CYBERSPACE–Saying that he has not written anything good in months, aspiring writer Jack Torrance, 41, overcame writer’s block for five fucking minutes after reading internet tips on overcoming writer’s block. “It’s terrific, these YouTube people and shit,” remarked Torrance. “They tell me to write as much as I can and forget about the fame and fortune and to write something rather than nothing, and I’m, like, fuck yeah, let’s write something, motherfucker, and I get excited about writing something for a whole five fucking minutes after hearing these tips.” After five minutes, the positive effects of the internet tips have all but vanished. In those five minutes of glory, Torrance had managed to write one excellent blog post entitled “Aspiring writer says internet tips on overcoming writer’s block totally inspired him for five fucking minutes.” To celebrate his most recent accomplishments, he has resumed watching Netflix and masturbating to pornography.
- 4 cups all-purpose flour, divided
- 2 tablespoons garlic salt
- 1 tablespoon paprika
- 3 teaspoons pepper, divided
- 2-1/2 teaspoons poultry seasoning
- 2 large eggs
- 1-1/2 cups water
- 1 teaspoon salt
- 2 broiler/fryer chickens (3-1/2 to 4 pounds each), cut up
- Oil for deep-fat frying
Step 1: In a large shallow dish, combine 2-2/3 cups flour, 2 tablespoons garlic salt, 1 tablespoon paprika, 2-1/2 teaspoons pepper and 2-1/2 teaspoons poultry seasoning. Put your hands together and pray that you won’t get high blood pressure.
Step 2: In another shallow dish, beat eggs and 1-1/2 cups water; add 1 teaspoon salt and the remaining 1-1/3 cup flour and 1/2 teaspoon pepper. Dip chicken in egg mixture, then place in the flour mixture, a few pieces at a time. Turn to coat. Then, dump everything in the trash and bury the chicken, because meat-eating is unethical anyway even though you can’t just fucking control yourself because it tastes so goddamn good. Pray that you won’t get high blood pressure. Exhume the chicken and recover the ingredients and move on to step 3.
Step 3: In a deep-fat fryer, heat oil to 375°. Working in batches, fry chicken, several pieces at a time, until golden brown and a thermometer inserted into chicken reads 165° about 7-8 minutes on each side. Drain on paper towels. Fuck, that’s greasy.
Step 4: The chicken is almost ready. Don’t eat it. Don’t eat it. It’s baaaaaaaaad for you.
Step 5: Fuck, you’re eating it it already. That’s fucking gross, man. No wonder you’re so fucking fat.
Step 6: Here, let me have a piece of that. Mmmm … it’s so good. Yummmmm …
Step 7: Spit it out. You disgusting slob … spit it out!
Step 8: Now, put it back in your mouth and chew on it some more. Mmmmm … feel that crispy chicken turn into mush. Yum! Repeat steps 7 and 8 until you accidentally (or intentionally) swallow some of that chicken.
Step 9: Puke it out. It’s baaaaaaaad for you.
Step: 10: Put your vomit in a blender.
Step 11: Pour the vomit out and put it in a microwavable bowl. Now, nuke that shit.
Step 12: Take a giant piece of very hard ice shaped like a bowl and touch your fried chicken vomit with it. The oil should stick onto the ice and the chicken should now be safe to consume.
Dog-tired from work, my wife and I decided to pamper ourselves at the fancy-looking Hannibal’s Restaurant, the only place in the world where you can legally consume human flesh. Fiasco. We were made to wait half an hour before our pimple-faced waiter handed us a knife, which we used to cut off our own love handles. Needless to say, the service was bad. He should have sliced us up himself.
And then there’s the bleeding. Nothing to stem the bleeding, and they didn’t even make blood pudding, so it was all wasted. We just bled profusely and got all dizzy due to loss of blood pressure and we couldn’t get water to swallow our ibuprofen because they would’ve made us pay for that overpriced Evian shit.
And then there’s our faces. Why would you slice off your customer’s nose before you serve him appetizers? And so I couldn’t smell the rest of my meal. There I was, waiting thirty minutes for a meal that may never come and which I will absolutely never smell. Inexcusable. We had to gouge out our own eyes to finally get the appetizers (again, they should’ve done it for us) and then we were too blind to find where our noses were, so my wife and I ended up lunging at each others’ faces in the dark before our lips met and we finally chewed off each others’ tongues and had a taste of something nice and raw.
That was two hours of our lives and $250.34 we’ll never get back. Overall, a terrible experience. And I don’t know why the waiter is still alive. Steer clear of this place.
BLOGOSPHERE—Lacking the joie de vivre to take up meaningful hobbies like sewing and spelunking, a woman visited her husband’s blog ten years after its inception. “I had no idea that Ronald has been writing about me,” Sheryl Sans-Blurb, 47, said after reading an article entitled “Wife Makes Historic First Visit to Husband’s Ten-Year-Old Blog”. “Otherwise, I would have visited his blog a long time ago.”
