EXCLUSIVE: Excerpts From the New Obama Memoir

Through a complex mix of journalistic tact, blackmail and outright fraud, JINGOISM TODAY has managed to receive excerpts from the new Obama memoir, Dreams From the Audacity of Hope. Published here are select excerpts from the unedited manuscript.


"And who could forget my closest friend in law school, Joe/Bob/George/Bill/Jack? He was always able to cheer me up/keep me in line/find a good seat in the cafeteria/help me out/score some crack through his great sense of humor/stern yet kind demeanor/eagle eyes/millions of dollars/crazy crack-scoring skills. Through hard work and determination, Joe/Bob/George/Bill/Jack eventually achieved his dream and became a Senator/General/engineer/architect/janitor."(pg. 247)

"While campaigning for Senator from Illinois, I always depended on Michelle/my campaign manager/my body man/Bill Ayers to be there for me during the best and worst of times."(pg. 588)

"Despite the perceived tension on the campaign trail, Hillary Clinton/John Edwards/John McCain/Joe Biden/Chris Dodd/ Dennis Kucinich/Bill Richardson and I remained cordial in private, and are still friends to this day."(pg. 834)

"It was always a pleasure meeting with the leader of Denmark/Norway/The Netherlands/Ireland/The Philippines/Australia/Poland/Great Britain/Germany/South Korea/Israel/France/Italy/Japan, one of our closest and strongest allies, and a nation that punches above its weight in international affairs." (pg. 1376)

"Despite our differences, Hu Jintao/Benjamin Netanyahu/Angela Merkel/Gordon Brown/David Cameron/Nicholas Sarkozy/Hamid Karzai/Julia Gillard/Stephen Harper/Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and I were always able to work things out for the mutual benefit of both of our countries."(pg. 2942)

"I was proud to work with such a wonderful person in Congress as Harry Reid/Nancy Pelosi/John Boehner/ Barney Frank/Eric Cantor/Scott Brown/Hilary Clinton/Chris Dodd/Joe Biden/Dennis Kucinich." (pg. 5898)

"Finally, I'm looking forward to facing such a noble and worthy opponent as Newt Gingrich/Rick Santorum/Ron Paul/Rick Perry/Herman Cain/Jon Huntsman/Michelle Bachmann/Mitt Romney come November." (pg. 101984)

Leaked Details of Jingoism Today's Contract Negotiations With Keith Olbermann

As some of you may have heard, Jingoism Today was in negotiations with recently-unemployed former TV News Anchor and future man found dead in gutter, Keith Olbermann. Mr. Olbermann was offered a web show with Jingoism Today, and brought into our offices for a temporary period. Before a contract could be finalized, Mr. Olbermann was fired from Jingoism Today. Out of a cannon, into the horizon, never to be seen again, by our own Dr. Jingo. Details of our contract negotiations and Mr. Olbermann's brief and quickly forgotten tenure here follow.


4/2/2012
To: Nicola James Fiorvento, Founder, CEO, Editor-in-Chief, and Sole Proprietor of Jingoism Today
From: Keith Olbermann

Nick,

I've looked over the contract. A few kinks that we'll work out later, but it seems good! I'd love to be a part of Jingoism Today for a two-week trial period until a full, Eleventy-Billion Year, $80,000,000,000,000 contract can be negotiated.

-KO

To: Keith Olbermann
From: Nicola James Fiorvento

Neither I or any of my staff have ever sent you a contract offer, or implied that we would want you to be a part of Jingoism Today in the slightest.

Still, a washed up anchor is a washed up anchor! Crap. Did I write that?

Nevermind, show up at our offices tomorrow, and you've got yourself a deal!

-NJF

PS Call me "Nick" one more time and you die.

4/3/2012


9:05 AM
INTER-OFFICE MEMO
From: Fidel Dutch
To: Nicola James Fiorvento
Subject: "KEEF"

Boss,

That Olbie fruitcake showed up at 8 AM. He recognized me from my interview with him a few days ago. Still smelled like dead coyotes, sock puppets, and regrets.

