Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Man's Inner Animal

With modern technology, culture, and social networks, it’s easy to forget that we are animals. We need to eat, breathe, drink water, defecate, and menstruate just like all the other mammals that roam the planet.

Sometimes, the tools and instincts that benefited us in prehistoric times are detriments to us as civilized people. When people get nervous and excited, their bodies frequently produce adrenalin, which acts as a stimulant. This was useful for primitive man, who could use the burst of energy to aid with hunting mammoths or warring with the neighboring tribe. In modern times, a student may feel nervous anxiety about taking a major exam, but the simulative effects of adrenalin will be a detriment to his or her ability to concentrate.

This scenario also plays itself out during sex. Let’s say a man and a woman are having the greatest sexual experience of their lives. They find each other attractive, the room is comfortable, the light is low and soft, and the physical contact is ecstasy. Then the woman gets a hair in her mouth. Suddenly, everything has to stop while the woman wipes her lips across her forearm. If that fails, she may need to stick her thumb and forefinger into her mouth to pick the hair off of her tongue. Needless to say, interrupting coitus to root around the mouth is not very sexy.

And what’s the purpose of this instinctive reflex to remove hair from our mouths? Ostensibly it’s for hygienic purposes, but considering the participants may have had a tongue, penis, vagina, anus, foot, or rubberized reproduction of a giant phallus in their mouths, a hair is hardly a concern.

Since God somehow thought it important to prevent man from consuming sabertooth tiger hair, we now have to contend with awkward sex. Thanks God.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Something I Found in My Spam Folder

Let’s face it - you lead a busy life. You have a job, commitments to family and friends, and projects around the home that require your constant time and attention. Modern technology can be a big help, but it’s also a nuisance. In the meantime, you have questions that need answering.

That’s where we step in. Here at Timony Enterprises Inc., we have the answers. For a small fee, our crack team of researchers and computer experts will take the time to find the information you need so you can go on leading your busy life. Want to know when the next episode of “Two and a Half Men” is airing? When the Magna Carta was signed? How many calories are in four ounces of chicken? Timony Enterprises will find an answer for you and return it in one business day. Encyclopedias are expensive and take up a lot of space. Trips to the library are long and boring. Those TV guides clutter the home. With Timony Enterprises, all of these things are relics of the past. Just think of the time you’ll save!

Timony Enterprises uses state-of-the-art Google technology to harness and cull the accumulated knowledge of the world to pinpoint the information you have to have to help you get on with your day. Whether you need to know if rubber cement is toxic or just want the score from last night’s ballgame, at Timony Enterprises, your knowledge is at our fingertips.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Be Nice to Your Tattoo Artist

I know this guy Bruce, but he doesn’t remember me. I’m glad Bruce doesn’t remember me, or he might not trust me to spend the next six hours putting a tattoo on his back.

Two years ago, I saw an ad in the paper that was too good to be true. Bruce was selling a 41” LCD TV for $300. I figured it was probably stolen, but I guess my moral compass wasn’t pointing too closely to righteousness for me to get a good deal on a TV. I went up to Bruce’s apartment in Sellwood to check it out. The picture looked good, and all the buttons on the remote worked, so I bought it. Then I took it home, and wouldn’t you know, the TV works great as long as you don’t have it on for more than 15 minutes and don’t try turning it on again for the next three hours. I tried calling Bruce to return the piece of shit, but he didn’t answer. Now I’m out $300 plus $25 to dispose of the fucking thing.

Of course, I get to now stencil something on Mr. Cheating-Fuck’s back. He wants me to put “THUG LIFE” in Old English letters from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. Now I know I can’t do something completely freehand, because he’ll see it in the mirror and kick my ass. I thought about hiding pictures of Hello Kitty or his face sucking a dick in one of the letters, but I can’t do that without tracing it first. So I decide to do the tattoo normally, and after six hours, Bruce is happy with my work and gave me a $100 tip.

In six months when the temporary ink I used for the letter “T” fades, I will have my revenge.

Sunday, March 28, 2010

"World War II Was a Major War" By Will Divide Jr., Age 9

World War II was a major war, unlike Lysol’s war on dirt, which is a minor war. In World War II, America and England were friends, or “allies.” Apparently, America was no longer mad about the Revolutionary War or the War of 1812. (I never understood the War of 1812. Couldn’t both America and England just agree that the year was 1812? What did people expect would come after 1811? It seems a shame so many people had to die because no one could count.)

In World War II, the Germans were the bad guys. You could tell that they were the bad guys because they used swastikas. These days, if you draw a swastika, the teacher will send you directly to the principal. The Germans put swastikas on everything. That’s just how bad the Germans were.

Another ally of the Americans was the Russians. Many German soldiers died when they tried to invade Russia in the winter. Apparently, it was so cold that the Germans froze to death. I think that in order to win the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, we should get a bunch of freezers and freeze the terrorists to death.