“I’ve been writing about you for quite some time already,” replied Ronald Dump. “You’re always drinking milk and watching TV beside me while I type about you on my 17-inch laptop.”
Notwithstanding Sans-Blurb’s unforgivable negligence, blogging experts remarked that the visit is a rare event that will go down in blogging history. “It’s almost like some law of nature,” said one WordPress reader. “Spouses seem to be as averse to visiting each other’s blogs as they are to discussing the intellectually stimulating intricacies of tax law. They never do it.”
Unbeknownst to Dump, Sans-Blurb noted that she will never again visit his blog. She opts instead to continue to do whatever she’s been doing for the past ten years of her life, because it is just that much more interesting.
BLOGOSPHERE—Saying that he will kill himself if he doesn’t get more than two ‘likes’, blogger Ronald Dump, 32, went on a massive liking spree in a last-ditch effort to achieve fame and fortune, subsequently developing Carpal Tunnel Syndrome.
“I spent more time ‘liking’ everyone’s blog than I did watching porn. That is unprecedented,” declared an inattentive Dump, who continued to ‘like’ everyone’s post while he talked to reporters. “I will do this until I get more likes. If I don’t, I will kill myself.”
Dump rudely avoided eye contact throughout the interview as he winced in pain clicking ‘like’ buttons. To ease the pain, he periodically sipped on a tumbler of single malt whisky with the help of his other hand. “This is also unprecedented,” he mumbled with a cigarette in his mouth. “I usually use my other hand for recreational purposes while the first hand clicks on pornography. But I’ve discovered that that’s a real waste of time, and blogging is more important.”
The single malt, in tandem with a Tupperware full of Xanax, also serves as a means to take his own life should he not become an internet celebrity. Additionally, Dump has set a large revolver in his desk drawer and lots of ammo in case his firearm jams. “I swear to God I will blow my brains out,” he said. “Fucking ‘like’ me already. I ‘liked’ you. What the fuck else do you want?”
Unfortunately, Dump has had no ‘likes’ since he ‘liked’ everyone’s blog. He is nowhere to be found and has not answered our phone calls since Monday. While he may simply be suffering from writer’s block, the assumption is that he has killed himself.
Dump’s last words were, “I would rather kill myself than ‘like’ myself.”
HOLLYWOOD—Saying that he doesn’t care what other people say about him, a gay man bravely donned a quintessentially heterosexual black blazer and button-down shirt Friday morning.
“I am wearing a heterosexual suit and serving straight up daddy realness,” declared LeBar. “I don’t care what society says about me. I have panache, energy, nerve, individualism, and suaveness.”
Georges LeBar, 57, spoke at length about mankind’s heterophobic herstory. “Straight men have been nice to us, and we totally fucked it up. For hundreds, if not thousands, of years, we’ve burned and kicked and lynched and drowned and mutilated them before throwing them to the lions and torturing them with pickup trucks and banishing them from society and raping everyone and their mothers. The modern man is different. We have compassion for our straight brothers, and we’ll take a leaf from John Stuart Mill’s book.”
LeBar added that gays should stop calling straights “breeders” and “maggots” because such derogatory terms are “fucking stupid.”
He declared, almost condescendingly, “Being a man is almost an act of treason in a gay-dominated society. But to all my straight buddies hiding in their man caves, it’s okay. Just come out. We’re all friends.”
Bangkok—After selling green curry and driving a tuk tuk for fifteen years, Thai local Terdsak Pichaironnarongsongkram professed his admiration for tourist Katie Swanson’s authentically Thai elephant pants.
“It really breaks up the monotony to see a reasonably attractive Caucasian woman for the first time in ten years, wearing elephant pants, and politely greeting me with a ‘sawadika’ before boarding my tuk tuk with a backpack and selfie stick,” said Pichaironnarongsongkra. “I have never seen anything quite like it before.”
Locals reported that Swanson eschewed McDonald’s, opting instead for an authentic, non-spicy Pad Thai, coconut milk, and banana pancakes. “I decided to take the road not taken,” said Swanson. “People go to see this and that temple and do American things like taking a taxi. So, I said, ‘I’m gonna be different’. So, I got myself a pair of elephant pants from this sidewalk vendor and bought an authentic handmade statue of Buddha, which is a very exotic god that I adore because it, like, helps me with my aura, and, you know, with my yoga and Sanskrit and mandala or whatever.”
“It’s beautiful to see a foreigner who is so in love with our culture,” said Pichaironnarongsongkra. “I mean, even I don’t wear those authentically Thai elephant pants, and I’m Thai. But she’s just so much more Thai than me.”