“Pony,” the breakthrough hit from R&B star Ginuwine, was barred from all future play at Willard Middle School dances after school officials declared the song’s lyrics to be too tame for the student body.
“‘Send chills up and down your spine/Juices flowing down your thigh?'” said Principal Andrew Simmons in an official statement. “Come on. This song reeks of 1996. As educators, we can accept only the freak-nastiest jams for your eleven year-olds.”
Student government president Tiffany Moran agreed. “‘Pony’ might have been the shit for my big sister, but this is, like, the twenty-first century. You take Khia, on the other hand – now she a nasty bitch.
On Wednesday evening, shortly after consuming his fourth banana of the day, Cal junior Bryan Dempsey opened a bottle of Snapple only to find the short but harrowing factoid “Eating bananas makes you more attractive to mosquitoes” staring up at him from the underside of the cap.
Moments later, a tremendous cloud of mosquitoes descended upon Dempsey and drank three pints of his banana-rich blood.
Snapple Spokesperson Amber Horowitz remarked, “Snapple is not liable when God uses its enjoyable ‘fun fact’ feature in ironic ways.”
“I don’t know what was worse GAA almost being eaten alive by a swarm of mosquitoes, or being slapped in the face seconds beforehand with the inevitability of it,” Dempsey told the Squelch from his bed at Alta Bates Medical Center, where he remains in stable condition. “Thanks for the fun fact, Snapple.”
What if all of Berkeley’s heroes came to visit their adoring campus? Well, they’d probably like Top Dog, for starters.
Prologue
STEVE: Hey, you know what’d be awesome? If we got all of our heroes to come to Berkeley.
JOSH: You mean, like, Gandhi? Or Marx?
STEVE: Or Che Guevara! I saw him on a shirt once.
JOSH: Wow, a shirt?
STEVE: You know, I still have that magic lamp with one wish left in it, and I’m kinda over the idea of a car made of hot women. I wish for all our heroes to magically–
JORDAN: Dude, Dave Matthews!
STEVE: Goddamit Jordan, you’re so high right now.
At the Airport
CHE GUEVARA: Power of Che Guevara!
KARL MARX: Power of Karl Marx!
MAHATMA GANDHI: Power of Mahatma Gandhi!
DAVE MATTHEWS: Power of the Beatles!
KARL MARX: You’re not the Beatles.
DAVE MATTHEWS: Part of me knows that.
Friendly Chatting
GANDHI: So Che, how was your flight in?
CHE: You know, coming from hell and all, I flew in on the burning vapor trails of a screeching cacodemon.
DAVE MATTHEWS: Guess you shouldn’t have flown Southwest! Zing!! [Silence]
DAVE MATTHEWS: C’mon, that was totally a zing! [Silence]
MARX: Oh look, they’re selling hemp jewelry.
_In the Dorms _
CHE: Hey, look at all these posters of me!
GANDHI: And me!
DAVE MATTHEWS: And me! [Pause]
MARX: Yeah, screw you guys. I’m going to the DC to get tacos.
_At a City Council Meeting _
GANDHI: Leaders of Berkeley, we come here from across time and space to solve all the problems of your fair city! We will bring a new age of civility, and development, and–
KRISS WORTHINGTON: We’ve got to stop construction of this cell phone antenna!
TOM BATES: What is it about the antenna?
WORTHINGTON: Well, for starters, it’s an eyesore–
MARX: Excuse me, we’re here to get rid of homelessness, traffic–
BATES: But what of the antenna?
WORTHINGTON: Yes, the antenna!
MARX: Forget the antenna. We’ve got bigger–
WORTHINGTON: I’m sorry, did you file a speaker card ten minutes prior to the meeting?
MARX: Well, no….
GANDHI: But we’ve crossed the very fabric of existence to…
BATES: No card, no speak. Now back to this antenna.
Leaving Berkeley
CHE: You know, for having miraculously come back to life to visit a thriving college campus, I feel like we really didn’t do much.
DAVE MATTHEWS: Didn’t do much… like a poli sci major! [Silence]
DAVE MATTHEWS: I’m going to go the bathroom. [Dave Matthews walks away]
MARX: Quick, let’s go to the DC… and get more tacos.
Dear posers,
Take off that fucking trucker hat.