In World War II, America used a nuclear bomb for the first time. To make the bomb blow up, they needed to split tiny atoms in two. This required a small but really sharp razor blade. The result of “the bomb” blowing up was mushrooms, clouds, and half-sized atoms. Also, a lot of people died.

In conclusion, World War II was a major war where millions of people were killed. I hope that the threat of a bunch of freezers will prevent another world war from happening.

Friday, March 26, 2010

Pirates

I don’t understand the pirate craze of the last few years. Somehow, Disney and Jerry Bruckheimer make a movie based on a ride at an amusement park, and the world eats it up. Why do we need to romanticize bad people from the past? Whether it is cowboys who slaughtered the natives, gangsters who preyed on human’s natural predilection for vice, or pirates responsible for slaughtering and raping people for their own financial gain, Hollywood has been turning the bad guys into heroes for generations.

Naturally, my girlfriend Lupe thinks differently. She adores pirates. Lupe really wanted to attend “Dress Like a Pirate Night” at a bar we frequent. I would rather sit through a Meredith Baxter Birney Lifetime made-for-TV movie marathon than go to pirate night at the bar, but I love my girlfriend, so I agreed to go with Lupe under the condition that I got to choose my own costume.

When we got to the Bar on “Dress Like a Pirate Night,” I got a lot of stares, giggles, and “ahoy maties. Your costume be awesome.” When the bar gave out the award for best costume, I walked away with the top prize and $100, which is pretty impressive considering I was just wearing stuff from my dresser.

What was the costume that got all of the acclaim? It was actually simple. All I did was wear shorts and a t-shirt. On the shirt, I stenciled “Somalia.” I also carried a large black squirt gun that looks a lot like an assault rifle. It probably helps as well that I am skinny and dark-skinned.

One hundred dollars can buy a lot of rum.

Thursday, March 25, 2010

Fashionable Amish sells out

My cat Stella is the messiest and fussiest when it comes to her litter box. With most kitty litters, she won’t come near it when there is anything in the box, meaning I have to clean shit off of the rug (or worse, my bed).

At first I tried every exotic kitty litter I could find, but Stella rejected every one. That’s why I’m happy I finally tried Scoop Away©. Now Stella happily poops seven or eight times before I need to change the litter. Scoop Away© also does a really good job of hiding the odor. And the piss clumps into nice little globs that are easy to scoop out. With a variety of different products to choose from, from the multi-cat variety to the litter with freshening crystals, Scoop Away© is the best kitty litter product for all of your kitty needs.

Sometimes products have “off label” effects that the company can’t advertise but that consumers should know about. Here are some useful off label uses for Scoop Away©.

• Fill one of those red cups they use for kegs halfway (or more, or less) with some Scoop Away©. Then stick your dick in it. You’ll get harder than a seventeen year-old who found his father’s porn stash. It’s faster and cheaper then Viagra, and comes in handy when you’re too drunk to get it up.

• Get a few granules of Scoop Away©, chop them up and snort them. You will have the most blissful 30 minute hallucinatory experience of your life. Oh the visuals you will have! I’ve heard you can freebase Scoop Away© too, but I’ve never tried that.

Buy Scoop Away© today!

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

If I were to die tomorrow

If I were to die tomorrow, I don’t expect people to make a big fuss over it. Sure, people will be sad, but they’ll get over it. I’m more concerned about what will happen to this blog upon my death.

Of course I do not want someone to continue the blog using the Will Divide pseudonym, as I don’t think any living writer could successfully match my level of genius. Fashionable Amish should be retired and put into book form. I’m sure Random House or Simon & Schuster can see the piles of money to be made publishing high quality, entertaining prose.

Sales will probably start slowly but turn into a raging forest fire with a strong word-of-mouth and Twitter campaign. From there it will explode, with featured stories about the book on Yahoo and AOL, a NYT book review, and glowing reports on all the network nightly news programs.

One enterprising junior professor at some liberal arts college will start a class on the writings of Will Divide. Students will study subjects such as Will Divide, Jr.’s sociological tautology. The work will prove so ripe for academic analysis, that other professors around the world start teaching my writing. Soon, volumes of critical analysis of Fashionable Amish will line college libraries everywhere, with titles such as “Unfashionable Amish: How Will Divide Revolutionized Modern Writing.”

A few disenfranchised people in Portland will be so inspired by my writing that they form a religion based on it. At first people will scoff at them, but eventually my writing will prove so powerful that people will join the religion en masse. After a few years, all the people of the world will follow the religion based on my writing, and world peace will be achieved.

Is that too much to ask?

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

Fight Club

Fight Club is a great movie. What sticks with people the most from that movie is of course the club itself where grown men beat the shit out of each other for fun. It’s the ultimate catharsis and the best male bonding experience possible.

That’s why I belong to a fight club. Before you get all bothered about me telling you about this, you should know that the first rule of the fight club that I belong to is, yeah, it’s totally fine to talk about Fight Club. How else are you going to know when the next Fight Club is? The second rule is that if you’re going to drink, you should bring beer. There will probably be enough beer for you there, but you don’t want to be a dick. The last rule of fight club is that if you come to fight club, you have to fight.

