JESUS CHRIST WINS FISHING TOURNAMENT

Amid controversy, Mesopotamian native Jesus Humphrey Christ has won the Bass Master's Classic Tournament for the 1,996th time. "Oh my me! What a tremendous honor this is. Have mercy!" A rejoicing Christ exclaimed as he accepted his trophy. Christ won titles for both weight and quantity, pulling out a seemingly infinite number of fish from his live-well.

His competitors cried foul however, suggesting that Christ had an unfair advantage because his vacation home is on Angel lake, where the tournament is held.

Christ denies any malfeasance.

RIGHT TO AFTERLIFE BILL PROPOSED

Alabama state representative Harlan Winkins III , intending to carry out his pro-life campaign platform, has introduced a piece of legislation that would make all forms of homicide punishable by death. 

"The State of Alabama has the duty to protect all innocent life from the thought of conception until natural death, as well as into the afterlife, and beyond, possibly...if there might be something else after that. We know that life does not begin at conception, but at the first sip your mother takes from a beer your daddy stole out of his daddy's ice chest...and we know that the afterlife is eternal, but we're not quite sure what happens after that." 

"These, too, are areas of legitimate concern and duty of this state. The General Assembly therefore makes the following findings of fact."

(1) The Alabama Constitution recognizes all life as sacred, including but not limited to, a sensual notion, expressed or otherwise by a potential mother that may eventually result in pregnancy, life from birth to death, and the afterlife or any other lives not mentioned in the Bible, just in case.

(2) If any individual, prenatal, living or after-living murders another living, pre-living, or after-living individual, said individual shall be subject to the penalty of death.

A vote is scheduled for Tuesday.

UNDECIDED VOTER DISSUADED BY SIGN ON NEIGHBOR'S LAWN

"I can't even explain how big of an asshole my next door neighbor is." says Dickie Andrews of Brushwood Boulevard. "This guy actually called the cops on me during my Superbowl party because we were "making a racket" over here. It was like seven o'clock, and we weren't even that loud. Shit, I would have invited the prick if I knew he was gonna be such a hard on about it..." laments Andrews.

"Every year he blows all the leaves from his yard into mine, and gets all butthurt about it because he says they come from my tree. What the fuck, guy? Come on, give me a break. Then, this summer he put up a fence between our yards, except he had it installed backwards."

"I heard they call that a 'fuck you fence'. Seriously. The weird thing is, he put a gate right in the middle of it, presumably so he can blow leaves through it, or personally walk over to tell me to stop enjoying myself in my own home."

"Like I said, he's a douchebag. I hate his fucking guts. He makes me sick, and I want to move because of him."

"I don't even really pay attention to elections. I mean, who has the time? ...and not just to make it to the polls but to sift through all the bullshit. I mean, this one lies, that one only lies a little bit...who cares? I'm sick of all these attack ads. Its like a part time job to try and figure this shit out and honestly, its killing my football  buzz...but then the other day I see he put a political sign on his lawn for some guy, I can't remember who, and I knew instantly that whoever that joker was, if this guy likes him, I don't.

BITCH GETS CUNTY

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HALLOWEEN IS MAN'S PERSONAL NIGHTMARE

McDonough's daughter

Fifty-two year old Mike McDonough hates Halloween. 

He recalls fond memories from his youth, but since lost touch with the excitement Halloween offers, and has now come to dread it. Clutching a mag-lite and brandishing a scowl, he explains why.

"Oh my god, this has got to be the fucking stupidest 'holiday' ever invented. I mean, why...WHY do we tell our kids to never take candy from strangers, yet its universally promoted on Halloween? What kind of pervert is behind this?...and you think it stops when they grow up? Oh no, no no, it gets worse. Right now my daughter is upstairs getting dressed up like a Playboy bunny and heading directly downtown to get drunk and parade her bare ass all over the city. Holiday? Yeah, right. Don't give me that horseshit." Complains McDonough, lamenting his recurring nightmare.

"Worst of all, we live in a plat, so I got asshole parents from every shitty corner of the state driving their little asshole kids to my neighborhood. There's an army of eight-year-olds outside taunting my dog."

"Do you know how much candy we have to buy? Like, $120 dollars worth. What kind of shit is that? ...and God forbid we run out because then I'll be power washing cemented egg residue off of my new vinyl siding all weekend, not that they wont vandalize my property anyway. Last year they threw a fucking corn stalk through our living room window. Those things are like a fucking javelin. You think insurance covers that? Well guess what? It doesn't."

"Halloween is scary. Oh Christ, I am hiding in the basement until this is over."

EAT THE HEAT WITH NEW ORLEANS STYLE CAJUN FLAVORED ICE CREAM

Mr. Eats is at it again! Bringing you the latest in culinary culture, this week's tasty treat hails from the backwater bayous of Louisiana. Possessing a unique duality, New Orleans style Cajun flavored ice cream is remarkably spicy, delivering a tear jerking tang at first lick.

The origin of fiery seasoning dates back to a  pre-refrigerator era, when Cajun was used to mask the taste of spoiling seafood. That heritage dances proudly on the palette, with notes of tainted shrimp commingling with biting heat. It finishes divinely, following with a rich and creamy ice-milk base. 

This zesty and piquant array of saporous characteristics is a lively treat for unsuspecting tourists and yokels alike.

ANONYMOUS COMMENTER BEST THING TO EVER HAPPEN TO PHONY NEWS BLOG

A modest and noble man of brilliance and distinction, known only as "Anonymous" has single-handedly defined a watershed moment in the The Casual Observers one year history, by being the first non-contributor to offer up his two cents in the comment section of an article. We at the The Casual Observers could not be more proud to give him his change.

The event occurred last week, when the unnamed 'nobody's fool' stumbled upon The Casual Observers 'Ten Must Haves Women Want in Men' article during an inferred frantic yet fruitless quest for hair restoration treatment, or some kind of boner cream, maybe.

Disillusioned by the promise of the headline, and appalled by the unfettered honesty of author Siobhan Smith, the bearded beleaguer rose to arms with indignance at the realization of his own pitiful shortcomings.

The incognito crackerjack is responsible for at least two pointed arguments that were unfortunately misdirected. This clandestine virtuoso is thought to believe his opinion is relevant, and that others may even stand to benefit from it. His remarks were universally celebrated by the publishers of The Casual Observers, in spite of the fact that they were disparaging and born of a shamelessly lacking sense of humor.

