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GNAWING THE CHAFF

Don't tell me how loud to shout "motherfucker", motherfucker.

SHITTY REALITY SHOW CANCELLED MID-SEASON

C-SPAN lamented the loss of another one-hour, unscripted drama this week as network execs pulled flagship reality program The White Houseguys of D.C. mid-season due to dwindling viewership and outright, public disdain for literally the entire cast.  According to critics, the show had initial potential.  Helmed by established reality star Donald Trump, most believed Houseguys could be the next Imprison ZZ Top, but, despite its sterling pedigree, the program encountered problems from the jump – including an overwhelming majority of the viewing public expressing outrage that the show was even on the air.  However, nothing seemed insurmountable until halfway through the first season when Houseguys began exhibiting the flailing death throes of a kickboxer that doesn’t yet know he’s been knocked unconscious.

Image result for trump passed out

DOWN FOR THE COUNT, DEAD ON THE MAT

“The plot lines got really confusing.  I couldn’t tell which characters were participating in the show, which ones got roped in just to justify the show’s existence, and which ones were secretly there to annihilate the entire medium of television,” complains freelance meter maid Gus Justgus.  “At the end of the day, all I really care about is who’s peeing on who.”

The lack of a consistent vision or focused tone was never more apparent than during the final round of in-show confessionals, wherein the principal cast took turns contradicting one other in an apparent game of Dumbshit Rashomon.  Tortured anti-hero James “Comey Comey Comey Comey Comey Chameleon” Comey, like a moistened and gritty lollipop sticking to the flip-flop of whoever stepped on him last, spent his allotted time alternately bemoaning his inability to shine within the established framework of the show and cock-teasing the audience about potential plot twists for future episodes that everyone knew would never come.

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YOU COME AND GO, YOU COME AND GO

Teen heartthrob Jeff “Twang Beer Salt” Sessions, on the other hand, used his opportunity in the booth not to defend backstabbing his frenemies on-air but rather to suggest that maybe nothing ever happens on the show, that the human experience is filtered through the clogged sump pump of our perceptions, and that experiential reality is therefore necessarily subjective.  Asked by producers to elaborate, Sessions sucked his gerbil teeth and screeched, “HOW COULD MY MEMORIES BE THE SAME AS YOURS?!?” before skittering into his CritterTrail tube maze to hide.

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“I REMEMBER NOTHING”

In the final blow to the show’s remaining fans, resident Houseguys card sharp Donald Trump skirted accountability by distancing himself from his costars and Cheshire Catting into the ether without delivering a satisfying resolution to his character arc one way or the other.  The premature cancellation has left many critics wondering weather the ostensible star will ever have to answer directly for his betrayal of audience expectations.

The White Houseguys of D.C. swung for the fences in its opening months, drumming up viewers via direct social media marketing campaigns and attracting curiosity-seekers through its inherent controversy and sheer implausibility.  However, as sweeps week approached, Houseguys resorted to the same hokey gimmicks and ad hominem attacks that ultimately doomed the short-lived XFL.

TRUMP CURRIES FAVOR DURING HIS “FLATULATE OF THE UNION” ADDRESS

Shortly before cancellation, early adopters of the program admitted to feeling fleeced and like they frankly should have known better.

“It makes me a little sick to have been a part of the hysteria,” reported Greg Upchurch of the American hard rock group 3 Doors Down.  “Now the MAGA hat I used to think was so cool is gathering dust in the carport utility closet next to my speed-reading cassettes and my Slap Chop.  At least I’ve got my fidget spinners to fall back on.”

Image result for yourself or someone like you

I WANT SOMETHING ELSE TO GET ME THROUGH THIS SEMI-CHARMED KIND OF LIFE

Houseguys is the second reality flop for C-SPAN, which only recently recovered from the PR nightmare that was 1998’s Book TV vs. Road Rules Challenge, in which Christopher Hitchens was inadvertently dry-drowned by MTV VJ Jesse Camp during a grueling, two-and-a-half-hour wet t-shirt contest.

