Letter from President of Iran Mahmoud Ahmadinejad to Santa Clause

Uncategorized

dictatorchristmasDear Symbol of Western Hedonism,

I write to you, the jolly fat man who delivers presents to the infidels, to address your bias toward our oppressors. The peoples of my country have been good boys and girls, do we not have as much right to ‘Christmas’ presents as the imperialist West? Are our stockings not to be filled? Are not all chimneys the same? I write in the hopes that you will deliver to the people of Iran the gifts rightfully owed and that this imbalance will be rectified starting with me. So Mr. Clause I send to you this list of what I want for ‘Christmas’.

25 rods of enriched uranium.
Death to Israel
Death to America
More Oil
Nintendo Wii U

I have been a very good boy and this list is very modest. So Santa if you are not a puppet of the Jews and America, you will deliver everything I have asked. If I awake ‘Christmas’ morning and run downstairs in my footed pajamas only to find that you have failed, then I will add the North Pole to the list of places in which Allah will rein down destruction and make the blood of the elves flow through the streets.

P.S. Mrs. Ahmadinejad would like a new burka.

Love,

Mahmoud Ahmadinejad

The Hangover Review

Food/Wine

PukingInToiletBeezle Brothers Black Mocha Stout – Though not a high-gravity beer, Beezle Bros. Black Mocha Stout provides one of the best locally brewed hangovers money can buy. Talk about mouthfeel, this beer has a medium-bodied amber spew that you’ll notice when “re-tasting” the quality craftsmanship onto the bathroom stall floor.

You’ll also get to enjoy the aroma of roasted malt with coffee undertones along with whatever you had for dinner as you rest your head on the toilet seat lid. Drinking a dozen of these, you can be assured the hangover fairy will leave a robust malty dump in your mouth – with just a hint of chocolate.

Black Mocha Stout goes well with pointless drunken ramblings, drunk-dialing an old girlfriend for an embarrassing bout of sex, or mistakenly peeing in your laundry basket before “going to sleep”. The headache is sublime and the accompanying dehydration is not unlike stuffing yeasty cotton balls down your throat.

The next morning, I suggest not eating until at least noon, unless you’d like to ‘re-taste’ the delicious Beezle Bros. Black Mocha Stout.

By Dan Stanter

Dan is beer, liquor and hangover enthusiast and connoisseur. Look for his new book coming out in the spring ‘I think I Wet Myself and I Don’t Know Were I Am – Humorous Adventures of a Chronic Alcoholic’.

Jobs

Jobs

Occasionally local folks send in some employment opportunities for folks in the area. We know times are tough and pass them along. If you can fill any of these positions, please let us know.

Housecleaner

Local couple looking for housecleaner. Must have dungeon-cleaning experience, chain/leather upkeep and spot removal abilities preferred. Must be able to focus on job and not be easily distracted.

Goat Farmer

Goat Farmer needed must be MCSE certified and have XML and .NET experience. Must have a minimum of 4-years experience with eGoatFarm 4.0, Window servers and general upkeep of goats.

Actors/Models Needed

Two models wanted. Preferably one Asian and one blonde. Must be flexible and enjoy pudding. Must have own snorkel, hand sanitizing gel and poncho  Must be able to be paid in seafood. Sign language skills is a plus.

Falafel Wheat-Germ Soyffalo Wings with Malted Barley Grit Fries.

Food/Wine

urlNothing fills the hungry soul after a tough day of yoga and pottery classes than a piping hot batch of Soyffallo Wings with a yummy bark dipping sauce.  You’ll swear you’re eating real Buffalo wings!

First take some delicious sticks, preferably oak (cedar works as well), and wrap them with falafel mix and wheat germ. Leave them in the sun for 20 minutes. In the meantime, boil down a cup of pine bark and add just a hint of rhubarb. When your wings are luke-warm, you know they’re ready. Dip and enjoy! I think you’ll find that they taste almost as sinful as real meat, without the gut-wrenching guilt and the loss of moral superiority. Top it off this wonderful meal with a batch of malted barley grit fries and a steaming cup of tea made from sorghum, grapefruit bioflavonoids and red marine algae… remember that’s got 40% kappa-sulfated polysaccharides and 5% sea phenolic! Delicious and spiritually nutritious!