We, the publishers, do avow to continue to bring our readers quality, insightful content devoted to enriching the world around us, and furthermore, repudiate the practice of measuring success with meaningful numbers. In our commitment to journalistic integrity, a redaction of a counter-comment has been made that referred to the enigmatic man of mystique as a "douche bag" that was emphatically invited to "go fuck your own ass". The Casual Observers regrets the error in judgment.

Read the comments at:

http://thecasualobservers.blogspot.com/2010/10/ten-must-haves-women-want-in-men.html

MAN SUBCONCIOUSLY SABOTAGES FIRST AND ONLY CHANCE OF EVER GETTING LAID

Thirty two year old Jeffrey Wiener, an admitted virgin, recounts numerous proclamations for his supposedly deliberate abstinence from sexual intercourse spanning decades.

With polished and elaborate excuses for never having successfully engaged in any actual sexual act with another human being, Wiener is somewhat of a bullshit artist, explaining that it is fundamentally wrong to physically express fondness or attraction to another without a deep mutual connection or the binding legal acknowledgment of society. Furthermore he asserts that he is smart, because he sustains a 0%  likelihood of reproduction or the proliferation of disease. He also refutes that he is gay.

Wiener does have a staunch record of heterosexuality, infallibly exhibited by his closet full of porn. His failings seem to be his general unattractiveness, mundane personality and a combination of stupidity, unforgivable bullshit, and acting like a big pussy.

Surely anyone can surmise that the laws of probability extend even to those who have very little chance int he first place, and when that opportunity arose Jeffrey Wiener fucking blew it.

Last Saturday evening, Wiener's downstairs neighbor Traci (with an i) Hooker, an ice cream -inhaling, downer popping, cat-hoarding, web cam humping, Wiccan poser, goth-skank recluse, was blasting some lame-ass heavy metal techno music. Wiener politely knocked on her door several times before Hooker flung it open with a wild far off look in her eyes.

"Hey." Hooker said, seemingly aloof.

"Would you mind turning that music down a bit? I'm um, trying to play World of Warcraft." Wiener hesitated as he noticed Hooker was wearing a tattered sheer black dress hastily draped over her hefty silhouette.

"Oh, sorry." she coyly chuckled. "I always play loud music when I study. I'm studying to be a massage therapist. In fact, I need a need a study partner. Could I give you a massage?" It was a clearly an intimate invitation, one Wiener lived up to his name by hastily rejecting.

"No I'm sorry. I cant. Two and a Half Men is on."

"Oh hahahha." Hooker quickly replied with an awful nervous laugh. "I love that show." adding an awkward pause. "Well you can watch it down here if you want while I give you a massage."

"Nah, no, I uh, I gotta do laundry and shit too. You know." Wiener said.

"Oh. Well, are you into tantric?" Hooker asked, assuming Wiener had to be the dumbest motherfucker on earth.

"Ugh, no that band sucks. Well, I gotta go. I'll see ya later." and he proceeded to turn around, leaving Hooker standing there stunned at this unprecedented turn of events.

One has to assume that Jeff is not this ignorant, and that he could not possibly have missed such obvious signals, and he didn't. As Wiener headed back to his apartment, he surreptitiously admitted to himself that he was intrigued by the pungent potpourri of cat piss and dank incense languishing in her dimly lit, perversely provocative dungeon themed apartment, and recalled that his one and only previous girlfriend was as smelly and repulsive as Hooker, but never put out. 

Wiener also questioned to himself if this was not some act of fate. Traci presumably suffered an anguish familiar to Wiener, having the unfortunate namesake 'Hooker', she could likely identify with sustaining years of unrelenting abuse. She seemed to be as big of a freaky loser as Wiener, and she was even willing to do the nasty with him. Wiener knew the odds of all these conditions being met were nil, and this was in reality, a match made in heaven. If he wasn't such a big chickenshit, he would have done something about it.

MY BALLS ITCH

You see that? Its like right down in here, in the groin area, between my leg and balls. Aw Christ, I wake up in the morning and just start clawing at it. You have to really get in there you know? And I can stand there for like  five minutes easily, just digging in my crotch. It fucking sucks, man. You have to be vigilant. I practically bathe in tolnaftate. Twice a day, I have to slather on that greasy cream. Its a real pain in the ass to relive the itch on my balls.

TEN 'MUST HAVES' WOMEN WANT IN MEN

Casual Observers correspondent Siobhan Smith candidly divulges the ten essential characteristics women seek in men.

1) You'd better have all your hair. None of this comb-over, greasy scalp, receding hairline bullshit. No shaved heads to hide your baldness, you're not fooling anyone. No hair plugs, no Rogaine. We want rich, thick hair to run our fingers through. If you don't have a natural head of full hair, fuck off and die.

2) You'd better be 6 foot or taller. No work boots with two inch thick soles to add to your height, either. If you're under 6 feet tall, goodbye Tom Cruise, you wee little excuse for a man.

3) Speaking of size, if you have a five inch dick, don't even look at us. If you have a six inch dick, don't even talk to us. You need to have an eight inch or larger. If you have a seven-incher, we may let you fuck us, but we will laugh about you behind your back and tell all our friends how pathetic you are. We will demonstrate your tiny size by holding our pinky finger in the air and waving it around.

4) Man-scaping is not optional. Those balls better be shaved, bitch. Don't come at us with some furry nutsack expecting a blow job. If you've got a gorilla in your underwear, keep that beast locked up. Gross. No girls want to smell your ball cheese fermenting in all that hair.

5) You'd better have a job, and not one that requires you to wear a visor and name tag to work everyday. If "How may I help you?" is a part of your job requirement, hang yourself. No woman will ever love you. Even if you do get a woman to date you, you will be an embarrassment, and source of shame for her.

6) If you cannot employ proper grammar, and do not know the difference between your and you're, go enroll in an ESL class with the Mexicans and learn your own language, chump. You must speak proper English, and should know what prepositional phrases and double negatives are. If you don't, go find a Guatemalan chick to hang out with your dumb ass. You'll probably get a few months with her before she finds out you're fucking stupid, and leaves you for a black guy with a bigger dick.

7) If you've got a gut or dick do disease (your stomach sticks out further than your dick do) that protrudes over your Wrangler jeans by more than an inch, you're a fat fucking slob. If your navel is distended enough to put a Budweiser can in it, you're revolting. Maybe you can find a dirty fag to fuck you in the dark, but no woman wants you.