The plucky network refuses to give up, though.  Despite the cancellation of its tent-pole show, C-SPAN still intends to move forward with a spin-off series.  Starring fan-favorite, breakout character Mike Pence, the new broadcast will follow an enigmatic loner as he governs a failing nation-state all while attempting to reunite with his long-lost, creepy twin brother.  The new program is tentatively titled The Handmaid’s Tale.

UNDER HIS EYE

GREEN HELL: JILL STEIN’S FIRST 100 DAYS IN REVIEW

When Americans hit the polls last November and elected Green Party candidate Jill Stein by an historically narrow margin, no one could have predicted that, little more than three months after her inauguration, this dark horse would be roaming the blackened streets of Washington, D.C., dual-wielding torture-grade cattle prods and wearing the dripping skin of Libertarian opponent Gary Johnson as a cloak. Flanked by an armada of weaponized spiny anteaters, Stein’s warpath stops just long enough for her to check the new rainwater collection silo outside the Library of Congress before she ventures inside to electrocute cowering Senate Majority Whip John Cornyn to death.

Jill Stein Laser Whip

THIS IS JILL STEIN’S AMERICA

How did the United States get here? Join Gnawing the Chaff as we review President Stein’s first hundred days in office:

JANUARY 20

Inauguration goes smoothly for the unlikely candidate, whom Americans – or, as we are now known, the Conquerors of the Flesh – chose as leader despite her endorsement by the fringe organization Ancient Order of Druids in America and her public confession that she doesn’t know what Louisiana is. Her speech is brief but hopeful, welcoming everyone, regardless of past allegiances, to share in the love that unites the human race. The cake is vegan and the frosting predictably green.

Four More Tiers

FOUR MORE TIERS!

JANUARY 21

On her fist official day, rookie President Jill Stein meets with predecessor Barack Obama to review policy goals of the departing administration and begin enacting those of her own. Sheepishly shaking hands with Mr. Obama, Stein – still wet behind the ears – announces her intentions to start making good on campaign promises immediately.

JANUARY 23-31

To the satisfaction of her constituents, she begins that Monday, working tirelessly to make our nation’s capitol 100% sustainable, installing solar panels on all government buildings, harvesting rainwater to reduce greywater waste, and replacing inefficient commodes with composting toilets to benefit the D.C. community gardens program. As a token gesture, she commutes the sentences of several incarcerated activists held on domestic terrorism charges since the 1999 World Trade Organization protests. President Stein fulfills commitments to the Green Party by signing an executive order imposing a carbon tax on domestic manufacturers.

Dill Slaw

HOW A DILL BECOMES A SLAW

FEBRUARY 1-6

Shortly after the carbon tax goes into effect, Stein gains an improbable adversary in the Sloan Valve and Urinal Screen Corporation. Apparently, the vulcanization process used by Sloan to manufacture urinal screens voids a massive amount of poisonous carbon monoxide into the atmosphere. Sloan states that they would “happily pay the new tax if given exclusive vending rights to the capitol”. However, the composting toilets now used in Washington, D.C. restrooms make scented urinal screens unnecessary, leaving the bathroom giant with no recourse but to flex its considerable political muscle.

Bad Urinal

YOU DON’T PISS ON HOSPITALITY

FEBRUARY 7-10

Congress, long in the pocket of Big Urinal Screen, urges President Stein to either drop her carbon tax or reinstate the use of urinals in D.C. public bathrooms. Stein, loyal to the Green Party and her environmentalist constituents, refuses to budge on either issue. Congress retaliates by blocking her appointment of Zach de la Rocha, formerly of Rage Against the Machine, to the Supreme Court.

Rage

SLEEP NOW IN THE FILIBUSTER

FEBRUARY 11-28

With Washington at a standstill and her popularity in the midwest plummeting by her second month in office, President Stein’s frustration becomes palpable. Conservative opponents begin a grassroots campaign to restore their party by orchestrating Republican wins in many local elections across the nation.

MARCH 1

Approval at an all-time low, President Stein seems prepared to concede some leftist doctrines when Washington is rocked by a series of firebombs, igniting the White House, Capitol Building, and the Washington Monument reflecting pool. Convicted ecoterrorists Neve “Most-Of-A-Deer” Childress and Artie Nematode, recently freed by President Stein, claim responsibility.