Anyway, he comes in and hands me his contract. It was a cocktail napkin, with the words:

offishal Kontrakt:

ME: GIVE U JERNALIZIM
U: GIVE ME MONIES!!!!!

-XOXO KEEF!

written on it in black, no, make that blue-green, crayon.

This guy sounds like he's a few hieroglyphs sort of a treasure map. Shit, he can't even spell his own name! You sure you want to hire him?

-Dutch

9:07 AM
INTER-OFFICE MEMO
From: Nicola J. Fiorvento
To: Fidel Dutch
Subject: RE: "KEEF"

Of course I don't want to hire him! Are you insane? I just want to track his descent from madness into bug-eyed, pogo hopping, lunacy. It'll be good for the blog.

Don't tell him that. On the other hand, try telling him that. It'd be priceless to see his reaction.

-NJF

9:45 AM
INTER-OFFICE MEMO
From: Dr. Jingo
To: Nicola J. Fiorvento
Subject: WTF?

I showed that candyass poltroon Olbermann(shit, he sounds like a goddam Nazi!) around our offices. Don't know why the hell Dutch gave me him to look after.

I think I blew his minuscule mind when I lit my cigar. Don't think he's ever seen a man make fire before. Now he looks at me like I'm some sort of sorcerer. That might be an image I want to cultivate, so forget it.

Then he stripped naked and ran around in circles chanting: "ALL IS GOOD. OLBIE MAKE CONTRACT. ALL IS GOOD. OLBIE MAKE CONTRACT."

Anyway, I showed him around the break room. He licked the toaster, lit his tie on fire on the hot plate, and got his foot stuck in the cooler. At the same time.

Funny as Hell! Don't worry, the security cameras caught it, here's a copy in the attachment.

- Jingo

10:04 AM
INTER-OFFICE MEMO
To: Dr. Jingo
From: Nicola J. Fiorvento
Subject: RE: WTF?

Dammit, I don't think I've ever been so entertained by Keith Olbermann! Maybe we can just sell footage of him mutilating himself with common office supplies to American's Funniest Workplace Accidents!

-NJF

PS: Think you can get him to smash his hand with a stapler? Or smash some other parts of his body with a stapler?

4:45 PM
INTER-OFFICE MEMO
To: Nicola J. Fiorvento
From: Fidel Dutch
Subject: "Journalism"

Boss,

After we got back from the ER and lunch(Well, Olbie got back from the ER, I got back from lunch), I wanted to see his journalistic process. He ran into a broom closet with an armful of newspapers, and came out two and a half hours later with a script, some of it just clipped together headlines, others "color commentary from Keith".

The color commentary was just the words: "right-wing", "racist", "sexist", "bigoted", "homophobe", and "poopyhead", with some articles, conjunctions, and the names of various prominent conservatives put through in various permutations. My favorite was "Right-wing bigoted and homophobe Paul Ryan, the poopyhead", although "Sexist, racist, homophobic, poopyheaded Eric Cantor" got a chuckle out of me.

I think his insanity is contagious.

-Dutch

4/4/2012


9:00 AM
INTER-OFFICE MEMO
From: Keith Olbermann
To: Nicola J. Fiorvento
Subject: CONTRACT!!!1!!!!1!1!11!!!1!

I think the first day went great! I feel like I've developed a rapport with everybody here, and I can't wait to get this contract hammered out!

I want four billion dollars for 15 years, a fleet of limousines chauffeured by mutes with their sweat glands surgically removed, an army of giraffes being ridden by penguins, Dr. Jingo castrated because he scares me, Dutch made to dance for my amusement in a leotard, ICE CREAM!!!11!111!!!11! and a date with Venus of Vicodin.

-KO

9:15 AM
INTER-OFFICE MEMO
From: Nicola J. Fiorvento
To: Keith Olbermann
Subject: RE: CONTRACT!!!1!!!!1!1!11!!!1!

