Man Gains Superpowers in Lab Accident

February 1, 2006

Alan Andrews, a UC Berkeley graduate student, developed strange, amazing powers last week when a surge of radiation altered his physical make up during a research study. On the morning of January 8th, Andrews life was changed forever when the sociological questionnaire he was filling out exploded.

Andrews, or “The Pollster” as he now wishes to be called, claims to have a superhuman knowledge of socio-economic statistics, including which groups are most likely to engage in criminal activity. “I’ve been given the power to predict crime before it starts,” says the Pollster, who reportedly has been involved in physical altercations with 17-year-old, lower-class, male minorities on six separate occasions, all of which have resulted in Andrews sustaining major injuries. No other persons involved were ever found, apprehended, or proven guilty of criminal activity (past or future). Andrews, however, remains adamant about his cause, saying, “I won’t rest until 100% of the population is safe!” Adding, “Plus or minus five.”

Volume 15- Issue 5

Words From the Top

The Greatest Inventor

February 1, 2006

feature, Unfunny Asshole 2

Get your cocks out now boys, because otherwise you’re going to need to change your underwear upon hearing my amazing, mindblowingly incredible idea.

Alright, you ready? Sex…with the mouth!

Okay, okay, everybody settle down. I mean it, shut up. Take your nuts out of your mouth and listen. I came up with this idea when I was at Starbucks and I saw a woman blowing on her latte. I said to myself, hey, “You could put your dick in that!”

Two hours later my dick was covered in coffee burns and I knew I had to go back to the drawing board.

That’s when I saw a porcupine eating shards of glass.

Okay, fast-forward another two hours and a quick trip to the hospital.

Needless to say I learned my lesson and began work constructing a scale model of the penis for use in later tests. Then I saw my dog licking himself.

I began experimenting. A few of the legos fell off, but the penis seemed to be okay.

I ran as fast as I could to my girlfriend’s place and explained my theory to her. She flat out told me it would never work, and even if it did, she’d probably get pregnant instantly. So I ate her out, then went home.

I figured I’d go talk it over with some of my friends, but they were all at Starbucks and for some reason I’m not allowed in there anymore. With few options left, I decided a field test was in order.

Let me just say, it worked, and it was incredible. It was totally worth it.

Yours,
Simon Ganz
San Quentin Prison

Volume 15- Issue 5

Top Ten Signs It’s Time to Switch to Plan B

February 1, 2006

top ten

Identical twin failed to shave goatee
Turns out bank has no wheelchair ramp
Hot air balloon escape not as practical as you thought for nail gun factory heist
Flying a plane is actually really hard
Pirates are late. AGAIN
Your English accent isn’t nearly as convincing as you thought
Ewoks didn’t do shit
Turns out the pope was wearing a flak jacket
Kinda, sorta, accidentally shot hostage in the face
Air conditioner ducts are actually really small

Volume 15- Issue 5

Jack Bauer Pauses to Poop

February 1, 2006

Alex Curtis, newsflash, Unfunny Asshole 2

At 7:24 PM and 28 seconds past the minute, Counter-Terrorist Agent Jack Bauer interrupted his pursuit of international terrorists because he had to poop. Bauer, a five time recipient of the Presidential Medal of Freedom and wanted in 18 countries for “quadruple-double homicide and removing a man’s thumb without permission,” was running dramatically down an alley way when, for the first time in five years, he felt a stirring in his bowels. Having not eaten, farted, belched, or felt mercy for a fellow man since season two, Bauer was surprised by the sensation, and reportedly shouted “Dammit!” repeatedly.

Meanwhile, in a windowless office that was conspicuously not the White House, the President pretended to have an important and heated discussion with his aides to stall for time, while in another area a Fordbrand SUV transported sinister looking silver canisters. Kim Bauer was probably being kidnapped somewhere.

Jack Bauer emerged at 7:36 PM and 53 seconds, leaving only three men dead in the Arby’s bathroom.