Of course none of us want to get battered or injured. That’s why our fight club plays itself out through Street Fighter for the PS3. Sure beating my friends and friends of friends at a video game is satisfying, but it’s not the same thrill as pounding a man’s face into a crimson mess with my bare hands. Still, this is the best catharsis I can expect to have now that I have mouths to feed and a mortgage bleeding me monthly. The safer arena we use is unfortunate because the friend that Bill brought last time to fight club had a face that you just want to pound.

Monday, March 22, 2010

Craigslist casual encounters ad: Looking for my first – W4W – 26 – Pearl District

I’ve never been with a woman before. Can you be my first?

I’ve always thought women were beautiful. A pretty face, curvy hips, and cleavage are the kind of things anyone would appreciate, male or female. I think Monet’s ‘Water Lilies’ is beautiful too, but I don’t necessarily want its face buried between my legs if you know what I mean.

Although I find women beautiful, I love men. It’s a turn on to have a man grab and hold you with rough hands and scratchy faces. What I like most about being with men is the desire in their eyes when they’re with you. Then it dawned on me that I could be craved by a woman the same way, only with smooth skin and soft hands.

Are you under 30, attractive, sexy, and adventurous? I am all of those things and more! So feel free to drop me an email, and we can get this started.

Of course, the internet is a scary place. As a condition of me doing this, my boyfriend Barry is going to be screening all of the women that respond. He wants to be sure that my first female experience is a positive one. Barry, will meet you if he thinks you may be worthy. If he likes what he sees, Barry will have sex with you to ensure that you have the necessary skills and abilities to be with me. Don’t take it personally if you have sex with Barry but still do not get to meet me; Barry has very high standards. (After all, he chose me!)

Rest assured that I am a woman excited about my first lesbian encounter and not just some guy trying to get in your pants.

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The best soup ever

“Do we have any of the cream of asparagus soup left?” James asked popping into the kitchen during the heart of the lunchtime rush at the restaurant.

“There’s probably a cup left,” I replied. We have never come close to running out of soup at lunch.

“Save that cup for the manager,” James said as he took the corned beef and tuna salad sandwiches to table 8, “She wants another cup. Your cream of asparagus was a big hit.”

That’s what I was afraid of.

The day started off like any other Tuesday. I came in at 6:00 AM to receive the deliveries and start making the soup. We have never served cream of asparagus soup at the restaurant before, but I was confident of the recipe. I had the soup simmering when my girlfriend Maria showed up on her way to work. Now that Maria is back in school, we have to find time to see each other whenever we can. It had been six days since we had last had sex, so we used the opportunity for a quicky.

Even though having sex in the kitchen is against health code, I still want the food to be clean, so afterwards I sanitized all of the surfaces before I started chopping lettuce for salads.

Right before the restaurant opened for lunch, I discovered something hidden beneath the froth at the top of the pot of soup. It was the condom Maria and I used. I didn’t have enough time or ingredients to make new soup, so I fished out the condom and served the soup at lunch.

I wonder if the next time that I make cream of asparagus soup, should I masturbate in the pot?

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Will Divide revealed

The internet is abuzz with speculation. Who is Will Divide, world famous blogger of all things vulgar and preposterous in the blog ‘Fashionable Amish?’ Is it notorious prankster Ashton Kutcher? Or is it that weirdo that you used to go to college with? Well dear readers, it’s about time I came to you with the truth.

My name is Sally Walker. I’m a 29 year old mother of two living in Douglassville, Arkansas, about five miles outside of Little Rock. I have a loving husband who works in medical recordkeeping and two school-aged sons. We are active in the church, and I always have a pan or two of coconut bars ready for school bake sales. When not doing stuff with the boys, my husband and I enjoy watching Grey’s Anatomy, playing Scrabble, and tending to the vegetable garden.

Although I have a full and rich life, I need an outlet from time to time. So two years ago, I took a job as a dominatrix in Little Rock, which is a lot of fun. A couple of months ago on an unseasonably warm day, I decided to take the bicycle out. While I wasn’t paying attention, I hit a pothole which caused me to break my left arm and bruise my side. This effectively suspended my career as a dominatrix. It seems men don’t want to be humiliated by a woman in a cast with bruises on her face.

I’ve started typing papers for local college students to make up for the lost income, but I still felt unfulfilled. That’s why I started this blog.

For you, this blog may be a laugh once a day. For me, it’s as satisfying as having the mayor on all fours licking my boot.

Friday, March 19, 2010

The problem with internet porn

Internet porn lacks a sense of humor. Most internet porn forgoes the formality of introducing the participants and cuts straight to fornication. If there is any introduction, it to show that the people having sex either don’t know each other or are somehow forbidden to have sex but are doing so anyway. One example of this is the guy in the men’s locker room who encounters an attractive woman for some reason, which is supposed to be funny.