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MEAT IS MURDER

MARCH 2

President Stein condemns the acts of a “few extremists, whose beliefs do not represent the ideals of the environmental movement as a whole”. Responding to this apparently misrepresentative slander, the World Wildlife Fund counters by simultaneously freeing every animal from every zoo in America, inciting a classic “all animals versus all humans” scenario.

zoo

WHOEVER WINS, WE LOSE

MARCH 3-5

A surprise to all involved, the still-burning husk of the White House ignites an immense reservoir of natural gas, which has been collecting unused and unvented beneath the National Mall since the capitol’s radical conversion to solar power. The city becomes an unmitigated sea of flames, and President Stein declares martial law, temporarily suspending the constitution.

MARCH 6-10

Washington lawmakers from all parties call for President Stein’s immediate impeachment following the incidents of the “Green Inferno”.  Stein enacts emergency powers, forming a tribunal for the prosecution of detractors. All political opponents are convicted of treason, and, during what has come to be known as the “Night of the Long Vines”, they are ambiguously “fed to the forest”.

long knives

SEE THE SMOKE STACKS RISING UP LIKE FUCK YOU TOWERS?

MARCH 11-17

An impromptu Burning Man is held by supporters of President Stein. Throughout the course of the weeklong celebration of self-expression, decommodification, and the hunting and killing of libertarians, Stein’s many pagan advocates perform a Protection Ritual for the embattled POTUS, shielding her from the dark vibes of her would-be enemies. At the culmination of the festival, Federal Reserve Chair Janet Yolen is immolated inside an enormous wicker man.

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YOU’LL SIMPLY NEVER UNDERSTAND THE TRUE NATURE OF SACRIFICE

MARCH 18 – APRIL 2

As attacks on citizens by exotic zoo animals become increasingly common during Stein’s third month, separatist militias form to combat the rising tide of nature-on-technology violence. President Stein, from the safety of a combo political rally/pot luck dinner, declares herself to be the “Avenging Angel of Fern Gully”, revealing the true extent of her atavistic powers. Bolstered by the enchantments of the greater Wiccan community, as well as the life force of the immolated Jane Yolen, President Stein commands America’s fire ants to burrow into the skin of any person openly carrying a firearm. A fantail pigeon runs unopposed for deputy mayor of Glen Ridge, Florida.

PIGOEN

SPRING BREAK, MOTHERFUCKERS!

APRIL 3-17

Mobile death panels travel peripatetically across the nation condemning citizens apprehended for watering their grass outside of their communities’ established lawn maintenance schedules. The electric chairs used for their executions are powered using renewable energy from Midwestern wind farms.

APRIL 18-28

People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals – or “PETA” – topple the cosmetics industry from the backs of modified War Elephants as President Stein uses fairy magic to transform all automotive plants into one giant, cooperative soup kitchen. Emboldened by the president’s tacit-acceptance of their extreme views, Unitarian Universalists come out of the woodwork to strangle those perceived to “know stuff about economics” with hemp garrotes.  Our nation’s streets run red with the blood of the corporate elite.  For the first time since the Industrial Revolution, the ozone layer thickens.

war elephant

EASY.  BREEZY.  BEAUTIFUL.

APRIL 29

Surviving Americans begin to wonder if they have mistakenly placed their trust and, by extension, their lives in the hands of a narcissistic, power-bloated dictator.

stein

LET THEM EAT MOLTEN FUCKING LAVA

TRUMP VOWS TO EXECUTE ONE MINKE WHALE EVERY HOUR UNTIL GLOBE STOPS WARMING

Taking an unprecedentedly bold stance on climate change, Donald Trump clothed himself in the presidential wetsuit this morning and christened the United States’s only fully operational, saltwater execution chamber. Submerged in the cramped tank, President Trump stroked the muzzle of the first of what could become thousands of minke whales on the chopping block before giving the “thumbs up” and plunging an unforgiving bar of rotating blade teeth into the neck area of the giant, marine mammal.

