Greetings Twitter people!

Welcome to my bloggins. I’m not used to having so many people reading this blog who aren’t my mother, but it’s neat so many people have retweeted the link. Twitter people turn out to be really into jokes about Twitter. Who knew?

Please make yourselves at home. Poke around the rest of the site. I make fun of lots of things that aren’t the internet. For example:

Halloween parental paranoia.

Roman Polanski apologists.

Work emails.

And many more! By this time tomorrow I plan to have made fun of vampires and people who live in Brooklyn, so stick around.

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God twitters creation

God: Gosh its dark in here.
7 days ago

God: There thats better.
7 days ago

God: Hey guys im finally on twitter! Whats up?
7 days ago

God: guys?
7 days ago

God: oh right. i’m the only thing in existence, haha.
7 days ago

God: shut up i wasnt talking 2 you RT @Satan I TOO EXIST
7 days ago

God: BOOORREEDD with endless void gonna make some stuff
7 days ago

Read More »

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New Halloween urban legends for today’s paranoid parents

When I was a kid my parents, like everyone else’s parents, diligently spent hours going over my Halloween candy with a magnifying glass to make sure no one had stuck a needle through my Mars bars. Every parent knew they had to do this because it was an accepted fact that hundreds of kids died this way every year—technically from a Mars bar needle inserted by a madman who waited patiently until Halloween to kill the neighborhood children, but really from neglectful parenting.

Thanks to the internet, today’s parents know that exactly zero children have ever died this way. So I thought I’d whip up some new labor-intensive apocryphal Halloween dangers for parents to worry about. Pass ‘em on!

- I got an email forward that said that store-bought costumes contain a flame-retardant chemical that will give your kids mad cow disease. If you were a good mother you’d take the afternoon off work to sew your kid’s costume from scratch.

- The PTA sent home a note warning that the latest trend among teenagers is called “fwooshing,” which refers to getting drunk off shoplifted cough syrup and then chasing trick-or-treaters with flame-throwers. If you were a good mother you’d pony up the cash for a store-bought, flame-retardant costume.

- Go over your child’s bucket of candy carefully. The local news says some criminals drop small spy cameras disguised as Sour Punch Straws in trick-or-treaters’ buckets. The cameras transmit images of your home and belongings to the criminals so that after you’ve gone to sleep they can sneak into your home and do parkour on your furniture.

- Children dressed as one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles will be snatched by white slavers while trick-or-treating and replaced with a different child dressed as the same Ninja Turtle. If this happens to you your only hope is to raise the stranger child as your own until the next Halloween, when you must dress him as a Ninja Turtle again and allow the white slavers to replace him in turn with yet another child dressed as a Ninja Turtle. Repeat every Halloween until you have your own child back. I know it’s true because my sister’s husband heard it from his cousin’s friend whose roommate is a white slaver.

- Candy Corn turns boys gay.

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Selected lines from Bar and Bat Mitzvah speeches from the year 2095

  • Today I am a man. For my parent-designated operators have finally upgraded my hardware to include the phallo-pak 9000 just like I’ve always wanted. So maybe it would be more accurate to say that today I am an android with recently installed male genitalia.
  • Young Jews today face many challenges. A lot of us in Class Dalet have been wondering about whether it even makes sense to have a Bar or Bat Mitzvah ever since the Rapture started and our evangelical Christian classmates started ascending bodily into the heavens on columns of light. That would seem to indicate pretty solidly that we bet on the wrong horse, especially since the fiery devil monsters arrived and started dismembering those left on Earth while taunting them as heathens. But it seemed like a waste not to go ahead since I’d already put in all these years of Hebrew school. Read More »
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Things I contemplated doing on the subway when I was running late, and whether I ultimately did them



Did it Decided against it
Eating cupcakes Frosting cupcakes
Applying lipstick Brushing teeth (I had this whole plan, see, where I
would stick my head in a paper bag and spit in an empty orange juice bottle
and no one would be the wiser)
Putting hair in bun Spraying hair with hairspray
Sewing button on shirt

Sewing hole on shirt I was wearing
First base Second base and onward
Learning lines Practicing lines out loud
Yoga breathing

Yoga
Breaking up with someone Why is that in the ‘did it’ column?
Putting on tights Yeah, that happened
Sleeping

Wearing pajamas
Working Working (most of the time)

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Wedding Announcement: Miss Melinda Taub to that guy honking at her in an ‘89 Dodge pickup

melinda-hearts-truck

Melinda wasn’t looking for love that fateful day when she stepped out of her apartment. But love was looking for her, in the form of a 43-year-old man leaning on the horn of a truck with a muffler problem.

