The epitome of physical creation was born in an African hospital yesterday to Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie. The child, whom one doctor described as “a hallelujah chorus giving my soul a blowjob at the center of God,” is so beautiful that attending physicians were required to don sunglasses before staring directly into Jolie’s fully dilated cervix for more than eight seconds.
Although pleased, the new parents aren’t exactly surprised. “Of course we expected him to be beautiful,” said Pitt and Jolie in chilling unison, “for we are beautiful. Through our union, we have formed a being imbued with all that was perfect within us, and wholly devoid of any pedestrian banality we may have acquired through contact with others. We love him as one loves the +ALbermensch.”
Their infant son then curled his lips into a dazzling smile, belied only by the inhumanity behind his ice-blue eyes, before extracting the still-beating heart from one of his adopted Cambodian brothers and consuming its essence.
How many white people does it take to invent the lightbulb?
Just one!
What did one white guy say to the other white guy?
“I got into Yale.”
Why did the white man throw the clock out the window?
Because he was angry about losing the big Dryerson case.
Why did the white man jump off the empire state building?
Because he is Superman, and therefore can fly.
What happened to the guy who was born half French, half English?
He enjoyed he benefits of dual citizenship, but chose to live in England for tax purposes!
What’s black and white and red all over?
A Shriner funeral!
What do you call a thousand white people at the bottom of the ocean?
The Titanic. What a tragedy.
Why did the white doctor fail the driving test?
Women can’t be doctors!
When did nerds get the idea that it’s okay to be nerdy? I don’t recall seeing any Nerd Pride parades on the streets of Silicon Valley. But I guess if they tried that, they’d get wedgied and slammed into a locker by the Rose Bowl parade. Maybe geeks started getting all cocky after that movie about the nerds who get revenge, but nobody remembers what that one was called.
Regardless, the proliferation of nerdiness has reached epidemic proportions. It must be stopped; these people are addicts. And you know you’re in trouble when it’s me calling you an addict. I’ve got enough Scotch in me at all times to be legally considered a glass bottle.
Life’s good, you’ve got friends, and maybe even a special little lady you get to bang like a screen door. Then a guy with a street name like “Slick Azergaith” or “Fast Eddie the Enchanted Plus Two Warlock” slips you a book at a party. “Go ahead, just read a page,” he says. Next thing you know, BAM, you’ve finished Goblet of Fire and you’re strung out for Order of the Phoenix. Eventually you’re reading Tolkien with a belt around your neck just to get that same high.
Listen, we all knew Japanese people were messed up. But we had no idea as to the extent of it until we saw their animated movies about penis-tentacled demons that take busty schoolgirls and…fail to teach them long division, that’s for damned sure.
Anime nerds are more pale, gaunt and sexless than their Harry Potter counterparts. You know what’s never happened before? A guy getting a hummer while watching animated lesbian schoolgirls fight a robot dragon. I know, that sounds like it has all the ingredients to be cool, but it’s not. It’s like mixing “tequila” and “not being arrested”: each on their own is good, but they just can’t go together. Which brings us to the bottom of the downward spiral…
Oh man, do you need help. For those not in the know, World of Warcraft is basically a five-million man game of Dungeons and Dragons that happens online. As if this wasn’t shameful enough, these addicts pay money every month just to keep playing the game. I know that last sentence sounded a Neil Young lyric, but stay with me on this.
Lots of other “users” in this game join “guilds,” which is something like an electronic crackhouse for people who refer to vagina as “ladyparts. Tee-hee!” Seriously, groups of these people get together and battle demons for hours (the virtual, not inner, variety). True story: my friends joined a guild where they have to show up for at least 6 hours a day, 4 days a week. When I did something like that, it was called college.
Which brings me to my final point: rehabilitation. When someone kicks their eighty-dollar a month World of Warcraft habit, it’s basically like they just got out of prison. Except without the candy bar, ten dollars, and chest full of Aryan Brotherhood tattoos.
The problem here is that nerds don’t actually want to change. Like alcoholics or women in short skirts, nerds never know how badly they need what you’ve got until you force it into them. The only way to change a nerd is an intervention. While he’s at work, secretly invite everyone he knows over to his house and pour all his books and electronics down the sink. Now he’s cured! When he gets home be sure to have an electric guitar handy, as he will probably need to play a Van Halen solo before playing several more Van Halen solos while riding a motorcycle.
Dearest Readers,
I have some bad news for you. Are you sitting down? Good. OK. Brace yourself.
I’m graduating.
For those of you who didn’t just have a three-way heart attack, embolism, and third degree pants-crapping, you probably don’t know who I am. Perhaps you thought that Daniel Brady was merely a legend, like Johnny Appleseed, Larry Bird, or evolution. No, I am as real as the solid gold that flows through my veins. For those of you not familiar with my name then maybe you’re more familiar with my achievements, like balancing the ASUC budget last year by shooting down that blimp. Many of you were surprised that the resulting explosion cured cancer, but I wasn’t. Or maybe you know me as the inventor of the Time Machine/Unfoggable Shower Mirror.