I hate all of you wannabe skater punks who think it’s cool to get paid $16K a year to drive across country with only your CB radio and a half gallon of hand moisturizer, but don’t wear are fucking hats! I’ll tell you this much, you won’t see us truckers wearing your girly Hurley T-shirts or your Abercrombie gear. We don’t pretend to look like Ashton Kutcher, so maybe you should stop pretending to look like us! Trucker hats are for truckers and faded jeans are for homos and that’s just how it is.
You wouldn’t wear O.R. scrubs to class, nor would you wear one of those silly British police caps, so why a trucker hat? That hat is our uniform. It’s like a badge that only us truckers are given the honor to wear! It’s the law! I’m serious! Ever since congress voted to pass the Trucker Hat Act in 1948 (HB 1037), truckers have been given, “sole authority to sport all trucker wear and paraphernalia; especially the hat. Take away our hats and we have nothing! Just a truck and that hitchhiker who performs oral!
In addition to breaking the law, you law breakers, your wearing a trucker hat creates national security problems. Think about this, suppose you are walking down a street when a trucker blows a tire. The driver gets out with his authentic trucker hat on and asks you (a trucker hat-wearing civilian) for help. Will you know how to replace his tire? You could be putting an entire nation at risk! What if the truck is carrying nuclear bombs and then another truck carrying fireworks plows into it and then another truck full of cigar-smoking Cuban immigrants crashes into that! An entire state could be nuked because some stupid poser on the street couldn’t help the driver change a fucking tire!
So, in summary, take off the Trucker Hat and deliver them immediately to any local truck stop for redistribution among the trucking community. Cute girls wearing trucker hats can keep them on cause they look hot in them. Stupid, but hot. Everyone else relinquish your caps immediately.
-Trucker Dan “No Fat Chicks” Jackson
At 7:00 PM exactly, Berkeley student Amy Delacruz was walking down Telegraph Avenue when she narrowly missed being incinerated by an orbiting satellite. She was saved by local street person Amos Terwuggen, who was nearby and dove on her just as, in his own words, “beams made all out of lasers” were about to strike her down. The beam disintegrated half the street and a storefront before mysteriously disappearing.
Ms. Delacruz shrieked at Mr. Terwuggen and beat him senseless, walking away without looking behind to view the utter destruction.
Mr. Terwuggen explained that the beam was fired from a CIA satellite being controlled by “Rick the Smick.”
“Smick always doin’ stuff for the CIA,” said Terwuggen. “They’re mad because I keep the air from moving too quickly. Look, Rick got his CIA remote control out now!”
Unfortunately, Rick had apparently hidden his remote before this reporter could look at him.
Welsh Speak-n-Spell Finally, Fisher Price has made a toy that can be enjoyed by dirty Welshmen. This new Speak-n-Spell is a great way for Welsh kids and their no doubt illiterate parents to learn the most insane language ever that’s not spoken by an alien race on Star Trek. Just listen: -“K” is for “Kyw.” The Kyw goes myyw. -“D” is for “Dywge.” Dywges are for eating. -“P” is for “Pywr.” Your parents are pywr because they are filthy Welshmen. Glenn S. Buttplug’s chain of Christian bookstores Glenn Buttplug, pious son of a Baptist preacher from the Deep South, chose to praise the Lord this year by opening a sixteen-store chain of Christian bookstores. The only problem is, nobody seems to know what to make of a store called “Buttplug’s.” “Oh, I’ll stay out of that one altogether. No sir,” replied Doris, an elderly parishioner in Omaha, Nebraska. When asked about the bookstore, her husband Gerry responded similarly. “It goes where now? No, that sounds like a whole lot of no good.” Glenn remains confused by the attitude Christians seem to hold toward his establishments. “They would love our store! We’ve got discount bibles, and songbooks about God, and oh! Look! I’ve got these great new prayer beads!” Guinness Book of Non-World Record Improbabilities How do you further capitalize on the definitive collection of world records? For Guinness, the answer is simple: assemble a follow-up collection of not quite world records. You’ll witness such amazing acts of coincidence that you just might exclaim, “That’s not very likely!” -Read about the man who flipped a quarter and it came up tails… EIGHT TIMES IN A ROW! -See the medicine man from West Africa whose fingernails were so long, his friends TOLD HIM HE SHOULD CUT THEM! -Check out this time that Eric totally killed that beer bong! That was awesome.