What internet porn needs is a healthy does of black comedy. Take the following scene featuring Destiny and Topher.

We open with a shot of Destiny wearing lingerie opening the door for Topher. Topher is wearing a shirt that says he’s a plumber and is holding a wrench. Destiny and Topher discuss her clogged drain problem with a conversation peppered with sexual innuendo.

Then the sex happens. At first, Destiny intersperses porn-appropriate banter between the grunts and moans such as referring to her body parts in the third person. Suddenly, Destiny says loudly, “I love you,” which causes Topher to wince. She follows this up with, “I want to be with you forever.” Then Destiny yells, “I want to have your babies!”

This comment makes Topher stop the sex. He turns off-camera and says, “I can’t do this Phil. She said that she wants to have my babies. I’m not wearing a condom here.”

Phil from off camera responds, “Destiny, shut the fuck up, and Topher, don’t stop fucking her. We can fix the sound in post-production.”

Then the camera pans to a fully dressed woman who is sitting offstage. She appears to be Topher’s wife. “You better do what the director says, Topher,” the woman scolds. “We need the money. I’m not returning those shoes!”

And scene.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

The perfect birthday present

My son Todd is difficult to buy gifts for, which is frustrating since I consider myself to be an expert gift-giver. My Mother-in-Law still raves about the meat smoker I bought her for Christmas. And my niece says that the karaoke system I bought for her wedding was her favorite gift. Despite my best efforts, I can never seem to get something that Todd likes.

Todd listens to a lot of music, so two years ago I bought him Rock Band for the PS3. I thought this gift would be a big hit, but when Todd opened the gift, he looked disinterested. I have never seen him play with it, and I don’t know where in the house he’s keeping it. Last year, his grandparents gave Todd their old Plymouth. I thought it would be cool to get him a great car stereo. I bought a new Alpine CD player complete with an IPod docking station and voice recognition. Within a month, Todd had pulled the stereo from the car.

This year, I was especially determined to find Todd something that he would like for his birthday. I thought about getting him a cool pair of Nikes, but that’s not good enough. I even looked into buying him an LCD TV, but I could see him unwrapping it and looking at the TV disapprovingly. After many unsatisfactory ideas, I realized the perfect gift was obvious. It’s something that I know Todd would use and enjoy – a big bag full of crack.

When Todd opened my present, his eyes got so wide I thought they would pop out of his head. His blistered lips formed a large grin that I hadn’t seen since he was a boy. It warms a mother’s heart to see her child so happy.

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

On the health care bill

I can’t believe that the Democrats are going to pass their health care bill without a single Republican supporting it. Republicans did nearly everything they could to stop this train wreck; ultimately, the Democrats appear to be able to exert their will.

I don’t want to be one of those bloggers that assumes that this is somehow the end of America as a free and democratic society. That’s a likely outcome, but not the only possibility. Instead of speculating, let’s look at facts, stuff that’s actually in the bill that’s going to pass.

• No federal income tax for people in Nebraska.
• Bureaucrats deciding when the elderly should die
• Tax increases for every American (except Nebraskans, of course)
• Free health care to any registered Democrat on my tax dime
• Free sex change operations!

You think I’m crazy? You think I’m making this up? It’s in the bill people! Check it yourself.*



* Now, some people may notice that I do not have any links to reference material to corroborate my claims. That’s just to show you how sure of them that I am. If I wanted to, I could have put links to other blogs that just echo the same non-sourced assertions. Also, I could have put up a link to the bill itself, but I’m not stupid. I know that few of you would actually read the bill, and even if you wanted to, it seems like a hassle to Google it right now. Plus, you’re already inclined to agree with me.

Are you angry? You should be. It turns out that it’s easy to get people angry and take action against boogiemen that don’t exist.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Blasphemy

Ever have one of those moments where the snappy comeback comes to you hours after it is effective? This happened to me the other day while buying a present for a friend’s birthday party. Back when I had a job, I bought people nice gifts like a bottle of whiskey or a glass marijuana pipe. Now that I am unemployed, I’ve treated my friends to birthday presents from the cornucopia that is the Dollar Store.

Amid the off-brand toothpaste and plastic jewelry, I found a genuine, paperback King James Holy Bible. My friend isn’t the religious type, but I figured she would enjoy the Dollar Store bounty nonetheless.

As I proceeded to check out, the perky but modestly done up teenage clerk says to me, “The Bible? You picked an excellent book!”

I mumbled something back about how it was a great value for a dollar. It was later that day that I came up with some better responses.

“An excellent book you say? Someone should tell the Muslims that.”

“It’s no ‘Da Vinci Code’.”

“You can never have too much kindling.”

“It’s not only an excellent book, it’s THE Good Book.”

“The Bible? I thought I was buying ‘The Bibble,’ a children’s story about a hamster.”

“I’m just buying this because I read on the internet that Bible pages are the best for cleaning up spilled bongwater.”