Some of the more sycophantic of you might endlessly ask, while sobbing and cursing God, why I am leaving you. The fact is that I have outgrown the academic capabilities of this university and am moving on to MIT, the Moon Institute of Technology, to get a PhD in Rocket Surgery. In my spare time I will work my neck out endlessly at the gym so that it may one day support the weight of all my future medals.
And though my immeasurable intellect (42 scientists died when the measuring computer became violently jealous and exploded) is capable of remembering all your names, I choose not to, especially the men and women I have left heavy with child. You will not see me again, for I have chosen not to attend the Commencement, where my mere name would cause thousands of broken wrists from the furious clapping. Even though I would enjoy watching you, my friends, celebrate my accomplishment of graduating Magna Cum Awesome, I will be otherwise occupied naming all the new colors I’ve discovered in the last ten seconds.
I’ll see you all again at the end of your lives, where I will weigh your achievements against mine to determine if you may enter my Eternal Kingdom.
Until Then,
Daniel Brady
I never went back to that gloryhole once I found out there was a person on the other side.
NASCAR’s great. I mean, who doesn’t love a bunch of traffic?
People say that crows are a symbol of death, but I can think of a better one: the ambulance that just turned its sirens off.
I can’t imagine anything more beautiful than a nice pair of breasts. Unless, of course, they were attached to something.
If you do enough good deeds, the mayor will give you a giant key to the city. But he doesn’t give you giant pants to keep it in.
It doesn’t seem fair to me that if a vampire bites me, I become a vampire. But if I bite a vampire, he doesn’t become manic depressive.
James said he wasn’t a werewolf, but how do you explain him dying after only one silver bullet to the face?
When life gives you power, make Powerade.
If rocks had a feudal society, I think boulders would be the king, pebbles would be the peasants, and sand would be the peasants ground up into little pieces.
Attn: Harry Berman, Dean
Arthur Horn, Department Chair
Re: Professor Indiana Jones
Dear Sirs,
As much as it pains me to speak ill of a fellow professor, I simply cannot remain silent any longer about Professor Jones’ abhorrent behavior and irresponsibility.
Tomorrow will mark the 703rd time that I have substituted for Professor Jones in his course Classics 4A: Latin, Archaeology, and Arks of the Covenant.
Should the gravity of such a statistic somehow remain lost on you, I would like to retype for you here several of the many, many notes Professor Jones has left for me on short notice “explaining” his absences:
“Have to go to Portugal to fight Nazis. Will you cover Classics 4A?”
“Indian villagers being kidnapped for their blood. Can you cover my classes for me? Thanks, Indy”
“Nazis took my dad. Back in 6 weeks. – Indy
PS: Feed my fish”
And his most recent note:
“Jeff Nathanson’s latest script finally approved by George Lucas.”
First of all, I hope you’ve noticed a trend in these notes. If we are to believe Professor Jones, he has fought Nazis everywhere from “Venice” and “Istanbul” to “the Macy’s outside of Baltimore” and once, apparently, “in a zeppelin.” You cannot seriously ask me to tolerate these outlandish fabrications.
Ignoring his habitual truancy, Professor Jones’ teaching habits and curriculum leave much to be desired. For instance, week one’s lecture, “Learning Hovitos and choosing your guide carefully,” bore almost no relation to week three’s lecture, “Don’t call me Junior!” If his incompetence were only limited to the classroom, perhaps I might tolerate it for another 700 unexcused absences. But Professor Jones is an irresponsible braggart of the worst sort, and what’s more he’s an actual danger to the students. I needn’t remind you of his infamous “field trip” to Carlsbad Caverns last year. I can assure you that very few of the grieving parents accepted Professor Jones’ explanation that their deceased children had “refused to throw [him] the whip.”
Finally, although it pains me to make such an accusation against another academic professional, I have good reason to believe the tragic fire in the Ophiology laboratory was no accident.
If this University has any respect for its legacy and its duty to the students, it will suspend Professor Jones until he proves he can teach a course without resorting to fantastical stories about giant boulders and non-stop Nazi-bashing, or at least until he returns the haunted idol of Ko’resh Al-Gultar to the people of Saudi Arabia.
Sincerely,
Anthony LePais
Associate Professor
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This video will give your baby the savvy and confidence to thrive in the tough world of Los Angeles, plus make him Jewish. Your baby will grow up to be either an entertainment lawyer or an agent, guaranteed. Your baby is an asshole.
Medium-to-hard bondage pornography. Upon further reflection, probably not for babies.
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These videos will make your baby grow up to be seven feet tall. But how does it work? The simple medical explanation is “gypsies.”
Billy Blanks will whip your baby into shape with a modified aerobic army workout. “I’m so confident in my system,” says Billy, “that if you don’t see results in three weeks, Tony Robbins will buy your baby from you.”