As the light faded from the cetacean’s baseball-sized eyes, Trump raised his army-issue, aquatic chainsaw above his head and revved it triumphantly, spraying members of the press with blood-drenched baleen and blubber. “Now who wants to talk about the Paris Agreement?!?” the president goaded the already ecstatic crowd.

Whale Eye

DON’T BE A HERO, EARTH

Trump has long been critical of the Paris Agreement, calling it a “half-assed, make-work convolution of meaningless treaties and unenforceable tariffs” designed to “mollify rudimentarily educated activists by indirectly addressing a complex issue.”

Rather than gradually reducing greenhouse gas emissions worldwide to painstakingly forestall the inevitable water riots, Trump went right to the source, aiming his ultimatum at the Earth as an entity. “GLOBE, I SPEAK TO THEE!” his voice boomed through colossal amplifiers pointed into all the major, terrestrial caves, “I DEMAND THAT YOU CEASE WARMING AT ONCE! I WILL CONTINUE TO BEHEAD ONE OF YOUR MINKE WHALES EVERY HOUR UNTIL YOU COMPLY! THAT IS ALL!”

Red Rock

1.5 MILLION PEOPLE ATTENDED THE EVENT

Responding to worries that his strategy might seem ruthless and unnecessary to the uninformed public, Trump sighed with exasperation, “We’re talking about a problem that could lead to the homogenization and de-stratification of global water densities here,” he began as he activated the raft of fan blades on the floor of the execution chamber in order to puree the decapitated leviathan.

“Obviously, that would cause the total shutdown of oceanic, thermohaline circulation. How much clearer does the science have to be? We don’t have time to fuck around with trade agreements.” Dipping his finger into the slurry, he added, “We’re going to make a killing in the chum market.”

Thermohaline Circulation

THE RED NUMBERS ARE CLEARLY BIGGER THAN THE BLUE NUMBERS

Trump elaborated on his maniacal threat as he directed a dump truck to offload the next minke whale into his kill tank. “I’m an all-or-nothing kind of president. If this Spinning, Blue Bastard insists on trying to burn the human race off of its majestic plains, glorious mountain ranges, and lucrative beaches, I’m not pulling any punches when it comes to a couple hundred bullshit whales.”

Considering his arsenal and ultimately selecting an elegant ball peen hammer to murder the next whale, the president checked his stopwatch and consulted a thermometer before again addressing the world through his subterranean PA. “TIME’S UP, EARTH! TRUMP WINS NO MATTER WHAT! I’M NOT AFRAID TO TAKE A PLANET DOWN WITH ME!”

Mustafar

EARTH NEGOTIATES WITH PRESIDENTS

M4M: BOY SEEKS IDENTICAL BOY TO BE CREEPY TWINS WITH

I do not usually do things like this, but my family just moved, and I do not have any friends in my new city. My dad always says that boys like me deserve to be happy, and I am a boy like me, and maybe you are, too, so I am just going to ask: Are there any boys in the greater D.C. area that look just like me, and maybe they want to be creepy twins with me?

Pence Kiss

MY DAD IS MY BEST FRIEND.  HE KISSES ME A LOT.

I am a white boy (Yay!) about five feet tall, and my head kind of looks like a dried locust husk, and my neck is the fat tree. My lip bones are always pointed down because my dad says my face is saving its smile for when I meet Mr. God up in the Heaven. I like to dress really nice because, when your body is dressed nice, nobody knows when your brain is having a bad thought. If this sounds like the way your outside looks, too, maybe you should come to where I am, and we can be twins now! My feet are good but not great.

Bad Thoughts

THE INSIDE OF MY HEAD IS SCARY SOMETIMES.

When you and me are together, we are going to do all the best twin stuff! We will scare Mom by standing very still for one hour and one half of the other hour, and then, when she turns around for only a second, we will be suddenly gone! Then we can lick each other’s elbows because I cannot lick my own elbows, and that reminds me of the sad time. Also, we will put just a little bit of dog poison in all of Grandma’s food so that she becomes very weak, and she thinks about what it will be like to be dead. My dad says that, when you are dead, you can tickle anything you want, and everyone pretends not to see, even if you tickle a bad thing. When that is over, we can take all of Sister’s toys and melt them with acid in the sandbox because girls pee out of their butts, and that is weird.

