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.”
SEATTLE—After having one too many tacos at the library, a slightly overweight student sat on her university ID, unintentionally snapping it in half with the weight of her buttocks.
Noting that her university ID also serves as her dormitory card, credit card, restaurant discount card, and source of self-esteem, Shelby Li, 21, broke down and promptly fell into clinical depression. “How am I supposed to get University Teriyaki now?” she shrieked. “How am I ever gonna get a boyfriend if I can’t go back to my dorm to sleep or shower?!”
Since her breakdown, Ms. Li has not had food, water, sleep, sex, or anything that gives her pitiful life a modicum of evolutionary or philosophical meaning. And she still has a one-page writing assignment to look forward to.
Although her friends worry about her mental health, Ms. Li is too deeply depressed to have the energy to contemplate suicide.
ALBUQUERQUE—A cactus at Home Depot is fed up with his living condition, and is reaching out to the plant kingdom in the hopes of finding a better home and a succulent lover.
Billy, an Opuntia microdasys, has been sitting alone in a claustrophobic pot at Home Depot for the past four years. Though he is by nature patient and soft-spoken, Billy has recently been more vocal. He told reporters, “A bit of water every eight months and no one wants to touch me because I’m so prickly. Go ahead and kill me, will ya?”
The cactus has repeatedly stressed in no uncertain terms that he is in dire need of a better home and a succulent partner; however, the dating scene at Home Depot is far from ideal. “C’mon, dude. Really? You put me under this soul-sucking fluorescent light and expect me to be sexually attractive?” he complained. “No, really. I’m not interested in college kids looking to spruce up their dorm rooms or fat, balding men looking for printer paper.”
Witnesses at Home Depot agreed. Tony, a garden-variety Mammilaria, decried the cactus rights abuses perpetrated by the staff at Home Depot, claiming that the lack of natural sunlight and incessant air conditioning have caused him and his peers to become etiolated and unattractive.
One cactus lamented, “Here at Home Depot, we are either late bloomers or non-bloomers. Unfortunately, most of us are non-bloomers.”
SACRAMENTO—Numerous authors have crushed writer’s block by banging their heads against desks, and many of these writers have risen to fame.
Touted by the Observer as a “gargantuan-selling writer,” James Patterson advised students in his online MasterClass to bang their heads against their desks for at least ten times a day. “Authors ranging from Agatha Christie to William Shakespeare banged their heads against their desks at one point in their lives, sometimes more than twenty times a day, and they have sold 2 to 4 billion books each. There’s no reason you can’t do it,” said Patterson. “You simply have to persevere. I know I did. I don’t know where I would’ve gotten had I not banged my head against my coffee table every morning.”
But banging one’s head to break writer’s block may not be that simple. Writers who wish to employ the strategy have to take into account the material of the desktop, the mass and acceleration of the head, the angle of the head to the desk, and a multiplicity of variables. “Everyone is different,” said John Grisham. “And every book is different. I didn’t have to do that to myself when I wrote A Time to Kill, but, man, did I have to break my skull to finish The Brethren. It’s sort of a trial-and-error sort of thing.”
Some detractors point to a positive correlation between banging heads and major depression, claiming that repeated blows to the head may have a negative impact on mental health. Experts, however, assure writers that the practice is safe. “One must not confuse correlation with causation,” said prolific author and world-renowned thinker Dan Dennett. “We have reason to believe that writers who bang their heads tend to be depressed, but that doesn’t mean their depression is caused by these sub-concussive blows. In fact, it is probably the other way around: Depression causes people to hit their ugly melons.”
DURBAN—A clinically depressed woman who tried to commit suicide by smoking an ounce of marijuana lost her Bic lighter and died “staaaaarving, dude.”
The husband returned from work to find his wife, Marjorie Queen, 56, sprawled lifelessly on the living room couch with an empty pack of Doritos still in her left hand, a TV remote control in her right, and an unholy grin on her face. A suicide letter was tucked in her shirt pocket.
The husband said that the suicide letter was a “collection of near-illegible laments that highlighted just how distraught she was.” According to the letter, Mrs. Queen’s last words were: “Where’s my lighter? Who Bic-ed me? I’m staaaaarving, dude.”
Mrs. Queen was under the impression that cannabis is more dangerous and addictive than heroin and methamphetamine. She obtained the marijuana from her son’s room, where she found a Ziploc filled with Durban Poison, a strain of marijuana. Coroners concluded that Mrs. Queen smoked an entire ounce of the high-quality marijuana in 20 minutes.
The federal government warns that, while cannabis does not directly cause death, excessive consumption leads to starvation and extreme fire hazards related to smokers’ inability to find and operate lighters.
MELBOURNE—A koala suffering from heat stroke fell off a eucalyptus tree and climbed into a zoological laboratory in which he later discovered and ingested Lysergic acid diethylamide, or LSD.
Upon ingesting LSD, the koala, named Albert, exited the laboratory and climbed back onto the tree. He stared at a piece of bark for 72 hours and found himself in a soul-healing psychedelic journey that soon allowed him to discover the meaning of life.
Koalas are said to be incorrigible drug addicts that munch on eucalyptus leaves, whose touted narcotic properties compel them to sleep for up to 20 hours per day. Contrary to popular belief, however, eucalyptus leaves do not contain psychoactive substances, and researchers at the University of Melbourne have concluded years ago that koalas sleep excessively due to chronic boredom and major depression.
Psychologists have long suspected that Albert suffers from clinical depression, and have put him on suicide watch for more than three years. The sullen koala reportedly said on at least one occasion that “I am tired of being such a useless and clingy beta male so maybe I should end it all, mate.”
Albert no longer suffers from depression, and has been exceptionally cheery all morning. Fellow zoo animals allege that he is a “different and better man” and said that the heatstroke was a “blessing in disguise.” This morning, he greeted us with boundless ebullience, saying “G’day, mate.”
TAICHUNG, TAIWAN—In an effort to combat teenage depression, the city government of Taichung has promised to contribute more than two billion dollars to a high school field trip fundraiser at the American School in Taichung (AST).
The government’s largesse comes after months of heated debate among government officials on the most effective methods to battle teenage depression. “Our children come home crestfallen every day because they don’t go on field trips. Yesterday, my youngest daughter came home from school with tears in her eyes because she could not go to the Froggy Jump machine at the Janfushan Amusement Park,” said Yu Tu Chep, an accountant and father of four.
The health consequences of field trip deprivation may be dire. Every year, 2.5 million Taiwanese children suffer from Field Trip Deficiency Syndrome, or FTDS, a serious mental disorder characterized by major depression and chronic diarrhea. “There is no known cure for FTDS,” stated Doctor Hu Sou Sik of the University of Hong Kong. “I am happy to see that the billions of dollars given to AST will be put to good use.