible perpetrators.

“My kids had to see this!” hissed Lars Brandt, owner of an independent bicycle tour company, who was across the street when the bomb was detonated. He was shielding his three-year-old twins from the scene with an issue of the Portland Mercury. “Naked gluten particles! Right there in the air! And their therapist is on a kayaking trip for another week!”

Dissemination of the toxin was thankfully limited by the fact that it was raining, although widespread concern was raised for the fauna living in the sewer system and a collection was started to provide medical care and habitat cleansing for the indigenous population of GMO-free alligators which inhabit the Portland city sewer system.

Terrorist groups around the world declined to admit involvement in the incident.

“What the hell is gluten?” said an ISIL spokesman.

 

 

Umberto Eco Leaves Behind Will Nobody Can Understand

Umberto-Eco.-007

Noted author and scholar Umberto Eco, who passed away from a hermeneutic dysfunction, has left behind yet another text which nobody can understand. Unlike his novels and monographs, however, the final mysterious text is his last will and testament, which several people are strongly motivated to decipher.

“It’s some kind of amalgam of Latin, Sanskrit, and eighteenth-century Turkish thieves’ cant,” said a frustrated attorney at the firm handling Eco’s estate. “It’s quite lovely actually. Won the Viareggio Prize when it was first written. But as a legal document, it leaves something to be desired.”

Eco was known for pioneering the field of interpretive semiotics, as part of the Italian academic reform movement of the 1970s. Interpretive semiotics was intended as a means of providing employment for disenfranchised graduate students incapable of speaking clearly or navigating the world outside a university campus.  As such, it was a remarkable success; by 2015, more than forty percent of all graduate students in Italy were engaged in attempting to figure out what the hell semiotics was about.

Eco accidentally earned international fame in 1984 when one of his novels, The Name of the Rose, inexplicably became a best-seller. The dense text, full of convoluted conspiracies set in a medieval monastery, looked perfectly lovely on coffee tables around the world.

Eco’s heirs are anxious to figure out what his will means, but experts say it will be many years before a true understanding may be reached.

“It’s analogous to sequencing the human genome, although Professor Eco’s theories are far more intricate than mere human DNA,” said Professor Maria Strega, of the University of Milan. “We think that with another twenty years and thirty billion euros we might be able to figure out who gets his stamp collection.”

 

 

Harper Lee’s Death Spells Trouble for Upcoming DC Universe Movies

harperdc

The death of noted author Harper Lee has thrown DC Entertainment into a panic as apparently the struggling comics behemoth had just signed a $50 million contract with Lee’s representative to plot out the next six DC movies.

“Every book Lee wrote became a classic,” said visibly frustrated DC vice president Harmon Greene. “For Christ’s sake, we just wired the goddamn money on Monday. She couldn’t have stuck around for at least the first draft?”

DC has been struggling to turn its iconic comic book characters into a profitable multi-film ‘extended universe’, delaying projects for years, making questionable casting and creative decisions, and generally failing to impress anyone. DC has also announced that the recent “New 52” overhaul, in which they rebooted virtually every comic title they publish, has been a “mistake” and that the company is seeking to re-reboot again. Harper Lee was an integral part of this strategy.

“She was gonna write the script for the Justice League movie, get the project out of development hell,” said Greene, slamming back a shot of bourbon. “Where else are we gonna find a writer with the chops to bring this together? I hear Hemingway’s good. Is he still around?”

DC has floundered as rival comic company Marvel has soared in recent years. With every record-breaking movie Marvel released, from Iron Man to Guardians of the Galaxy, DC executives tore their hair out and tried to reverse-engineer Marvel’s success.

“Iron Man was a D-level hero, and a fucking alcoholic to boot,” fumed Greene. “And so was Robert Downey Jr. for that matter. What the fuck happened? How are they making money off this? Did they make a deal with the devil? Cause we’re ready to deal, man. Lucifer, my door is always open to you.”

Critics have argued that DC’s real problems are limited creative vision and a total lack of understanding on the company executives’ part of what makes their heroes popular.

“Hiring Harper Lee is sort of an example of just how much DC doesn’t get it,” said noted film critic Jeffrey Toobin. “Ten to one someone in the DC offices thought she was related to Stan Lee.”

“She’s not?” said Greene, his mouth agape. “Oh, fuck. Maybe it’s a good thing she died.”

Snow Day Activities When You’re Out of F***ing Riesling

rachel-williams-wine-in-p-007

Ladies, you know the drill. You weather report calls for snow, you get the dreaded call at 6 fucking o’clock in the morning. Yes, the district has wimped out again and closed the schools because of “inclement weather.” Your two (three? four? who can count?) little darlings are yours.