Tickle

YOU CAN TICKLE ANYTHING WHEN YOU ARE DEAD.

I live in a very big house near my dad’s house, so, when you come to here, look for my dad’s house, and then go to the very big house that is my house. I will be there waiting to hug and pinch you! I cannot wait to meet you, Other Me. Together we will teach everyone our secret, new language, and then the whole world will be creepy twins!

Twin Pences

FOREVER AND EVER AND EVER!

UNCLEAR WHICH WAVE OF FEMINISM TRUMP ADMINISTRATION EMBRACING

Reacting to what is probably just an ironic, one-man caricature of the “imperialist, white supremacist, capitalist patriarchy” model described by bell hooks, many Americans are beginning to worry that our new president might be taking his performance art a little too far.

bell hooks

“His stage presence is too bombastic to be believable.”

“At first, I was impressed by the sheer ambition of maintaining an installation for four consecutive years,” remarked experimental cellist Derby Zambreno, “but now I’m ready for Trump to break character. His interpretation of intersectionality is all over the place, and it’s starting to get scary.” Brushing pollen off his vest with a handkerchief, Derby continued, “It’s like we’re reading totally different critical analyses of Blood and Guts in High School!”

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KATHY ACKER UNDERWHELMED BY LATEST PRODUCTION

With a political campaign reminiscent of riot grrrl’s vitriol, initial reports ensconced the Trump administration comfortably within the ideology of third-wave feminism. However, as legislative focus shifts toward issues of birth control and safe access to reproductive healthcare, it seems that the fledgling cabinet may be more accurately described as a second-wave feminist operation. The recent addition of voting rights participant Jeff Sessions to the White House staff, though, has analysts wondering if we might be dealing with a first-wave feminist presidency, or even a presidency that embraces no feminist ethos we have seen before.

It remains uncertain how a sitting president can hear JD Samson sing the refrain “I’ve got post-binary gender chores” on Le Tigre’s 2001 deep cut “Fake French” and sit complacently as states challenge established transgender rights. However, supporters maintain that it would be antithetical to the tenets of Sandy Stone’s “Post-transsexual Manifesto” for the president to use his cisgender privilege to intercede on behalf of a capable minority and that Trump “loves thinking about bathrooms”.

Le Tigre

YOUR LYRICS ARE DUMB LIKE A LINOLEUM FLOOR

Evocative of Judith Butler’s “gender performativity” theory, legendary orator and thick-cut steak fry Sean Spicer reminded the country this afternoon that the role of president is one that is acted out rather than one assigned arbitrarily through coincidence of birth, and that Trump – committed thespian that he is – will continue to act out for as long as the American people let him. Addressing members of the press, Spicer elaborated, “Especially on National Ladies’ Book Club Night, the president will hang with all the dudes, but he totally digs chicks, and he is into them – sexually.”

Reached for comment about the sustainability of his vision, Trump responded, “Meryl Streep is a cunt.”

Trump Addresses Crisis In Popularity: “I’m Gonna Do a Hundred 9/11s.”

Facing the lowest approval rating of any sitting president since Dwight “Silent Cal” Eisenhower machine-gunned a leper that “was looking at [him] leper-y”, leader of the free world and defiantly un-flushed urinal cake Donald Trump unveiled his strategy for national unification in an address to congress this week. Like a pubescent seventh-grader just trying to make it through one school day without anyone noticing he forgot his deodorant, the fledgling Trump administration has been slinking through the White House hallways, blaming its own stench on passing nerds, but, so far, none of the cool kids have been buying it. However, in an intellectual tour de force Tuesday night, the embattled commander in chief laid out a time-honored strategy for gaining back the people’s trust.