“It’s cheaper than toilet paper.”

“Thanks. I intend on burning it at my next Satanic Church service. It’s good that you guys have a lot of copies. I’m going to need them.”

“I have to read it as a condition of my parole for killing a vicar.”

“I heard about it on Oprah and just had to check it out.”

Monday, March 15, 2010

Turn of the Century House, Season 1

On Tuesday at 8:00 PM Eastern on the Science Channel, we present you a new reality series called “Turn of the Century House.” Our producers have selected the Durado family to participate in an experiment. The family consists of husband Sam and wife Angela, and their two kids Sam Jr. age 11 and Daisy age 6. The Durados have agreed to spend two months isolated from their friends, family, and the outside world. During this time, they will live in our isolated community of trained confederates and technology dating back to the turn of the century. Then the family confesses their struggles in our specially built confessional both. How does modern man deal with antiquated technology? Check out these quotes from the confession both.

Mr. Sam Durado: “The misses and I decided to go out on the town, hoping to catch a show or some other form of entertainment. This was yet another time where the old technology got the better of us. You see, the cell phone that the producers have provided me does not have internet access or an app store. Instead of easily being able to access show times for ‘Being John Malkovich,’ I had to call the theater. How barbaric!”

Sam Durado, Jr.: “The graphics on the Play Station are crap, and you can’t play online. This means I have to play my dad, who sucks at video games. I want my PS3 back.”

Mrs. Angela Durado: “I called the FBI to tell them that Muslim extremists were planning on attacking the World Trade Center and the Pentagon in September of 2001. When they asked how I knew this, I explained that I am on a realty TV show and that I have already witnessed the horrific event. They laughed at me and hung up.”

We hope you tune in.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

The pestering neighbor

The guy who used to live downstairs from me last year was a total asshole. Mike was in his mid-20s and looked clean cut other than the flame tattoos on his forearms. I figured that he might be cool. When I first met Mike, I invited him to come upstairs sometime for a beer. He never took me up on it.

The next time I saw him, he knocked on my door at 10 PM one evening. I had friends over, drinking beers and talking shit. Mike asked me politely to keep the noise to a minimum. I apologized profusely and gave Mike my phone number so that if he had a noise complaint, he could call me rather than having to trek upstairs to remedy the situation. Bad idea. Mike started calling me at least once a week. He called while I was watching the Transformers DVD. He called while I was vacuuming. Mike even called to complain about the noise when Lisa and I were in the throws of passion. Granted Lisa can be loud, but there is an unwritten rule among all apartment dwellers worldwide that you cannot complain about the noise of sex. It was time to teach little Mikey a lesson.

Mike worked the graveyard shift. This meant he was getting home from work around the same time I was leaving for my job. One day before leaving for work, I pulled out the DVD “Shafted,” which is a porn loosely based on the plot to “Shaft.” I particularly like this DVD because it has old-school funky porn music. I put the DVD on repeat, cranked up the volume, and moved all of my speakers to face the floor. Then I left for work.

Mike moved away a couple of weeks after that.

Friday, March 12, 2010

"Jeffery Dahmer Was a Jerk," By Will Divide Jr., age 9

Jeffery Dahmer was a jerk. He killed 17 people. Who does that other than jerks? Not only did Dahmer kill people, sometimes he ate them as if they were made of hamburgers. You shouldn’t eat people, only animals. You shouldn’t eat endangered species either, so in addition to people, you eat shouldn’t panda bears. Also, please don’t eat my cat Fluffy.

Dahmer killed people by convincing them to come to his house and then killing them. Once, I had my friend Timmy over. I just got Mario Kart for the Wii and wanted to play it with him. Timmy wanted to be Luigi, but I’m always Luigi. I was so mad, I could kill Timmy. But I didn’t kill Timmy. Know why? I’m not a jerk like Jeffery Dahmer.

According to some of Dahmer’s neighbors, his home smelled really bad, what with the dead people and all. My Mom took me to Milwaukee last year. Milwaukee smells really, really bad, so I don’t know how any of his neighbors could say that about Dahmer’s apartment.

When I was in Milwaukee, my Mom bought me a snow globe as a souvenir. You shake it up, and little white spots float to the bottom over the buildings and stadiums of Milwaukee. After Jeffery Dahmer killed a guy, he kept the guy’s skull as a souvenir. Thinking about having a skull for a souvenir makes my snow globe seem crappy. Mom is too cheap to ever buy me anything good.

In conclusion, Jeffery Dahmer was a jerk. It’s no wonder he got killed in prison. My Mom’s new boyfriend Ted said that Dahmer was, “a punk bitch that deserved to die.” I always thought a punk bitch was a female dog with a mohawk, but maybe Ted is right.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Ad in the back of Soldier of Fortune magazine

With very high unemployment, bankers holding the world’s economy hostage, ballooning federal deficits, and misguided policies in Washington, the U. S. government as we know it may not be around much longer. In the wake of the political and financial collapse, chaos and anarchy will ensue.* Only the well prepared will survive.