8) If you don't drive, or don't have a car, hang your head in shame. No woman is going to waste her time with man who rides the city bus, a 10 speed Huffy, or that she has to pick up in her car. Furthermore, if you drive a Saturn, a Kia, a Hyundai, or a Ford, you have no taste and you're a generic, mindless sheep that smells like cheap. No woman wants to ride shotgun is any of these cars. If she saw anyone she knew, she'd have to duck down in horror of being recognized traveling in one of these shit boxes.

9) If you have meat mittens that pass for hands, use them to wave goodbye as you walk away from us. No woman wants some scratchy, leathery, mangled, dirty fingernail motherfucker feeling her up with those nasty paws. Likewise, just who do you think you are in those sandals? Jesus? Unless you're walking on water to fetch us a glass of wine, put some god damned shoes on, you dirty hippie. Women have never swooned over some douchebag's hairy, fucked-up toes. Keep those nails trimmed, and out of sight, Sasquatch.

10) Last, but not least, if you are in any way disabled, lame, or crippled, stay far, far away. At least 100 feet away. This means no muscular dystrophy, no bum leg, no pigeon arm, no missing fingers-tips included, no cerebral palsy, not wheelchair bound, no prosthetic limbs, no back braces, no dentures, no glass eyes, no cock implants, no hearing aids, no fat. In short, if you are not a healthy man full of vim and vigor, you're worthless. Women want a man who can throw a hump into her without pausing for a break to catch his breath every 30 seconds. Get us off right, or get the fuck out.

***BONUS*** 11) You'd better be able to lick it and lick it right. If you ain't licking it good and proper, we don't want you, we don't need you. Don't even think about going downtown with your lazy ass tongue laying around like the useless piece of meat that your dick is. Don't slobber all over our puss, either. Seriously, if you got your pussy licking ideas or skills from a porn movie, you should be ashamed of yourself. It isn't a one size fits all deal, all women like it done differently. Deal with it. Adapt your skills accordingly.

Additionally, if your idea of fucking is based upon porn movies, you need an intervention. I feel bad for any woman who has suffered underneath you while her puss goes numb with your boring thrusting. She was probably making her grocery list while you pumped away obliviously. Next time, just do the poor girl a favor and put a bag over your cock and let her sit on your face. If you meet the criteria of one through ten, but you can't fuck, you are a bitter disappointment to women everywhere.

MAN SECEDES, CREATES OWN CURRRENCY

After years of frustration battling the IRS, a Missoula, Montana man has successfully seceded from the United States, severing all legal ties. The landlocked nation resides at 3296 Argyle Street, where forty-nine year old Larry Richard is now in his second term as president of the Republic of Larry.

As its only citizen, Richard holds all public offices in his nation, also granting him diplomatic immunity when traveling abroad to the post office or liquor store. He is also the country's wealthiest individual, with the ability to borrow unlimited money from his own private federal reserve.

-But rather than dollars and cents, this currency is counted in 'nipples and dicks', nipples being the primary unit of monetary measure, and dicks being the half unit. "Give me two dicks for a nipple." you might say.

Featuring an image of the Playboy mansion and Richard donning a tattered tank top and brandishing a Budweiser beer (considered a luxury import in the Republic of Larry), the fabled three nipple bills are also decoratively peppered with delectable lobes and piquant protuberances.

"The only thing better than money is tits." says Richard, with hopes that the lascivious loot will persuade sympathizers to join his country. The buxom bread is perceived to be more valuable than its American counterpart, simply because its nicer to look at than some two hundred and fifty year old slave owning drag-queen.

Not to exclude preferences, the half nipple coins known as 'dicks', are less popular.

60% OF NATION'S YOUTH LESS LIKELY TO GIVE FUCK

A recent survey, conducted in over 30,00 high schools nationwide, is revealing some alarming trends that old people -apparently just don't understand. The analysis, derived from a software that recognizes and counts key phrases, showed that only 40% of today's youth ages 14-18 were even remotely concerned with existence as we know it.

Some of the most common phrases returned were "Suck it.", "Bite me.", and "Who cares?". "These are all signs that we have a bushel of bad apples. That's all." said Lemuel Dickins, head of the NAHSPGC (National Association of High School Principals and Guidance Counselors).

Students are weighing in, ironically asserting their indifference. "We're on to you. You're like all a bunch of hypocrites. It's like, not even worth caring." Said Tyler McHutchins, unofficial spokesperson for the unaffiliated extra-curricular 'chip-on-the-shoulder club'.

Most parents are divided on the subject, with paternal sentiments echoing statements like "They're spoiled rotten. I had to do chores for my video games.", while most mothers blamed their husband's alcoholism.

Some scientists were critical, quickly dismissing the findings as irrelevant, claiming that adolescents brains was not adequately developed enough to appraise the reality they perceived. However, proponents of the study argue otherwise, citing that testing of cognitive abilities far exceeded those of previously measured generations, suggesting an inverse correlation between intelligence level and apathy.

CHICK WITH BUTTER-FACE'S ASS STILL AMAZING

"DUDE! You know that chick who works at Cinnibuns in the food court? The one with the amazing ass? Oh my god kid, she's busted, she's busted, I know...but damn her ass is like...KA-POW!! You know what I'm saying? Holy shit! It totally blows my mind every time I see it." Exclaimed an emphatic Neil Schwartz, the day shift manager at Gamers Haven across from the food court.

"Seriously, its epic. I spotted her at the Orange Julius last Tuesday. I stopped dead in my tracks and actually dropped my big pretzel, which also gave me a chance to pick up my jaw." Schwartz continued. "So, I'm all about to make my move on her when she turns around. Then I got a look at her face..." and in a moment of shuttering disgust Schwartz spit out his half-masticated pretzel wad onto her sweater.

"I was in total shock. I mean, how does that even happen? That's like a cruel mistake of nature, and not just to her, but to people like me who think we're about to lay game on the sweetest piece of tail at the Lakeshore Mall, it's like, even more mean."

Oddly enough, the chick with the butter-face didn't seem exhibit the level of surprise one might expect is appropriate for such a situation, tacitly suggesting that this has happened to her before, perhaps even at the same adjoining pretzel stand and Orange Julius. The butter-face girl scoffed and asked "What are you doing?" to the bewildered Schwartz who stood there paralyzed, mouth agape, with the remainder of his pretzel visible. He cleverly responded "Uh...What?"

