At first I was worried that Dolphintail Espinoza would not be masculine enough to gain entry, but apparently the doorman was a brony, for he tipped his fedora to me when I told him my name. Upon entry, I was led into a basement, in which I could make out several men, swathed in flickering shadows. The air hung heavy, heavy like an untapped keg. A voice came from beyond an altar at the far end of the room.
“Welcome… to Bro Club.”
The man stepped into the light. He was young, muscular, with blonde hair and blue eyes. The others addressed him as “The Patriarch” but I heard one whisper the name “Chet”. He looked kind of like Continue reading
Being human is great. I should know, I’ve been one my entire life. And like any good human, I love GIFs. The short, looping animations please my simple Continue reading
Mr. Swanson, brandishing his weapon of choice.
All eyes were on San Diego last week as the annual San Diego Comic Con was in full-swing, but what you may not have noticed was a sudden surge—and drop—in zombie attacks.
Yes, it appears that at approximately 11am Saturday morning, an unidentified bioweapon was unleashed in the San Diego Convention Center, immediately infecting over three dozen attendees and threatening thousands more. Why haven’t you heard about it? Because of the impressive—and somewhat disturbing—resourcefulness of the con’s many nerds.
In a controversial 5-4 decision this week, the Supreme Court announced the end of morality, and with it, the complete destruction of the nuclear family structure. With the invalidation of Proposition 8, as well as the 1996 federal DOMA bill, the Highest Court has decided to allow California to continue its decline into wretched hedonism, while simultaneously opening the floodgates of sin across the entire nation.
Speaking for the court majority, Justice Anthony Kennedy had this to say: “The age of Christian ethics is over. Now, all is free. Now all people can declare marriage to whomever or whatever they choose. Man and man. Man and dog. Man and chair. The sacred act of marriage has been permanently corrupted, so go forth, ye ravenous fools, and marry all that you see!” Continue reading
You don’t know me, and I don’t know you. I think we said “hey” to each other once while moving in. And I get that. You’re a private person; I am too; that’s why we live in Plex. And I realize that there comes a time when a private person wants to open up a little, and share that privacy with a significant other, be it a man, a woman, or one of those weird things from Star Trek. And I understand that too.
But I am not writing to you simply because you’re a private person. I’m writing to you because at 3 goddamn 30 in the morning, your privacy has encroached upon my privacy. Specifically, I speak of the Air-Raid Siren which you seem to be fucking nightly. And do not think I am simply being hyperbolic, because even though your room is the furthest from mine of all my neighbors, and even though my door was tightly shut, and even though I was listening to Death Grips through my headphones, I could still hear the cacophonous moaning of your girlfriend.
You’ve gotten me through so much, Edzo’s.
Hamburger you disgust me.
Hamburger I don’t care where you came from.
I don’t know where to find you on a cow, or a horse
or whatever else you may be made of.
Secretly I find the mystery exciting.
Hamburger I know you’ve been getting fatter over the years
but that’s alright.
I had a brief affair with Subway and she’s been good to me,
but you’ll always have more to love.
And remember kids, bomb shelters can remain useful as sex dens and grow houses!
If you’re like me, you likely spent the better part of 2012 in eager anticipation of the coming Apocalypse. You restocked the bomb shelter, EMP-proofed your electronics, and talked at length about the end of the world with other True Believers—or really anyone at all. You also tasted some bitter disappointment when, once-again, the world refused end. Even allowing for slight error on the part of the Mayans, a new year has dawned and it seems it’s here to stay. What’s worse, no new apocalyptic visions have appeared to fill the gap left by 12/21/12. So what’s the average apocalypse chaser to do now that there are no more world-ending catastrophes looming on the horizon? In this short guide, I’ll give you some tips and tricks to reintegrate yourself into human society—at least until the next apocalypse gets announced.