“It’s simple, really, at least for a cool, smart guy like me,” began the lionhearted cantaloupe. “Take a look at history. Trust me, we’ll be headed back toward greatness before you know it. You see, the last time this great nation was kidnapped by an over-confident, gray-hearted, giggling, idiot god transparently being manipulated by fleshless, corporate centurions, themselves sycophants to the Wheel of Corruption described in the Black Tarot, we just did a quick 9/11. Problem solved.”

emperor

IMAGE TAKEN FROM NBC’S “THE APPRENTICE”

Fondly recalling the vague dissatisfaction of a nation incontrovertibly robbed of its rightful leader but not yet inured to the meaningless bloodshed of an abstract war that may or may not still be happening, Donald Trump, the heroic equivalent of chewing bubblegum in a Valero bathroom, forgave the shortcomings of his stylistic predecessor.

“George Bush – the new one – he was a great man, and he did a lot of great things in his time on earth, but, let’s be honest, he was a pussy, and his administration is rightly remembered as a pussy administration.” Trump, masterful entertainer that he is, took the opportunity to punctuate this classic witticism with his signature “pussy grabbing” lobster snap. “A single 9/11? Come on!”

king-kong

“It wasn’t even that good a 9/11.”

“If there’s anything we can learn from Bush, it’s that a 9/11 is a great idea. It gets the people on your side. Why not have them all the time?” Trump, in his plea for solidarity, vowed never to repeat past inadequacies. “I’m not the kind of president who half-asses things. It is my solemn promise that everyone – whites, orientals, and blacks both queer and regular – each of you will get your own, personal 9/11, and that’s a promise I can keep.”

chicken

A 9/11 IN EVERY GARAGE!

Responding to media criticism that doing a 9/11 ultimately was not enough to prevent George W. Bush’s approval rating from plummeting throughout the subsequent seven years of his presidency, and that many Americans still hold our 43rd president in smoldering contempt to this day, Trump spoke specifically to members of the press, “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. For your insight, you will be the first to get 9/11ed.”

alex-jones

“A job this big should be done from the inside.”

NATION MOURNS AS RECORD-BREAKING “OPPOSITE DAY” TRUDGES UNABATED INTO FOURTH MONTH

Stunned Americans watched in horror this New Year’s as the ball dropped in Times Square, and Opposite Day 2016 became the first Opposite Day in recorded history to bridge consecutive calendar years. Now, nearly three months later and with no end in sight, many don’t know what – or, even, how – to think.

“It was-not-was almost fun at first,” began puzzle maker Laverne Northcutt, “trying to figure out how the bad guys became the not-bad guys…or how they became the not-bad-not-guys…or do I also have to refute the plurality of ‘guys’? I can’t fucking bring myself to care anymore.” Ms. Northcutt, entangled in a semiotic web of meta-negation, shut down at this point in the interview and inhaled deeply from a bottle of ether.

Confusion continues to mount as more and more people lose their ability to rationalize the world around them, given the contrapositive, conceptual framework, upon which Opposite Day is constructed. It has become increasingly difficult, it would seem, to make even the simplest of statements without fear of public reprisal. For example, an assertion like “I am going to the toilet” can now only be understood as “not-I isn’t going away from the not-toilet” or, more succinctly, “I am going to the president”.

When reached for comment, disgruntled Soviet comedian Yakov Smirnoff growled, “This is what I was warning you dipshits about the whole time.”

yakov

“In Communist Russia, we have no sympathy for you!”

Those less concerned about the unprecedented perpetuation of Opposite Day include symbolic logicians, who are enjoying their longest ever period of uninterrupted professional relevance, and aging Gen-Xers, who are using this interval of suspended reality to finally figure out what Donnie Darko is about.

man-suit

“Why are you wearing that stupid man suit?”

Theoretical physicist Michio Kaku illustrates the abstract nature of Opposite Days by drawing a large circle on one side of a blackboard, representing our normal universe, and, on the other side, drawing an antiparallel simulacrum of the same circle, representing “this bullshit”. He then pounds his head onto the surface of the original circle over and over again, explaining, “With enough dumb, repetitive energy, we as a society can sufficiently injure reality to actually dig underneath the bottom of what we understand to be true. With this, Opposite Day begins to exert small influences over our existence.”

bev

ARTIST RENDERING OF PERMANENT OPPOSITE DAY

As blood runs down Michio Kaku’s forehead, he pauses his infernal battery long enough to clear his eyes of gore. “As I shove my head through the chalkboard, I am, in essence, creating a half-dimension between our world and that of Opposite Day. I call it ‘The Dumbfuck Dimension’. We can only pray that we die before we smash all the way through.”