Exasperated, she abruptly did an about face and proceeded walk away. Suddenly, a wave of motivation overcame Schwartz and he was compelled to pursue this ridiculous ass presented before him. "Wait!" he said as he gingerly sprung forth to catch up to her.

When she turned around again, this time with a smile, her visage struck Schwartz as if like a clothes-line wrestling maneuver. Looking up in horror at the lurid monster looming above him, he began frantically kicking his legs to back away from her.

By this point, 'butter-face' was pretty pissed and stormed off. Yet even after two nauseating encounters with this human yin-yang, Schwartz is still struggling to cope with the obvious dissonance of the situation.

PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE DENIES USING PERFORMANCE ENHANCING EXERCISE

Professional football player Willie McLean is slated to be called before congress to testify on his alleged use of performance enhancing exercise this week. McLean is expected to continue to deny allegations made by his former teammate Derek Sokol, that exercise has contributed to his success.

At Friday's press conference, McLean was quoted as saying "I do not, and have not ever engaged in any type of physical training or exercise of any kind, either personally or in my professional career." McLean's former teammate Derek Sokol insisted otherwise however, in a statement he made under oath.

"Willie and I used to run laps every morning, sometimes starting as early as 5am. When we first started working out together, we said it was just going to be an experiment, but things slowly got out of control." said Sokol.

"We began to notice that we had more energy, more endurance, and more agility. We were getting better, and we knew we couldn't just stop. We used to joke around and call it 'practice', but it wasn't long before practicing became a serious routine. I think it got to the point that the exhilaration he felt, and the constant strive for improvement were the only things that got him out of bed in the morning."

McLean was quick to dismiss Sokol's claims as "...entirely fabricated accounts of events that never actually transpired." and contended that his hulking physique and undeniable talents were innate abilities bestowed upon him by "the big guy upstairs", of course referring to club owner Rutherford Lazabee who drafted McLean from obscurity when he was 12 years old.

In spite of mounting media attention and unrelenting public scrutiny McLean continues to assert that he is as indifferent towards his critics as he is towards his work, and that he is not a man of resolve nor is he capable of mustering enough passion to work any harder than showing up and getting paid.

FEMALE CANDIDATE MISTAKEN TO BE HOT ACCIDENTALLY ELECTED

Amidst a palpable haze of deranged anger, Christine O'Donnell, a Tea party champion, won the republican primary election for Delaware senator with a 6% margin of victory. O'Donnell's win has added momentum to the Tea Party express, an apparent fabricated grass-roots movement funded by wealthy right wing interests and comprised of an exponentially growing fringe harping on groundless fears and moronic complaints, who seek to harness their rage and mask their racism.

Supporter Fred Durgins, a twenty eight year old Wilmington, Delaware construction worker recently joined the Tea Party for no real good reason. "I'm not a racist." he says, but admits "I just don't want a black president." adding that he also loves guns and hates fags. Durgins also blamed president Barack Obama for the current state of "the economy" but was unable to elaborate.

In spite of his complaints about the suffering economy, Durgins was able to afford the $200 fundraiser ticket he purchased, stating "I was told there was going to be food and right wing titties here." However, even while cresting this wave of enthusiasm, Durgins is less than impressed with O'Donnell now that he's gotten a good look at her.

"Some loony skank who is kind of a cross between Sarah Palin and Rachel Ray won a fucking chili cook-off or something. I'm not even sure what she was running for, but apparently her advantage was that she doesn't look like a man. Well, not that much anyway. She could definitely be a softball player, and she looks like she chomps carpet, but you know, not a total dumpster fire."

Durgins went on to say "Anyway, I guess between all the face shots and podiums, no one has gotten a look at the rest of her. I mean, unfortunately this is going to be a deal breaker. She's a fucking linebacker. Seriously, the bitch is hurt up. A real barrel-ass you know what I'm sayin'?...and what's this I heard about her 'dabbling in witchcraft' and is anti-masturbation? What the hell is that all about?"

Adding "Anyway, I could get past it if she was like a smokin' hot goth chick or something, but I swear to god my fucking cock would wince if I realized I voted for that Rosie O'Donnell doppelganger hose-beast. I'm fuckin' outta here."

Durgins is currently politically unaffiliated.

BP RESUMES DRILLING AMERICAN PUBLIC

After what seemed like a nasty break up over the past few months, BP announced today that they have forgiven the United States and are ready to resume drilling it again.

"How many bloody times do we have to say we're sorry?" BP scoffed, noting that this is not the first time it has prematurely halted drilling due to an unpredicted eruption. "It happens to a lot of oil companies" BP claims, adding that we "should take it as a compliment."

BP also touted its magnanimous nature, as an organization that is not one to carry a grudge for making fun of it, and insisted that we give it another chance because it knows it make us happy this time. At the risk of appearing desperate and seeming like a total pushover, the United States admitted "I can't quit you, BP." and reluctantly conceded.

A ceremonious re-conciliatory drilling session broke out at that very moment, affirming that it was totally back on.

YES YOUR AN IDIOT FOR ASKING THAT QUESTION AND IT'S OK.

There’s no such thing as a stupid question. Really? Talk about some bullshit. It just goes to show how egotistical and sorry creatures we really are. God forbid, you should show the rest of the world, that you'll brave their stares of disgust at the mere acknowledgement of not knowing everything there is to know. Just get over yourself and call your stupid question what it is, stupid. There is nothing wrong with that. Can’t we all have a stupid moment once in a while? Get over yourself and you might not have to force these puke worthy hallmark cliques into your brain to masturbate your ego. Have a splendid day.

GUY BUYS GIRL $15 APPLETINI

Twenty five year old Brett Baumann attended a local night club with his friends Friday night, eager to get drunk and meet women. Upon arriving, he spotted an attractive young woman sitting alone at the bar, immediately approached her, and confidently offered to buy her a drink.

Baumann foolishly neglected to limit the offer to a reasonable purchase, such as a beer, and instantly realized his mistake when he noticed the bartender smirk.