Volume 15- Issue 5

My Girlfriend

February 1, 2006

feature, Mitch Rodricks

When you’re as picky as I am, it’s hard to find a girl that shares your interests. Girls that I dated in the past just weren’t into sitting in one position for up to twelve hours, being stared at by little kids, or peeing with someone’s assistance. But I found the girl of my dreams. Her name is Crystal (a fragile name, for a fragile spine) and it turned out she had been sitting right next to me all along. I was standing, of course, so it just took me a long time to see her. I was nervous talking to her at first.

Me: Did it hurt?
Cyrstal: Pardon?
Me: When you fell from Heaven.
Crystal: Oh, that’s cute. [giggling] But really, my dad pushed me down the stairs.
Me: I …see.

She was unlike any girl I’d ever met. It was magic. When I looked into her eye, and she into mine, and her seeing eye dog’s also into mine, I knew it was love. And you may not think so, but where Crystal really shines is in the bedroom, especially considering her complete and total inability to move or feel pleasure.

Me: Want to try a new position
Crystal: Sure, I’m game.
Me: I really want to try the Sacred Spelunking Stingray position. Just lean forward and arch your back as much as you can so your feet rest on your head and I’ll…
[large, wet cracking noise]
Crystal: What was that?
Me: I uh, er, I sat on some pretzels.

It feels amazing to know I’ve found the woman of my dreams and I’m doing a great deed as a humanitarian. Crystal is everything a man like me could ask for. We watch TV together, see movies together, and when she’s asleep I play frisbee with her guide dog. And I get to class so much faster riding on the back of her wheelchair, even though now I don’t know what to do with my Segway. So don’t let love just roll on by, seize it by the wheels! And if it screams, turn off its voice box.

Volume 15- Issue 5

Urban Myths

February 1, 2006

Daniel Brady, feature

Myth: A penny placed on the tracks will derail a train.
Status: False. Trains can only be derailed when an interracial child is born. It’s God’s way of saying no.

Myth: On average, a person eats eight spiders a year.
Status: True. The key here is to remember that this is an average. The truth of the matter is that most people never eat spiders, and Albert Dugary of Born, Michigan eats approximately 50 billion a year, or 98,000 a second. He’s single.

Myth: Your hair and your fingernails continue to grow after you die.
Status: True. Nails to fight other zombies, hair to impress other zombies.

Myth: A person needs eight glasses of water each day in order to avoid dehydration.
Status: False, unless water means vodka and dehydration means inconsolable weeping.

Myth: Our universe is just a tiny molecule in an even larger universe.
Status: Put down the bong and get a job.

Myth: After eating, always wait 45 minutes before swimming.
Status: It doesn’t matter; one out of every million times you’re gonna explode when you hit the water anyway.

Myth: You only use 10% of your brain.
Status: True, but you were trapped underwater in that car for an awfully long time.

Myth: Amish couples have sex through sheets.
Status: True. That’s why you must never let your children dress up as ghosts for Halloween if you live in Pennsylvania.

Volume 15- Issue 5

God Blamed For Global Disasters

February 1, 2006

Alex Curtis, newsflash

In a press conference held at the White House on Wednesday, a spokesman representing FEMA and the Department of Homeland Security stated that from now on, all misdeeds, misdemeanors, natural disasters, hunting accidents, and war crimes would be recognized as the fault of God. “How can individuals be held accountable for their actions when everything is ultimately controlled by the omnipotent Creator?” explained spokesman Stuart Driebble as he made his daily sacrifice of fifteen well-nourished steers upon a flaming altar just outside of the White House pressroom.

This new policy is expected to lead to the release of innumerable murderers, rapists, war criminals, and psychopaths into the general populace. However, Driebble insisted that “people will no longer be punished for their actions or for shooting a 78-year-old lobbyist in the face with a shotgun just because God made them do it.” Meanwhile, charges, including those of genocide in the Sudan and causing Hurricane Katrina, are being raised against the Almighty. Law officials are now preparing for the second coming of Christ so they may efficiently apprehend and interrogate the Messiah as soon as He decides to show up again and stops hiding in heaven like a wuss.

Volume 15- Issue 5

Kilimanjaro

February 1, 2006

feature

Thank you all for coming.