How's two weeks as a temp, minimum wage for the hour that you're on the air, a wagon being pulled my a Big Wheel chauffeured by a hobo wearing deodorant who doesn't want to chat much, a rat with a really long neck and a canary tied to it, and a scoop of vanilla ice cream for every hour you don't irritate anybody?

As for the requests for Jingoism Today staff, I encourage to ask all of them your requests personally.

-NJF

9:17 AM
INTER-OFFICE MEMO
From: Keith Olbermann
To: Nicola J. Fiorvento

Sounds great!

-KO!

9:27 AM
WORKPLACE "ACCIDENT" REPORT
INJURED: Keith Olbermann
FILED BY: Venus of Vicodin
(cc: Nicola J. Fiorvento)

Mr. Olbermann fell down four flights of stairs. It is unclear why he went up four flights of stairs, seeing as our office is on the first floor of a one-story building, and Mr. Olbermann ran to the building across the street and climbed up the stairs there.


I could only stand and watch powerlessly at the carnage and senseless horror.


After falling once, he somehow managed to climb up the stairs again, only to fall back down. Seven more times.

Mr. Olbermann declined medical attention, vowing to "walk it off". He was given the rest of the day off by allowing him to lie on the pavement until he saw fit to return to work.

-VV

9:32 AM
INTER-OFFICE MEMO
To: Venus of Vicodin
From: Nicola J. Fiorvento

Looks good, Venus! The boys at OSHA won't suspect a thing. Better get rid of the quotes around "ACCIDENT" in the letterhead, though.

-NJF


4/5/2012
9:03 AM

WORKPLACE ACCIDENT REPORT
INJURED: Keith Olbermann
FILED BY: Fidel Dutch
(cc: Nicola J. Fiorvento)


I remember it as if it were moments ago. Mr. Olbermann walked up to my desk, and began to talk to me. God only knows why. Then, inexplicably, he took my lit cigarette from its holder and shoved it into his left eye.

He then proceeded to stick my cigarette holder in his nose, and bang his head against my desk multiple times, before passing out.

I could only stand and watch powerlessly at the carnage and senseless horror.

-Dutch

9:08 AM
INTER-OFFICE MEMO
To: Fidel Dutch
From: Nicola James Fiorvento

Looks good.... hey, wait a second, didn't I hear "I could only stand and watch powerlessly at the carnage and senseless horror." from Venus yesterday. Come to think of it, I've heard it a lot in all of your columns in the past few months.

I pay you people to WRITE. Think of something else!

-NJF

1:17 AM

WORKPLACE ACCIDENT REPORT
INJURED: Keith Olbermann
FILED BY: Dr. Jingo
(cc: Nicola J. Fiorvento)


At Thirteen Hundred Hours, Private Olbermann had initiated conversation with Lieutenant Colonel Jingo, 127th US Cavalry. After a suspicion of insubordination, Private Olbermann ran to the rooftop of Forward Operating Base Goldwater, where he loaded himself into a cannon of unknown make and somehow fired himself into the horizon.

Private Olbermann has missed no less than five roll calls since than, and has been dishonorably dicharged.

1:25 PM
INTER-OFFICE MEMO
From: Nicola J. Fiorvento
To: Dr. Jingo

Jingo,

1. You can stop using military time in your reports and articles.
2. We do not have ranks here. Olbie was not a "Private", and you are not a Lieutenant Colonel.
3. There is not, and there never has been, such a thing as the 127th US Cavalry.
4. You have never had any military service.
5. Stop referring to our offices as "Forward Operating Base Goldwater".

At least you didn't use "I could only stand and watch powerlessly at the carnage and senseless horror."

-NJF

EXCLUSIVE: Jingoism Today Interviews Keith Olbermann

By Fidel Dutch

Somehow I had gotten the interview.

     By some stroke of dumb luck, I was able to score an interview with recently-unemployed anchor and piece of human refuse Keith Olbermann. I walked into the interview not expecting what I would find. I walked out of the interview hoping to forget what I found.