The woman paused, as if mulling over the proposition, and might actually consider passing up on such an offer. Trying not to appear greedy, she sweetly smiled and replied "Sure. Why not?" She then abruptly turned to the bartender and ordered a $15 Appletini. Baumann pretended he was unfazed by this startling turn of events, and coolly peeled off a twenty dollar bill like he did it all the time, and it was no big deal that this chick was totally taking him for a ride right now.

Still Baumann remained poised in the face of adversity, and attempted to execute a power play by instructing the bartender to keep the change, ignoring the fact that this bastard totally snickered at him when he knew Baumann was about to get hustled. That's a five dollar tip. That's like a 33% tip. What the fuck?

"I mean, if your ship isn't coming in, you're gonna have to row out and meet it." Said Baumann, "In for a penny, in for a pound is what I always say..." Baumann's friends deny that he has ever said either of those two things before, and insist that they would likely kick his ass if he did.

Nevertheless, Baumann's candid corny cliches were fitting for his self imposed predicament. Determined to maximize the potential of the fleeting opportunity, he estimated that $20 drink had purchased him as many seconds to conjure up some cordial conversation, that in his imagination, could hopefully only conclude with an unfettered frenzy of gleeful congress at some point before the evening was over.

His aspirations were quickly diminished when the woman's apparent boyfriend returned from the men's room, sat next to her, and asked "Who's this fucking asshole?" Now paralyzed with rage, fear, and rejection, Baumann's facial expression froze in a sort of 'I'm not going to cry smile' and his eyes glazed over as he turned his entire body in tragic disbelief and walked away.

Baumann's friends teased him, but understood his pain and consoled him by buying him a beer. After the shock wore off, he began to regain his composure and reminded himself that he managed to get farther than any of his friends did, and that guy who called him an asshole may have been right, but at least he wasn't stuck with that whore.

Now half drunk and virtually impervious to shame, Baumann regrouped and altered his strategy, targeting women he was certain were not there with their boyfriend. "In any group of women, there's typically one who is fat, ugly, driving, and wants to go home." Baumann said, seeking to exploit such vulnerabilities to his advantage and ensure a better chance of success.

Brett Baumann did end up being successful that night, if you really want to call it that, and chalked up his losses to poor judgment while crediting the experience as an expensive lesson.

MISTAKEN PURCHASE OF TYLENOL BM RESULTS IN TURBULENT, SLEEPLESS NIGHT

The first thing Chis Sorrels did Monday morning was call into work sick, from his toilet. The second call he made was to a consumer hot line on the back of the Tylenol bottle to offer up some friendly suggestions on how they could do more to differentiate their varied product offerings.

That's exactly the problem Sorrels ran into when he mistakenly purchased a bottle of Tylenol BM, a powerful laxative, instead of Tylenol PM, a pain reliever and sleep aid.

"I had spent the whole day volunteering at the soup kitchen, and I had brought down a few cases from the top shelves in the supply room, so I really strained my back...and after 12 hours on my feet, I just wanted to ease the pain and get a good nights sleep. So I stopped at the
Walgreen's there, to pick up some Tylenol." explained Sorrels.

"So I'm in bed trying to rest my back, and next thing you know, I feel this thunderous quake below the equator. I mean, there is this impending biological requirement, so imperative that I arose with such urgency, I almost literally shit my bed. Can you fucking believe that?"

"I shit my guts out for like 6 fucking hours. I mean, Jesus Christ, that's a big price to pay for an easy mistake. Why not put pictures of fucking Barney on Drano bottles, why don't you? Ah, hell...I don't know. Listen, oh man...I got to go again. I'll have to talk to you later."

McNeil Consumer Healthcare, the makers of Tylenol products declined to comment on Sorrel's case specifically, citing that there was an open investigation into the complaint, but a spokesperson for McNeil did say "The packages are clearly marked. Even my six year old daughter can tell you the difference between the letter 'P' and the letter 'B'" and went on to suggest that Sorrels, or an individual in his predicament, should look into to purchasing their 'Certainty' adult diaper brand fitted briefs.

CHURCH TO OFFER CONFESSION VIA INSTANT MESSAGING

It's called digital absolution, and its the cutting edge of Christian faith.

"People are becoming more comfortable divulging their abhorrent misdeeds to a cutesy avatar aptly named G@DR@X or JezuSaves than they are in a dark, dank, dungeon closet ensconced in blood red velvet to a sinister, judgmental, boy-hungry pedophile." explains Avi Enstein, chief marketing officer of ChristCo, a pioneering Internet start-up company looking to engage consumers through exponentially growing media channels and social networks.

"We're offering a rich, robust, multi layered user interface that gives consumers seeking solace in Christ even more paths to salvation."

Now you can chat live with priests online anytime for membership fees as low as $19.99 a month for a basic plan. Virtual contact centers outsourced across the globe are staffed by hundreds of priests standing by to assuage your guilt...and for those pressed for time, simply email or text.

ChristCo is even establishing a new 24 hour confessional hot line featuring an automated menu that uses a state of the art speech recognition application to produce a customized penance based on the nature and severity of the sins committed.

Enstein also touts social media for such instantly successful endeavors as Tweet4Jesus, and Facebook fans can add their favorite saints as friends, interact with a virtual congregation, and receive daily sermons.

"Let's face it. Religion will die with the newspaper if we fail to connect with our target audience. The way humans interact with one another is rapidly shifting to an increasingly digital environment. The golden age is essentially the wild west for enterprising entrepreneurs, and we're not going to be late to the fucking dance on this one."

FACEBOOK PHOTO ALBUMS CHRONICLE WEIGHT GAIN

Jill Packer was a cute, slender, young woman at the age of eighteen when she first set up her Facebook account to keep in touch with classmates before leaving for college. She was even voted 'most likely to stay thin' her senior year of high school. So, when she put on the obligatory 'freshman fifteen (pounds)' her first year of college, she wasn't too concerned, making off hand comments like 'Ooh, I need to hit the gym...' and 'I probably shouldn't have eaten that whole gallon of ice cream'...but Jill's malevolent neglect and seemingly insatiable appetite have morphed her physique into a frumpy wad of pink dough that even her former gym teacher wouldn't fondle.

Each of Jill's Facebook photo albums depict significant periods in Jill's life. From her sorority days chugging beer with the jocks from Delta house, and her post break-up grief fueled binge-eating, to her current cake-for-every-occasion, mind-numbing desk job...Jill's gradual metamorphosis into a presumably self-loathing, sugar-filled lard-ass is painfully evident as the seasons pass.

