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GNAWING THE CHAFF

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

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LOCAL EVILDOER FORGETS TO TELL 200,000 FRIENDS TO VOTE

Following the tragic loss of Texas senate seat to a Republican incumbent who has, at various points in his campaign, been rumored to be Bat Boy, the Zodiac Killer, one of the Blue Meanies, both of the Boston Stranglers, six “your mama” jokes come to life, pudgy Mothman, melting Elvis , fat Gozer, Canadian Ed Kemper, the front part of a centipede glued to an exercise ball, real-life Sleazy P. Martini, all three of Casper’s uncles, resurrected Slimer, a blobfish hit by lightning and turned into a man, humorless John Wayne Gacy, gravy Hitler, and then fat Gozer again, voters in both of the state’s real cities are left to wonder what went wrong.

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CHOOSE THE FORM OF THE DESTRUCTOR

Texas democrats find themselves asking how a politically astute, charismatic, young challenger could lose to the man some are calling “As Thicc as Texas”, “The Hedge Fund of Boggy Creek”, “The Texas Coleslaw Massacre”, “The Frown that Dreaded Rubdowns”, “Gawker: Texas Stranger”, “Spouse of 1000 Corpses”, “Payola Tengo”, and “a piece of shit”.

The historically narrow margin of defeat has been determined to be the fault of North Texas resident Darby Marbles, who, despite enormous social pressure, inexplicably refrained from reminding two hundred thousand of his Facebook friends to do their civic duty and vote in Tuesday’s election.

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BEAUTIFUL TED

“They say a single status update doesn’t count for much, but, in this case, I guess it cost the state of Texas our hero,” a mournful Mr. Marbles wept into his egg foo young the morning after the election, “I knew I was forgetting something.  I love voting.  I love how it brings us together as a nation in an unspoken agreement to not steal the pens from the booths, but then the old, dementia guys go ahead and steal ’em anyway.  God bless their right to do so.  It just didn’t occur to me to brag about it online.”

Darby continued his tearful tirade as he tucked into his hot and sour soup, “You know, when I tacitly agreed to share every aspect of my life transparently and instantaneously with everyone I’ve ever met, thereby reducing the ontological impact of every experience to a memetic representation of the experience that approaches, but never coalesces into, living authentically, I never thought it would end civilization this soon.”

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THIS STATION IS NON-OPERATIONAL

He then covered his nose and mouth with a giant “I VOTED BUT I FORGOT TO UPDATE MY FACEBOOK AND NOW WE HAVE TED CRUZ STILL” sticker and asphyxiated right there in Chili’s.

Mr. Marbles’s negligence only confirmed the suspicions of his more socially conscious out-there-in-the-real-world, or, “otitrw” acquaintances.  “People like Darby are destroying our country,” Sheryl Strange said of her distant coworker amid the industrial cacophony of their boutique hedgehog furniture Etsy store, “He one time asked me if Instagram was Myspace for photographs.  What an old!  He should asphyxiate in a Chili’s.”

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TRY THE BLOOMING ONION

Reached for comment, Darby’s two hundred thousand friends responded, “He should have told us to vote.  We would have voted.  We love any excuse to go to a church or elementary school gymnasium.”  Straightening the sheer fabric on their queen-size canopy bed, the two hundred thousand friends continued, “Oh well.  We’ll get ’em next week.  Go Red Raiders!”

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GIG ‘EM!

SPACE FORCE #1

SpaceForce1
INTERCEPTED MEDIA FROM UNKNOWN SOURCE; APPROXIMATE EARTH-DATE 2013 ± 7 YEARS

INDIGNANT BARISTA GETS EVEN WITH MANAGER BY WAGING PROXY WAR IN SYRIA

Bullets ricochet off the rubble of what was once Damascus as thousands, anticipating airstrikes, flee the city for the uncertain safety of refugee camps.  In Memphis Tennessee, Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf shift supervisor Brendan Tesseract disconsolately removes a pin from his war map.  Insubordinate barista Terry Nyborg thumbs his nose at his manager and impishly draws a penis in another customer’s latte foam.

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I NEED A VACATION FROM THIS VACATION

For months, the two headstrong java slingers have been trading jabs at store meetings and regional meetups for coffee shop and bakery professionals – Nyborg referring to his shift supervisor as “a fat slob”, “lyin’ Brendan”, and simply “sad!”; Tesseract countering that his underling is “too puny and incompetent to seize and maintain power” and that “bean squeezers come and go, but [Tesseract] will be shift supervisor for life!”.  Only recently have things escalated into the international arena.

