PATRIOTISM
I think it's wrong that, upon seeing an American flag high atop a flagpole flowing nobly in a light breeze, our first thought is, "I want to piss on it." What makes us feel that way? Is it the stripes? Because we can lose those, no problem.
VIDEO GAME JOURNALISMIS THIS THE FREAKIEST CHILDREN'S TV SHOW OF ALL TIME?
Sources say no.
ADVICE COLUMNDear Sir,
Is it ethical for a poor man to steal a loaf of bread to feed his starving family? If so, what if such a man were to steal two loaves of bread? How about ten loaves? What if this destitute man stole a windmill and forced peasant laborers to mill for him and his family as much bread as they needed? And if that's okay, then isn't stealing all the grains in the world, and patenting the bread recipes, and using this global bread monopoly to blackmail humanity into submitting to your despotic rule also completely ethical? I think so, and if you look at it that way, then running over some idiot kid when you were on ludes doesn't seem like such big a deal anymore, now does it?
Please respond soon, as I have another day of horseshit court coming up.
Sincerely,
Driving Me Crazy
If you have an answer to Driving's ethical conundrum please send it to us, and we will ensure it is forwarded to the proper destination.
A HEALTH BREAKTHROUGH
Medical researchers at the Royal Institute of Public Health have discovered that you can jack off whenever you want. Double blind tests using stem cells have proven that you can jack your dick off and make it cum and the good news is it's free and you can do it as much as you want to. The scientists recommend that you lock yourself in your house and jack off instead of engaging in other, more dangerous activities.
MUSIC FESTIVAL
I nearly had the worst experience of my life at the C_______ music festival last year. I plopped down a hundred twenty-five bucks for an all-access pass to what I thought would be a weeklong smorgasbord of nonstop music and sound. When I arrived just about the only music I heard was the percussive knock-knock-knock of my Kia Sorento's busted engine as I idled around the parking lot, which was full of not bands or songstresses but a bunch of chitchats milling about. I waited an hour to get my wrist braceleted by the security guard who, you guessed it, wasn't singing a tune so much as grumbling and shouting at me and my fellow paying customers.
On the festival grounds, I found overpriced concessions, tawdry souvenirs, and massive crowds of young folks taking selfie photographs, but NO MUSIC! Excuse me, but I thought a music festival would have music, for the love of criminy! Hadn't the organizers planned for this, or had they blown their music budget on glitzy advertisements and extravagant perfumes? My goodness, I must have worn out my shoe leather walking around for hours in the vain search of a tune. Yet nary a musical instrument or a cappella singer could be found.
This was supposed to be a music festival, folks! So where the heck was the music? Was it in some VIP area that only the daughters of coal magnates and app inventors could afford to enter? Just my luck that a working class rube like me would get stuck with a stinking $125 piece of jewelry that couldn't even get him into a lullaby.
By sundown I was sweaty and exhausted from searching high and low for the music. That evening I found a stream near the festival grounds where some millennials were silently bathing. I sat beside the water to mourn my failures when the gully's gentle ripples at last gave me the melody I had been yearning for. I started composing the most beautiful song in my head. I imagined intricate and inventive arrangements of bassists and harpists, trumpeters and tromboners, even a cannoneer firing a cast-iron Civil War artillery! The field of my imagination expanded like a balloon and my mental orchestra grew bigger and bigger as I invented church choirs and garage bands, Gregorian chanters and jazz funerals, dubstep DJs and tribal drummers, thousands and thousands of skilled musicians playing every instrument one could conceive, all of them crafting gorgeous sounds that swirled together in perfect harmony.
I must zoned out in my aural reverie, because when that band in my head finished its last encore, it was the break of dawn. Even though I hadn't slept, I was full of vigor, my mind still under the enchantment of the greatest concert I had ever heard. I went back to my car and drove home, all the while humming a few bars from my stream song and thinking myself blessed to live in a world where music and poetry can still be found in the most unlikely of places.
You're probably wondering where that inspiring stream is. Well, I'm afraid I can't tell you. You're just going to have to go out and find your own stream. Because, as I later learned, the one I went to is extremely polluted, and the kids growing up next to it are coming up extra-retarded.
WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!
Holler as loud as you can, because we just love it!
COMING UP IN THE NEXT ISSUE
Our Updated List Of Races We Won't Hire -- See If Yours Made The Cut
ISIS: Will Their Star Ever Stop Rising?
Good Grief! Even More Vivisection Flubs And Bloopers!