Be sure to read next week where we’ll be showing you how to pull lettuce from your garden without offending it, and we’ll be asking ourselves:  Echinacea Angustifolia Root – is it the new Engelhardtia Chrysolepis? I think you’ll be surprised!

By Harvest Songlove

Harvest owns the ‘Gaia One-Love Sunshine Co-Op’ and an organic radish farm ‘Radish’n Out Some Love’  in Western North Carolina. He dabbles in crystal mediation and is head alderperson for the local Wiccan book club.

I’m Gonna Downward Dog Your Ass!

Opinion

urlWhen it comes to yoga baby, I’m one Ashtanga crazy beyatch throwing my Sun Salutation all up in ya face. Don’t you come in here posin’ because up in this Y, we yoga tough. This ain’t your mamma’s yoga, this is extreme yoga. Monkey pose…bam! Flying Crow pose…bam! That’s right. I’m not even spilling my latte. You scared now? You should be.

Uh oh… Upward Facing Dog…bam! That’s right. I’m doing the dog. Uh oh… did you hurt yourself? Why don’t you take a break and see how the big girls play. Why don’t you sit there and watch me reach a state a perfect peace? Check it out… Bam! Peace! Right there. Just reached it. I reach inner peace faster than any of these chumps circular breathing in here. I got so much inner peace it’s shooting out my nose.

But I’m not done yet… oh no. Lotus pose… bam!  Headstand pose… bam! How’s that? You’re like all upside down and stuff. Firefly pose… bam! Baby, look at me. I’m a firefly. My ass is lighting up and I’m flying around in my backyard on my peace wings. Damn I’m good.

Give it up, honey. Why don’t you try some Jazzersize or something, because in here, yoga is for the big girls. Lokaa Smastha Suckhino Bhavanthu – Chump!

by Peace Johnson

I’m Sorry but that Hokey Pokey Crap’s Got to Go.

Music, Opinion, Uncategorized

2005_aYesterday my teacher, Mrs. Feldman, started singing Hokey Pokey  in class. Stick your right leg in… blah blah blah. I was all like “why don’t you just throw in some Mary had a Little Lamb and completely lame out music time”. She tells me to sit down. So I stand up and ask the class, “Do you want to Rock? I can’t hear you… I said do you want to Rock?!” Of course they do.

See Mrs. Feldman doesn’t get it. I’m all about the She’ll be Coming Around the Mountain you know what I’m saying? Real Rock. Not this Hokey Pokey crap. If I ran music time, I’d unleash some Row Row Row Your Boat.  I’d even bring a hot dish of Pop Go Tha Weezel to the Rock table. Oh hell yea!

Hokey Pokey? … lady come on! I can’t let this happen, so I whip out my Pop Go Tha Weezel, and she gets mad. My teacher’s all like “sit down or go to time out”, and I’m like “don’t try to hold down the power of Rock with your rules lady”. And she’s all like “okay no cookies during snack for you” and I’m like “I don’t need your cookies.” So then she puts me in timeout for 5 minutes. But I didn’t cry. That’s right. I’m a bad boy. I saw Jenny checking me out, and I threw her the Rock sign while I was Bad Boyin’ it doing my time. She knows I’m all about the Rock.

So when I finished, the first thing I did was jump on the teacher’s desk and fire up the greatest Rock classic of all time Old McDonald. Hell yea. Moo moo here, y’all, moo moo there. I swung my hips and the chicks went wild. I totally Rocked the horse and pig. Even my teacher was like Damn! He Rocks the McDonald. Then I slowed things down for the ladies with a little Twinkle Twinkle. Chics dig that. But you got to end big, so then I Rocked the close with This Old Man. He play two. Oh yea… He play nic nac on my shoe…

See my teacher just needs to know, when it comes to music time I bring the Rock like no other. Hokey Pokey is so pre pre-school man. When music time comes, I unleash the power of Rock and you suckas better back up and recognize.

By Sam Stillerman

Sam Stillerman is a pre-schooler at Happy Playtime Dayschool. He likes to chill out and listen to some This Old Man and drink juice boxes with his buddies. He wants to give a big shoutout to all the lovely ladies in Mrs. Davidson’s class. Keep it rocking Hapi Playz! Yea, you know what’s up.