While the 2016-2017 Opposite Day is a brutal reminder of our tenuous foothold in the abyssal precipice of rationale, it is not without historical precedent. Other notably prolonged Opposite Days include the 1980 season of Saturday Night Live, in which Joe Piscopo was mistakenly acknowledged as human, the Falklands War, and the weeklong period in November of 2003 when Kevin was not a fag.

straight

PLAYING IT STRAIGHT ON OPPOSITE DAY

However unlikely, Opposite Day is not without its advocates. Baseball caps – traditionally reserved for athletes – bumper stickers, and handcrafted signs employing “alternative spelling” techniques, have appeared throughout much of North America since Opposite Day began, apparently in support of this bloodbath of factual uncertainty. As recently even as last week, a festering, sepia-tone rutabaga insisted on national television that, despite widespread and publicly available evidence to the contrary, everything was going tremendously.

rutabaga

“I’m a good guy – very smart.”

flippo1

COMPASSIONATE TRUMP REASSURES FRIGHTENED POPULACE: “WELCOME TO TORNADO ISLAND!”

President of the United States and erotic urine mogul Donald Trump betrayed a rare moment of empathy this week when he reached out across party lines to frightened liberals, inviting them to spend a weekend on Tornado Island, free of charge*. Tensions have run high in this unprecedentedly fraught inaugural month as Donald Trump, commander in chief and “the guy who knows where all the sewers go”, signed into effect a number of executive orders that many during his campaign had hoped were just the fever dreams of an elderly toddler. However, in an effort to salve divisive wounds, the real estate tycoon and potty champion has opened one of his vacation properties to fearful progressives, encouraging them to unwind and meditate on bipartisan cooperation amidst the unrelenting assault of Tornado Island’s relaxing, 240 mph breeze.

skull-island

Its unique, coastal geology makes Tornado Island an ideal destination for extreme, physical dismemberment.

Originally acquired by the Trump family in the 1930s amidst rumors of buried monster bones, this blustery atoll has long been thought to bring tranquility, an onslaught of cyclopean, F5 devastation, and professional prosperity to those who make the pilgrimage to its distant shores. In addition to the unimaginably powerful, never-ending cyclones, Tornado Island is known for its lush, jungle interior, its rich, biologically diverse ecosystem, and its horrifying, aeolian destruction that knows no hope of ever abating.

tornado-rex

Tornado Island’s unusual wildlife is sure to awaken the amateur naturalist in every visitor.

“Let us cast aside our differences and pee together as equals on Tornado Island!” proclaimed President Trump in a rare moment of nonpartisan compassion. “Our pee will whip around our bodies in the incomprehensible winds, joining as one Pee in the rotating wall cloud above our heads!”

This olive branch came at a critical moment in Trump’s transition when many constituents were beginning to feel overwhelmed and disenfranchised by the spate of sudden changes in Washington. According to government insiders, though, Trump has had a strategy in place for centuries to mollify the inevitable naysayers. The first week in any new presidency is traditionally used to ease a less-experienced politician into power and strike a compromise within a polarized nation, and, at least in this regard, the maverick businessman and golden shower enthusiast is playing by the books.

Basking in the convivial whirlwinds, visitors agreed that Tornado Island is a veritable [paradise] of chaos and bloodshed.

“When the election happened, I was, of course, afraid for my civil liberties,” cited a former social action chairperson clinging horizontally from her balcony on Tornado Island’s premier hotel and casino, “but here I [feel like I am floating on air]!”

A resident alien of the United States spoke anonymously, his face a rictus of apparent glee, “At first, I didn’t know what my legal status was, or if I would have to do anything to not get separated from my family in America.” At this, he paused, shielding himself from the maelstrom of shrapnel shredding his lips from his skull. “Now, I’m on Tornado Island.”

waco-tornado

*Visitors to Tornado Island will be expected to cover travel costs to and from Tornado Island, as well as any lodging and/or dining debt incurred on Tornado Island.

paraphrased from original quote

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