All. Day. Long.

Well, you’ve been proposing that they buy some goddamned school buses with four wheel drive at every PTA meeting all year, so it’s not like you didn’t try. To the point: the day stretches out ahead of you, golden with opportunity, the city plowed your driveway in again, and you’re out of the most important parenting tool of all. That’s right, your goddamned sister drank the last bottle of fucking Riesling when she came by last weekend.

Don’t panic! There are many things you can do to make the day educational, fun, and tolerable. The key is optimism and planning!

First: feed your lovely offspring. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, because it will distract the little fuckers while you scour the cabinets for something besides Riesling. For a fun breakfast activity, try the following recipe:

  • A one-pound bag of M&Ms (or marshmallows, or a box of Lucky Charms)
  • A large bag of frozen peas (Legos will work if you don’t have peas, or nails. Be creative! Anything small and numerous will do)

Mix together in a big pile on the kitchen table. Tell the kids they can eat all the candy they can pick out of the pile. (Be sure to mix well!) This will buy you a good thirty minutes. (If your kids are too good at this, slow them down by requiring them to use chopsticks.) Meanwhile, you can break out the Merlot, because this early in the morning your taste buds are still asleep and you can still stand the cloying crap.

Now you’ve survived the early morning, and your kids are gazing with shining sugar-hyped eyes out the window at the magical white stuff covering the world. Share in the beauty of the moment while you quickly stuff them into their snowsuits! Vicariously participate in their wonder as you shove them out the door! The next hour will be an excellent time to work on the Zinfandel while you keep an eye on things through the window.  (Be sure to lock the doors so your children don’t get tempted to cut short their outdoor time!)

After that, it’s time to pop Frozen into the DVD player. Which is a failsafe plan because 1) as a parent of children under the age of 10 there is 100% chance you have at least one copy of this movie, and 2) Elsa has magical powers which compel even the most jaded of young video addicts to more or less watch the movie no matter how many times they’ve seen it. There isn’t really a good wine that goes with Frozen, but by this point you’re down to the Shiraz, and let’s face it, you’ll be too busy trying to get “Let It Go” out of your brain to pay attention to what you’re drinking. This is serious business, so let it go and bottoms up!

You may notice that a few hours of your afternoon may disappear somehow, but that’s not a problem, it’s a goal. When you wake up, count the kids. All there? Terrific! Celebrate with a little Two Buck Chuck. You normally use this stuff to clean the grill, but you’re in hour nine thousand of the day and it’s either that or drink the vanilla extract. (Which you may do anyway. Go ahead. We won’t judge you.)

All good things must come to an end! Twilight twinkles on the frost-covered earth, the children are stuffed with chicken nuggets and tucked into bed, and you can settle in for a relaxing cozy evening with your hubby.

Unless the bastard forgot to pick up more Riesling, in which case send the fucker back out into the snow for more. There are limits, after all.

 

British Tourist Faces American Burger Challenge, Dies

JS55171486

Alan Stimpson, 37, of Leeds, UK, perished after valiantly attempting to down an 8 pound cheeseburger at Hungry Hal’s House of Beef in Stanton, PA.

“It’s both magnificent and horrifying,” tweeted Stimpson as the waitress placed the enormous burger before him. “Much like America, truth be told.” He live tweeted the meal until just before passing out from acute beef poisoning.

The House of Beef Burger Challenge includes 8 pounds of meat on a specially baked 18-inch bun, topped with a half-pound of cheddar, six tomatoes, and an entire jar of mayonnaise; the burger is served with a side of a pound of fries and two cups of macaroni and cheese. Any customer who eats the whole thing in 60 minutes or less gets the meal free.

Stimpson and his wife, Lucille, are minor Twitter celebrities in the UK, where they routinely live-tweet meals at restaurants throughout England. Their tweets, peppered with wry descriptions and plenty of pictures, have garnered more than 500 thousand followers.

“Coming to the US was like our Mount Everest,” said Lucille sadly. “Years of bangers and mash in the most unwholesome pubs, we thought we were ready. But there’s just no preparing for this.”

When it became clear that her husband was flagging and turning odd colors as he hesitantly forked mouthful after mouthful of the burger into his mouth, Lucille tried valiantly to help him by eating the macaroni, even though this violates the Hungry Hal’s terms of service.

“Don’t really know what the big deal is,” said Hal, owner of the restaurant. “Normally at least four or five people a week finish this challenge. Some stay for dessert as well. Brits can’t handle their beef I guess.”