Jill's former boyfriend, Jeff Kitchens, the one responsible in part for Jill's depression that launched her into an irreversible and shameful downward spiral of Mallomars, decided to look her up on Facebook recently.

"Eh, you know I was bored and perusing Facebook, checking out all the old tail I used to chase and I remembered that we dated.." said Kitchens. "At first I thought I had the wrong profile, but then I realized it was really her, and I was like 'Oh my God! You've gotta be fucking shitting me.' I actually broke up with her because she was already starting to get a little chunky. Jesus, did I dodge a bullet there or what?" Kitchens decided not to friend-request her.

Packer's uncanny ability to consume mass amounts of food is now rivaled by her waning metabolism, and is beginning to resemble some kind of remorseless gastropod who has abandoned all hopes for redemption. She remains deluded however, clinging to piles of jeans that will never fit her again, and rationalizing her appalling caloric intake with menial physical tasks, such as walking to the fridge. Packer's remaining friends plead with her to come to terms with reality, begging her to at least remove the horrifying public time-line on her Facebook page, chronicling her decent into obesity.

COUNTER-PROTESTERS DUMP PALIN IN BOSTON HARBOR

POLL: COUNTRY TOO CORRUPT TO CONTINUE GIVING A FUCK

With political sentiment polarized between a drive to increase government regulation or eradicate it, a majority of people surveyed now barely care.

An absence of governmental intervention in business is perceived to lead to various apocalyptic crises, subsequent bailouts, oil slicks and toxic waste. Coincidentally, organs of government regulation seem to behave more like limbs of commercial interests, begging the question: At what point do we cease weeping, simply shrug our shoulders and return to something that doesn't make us as depressed or force us to think? Thankfully, that time has finally come.

The new golden age is both exhilarating and perilous, yet ironically characterized by a yawning zeitgeist. The modern crusader's pinnacle of activism has been relegated to moving on to something more interesting and less dismal.

Those surveyed had chosen to forgo attempting to fix the 'broken vehicle' in which they are traveling, and instead steering it directly into a wall in a symbolic act of desperation to destroy and renew existence as we know it. Skipping a few steps in the hierarchical pyramid of human evolution, an enlightened and indifferent mass are actualizing their potential to not give a fuck.

There is no scope for the kingdom of higher ends, and while 80% of humanity subsists on less than $10 a day, those who are not required to give a fuck consider themselves truly fortunate.

TEA PARTY AIMS TO MOVE COUTRY IN A DIFFERENT DIRECTION; BACKWARDS

"Remember the good old days? Way back before most of us were born, I think, when everything was better? Where the rule of law wasn't some patriarchal bureaucracy, but rather a toothless drunk with the itchiest trigger finger? When the concept of global ownership by white Christians was divine providence and irrefutable? When someone with skin color darker than a paper bag was still 3/5 a human being, rather than some slightly larger fraction I cant even compute? When 'big' government didn't interfere with 'small' business and kept to the things they know best, like legislating morality. " says Ronald Welsh, a Tea Bagging advocate.

"I remember." Ron continues "I remember what I've seen on TV about those times, and I want them back, for America. We need to restore honor to this country. The type of honor that isn't ashamed to give their wife a black eye. The type of honor that proudly kicks your coon ass to the back of the bus. The type of honor that won't hesitate to mobilize the national guard to shoot some smart-ass college kids. That's the kind of honor the Tea Party stands for."

Harping on perennial sticking-points like taxation with relentless spewdom of vitriolic rhetoric towards predictable scapegoats, the Tea Party's momentum measures it's success in regression, not progression. Anyone with access to the Internet can see that 55% of the country's income is spent on 'defense', and those same savvy fact-seekers can also quickly deduce that 'defense' is a misnomer. It also requires far less effort and a much lower level of comprehension to blame any number of common targets such as immigrants, minorities, and the poor for societal ills largely created by the very same entities that fund the Tea Party movement.

It all seems so stupid, right? Well, it is. It's unwittingly hypocritical. Nevertheless, that shouldn't dissuade anyone from taking an interest in the shameless circus of frighteningly ignorant candidates who refute knowledge in defense of faith, rather than embracing it. The whole charade begs to be ignored for its utter lack of credibility, but frankly, who can resist mocking it-even though the perils are quite real, and all too possible.

MILK IN FRIDGE IS SUSPECT

Ahhh, I don't fucking trust this milk. The date says tomorrow, but it smells kind of funky. It could just be the dried milk at the rim that stinks but that's still gross.

Should I taste it? I don't want to taste it. If it's really sour, I'm gonna fuckin' barf I swear to God. No, I can't. This milk is bad. I need new milk.

Ah damn it, I don't want to have to drive to the store to get milk right now. I want to eat cereal and watch cartoons. Fuck it, I'm going for it.

GIRL YOU HATE STILL WICKED HOT

You know that girl who works the register at the Sbarro in the food court? Yeah, Tina I think her name is? Anyway, she is just the worst type of person...a total bitch, always smacking her gum and incessantly cackling, ranting on in some narcissistic diatribe from which no one can shield their ears. She's confrontational, rude, and conceited. -Possibly the most annoying person on earth. You hate her. It figures she's ridiculously hot too, right? There's no getting around that.

ACTIVISTS GO TOPLESS TO PROVE A POINT: TITS ARE GREAT!

America's March for Boobs rally took place in Washington D.C. this weekend, where thousands of women and nearly twice as many bare breasts took to the streets to promote breast awareness worldwide.



Topless women carried signs over head with arrows directing attention downwards to their chests to support the rally's initiative to end eye contact and abolish turtle necks by the year 2018.

The chilly morning air didn't deter many activists or slack-jawed onlookers from participating, seeming to firm up the poignancy of the day's event. The march culminated at the mall, with speeches that were difficult to take seriously, while marchers brandished signs that read "Free the D.C. two", and "Thanks for the mammaries".

Supporters are crediting the rally as being a huge lift to beast awareness.

TEA BAGGER KEEPS CONFUSING BARACK OBAMA WITH TIGER WOODS

Carl Scheckler from Mulvane, Texas was corrected by a Tea Party event organizer at a rally in Washington D.C. Tuesday, for repeatedly mistaking President Barack Obama and professional golfer Tiger Woods to be the same person. The organizer reportedly interrupted Scheckler during a harangue in which he accused president Obama of manipulating health care laws, so his insurance would cover the costs of therapy for sex addiction. He went on to suggest that Obama spend less time fucking and golfing, and more time dying from a gunshot to the face. "Typical. Just fucking typical, you know what I'm saying?" Scheckler screamed over and over, until his voice was hoarse with rage.