***

     I came up to the address Olbermann gave me. Wasn't what I was expecting. Beaten up old ranch house in a decaying part of Inner Suburbia. Brown lawn, boarded up windows. Nobody had lived here for years. I checked the address again. This was the place.

     As I walked up to the noticed that it was ajar. I knocked.

"Come in!", a falsetto voice shouted from inside the house.

I walked in. The house looked worse on the outside than it did on the inside. No furniture at all. The floor was covered in newspaper clippings. Either Keith was scanning the headlines for his next big story, or he wasn't house trained.

I turned a corner and went into the living room. There I saw an old refrigerator box on its side, with Keith sitting behind it. 

"So glad you could make it! This is my new studio!", Keith said, sounding like a kid on Christmas.

Keith had a weird glaze in his eyes. I've been on every drug known to God and man, and several known to beasts, sometimes all at once. That wasn't what was in Keith's eyes. Keith was flying high on pure Colombian lunacy.

In front of the refrigerator box was a shoebox on a tripod with a flashlight sticking out of it and some twine running from it to an antenna. Behind it on a stool was a teddy bear with horn rimmed glasses and a black necktie.

"What's that thing?", I asked. I don't know why I asked, because I really didn't want to know.

"Oh. That's our camera. And over there is the antenna! Did you know that we can broadcast on twelve continents with that?"

"No. I meant the bear."

"That is Beary Goldwater. As punishment for Senator Goldwater's crimes, I trapped his soul inside of a teddy bear and forced him to be my cameraman for all eternity!"

Wow.

"Anyway", said Keith, "let's get this show on the road. The house is packed tonight!", he said, gesturing at what I can only assume were hundreds of fawning guests that existed only in his brain, or whatever was left of it.

"Tonight on Countdown With Keith Olbermann, we examine the link between Republicans and face melting space cyborgs from the Tangerine Dimension. With us as always are Rachel Maddow and Ed Schultz."

Keith pulled out two sock puppets from under his "desk".

"It's good to have you on the show, guys."

"Great to be here", said them both.

"You know, Keith", said "Rachel", "you're so intelligent and handsome and likeable that it sometimes makes me question my sexuality."

"Mine too!", said "Ed".

"Well, thank you both", Keith said, proud as a lion. "Anyway, let's get back to this link between Republicans  and space cyborgs."

"Gladly", said "Rachel". "Reports indicate that all of the money given to the Republican Party over the last 50 years has come from Lamictal, warlord of the roving space cyborgs based in the Tangerine Dimension."

"Incredible!", said Keith. "What can we do about it?"

At this point, Keith ran out of the room, and reentered on a tricycle wearing ski goggles, a tinfoil cape, and a too-small pink bicycle helmet with a coat hanger sticking out of the top.

"YOU CAN DO NOTHING, PUNY PROGRESSIVE HUMANS!", shouted Keith, who then ran over to "Rachel".

"Lord Lamictal!", "Rachel" shouted, terrified.

Keith ran back to the other side of the room, still in full regalia.

"YES. IT IS I. LORD LAMICTAL! I HAVE BEEN MANIPULATING YOUR EARTH TO STOP ALL HUMAN PROGRESS AND ENSLAVE YOUR POPULOUS! SOON YOU MAY NOT HAVE FREE BIRTH CONTROL! AFTER THAT, ALL HOPE IS LOST!", Lord Lamictal shouted.

Keith got out of his Lamictal costume and ran back to his desk. "You'll never get away with this, Lamictal!", he said. "I've already called for reinforcements!"

Keith pulled out a severed dog's head on a piece of rebar.

"It's Vice Admiral Woof from the Coyote Nebula! And he's here to stop you! The people must be informed!", Keith said.

Keith then changed back into his Lamictal costume and proceeded to beat himself up with the dog's head. Eventually he fell to the ground, and got out of his Lamictal garb.

"Thanks, Vice Admiral", Keith said.