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FIRST AS TRAGEDY, THEN AS FARCE

Tesseract originally recommended Nyborg for the job, believing he could easily manipulate the inexperienced percolator activator, thus improving his own standing within the greater Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf organization.  However, Nyborg’s Huckleberrian workplace antics and egotistical disregard for employee guidelines left Tesseract with little choice but to poison the disobedient steam jockey with polonium-210.  In a prank war worthy of Jim from The Office, Nyborg responded to the attempt on his life by ordering an airstrike on his shift supervisor’s many holdings in the Middle Eastern country of Syria.

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BEST.  PRANK.  EVER.

Now, as the workplace hijinks intensify, customers never know what they’re in for when they walk into this popular Memphis coffee spot, and thousands of Syrian nationals are stranded without access to clean drinking water or basic healthcare.  These civilian shrapnel in the clash of the capers can find solace in the knowledge that their lives have been forfeited for the sake of an ideal more radiant than mere humanity.  As their homes and places of worship crumble like so much biscotti, the people of Syria can look to the mighty Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf corporation and know that, in a distant land none of them will survive to visit, either one of these guys will have to clean the bathroom at the end of the night, or else the other one will.

Rambunctious orphan Amena Al-Salek, a displaced victim of Tesseract and Nyborg’s Home Alone-style tomfoolery, was one of a dozen lucky refugees to receive a complimentary cup of coffee from International Coffee & Tea, LLC.  Upon tasting her very first hot brewed get-up-and-go, she reportedly smiled through broken teeth and said, “They’re killing us!”

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THE CUP IS TOO HOT.  THE COFFEE IS TOO BITTER.

TOBIAS FÜNKE STRIPPED OF BLUTH COMPANY PRIVILEGE

Amidst allegations that he was compromised by the Deep State as an unwitting participant in the “Mr. F” sting operation, Dr. Tobias Fünke has been removed as a signatory shareholder for all future Bluth Company affairs.  Reached for statement, Dr. Fünke commented that, “if [he] responded too enthusiastically to [FBI] intrusion, it was only because [he] was excited by all the big, important men in the room”.

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I BLUE MYSELF

Dr. Fünke was thrust into prominence in the business community in the mid-2000s upon marrying socialite Lindsay Bluth, daughter of embattled real estate mogul George Bluth, Sr.   Following a mid-life career change, Tobias has found himself floundering in his new profession, frequently acting well beyond his range and improvising wildly to get himself through a scene.  However, his involvement with the Bluth Company has been a social and financial windfall, and he has been “filling as many holes in [his] father-in-law’s company as [the senior Bluth] will let [him]”.

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WE’RE HAVING A FIRE…SALE

Though the Bluth family has enjoyed unprecedented celebrity in recent years, many dispute the validity of their status, citing insider trading, unethical building policies, and “light treason” as the actual foundation of their success.  Plans for the long-awaited Sudden Valley housing development fell through innumerable times before the community was finally engineered cheaply and without access to phone or internet.  As of press time, it remains unclear how the company intends to fulfill its promised construction of Single City, Swing City, and F*ck City, or who will pay for them.

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100% NATURAL GOOD-TIME FAMILY BAND SOLUTION

The “Mr. F” debacle is far from Dr. Fünke’s only run-in with the law.  He has been questioned repeatedly about his family’s business practices for years.  More damning by far are a series of compromising photographs leaked to the media, which clearly illustrate Dr. Fünke’s ties to the Middle East and other foreign powers.  However, it was not until Dr. Fünke inadvertently agreed to act as a mole for an ongoing investigation that he lost use of the corporate account, company stair car, and the banana stand empire.

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THOSE ARE BALLS

The investigation into the Bluth Company is ongoing, and it remains unclear whether Tobias Fünke is taking undue responsibility for his father-in-law’s crimes, acting as a “Patsy” or even a “Nellie” for the company’s misdeeds.  Court documents indicate that George Bluth, Sr. has a disturbing history of allowing others to take the fall for his actions, going so far as to abandon his own brother for personal gain.

I’M OSCAR…DOT COM

As yet, the Bluth Company’s heir-apparent Michael Bluth maintains an untarnished-if-unremarkable record, and he remains as always ready to take over the family business should something befall the man he calls “Pop Pop”.