Senor Taco’s to expand into American Southwest Senor Taco’s, a chain of 12 Mexican restaurants based out of Minnesota, recently announced their plan to expand into the Phoenix and Flagstaff area. “We think the Phoenix area is bound to love our authentic Mexican flavor,” said expansion manager Steve Lindholm. “From our Mexi-fries to our brand-new extra-spicy Taco Burrito with extra pepper, there’s something for everyone at Senor Tacos.” Other Senor Tacos menu items include their sausage burritos, served with either nachos or Doritos. “We just know that Phoenix will go ‘loco’ for our restaurants,” said Lindholm. Women’s Sports League formed Women’s sports fans cheered recently as four major Women’s sports split off from their male counterparts to form a separate sports league. The sports are National Women’s Soccer, the WNBA, LPGA, and Women’s Bowling Association. New Commissioner Kendrick Liu announced the changes as “a way for women to band together. When the WNBA is struggling, the LPGA can help out. And vice versa. We women work together.” The new League negotiated low prices from the prior owners, sometimes as low as several dollars. “Darn, we’re sure going to miss funding — I mean running — the WNBA,” said Commissioner Daniel Stern. For Liu, the next stop is to get down to the books. “It might be rough for a few years, but so long as at least one of these leagues is profitable, I know we’ll be okay.” When approached by the Women’s Sports League about joining, the Women’s Tennis Association and Pro Beach Volleyball League declined the offer and went off to get tans and try on even shorter skirts.
There are few living things in this world more controversial, and I say this without hyperbole, than the tomato (Lycopersicon lycopersicum and Lycopersicon esculentum).
It is interesting to note that the tomato’s closest relatives in the plant kingdom are the oft-poisonous members of the Solanum, or nightshade, family, as well as the poisonously delicious tobacco plant . The tomato’s closest relatives in the animal kingdom are the monarch butterfly and Earl the One-Balled Ferris Wheel Operator.
While a rich source of the heart-healthy antioxidant lycopene, there are many people who feel that the tomato, when not served in ketchup or marinara form, should be relegated to the purpose of being loaded in a time machine and sent back to 1923 so as to be then thrown at hack comedians.
Others like tomatoes becauses of their sweet yet tart taste and the fact that they look like the breasts of a pubescent girl.
Regardless of your feelings about tomatoes or pubescent girls, we can all agree that it took one sick sick bastard to wake up one morning and say, “Hey, you know what’ll make this tomato taste extra-great? WE SHOULD MIX IT WITH CLAM JUICE AND SERVE IT CHILLED IN THE BEVERAGE SECTION OF THE LOCAL CONVENIENCE STORE.”
Why? What the fuck? Clamato? IT’S CLAM JUICE AND TOMATO JUICE. Who was sitting there in the Q.A. department watching all these bottles go by and asking: “Hey, we sure are making a swell product. Thank God Randy in the front office WON ALL THAT FUCKING CLAM JUICE IN THAT POKER GAME!”
Or maybe they never even bothered to ask what it was:
“Hey Curt, what is this shit anyway?”
“I dunno. Didja get your paycheck?”
“Yup.”
“Word.”
Oh, I know what gave rise to Clamato, it took place after a Jules Verne-esque race around the world wherein the Duke of Bloomsbury defeated Lord Shipshobbington and then cast him away off the coast of the Outer Hebrides with nothing but the will to live to keep him afloat.
If only that were true. If only.
And then there’s the name. When the SS decided to commit genocide, they didn’t call it “The Kill All the Jews (and other people we don’t like) Plan.” They came up with “The Final Solution to the Jewish Question,” a subtle and marketable euphemism. Take note, Mott’s Corp. The folks at Clamato did just the opposite. They celebrated this abomination of nature and their first-degree palette assault by jamming the two words together as if it were just another everyday broccoflower.
What else will grace the beverage market in the coming millenia? Orange Marmalamb Smoothie? Pork Peppermint Patties (in beverage form), YooHoocestershire Sauce?
Have I ever actually tasted Clamato? Well, no. But you don’t need to inhale Zyklon-B to know that it’s bad.