Late to meet her friends, Melinda was hurrying down the sidewalk when suddenly she heard “Yeah, baby! Move that sweet ass!” followed by a skillfully executed wolf whistle.

Melinda stopped short at what she would later recall as the most romantic words she’d ever heard. She turned around and there he was: the man of her dreams.

“Do you really think my ass is sweet?” she asked, trying not to let the tears fall.

“Hell yeah, bitch,” her Prince Charming replied. “Why don’t you come suck my ****.”

She didn’t wait for him to change his mind. She climbed into his truck and they drove off into the sunset.

The wedding was a small, tasteful ceremony at the corner liquor store. The ceremony was held on August 25th, a date of significance to both halves of the couple—it marked the twentieth anniversary of both the bride’s first day of kindergarten and the groom’s purchase of his truck.

The bride is the daughter of Dr. and Mrs. Bart Taub of Seattle, Washington. Dr. Taub is a professor of economics and Mrs. Taub is a Human Resources executive.

The groom was raised by wolves.

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Fighting falling attendance, National Park Service adds cats to all national monuments

“Internet does it all the time” says NPS

Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, Lincoln, and Boots

Washington, Jefferson, Roosevelt, Lincoln, and Boots

WASHINGTON, DC—The National Park Service announced today that it is raising revenue by augmenting all major national monuments with cats.

“We had to do something,” explained Monuments Director Joshua Blumenthal. “With the economy people aren’t traveling as much, and since literally every eighth grade class in the country has already been on its class trip to Washington this year, attendance was falling like a rock.

“So: cute cats,” he continued.

Read More »

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Hit songs on the bear charts

Honey Honey

If You Like It Then You Should Have Put A Tracking Collar On It

(Don’t Matter if You’re) Black or Grizzly

When a Bear Eats a Woman

Party in the Woods in the USA

Oops! I Ripped Open Your Cooler

Pandy (by Beary Manilow)

I Kissed a Girl Bear

My Twitter followers got a sneak peek at this bear content. If you are also on Twitter you can follow me and I’ll let you know when I have a new entry.

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American History Graffiti

One time I was walking in SoHo and I saw this piece of graffiti: “Fuck tha Pilgrims.” You tell those seventeenth century Protestants! I would love to know more about who wrote this. I imagine he is a tagger by night, American history graduate student by day. I spent the rest of my shopping trip imagining what else he probably sprayed around the city:

Fuck tha Jamestown colony.

Fuck tha federalists.

Fuck tha Monroe-Pinckney treaty.

Fuck tha Niña. Fuck tha Pinta. Cherish tha Santa Maria.

Fuck tha New Deal.

Fuck tha eliminizzation of tha gold standard.

Fuck tha Smoot-Hawley tariffs, often indicated as a major exacerbator of tha Great Depression and an obstacle to Germany’s post-war economic recovery, leading to tha fall of tha Weimar republic and tha rise of fascizzle.

Remember the Maine. Fuck Spain.

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Amanda, girl reporter.

The New York Times, the AP, and Reuters know him as Abu Sharati, the spokesman for Darfuri refugees. Reporters from those publications have all quoted him in their stories on Darfur, including some where he’s thrown his support behind the leader of a rebel faction.

The problem: no one aside from those reporters seems to think he exists. And there’s a decent chance that “Abu Sharati” IS that rebel leader.

Intrepid reporter/sister Amanda has the story over at her blog. Read it if you haven’t. Part 1, part 2, part 3. You will find a) she is smart and b) the New York Times has much bigger problems than writing inane stories about amusement parks.

Jesus Christ, mainstream media. Why are we supposed to be sad that you’re dying again?

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