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FAMILY LOVE MICHAEL

WHITE HOUSE USES SMOKESCREEN TO OVERWHELM VOTERS, SUMMON MONSTERS FROM STEPHEN KING’S “THE MIST”

Speaking from behind a reinforced wall of ballistic-grade sniper glass in the Press Briefing Room and wearing the same mech suit used by Teddy Roosevelt to vanquish the Wolf Armies, Press Secretary Sarah Huckabee Sanders addressed the real news media today for a quick medley of this week’s greatest hits.

“This Russia tarnation just keeps getting slipperier and slipperier!  Reminds me of the time I came up on a road-killed mule deer – looked at her belly and seen she was with child – and an idea bird landed in my head and started hollering, ‘Hell, it ain’t calving season!  What’s this old girl doing in the family way?’.  So, I take out my Bowie knife, and I split her stem to stern to get at her miracle baby’s Savior Meats, and – wouldn’t you know it? – a big ol’ mud snake come out instead!” Huck began, punctuating her sentiment by licking a dollop of sorghum off her thumb.  “That mud snake had the face of my daddy.”

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SNAKES FOR THE MEMORIES

“What else is in the funnypapers?  Oh yeah.  Guns!  Guns!  Guns!”  Hocking a loogie into the Press Room spittoon, Huckabee Sanders continued, “That is our official stance on guns.”

“Korea was being a real stick in the mud, so I put some masking tape on the map where Korea was.  Now there’s no Korea.”

“The National Anthem is a real nice song, and, if you don’t like it, you probably live in a neighborhood where there’s a lot of check cashing places.”

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YOU DON’T NEED A WEATHERMAN TO KNOW WHICH WAY THE SHIT WIND BLOWS

Clearing her throat of molasses, the White House Press Secretary took a moment to reassure the nation that sightings of flesh-ripping grotesqueries that emerge from confusion to feast on the marrow of the innocent are entirely without merit.  “So long as your house was built on American geometry, you don’t need to be chickenshit about them things with teeth-for-skin gettin’ in your business.”

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STOP THE WORLD AND MELT WITH US

“Where was I?” Huck surveyed the press as she contemplatively tongued a single blade of wheat from one side of her mouth to the other.  “That’s right.  Rapid fire now.  I got a hootenanny to get to.  We told a whole mess of teenagers that penicillin gets you fucked up, so we don’t need to worry about healthcare no more.”

“Because abortion is murder, we’re just gonna train already-convicted child murderers to do abortions.  That way, we don’t end up with a bunch of extra people in Hell.  See that, Kathy Griffin, we solved abortion.”

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WHEN THERE’S NO MORE ROOM IN HELL, TRUE PATRIOTS WILL WALK THE EARTH

“Ain’t no such thing as sexual harassment.  Just look at the derivation of the word ‘harassment’.  It’s like – Her mouth said ‘no’ but her-ass-meant ‘hell yeah!’ –  Think about that one, sheeple.”

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DOWN LOW?  TOO SLOW!!!

“Jeff Sessions ain’t real.  Simple as that.”

Running down the grocery list of national discourse, Sarah “Huckleberry” Sanders crossed off the last items.  “I already talked about the Black Magic abominations that eat your nightmares, so that’s done.  All that’s left is, as far as you know, we fixed the railroads, too.”

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WE KEEP THE TRAINS RUNNING ON TIME

Huckabee Sanders signaled the conclusion of the press conference by removing her formal coonskin cap and replacing it with her leisure coonskin cap before opening the floor for questions.

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I LONG FOR THE FURNACE OF HADES

Visibly winded, the gathered media scrambled to locate a single, logical starting point of inquiry.  Amidst the susurrus of shuffling legal pads, Cigar Aficionado correspondent Lulu Velasquez approached the fortified dais, “I know I should be concerned about the issues, but I really just want to know more about these – what are they – space monsters?”

“Extradimensional.”  Huckabee Sanders corrected, “And you’re right to fixate on that point, honey.  The monsters are real, and I think one of them might could’a got in here.  If we don’t scramble quick, it’ll fill our pretty little heads with terror-lies!”

Feeling around the podium for her strolling cane, Huck entreated the press, “Now, would one of y’all be a dear and guide a poor old debutante out of the room.  I’m afraid I have done blinded myself with moonshine.”

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Y’ALL COME BACK NOW…IF YOU DARE!

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