Ladies and gentlemen, I’m tired. I’m tired of the stares. I’m tired of the questions. I’m tired of this burden that I bear. It’s finally time to tell you all what happened on Mt. Kilimanjaro that fateful President’s Day weekend.

Which is why I’ve brought you all here to the Las Vegas Convention Center. I’m sorry for the cramped quarters, but I thought it’d save time if the relatives of all 200 men in the expedition were told all at once. You see, I lied when I told you all that your friends and relatives were alive and well and had simply decided to live on top of the mountain forever.

As you may have suspected, the letters many of you received from your loved ones in the last week were actually written by me. I’m very sorry for getting your hopes up, and also for misspelling so many of your names. And when did so many boys end up with girls names? Dakota? Taylor? But I digress.

In the throes of this sudden anguish you’re now experiencing, many of you might be wondering why I now weigh 800 pounds. You might say, that in a very special way, your husbands, wives, sons, and daughters are all still here with me.

What? Yes, you in the back. Oh no, I didn’t eat them! Just all their supplies and insulin. And some of their clothes.

Okay, no, seriously. Here’s the truth. Things went bad right from the start. We decided to celebrate the trip by drinking Safeway Select Cola. I alone refused to drink the soda because the bubbles burn my nose. As we reached 10,000 feet and the air thinned, something started to happen. The cola expanded in the team’s stomachs, and, without warning, they all exploded.

Yes, the sobbing man in the red shirt, you have a question? Yes, quite insightful of you. I am totally lying again.

I’m very sorry. Way sorrier than I was a few seconds ago. You all deserve the truth or at least something remotely plausible. Give me a minute to stand here and think while moving my eyes up and to the left a lot and I’ll see what I can make up. I mean, remember.

Okay, how about something involving a yeti? Anyone?

…You know, let’s break for the day and we’ll meet back here tomorrow and give this another go.

Again, I’m very sorry. On your way out please stop by the tables at the back and collect your loved ones’ teeth.

Volume 15- Issue 5

What if Karl Marx Lived in a Co-Op?

February 1, 2006

feature, Fred Taylor-Hochberg

Marx participates in the system of collectivist production!

Co-opper: Hey Marx, dinnertime!
Marx: Finally! What are we having?
Co-opper: Tofu and eggplant casserole, fruit we got from Dumpster diving, and some dirt we found in the yard.
Marx: That’s repulsive. How do you expect me to have the strength to lead the working people of the world on a diet like that?
Co-opper: Hey, maybe if you actually did your cooking work-shift once in a while. Doesn’t your system depend on the willing contributions of all of the members of society?
Marx: Well, yeah, but I didn’t mean ME.

Weekly Sunday Co-Op Meeting

Co-opper: Okay, so we’re all decided on a vote of 22 to 1, we will be purchasing that new HD TV.
Co-opper 2: Alright, now for the second part of our agenda. Now I don’t want to name names, but a certain individual has been using up all of the co-op’s paper to print thousands of pamphlets written in German and–
Marx: This form of rudimentary democratic governance is a ruse! It simply seeks to lend legitimacy to the dicta of an elite bourgeoisie ruling class, composed of the kid whose dad is a lawyer and that Asian girl whose mom works for Channel 4!
Co-opper: Now, Marx, we’ve–
Marx: And more importantly, you’re crazy to buy a plasma screen at that price! Don’t you realize we could get a CRT at that size for half that!?!

Marx rallies the young, willing soldiers of the proletariat to fight for the great cause of socioeconomic equality!

Marx: Well, are you all ready?
Co-opper: Ready for what?
Marx: The overthrow of the oppressive bourgeois! That’s what we’re in a co-op for, right?
Co-opper: No, not really. Cheap housing and easy access to drugs is what brought me here.
Co-opper 2: Don’t forget wallowing in your own filth.
Co-opper: And the crusty sex.
Marx: Bah! You’re just bourgeoisie in disguise as lumpenproletariat, paying lip service to the downtrodden laborer while letting him suffer!
Co-opper: So you’re saying you don’t want in on the 3 o’clock gangbang?
Marx: …I’ll be quiet.

Marx tries to get some revolutionary ass!