This Satirical Piece is Extremely Funny and Let Me Explain Why

Uncategorized

Favim.com-13264It has been brought to my attention that some readers think the occasional humor I produce is sub-par and offensive. In fact, some of you may be reading this piece right now thinking, ‘gosh this isn’t funny at all’ and ‘I believe that I am offended’. Yes, I can understand why you might think that. So I will now explain why what you’re reading (and therefore everything I write) is extremely funny, and I’ll do it in a way that even the common layperson may understand:

f:X→Y [(Z2/(words(μ)×(penis joke/chauvinism) + x(fart)∞] /ψ(misplelings)

This is my patent-pending Charles Bunyion Humor Index Equation™.

As you can plainly see, if you take this simple equation and apply it to the piece that you are currently reading, even a commoner with a sixth-grade education will realize that mathematically this is a cleverly worded wonderfully humorous insightful observation on daily life. If you don’t think that it is, then more than likely you forgot to carry the two. That’s a common mistake. People also often forget to move the decimal place past the penis joke. If you fail to do that then yes, this is poorly written crap. And if you don’t divide Z2 by x(fart) then this piece is actually quite offensive racially.

So when reading satire, it’s important to perform proper math. I would suggest a calculator just to insure that you’re not offended and that you fully enjoy the hilarity and wisdom that the Simpleton Review provides to you each and every week.

If you are bored or offended by my writings due to poor math skills, I would suggest a course at Mathnasium or my new book, “A Humorless look at Humor.” I think you’ll find it well worth the $199.99, and a delightful read explaining why absolutely everything that I write is handcrafted, organically grown, and mathematically calculated to be extremely nasal milk-spewing funny every week no matter what. That’s my guarantee to you. Because, as you’ve just learned, consistently creating humorous writing is merely an exercise in math… mixed with the occasional bong hit.

Written by Charles Bunyion

Charles Bunyion is a business analyst who plans, conducts, and directs the analysis of business problems to be solved with automated systems and applications and partners with users to identify, evaluate, and develop systems and procedures which are cost effective and meet user requirements and on his off days writes satire.

Killer Here’s Just a Silly Ol’ Love Hound.

Human Interest

Don’t give Killer no mind. He wouldn’t hurt a flea. That growlin’ means he likes you. So if your little kid wants to pet him, no problem. Just saddle on up there and pull on his ears. He likes that. He wouldn’t hurt nobody, unless you’re a opossum. He drug a half-eaten one that he killed onto my doorstep last week. I couldn’t leave my house for a whole day because he thought I was gonna take it from him. Silly dog. House rules are: if you kill it, you keep it. Unless it’s our other dog Sparkles. My daughter’s still mad about that. Did you know a pit bull can eat a poodle whole? Me either.

Anyway, Killer loves kids. He played with a kid on our street so much that the kid’s mom told me he bled out of the bites to over 70% of his body. They played this game where the kid would scream and pretend to try and get away and Killer would jump on him and give him little love nibbles. They played a long time like that. I had so much fun just watching and laughing that I pulled up a chair and drank some beer. Good times.

Did I mention Killer’s got guard dog training? I taught him to attack any person that ain’t supposed to come in my yard. When he tries to get me, I beat him with the garden hose. That’s German training you know. It’s called Shoutshound or something. All I know is if I say the word Freezernipple, he’ll rip off your testicles and bring them to me, but only if I say freezernip… oops. He almost heard that one. Yea, he’s a killing machine, but he’s also just a silly ol’ love hound.

Now that biting he’s doing around your kid’s neck, that’s the way he says hello. See how he’s shaking her, that’s like shaking hands. Okay that’s probably not good what he’s doing now. I’d apply pressure to that wound. Wow, he got both of you at the same time. What a dog, I tell you. Nothing like a trained pit bull. Let me go get my hose to get him off you two. Silly Killer, you ain’t gonna have no friends if you keep making them bleed.

Written by Stan Howard

Stan Howard teaches PE at a Braintree Elementary, breeds pit bulls and teaches dog training on the side in his backyard when he’s not writing poems about America.