You already have plenty of arms and ammunition. You have stockpiled enough canned goods and water to start your own general store. Your bunker is built and operational. But what about the intangibles you’ll need when the Western world and all of its technology is destroyed?

You sure wouldn’t want to be in your bunker without a working can opener, would you? Just like the can opener, you’ll be happy to have Mosley’s newest product in your bunker.

Yes, for just $29.95, you can now own a 4 oz. container of Mosley Survival Glitter. When only the strongest can survive, you’ll be happy that you were prepared with survival glitter. You can use it to make cheerful cards for your children who are sad to see the world they know destroyed. You can use it to mark highly-visible trails through the broken wreckage that you once called your town. Or just use it to add a little pizzazz to your look when you interview for that mercenary job. You’ll find Mosley Survival Glitter to be the most used canister in the bunker.

Call or email us now, and will ship to you next day air. The post-apocalypse could happen at any time. Your family’s lives may be at stake if you don’t have Mosley’s Survival Glitter.



* Or it could be a major terrorist attack, environmental holocaust, or just plain Biblical Armageddon. Whatever causes the post-apocalyptic era, you’re going to be happy that you have our product.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Beyond the Limits of Man, Season 2, Episode 8

On Tuesday at 7:00 PM Eastern on the Science Channel, we present you the next episode of “Beyond the Limits of Man.” This week’s episode will feature the story of Mr. Roland Havelford of Medford, Oregon. Mr. Havelford lives a normal life. He has a wife and two kids, works as a comptroller for Pacific Gas and Electric, and spends his free time playing shuffleboard and making model trains.

Mr. Havelford is able to live the American dream despite having a unique condition. Like the autistic “idiot savant,” Mr. Havelford’s condition has what some people might consider beneficial qualities.

“A genetic defect in the patient’s DNA produces copious amounts of the lysistic-3 protein enzyme in his digestive system,” Dr. Ellen Wahl, research physician at Oregon Health and Sciences University, explained. “As a result, the patient processes food more efficiently and with byproducts that are nearly unprecedented in the medical literature. We hope that by studying the patient, we may make medical breakthroughs that can benefit all of mankind.”

Mr. Havelford suffers from Fecal Non-mephitis Syndrome, or FNS. In layman’s terms, FNS means that Mr. Havelford’s shit don’t stink.

Despite having bowel movements that observers have described as smelling faintly like freshly baked sugar cookies even after eating a large meal of corned beef and cabbage, Mr. Havelford claims not to have an inflated sense of himself. His “My Child is an Honor Role Student at Medford High” bumper sticker belies this fact.

In a special TV first, for this episode of “Beyond the Limits of Man” you can pick up a free special kit at any local Wal-Mart or Target store. The kit contains a scratch and sniff card, allowing you to compare the odor of Mr. Havelford’s feces to that of a normal person.

We hope you tune in.

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Fashionable Amish's filthiest, most depraved post ever

Fucking hell, Dan’s bachelor party was off the hook. In addition to Pabst and Jameson, Ben brought a bunch of coke and some Ketamine. I mean who brings Special K to a party? Big Willie was in charge of entertainment, and he did not disappoint. The stripper was beautiful and “willing.” Big Willie must have cleared out the booking agent’s Rolodex, because there were also three Latvian midgets, a raunchy magician, and a trained mule that liked sniffing Dan’s crotch. Dan’s cousins from Milwaukee were there, and they’re crazier than a group of frat boys at a whore house.

We started off the party by everyone doing a shot and a line. Dan’s father even participated. How crazy is that? We all got good and loose when the entertainment arrived.

[The following paragraph has been omitted by the censors at Google, Inc. We here at Google strive for absolute freedom on the internet. Unfortunately even Google needs to draw a line somewhere. Obviously child pornography is never permitted. We wouldn’t allow someone to post material grossly offensive to a major religion, such as the Danish newspaper did by publishing pictures of Allah and starting a jihad. Also, if we found out that a post encouraged awkward teenagers to form suicide pacts, we would censor that material. Although this censored paragraph contained none of the banned things listed here, the stuff the author wrote rises to their level. The world is a better, safer place because we censored the paragraph. Signed The Google Censorship Board.]

No one will ever be the same after that. And it wasn’t even New Years!

Monday, March 8, 2010

Craigslist ad - W4M - Newly single - 32, NE Portland

Hello all of you boys in craigslistland. I recently got out of a long-term relationship and think I am ready to start dating again.

I am looking for a man in his mid 30s. You should be over six feet tall, but not over 6’2”. I want to date a white man with dark brown hair that is straight. A little receding hairline is sexy, being bald is not. I prefer men with a lean, muscular body type. One or two tasteful tattoos are okay, but more is too much. Please have all of your teeth, know how to bathe yourself, and wear fashionable but sensible clothes. You should work in construction, like classic rock, and good action movies. If you don’t have a good relationship with your mother, thanks, but I’m not interested. Your favorite book should be “A Catcher in the Rye,” and your favorite TV show should be “Lost.” I also find a mole on the right cheek to be very becoming in men.