Marx: Hey, Lisa. I enjoyed your poem, “The Wail of The Earthmother’s Vagina.” It was very…poemy.
Lisa: Thanks! But call me Starfyre!
Marx: Sure, whatever. Anyway, do you want to go get some fair-trade organic coffee with me sometime?
Starfyre: Sounds good! How’s Thursday sound?
Marx: Not good. I’m flyering on Sproul all day. Sunday OK?
Starfyre: Can’t, that’s the day the house gets together to pick the lice from each others’ bodies.

Marx stands firm on his beliefs!

Co-opper: Hey Marx, I have a question.
Marx: Let’s hear it, comrade.
Co-opper: If you predicted a rise of pauperism, how come standards of living are at an alltime high?
Marx: Well, uh, that’s easy. You see, the, uh, index of..
Co-opper: Of what?
Marx: Uhhhhhhhh. Well if you look closely at Das Kapital, you’ll see that…Look, a girl that doesn’t shave!
Co-opper: WHERE!?

Marx enjoys the vibrant co-op social life!

Crystal: Hey K-dog, let’s go hot-tubbing. The water’s warm, the jets are on, and the chlorine should have taken care of the herpes by now.
Marx: Sorry guys. I have a paper for my Labor History class due. I need to do well on this one because I failed my last midterm.
Crystal: Bummer.
Marx: Yeah, but at least I have this awesome beard.

Volume 15- Issue 5

Divorce Guide

February 1, 2006

Daniel Brady, feature, John O'Connor

In the United States divorce has become an epidemic. Look to your left, now look to your right – both of those people are divorced. If you don’t see anyone near you, it’s because you’re divorced. Divorce is a complicated issue, so this guide will hopefully prepare you for your own inevitable separation.

Signs you’re about to get divorced

Unexplained bear traps on your side of the bed.
Your wife takes a box out of the attic labeled “Slutty Clothes to Wear While Single.”
Wife videotaping more of her beatings than usual.
Husband’s new secretary listed “dicktation” on her resume.
You’re wondering why your hands hurt, are dripping blood, and why you’re in the back of a police car.
Her idea of “Couples Therapy” is drinking a couple of Forties and throwing them at you.

Good and bad ways to break the news to your spouse

Good: “Honey, this just isn’t working out. I love you, but I can’t be with you. Let’s just sign these papers and get on with our lives.”
Bad: “Why didn’t you tell me before that your sister does anal?”
Good: “You’ll always be very special to me. I just think we need to be apart from each other.”
Bad: “Get. The fuck. Out.”
Good: “I will always love you.”
Bad: “Sweetie, guess what I bought you! A pair of puppies! This one is named Divorce Papers and this one is named Restraining Order. Also, I’m keeping them.”

Things that don’t substitute for a legal divorce

Putting your fingers in your ears and saying, “LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!”
Having sex with a stranger, right in front of your spouse, on your bed, while dressed up as lawyers.
Throwing a brick through their window with “WE’RE DIVORCED” written on it. Though it’s also your window, and you’re standing inside at the time.
Eating your wedding ring.
Defrocking the priest that married you.
Throwing your wife to the ground during Trust exercises.
Faking your dog’s death.

Good and bad ways to break the news to your kids

Good: “Just because mommy and I are getting divorced doesn’t mean we love you any less.”
Bad: “Mommy doesn’t love you any more, and I will buy you as many G.I. Joe’s as is required to prove that to you.”
Good: “This is not because of anything you did. This is between me and daddy.”
Bad: “This is not because of anything you did. I wish I could say the same of your sister.”
Good: “I know this is very hard right now, but I promise things will get better for you.”
Bad: “Stop crying or I’ll get the hose.”
Good: “Sweetie, it’s okay! You’ll see me on the weekends! We’ll go to the amusement park and I’ll win you a stuffed animal, okay?”
Bad: “Sweetie, it’s okay! From now on, I’m going to pick you up every Friday from school two hours late. I will probably be drunk. We’ll eat cold Chinese food in awkward silence. I’ll make you go to bed at 6:30 in hopes that you won’t hear Ginger banging against the headboard while I cry and call out your mother’s name. P.S. you’re adopted.”