Tea Party event organizer Richard Stickley quickly stepped in to stifle the deranged lunatic. "I handed him a placard and told him to '...just stand there and wave this sign. We'll give you the cues when to cheer', but he wouldn't listen. He just kept shouting."

Scheckler had apparently brought two of his own signs, enigmatic, yet obviously condemning the president using racially derogatory and misspelled words.

"I would have had security tase him but Fox was going to be on location later to shoot a couple frames of video from the rally, and I needed to beef up the crowd. All I'm going to say is thank god for fat people, they really filled out the shot beautifully. It seemed like we had twice as many people there as we did."

"Anyway, it would have been perfect if it wasn't for all these idiots egging this guy on. So I got on the microphone and told everyone to '...please just keep your mouths shut and vote republican. We don't need to hear what you think. We've already got hat covered.'" Stickley's demands were met with fervent applause.

Stickley elaborated candidly. "I mean, you think its not hard to wrangle up a couple hundred rubes with some trumped up nonsense about taking their guns away or socialism and just bus them out to D.C., but its not like you can just throw some peanuts at them and pop in Mrs. Doubtfire on DVD. The logistics are arduous. You've got to baby sit these morons. Plus, I have to wear this ridiculous cow boy hat to blend in. Otherwise, they won't take me seriously. I'm from Connecticut for Christ's sake. Sometimes, I don't even know why I needed a PR degree to get this job." Scheckler is scheduled to attend three more events this week Stickley is in charge of organizing.

GETTING WET ON THE DANCE FLOOR

The problem with a rain dance, sometimes you shimmy when you should have shook.” Explained Itchy Clam of the Narragansett tribe. “Just one false step can result in a lot more rain than expected.”

In this case however, the rain wasn’t produce on purpose. It being an already rather wet season, a rain dance is not needed or advisable. A small amount of rain can be good for plant life. By parching the earth it can keep dirt from turning to dust in the air and boosts the morale of those out their enjoying that fresh air. Too much rain however, can be disastrous. Where talking flooding, home destruction, power outages, butt rape, cats making out with dogs. In short, the world goes to shit.

“Being able to produce rain can be a blessing and a curse.” An inflamed Itchy Clam lamented. “You have to be aware of the responsibility of having this power is. You just can’t jump up and get happy feet anytime Lady Gaga spews out of some speakers.”

Apparently most times there isn’t a problem, but this weekend a bunch of tribes got together for an annual celebration for the changing of the seasons. There was food and spirits as well as catching up with old friends. The air was full of song and those that don’t produce water with the twisting of hips were on the dance floor. Itchy Clam who normally rings in the spring with a little Pop and Lock, wasn’t need this year and sulked in the shadows. Unfortunately with nothing better to do than drink, Itchy Clam got pretty sloppy and couldn’t be helped when someone called out “CONGA LINE!!!!”

“I’m sorry for any trouble I may have caused in my lapse of judgment.” Itchy Clam pouted.

HOT BITCH THINKS YOU DONT RESPECT WOMEN

Twenty five year old Nick McKay was awestruck by a fine piece of ass he saw the other day and downright flabbergasted by her resistance to his game. "Oh man you should have seen this hot bitch at Starbucks. She was smokin', a total MILF. Know what I'm sayin'? So I'm all like trying to kick it to her and shit, but she's all like 'please, you have no respect.'" Explains McKay.
"...and I'm all like 'bitch, why you frontin'?' you know you wanna get with this."

Although McKay's advances were thwarted, he remains unfazed by the experience, assured that he has learned nothing, and doesn't care about that woman's opinion because "She's probably a dike anyways."

The woman could not be reached for comment because McKay failed to obtain her number, but he plans to 'mack it' to any new hot ass at Starbucks again tomorrow.

EFFICIENCY EXPERT FLUSHES MEALS DIRECTLY DOWN TOILET

Process innovator Todd Morrill isn't just some think tank dweeb, fretfully expounding on actuary tables, he's out in the field applying his analysis to real world scenarios. Its Todd's job to find ways to make things that already work, work even better. His latest project deals with human physiology, and the unnoticed expense it takes on our daily lives.

Morrill explains: "Did you know that the human body uses as much as 1000 calories when consuming food, and that it can take over fifteen minutes to properly masticate a single meal? In a corresponding trend, nearly twice as much time will be spent in restrooms processing this consumption. It just begs the question, why? We're missing something here, there's got to be a better way, and I think Ive found the solution."

"Why not, instead of expending all this unnecessary energy and productive time eating and shitting, simply eliminate the middle man. The food is only being disrupted from its destination to the toilet anyway, why not then, instead of making a stop at the mouth and waiting to be digested, couldn't the food just go directly to the toilet? Its brilliant in its simplicity, if you really look at it."

As part of the research Morrill has been testing his new method and boasts that he's increased his available time by almost an hour a day, and has more free time to work and purchase consumer goods. Morill also estimates that if his method is universally adopted, it could save the world more than 219,000,000,000 man hours annually-an investment he insists one would have to be crazy not to make.

ST. PATRICK'S DAY REVELRY LEADS TO ST. JOSEPH'S DAY BENDER

Everyone's a little Irish on St. Patrick's day (...except of course for gays and Italians). But as luck would have it, 24 year-old Tommy Murphio is both Irish and Italian. This bizarre amalgam of genetic misanthropy is puzzling to anthropologists and sociologists alike, most taken aback by the striking contrast of his hair and skin color.

Murphio has a certain understated pride when he speaks of his heritage, recalling how his ancestors 'totally drank', and some awesome mobster movies he's seen. Although he admits drinking is still cool without being Irish, it certainly doesn't hurt. He also jokes about his heritage, calling himself a 'McWop'. Clever and irreverent, Murphio's humor still conjures revolting imagery of some greasy corned beef-Parmesan fast-food concoction. Nevertheless, most are not fortunate enough to get to party on St. Patrick's day and St. Josephs day.

"I get wasted from Wednesday through Sunday. Everyone is getting cocked, making a ton of food. I love being Irish and Italian! It's like a free pass." says Murphio.