If it sounds as though I am being very picky, it’s because I am. I had a very good relationship with my last boyfriend. In fact, I thought we would be together forever. My girlfriends fear that I am tying to replace my ex with his clone, but I don’t see it that way. To me, the time I spent with my ex made me realize I have a specific “type.”

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Cell phone interference (Part 2 of Calling Amy)

The other night Glenda and I are in bed, drinking whine and watching TV. Glenda’s phone rang a lot that night. Right before it rang, her clock radio would make a series of buzzes. The whole thing was over in a second or two. I guess it must have been cell phone interference.

The evening progressed on, and soon Glenda and I were having sex. Glenda was lying on her back when the clock radio buzzed again. Buuuuzz, buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz. Glenda was close to the phone, so she silenced it, preventing us from being serenaded by the “Such Great Heights” ringtone for the seventh time that evening.

“It’s Amy,” Glenda told me. “I’m not answering it.”

“Maybe you should,” I replied jokingly.

Then I proceeded to impersonate Glenda as if she were talking to Amy on the phone. “Hi Amy. [pause] Yes, I’m in bed. Have to be at work early you know. [pause] No, I can’t do a shot with you over the phone. I’m kind of busy. [pause] See, Pete’s got his dick in me right now. I’m surprised you couldn’t tell, what with all of the grunting and moaning going on.”

Glenda laughed as I said this. It got to the point where we needed to stop for a second to catch our breaths. Then we went back at it.

The next day, Glenda told me that instead of silencing her phone, the cell phone interference was a dud, and she instead called Amy who heard us fucking. I can tell that Glenda is embarrassed, as Amy is a bit of a prude. To cut the tension, I’ve started to refer to sex as “calling Amy.”

I hope to call Amy tonight.

Calling Amy (Part 1 of 2)

I love my boyfriend, but sometimes he’s is too big of a jackass. Last Monday we were in bed watching “House” and drinking wine. Then “24” came on, which we both agree has gotten stupid this season. One thing led to another, and before you know it, we were both naked and going at it. I was a little drunk and had to be at work early the next morning, so after the deed, I kicked Pete out and went to bed.

Tuesday was really busy at work. I didn’t even have time to take lunch. When I finally got the chance to leave, I checked my phone and noticed that my best friend Amy (who lives 150 miles away in Seattle) called me twice and left me three text messages. Each message said that she needed to talk to me right away. It’s not unusual for Amy to leave me a message, and it’s even normal for her to leave nondescript, urgent messages. It’s the volume of messages that alarmed me.

I called Amy back while I waited for the bus. Apparently I called her at some point last night. At first she heard some muffled voices and what sounded like Pete ordering up a round of shots. Then she heard Pete and me loudly in the throws of passion. I don’t remember calling her at all.

That’s not the worst part. After telling Pete about the phone call, he now refers to sex as, “calling Amy.” He’ll say, “You look great tonight, I can’t wait to call Amy.” Or he might say, “That was a long call to Amy last night.”

I may have to withhold “calling Amy” just to get him to shut up.

Friday, March 5, 2010

Justin Timberlake is a liar, and I can prove it

Strip clubs are very popular in Portland, and my personal favorite is DV8. They have great music, a laid back atmosphere, and of course the hottest chicks not in a Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. I go at least three times per week and spend more money there than I do on rent and car payments combined.

Around 2003 this one chick started stripping there that blew my mind. In addition to being unbelievable hot with large, real tits and the cutest heart-shaped ass, she could also dance. We talked a lot, and I found out that her real name is Edna. One day Edna started to do this incredible dance to an R&B song that was unfamiliar to me. She told me that her boyfriend was a musician and producer, and that they recorded some songs together. The fact that Edna was dancing to her own music made her even more enthusiastic. I must have spent $300 that night, I was so impressed.

In June of 2005, Edna did not show up for her usual Tuesday evening shift. She didn’t turn up for her Thursday or Sunday shifts either. I asked the owner and some of the other dancers, but no one knew what happened to her. I was devastated.

In the summer of 2006, I was sitting in DV8 drinking a vodka and Red Bull and admiring the dancers, when I heard the DJ spin Justin Timberlake’s “Sexyback.” My heart began to race, since “Sexy” was Edna’s stripper name. Unfortunately, instead of Enda coming out to strip, it was that skank Charlotte again. No one has heard from Edna since 2005.

Thanks a lot Justin Timberlake for getting my hopes up. Fucking liar.

Thursday, March 4, 2010

The parriah

When I walked into work that morning, it was obvious that something was amiss. My coworkers were flashing me knowing glances, conspiratorial smiles, and hushed whispers among themselves. Jane, who is both hideous and gossipy, asks me, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I guess,” I replied timidly.

“You must really like quarterly audits,” Jane prodded.

“Come again?” I asked, but Jane just grinned sheepishly and walked away.

I couldn’t focus on work with everyone behaving strangely towards me. It wasn’t until lunch that I figured it out.

Most people read a book or watch TV before bed. I usually masturbate. Even the nights that I don’t masturbate, I typically get hard in anticipation of self-gratification. Two nights ago, Ed and I went to a concert at the Roseland that didn’t let out until well after 2:00 AM. I got home and rushed straight to bed. When the alarm sounded three hours later, I was tempted to call in sick (i.e., tired and hung over), but I knew I had a meeting to discuss quarterly audits, so I showed up. There are few things more sleep inducing than listening to my boss drone on about quarterly audits while pointing to a projected image in a warm, darkened room. I did my best to stay awake, but Mr. Happy assumed it was time for bed. The meeting ended, but my erection persisted. I got up to leave and did my best to hide the tent in my pants. I stared down at it, trying whatever I could to make it subside. “Baseball, Barbara Bush, dental cleaning,” I though to no avail. Jane, who was talking to my boss at the time, paused her conversation awkwardly. She must have noticed.

I need to quit my job.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

The attentive girlfriend

Craig and I haven’t been going out very long, but it’s been a dream. We connect very well on so many levels. After our first couple of dates, he told me that I was special and that he could see us being together for a long time. Of course the sex is amazing.

I think I am being paranoid, but I’m getting signals that there might be some growing distance between us. The last few times that I have called him, he didn’t respond. His voicemail box is full, but he hasn’t responded to my texts either. It’s entirely possible that his phone is lost or damaged, so I’m trying to give Craig the benefit of the doubt. A couple of days ago, I stopped by his work and left him a very sweet note under the wipers on his car. I fear it may have blown away, so just to be sure that Craig got the note, I spent the evening parked outside of his apartment building. He came home, ate half of a frozen pizza, watched football and went to bed. I’m sure Craig meant to call me, but you know how boys are about football!

I’ve decided to do something really nice for Craig, since he is obviously going through a difficult time. Right now I have his cat over at my place. Craig often leaves our dates saying how he needs to go home to look after his cat, so this way he can spend time with Mr. Whiskers (my name for the cat, not his) and me at the same time. Brilliant!

The last time that I spoke to Craig, he called me a stalker. I think he’s just unaccustomed to a woman paying him proper attention.

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

The Sopranos marathon

Over the last weekend, I decided I’d rather not fight the snow and finally opened the Sopranos box set that my sister bought me for Christmas. I’d been reluctant to watch the show, as I am not a violent person, and I’ve never been all that big a fan of gangster movies. Boy was I wrong! Instead of focusing on who owes who money and who is “taking out” whom, the Sopranos emphasized stuff affecting the modern gangster, such as family squabbles and mental illness. Between getting home on Friday during the first flurries through the snow day on Monday, I watched 29 episodes. It wasn’t until I was leaving the house on Tuesday that I remembered that I took a laptop home with me to work through the snowy weekend.

My Sopranos marathon meant that there was no way we would finish the new website on time and that we might lose the Archer account. As you can imagine, my boss was not pleased. When I went to his office to return the laptop, he gave me quite the earful. I told him to use the snow as an excuse, but he was having none of it. Then, as if by instinct, I bashed my boss on the head with the laptop. “You’ll tell Bob Gorski at Archer that the snow is the reason we’re late!” I then kicked my boss a couple of times and hit him on the head with the laptop again, making sure that the battery hit him squarely in the jaw.

I now have my own office and don’t even have to work on the Archer account anymore. My boss made a full recovery, although he stutters around me a lot more than he used to. Do you have a problem with that?

Monday, March 1, 2010

An email forwarded to 200 recipients

Please join me in praying for the health and wellbeing of Delilah Strong, a six-month old infant in Portland, Oregon, and forward this email to anyone who cares about the welfare of babies like you and me. Delilah is my neighbor’s baby, and unfortunately, her parents are not religious. Seeing as how I am a good Baptist and don’t have any children of my own, I have taken it upon myself to pray for baby Delilah’s health and happiness. Lately, I have heard Mr. and Mrs. Strong talk about a discomforting and potentially debilitating illness affecting Delilah, and it disturbs me to think of someone so young and innocent having to endure so much pain. I pray everyday that Delilah is of sound mind and body, and that if anything were to happen to her parents, that their loved ones would have the good judgment to entrust Delilah’s upbringing in a pious person like myself.

Baby Delilah has a strong case of diaper rash that causes her great pain. You and I know that no ointment or liniment created by man can compete with the healing powers of God’s love. Together our prayers will ensure that Delilah can grow to be old enough to experience God’s love for herself.

Also, if you know of any good Christian single men in the Portland area that are interested in starting a family, feel free to forward them my email address.

I thank you, and may God be with you always.

Megan Foxworth