"...and my girl is French and Native American so if we ever have kids, they're gonna get to celebrate Bastille day and whatever the Indians do too. Pow-wow's and shit, I guess. Now if we can get some blacks and Jews in my family, we'll be like citizens of the world, and together we'll be virtually incapable of prejudice, and impervious to racism, and get to party year round!"

Although Murphio's lofty aspirations for civil harmony across the globe seem implausible and fueled by a state inebriated mania, his ethnic rights to party are undeniable, and he takes full advantage of it.

COY INTERROGATIVE ACTUALLY PLOY TO INITIATE DIALOGUE

Forty-eight year old Domenic Naccari has been playing the circuit around Bengal's Lounge since it opened in the late seventies. He's become a favorite at the club, and he's an integral part of the social network as the guy everybody kind of knows. Naccari has developed a reputation as a smooth character with savoir faire. He has a penchant for the finer things in life, fine liquor, fine dining, and fine women.

"It was Tuesday I think. I was having my usual dinner of chicken wings and fries at the bar when this lovely woman came in and sat down a few seats over from me..." explains Naccari. "I licked my fingers clean, finished my 7&7, and sidled over to her..."

"Do you come her often?" asked Naccari coyly, knowing full well she does not, because he surely would have seen her before.

"No." replied the woman, who quickly began thumbing diligently on her cell phone and fumbling to light a cigarette, suggesting a nervous and defensive posture in a subtle effort to create a distraction and hinder any momentum of a conversation starting. However, Naccari was cleverly prepared and promptly extended his arm to light her cigarette. Now the woman was obliged to verbally express gratitude.

"Hmpf. Thank you." the woman uttered reluctantly, but countered by abruptly standing up and saying "Excuse me." -then briskly proceeding to the restroom.

"Some greasy fuck who bathes in Drakkar Noir and wears cheesy fake gold necklaces is trying to hit on me at the bar." -complained the woman to a fellow patron in the ladies room, who sympathetically suggested "Just tell him you're a lesbian, that always works for me." Now armed with a fresh line of defense, the woman headed back. Naccari had now moved his seat next to hers in eager anticipation of her return.

"Well hello." Naccari said in a smarmy tone. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asked.

"Uh, I'm just waiting for my girlfriend. We're like, lesbians together." the woman hastily blurted out.

"Really?" Naccari inquired with enthusiastic interest . "What's that like?" he continued, as the woman realized her tragic error. Her plan to repel Naccari backfired, leaving her helplessly engaged in a painful dialogue with perverse overtones. Naccari, a self-proclaimed 'pro with the ladies', had tactfully done it again saying "Hey, if you can't break the ice, build an ice road."-a truly insightful wisdom-pearl from a man that basically lives in a bar.

SCENTED JESUS CANDLE WARDS OFF SATANIC ODORS

An exciting new anti-satanic product from ChristCo is enticing believers with an aromatic blessing of dank incense with just a hint of shame.

The pungent tincture, derived from holified tap water, cream of Eucharist, and orphans' tears is an offering of earth's treasures to their creator, symbolizing prayer. Father Lester Pedovich, a spokesman for ChristCo claims the new enchanting and evocative musk kills 66.6% of satanox-9, the germs that cause evil odors.

"We're building on this old ritual by applying new science to enhance worship and taking it a step farther, repelling evil odors wherever they emanate." says Pedovich. "They're great for your home prayer station, confessional, secret dungeon or RV. Try our new fragrance 'Omniscented', its tabernaculous!"

I am a product of society. I am a product of my upbringing. I am a product of my lifestyle. I am NOT a product.

PITY-FUCK ACTUALLY OUT OF SELF-PITY

Thirty-two year old Becky Dumas generally did not experience any difficulty attracting men until recent years when she began putting on some weight and showing some signs of age. While she contends she is more active now than when she was younger, she also concedes that it mostly tends to be online or at the supermarket rather than at the gym.

"I didn't really notice that guys stopped flirting with me because I was in a relationship for about five years." Becky says, but since her boyfriend Jason broke up with her six months ago, she is now ready to start dating again, only trouble is-there are no takers. After trying to get fixed up through friends, hanging around in bars, and sifting through the veritable freak show of online dating, Becky took to starting a mail correspondence with a convicted felon at the state prison. Even he terminated the relationship because he said he was seeing someone else.

Becky complains that even a man who is in jail has more options the she does, citing that she hasn't had a conjugal visit since her break up. The old adage "Desperate times call for desperate measures..." could not be more true in Becky's situation, finding her self batting her eyelashes at her 65 year old dentist, striking up conversations at the Dairy queen drive though, and wearing low cut shirts in an all out last-ditch attempt to impress the UPS guy at her work.

"My god, he's like this little nerd man with one eyebrow and he's always chewing gum. He's hideous, a total tear-down. I would never have even looked at this guy ten years ago, and until yesterday he didn't even look at me."

"I'm just really shy." says Chris Hobbs, the UPS guy at Becky's work. Hobbs is apparently in denial about why he is repulsive to women. Sporting an epic uni-brow, repugnant halitosis resulting from several dead teeth coupled with a lisp that makes him sound semi-retarded, and a timid stature of merely 5'1", Hobbs is not what most women would consider 'a catch'.

"All of a sudden this woman thinks everything I say is hilarious for some reason. Actually, her laugh kind of scares me but she has big boobs and I haven't been laid since my cousin took me to Vegas six years ago, so I asked her out." explains Hobbs.

"I really felt sorry for him" said Dumas, "So I decided 'oh what the heck', you know? I'll humor him for a night and if he's as lame as I think he is I'll just make fun of him to my girlfriends forever, like 'remember that UPS dweeb'?"

"I offered to take her out to a fancy restaurant and everything but she said I should just come over because she orders the best Chinese food. I knew this was gonna take some serious artillery..." said Hobbs showing up with a box of Franzia and a pack of Freedent in hopes he could get drunk enough to build up the courage to make a move and to get Becky drunk enough to make him seem less ugly.

After hours of awkward chatter about each others boring jobs and the two movies they've seen in the last year they eventually settled on some B-rated garbage Vin Diesel flick on demand. The pointless plot line, and painfully tacked-on romantic sub-plot made paying attention to one another more tolerable than the movie which quickly led to an all-night grope-fest and eventually mutual climax.

Both are dreading seeing each other at Becky's work next week, but neither are ruling out a second date.