"No. Thank YOU Keith. Without the power of PROGRESSIVISM! radiating from every fiber of your being, I wouldn't have had the strength to defeat Lamictal. You saved Earth from the shackles of conservative tyranny! Now I must go! My planet needs more people like you!", said Vice Admiral Woof before Keith threw him out of a boarded up window. Well, it was boarded up before he threw Woof.

"Thank you all for your wild applause!", said Keith to his now even more ruined living room. "Just know that whenever anything threatens this beautiful nation and our unstoppable, glorious progress, it is journalists like me who will always be there to set things straight! Thank you all and goodnight!"

Keith then ran out of a boarded up doorwall, leaving an Olbermann-shaped hole in the plywood and the fence in the backyard.

Somehow I had no words. I felt as if my tongue had been clawed out my screeching vultures. Nothing I could possibly say could adequately describe how completely wrong everything about this was. I had no preconception of reality anymore. All was possible.

"You think this is bad", said Beary Goldwater, "You should see his baseball commentary."

Campaign Announcements

By General Curtis LeMay

Fellow Americans,

     There comes a time when all sensible people know that they have no shot; that there is no hope of sweet, sweet, VICTORY!, and all rational-minded people know when to cut their losses and fold.

Luckily for America, I'm neither sensible or rational minded! 

     After a grand total of 0 delegates, 0 states won, and a single vote in Florida from an elderly gentleman who believed he was voting for King Curtis, I have decided to leave the Republican Party, and form my own.

     It is to be called the Kill It With Fire Party. Our platform is rather tentative at this point, but I can tell you that it involves solving every problem facing this country with the greatest gift of God, FIRE!

     From foreign policy to the debt crisis, all problems can be solved by raining copious amounts of ungodly hellfire down upon your enemies. And if you don't have any enemies, dropping fire on people will fix that.

    Looking ahead, many are wondering who I shall pick to be my running mate. Since we I last posted in October, I have been working tirelessly to create a suitable running mate. I have finally made him: Mecha John Wayne!

     Some of you are no doubt wondering if having two "robots" on the ticket shows bias on my part against Biological-Americans. I must protest your clear racism, as neither of us are "robots" and we aren't in very different ways: I am a ghost inhabiting the body of a Predator Drone, while Mecha John Wayne is the reanimated corpse of John Wayne kept alive inside of a giant robot body:

     I know that Mr. MechaWayne(Zomibe Android surnames are weird) and I disagree on some key issues: he prefers a six-shooter, while I'm more of a napalm guy. Still, our message is the same: death and destruction for all enemies of America! LeMay-MechaWayne 2012! Kill It With Fire!

Big Death: Remembering Breitbart the Only Way He Would Want To Be.

By Fidel Dutch


"Andrew Breitbart is dead."

Those words hit me like a shotgun blast to the gut. "How could this man, a complete hero to all truth-seeking Americans be dead, when we need him most?", I asked aloud.

The world did not respond. It was spinning oblivious to the lives and deaths of men, no matter how great they may be. There had to be a way to remember him. I found it.

***

In an Occupy encampment somewhere, one Occupier spoke to another, a new arrival.

"Hey", the Occupier said, "You wanna go eat some babies? That's what we all do. Eat babies!"

"No", I replied.

"Why not?", he asked in the whiny intonations of leftist drivel.

"Because", I said, ripping off my Guy Fawkes mask to reveal a shaven face, "I AM A CONSERVATIVE! And I'm filming you talking about eating babies!"

The Occupier's face turned angry. At least, I thought it was anger, it's so hard to tell emotion through a wild beard and bloodshot eyes.

"I hope u dye of nhotzee jEw aids you fasshist fagit!", the Occupier shouted, somehow finding a way to make spelling errors in speech.

"Thank you!", I shouted, hugging the Occupier. I grabbed him by the arm and took him out of the encampment, walking up to a normal-looking American.

"Hello, sir!", I said to the normal looking American. "I am Fidel Dutch and this is my friend, who is active in the Occupy movement. Would you like to know what he thinks of me?"

"Umm... sure.", the American replied.

"Go ahead, friend", I said to the Occupier.

The Occupier looked nervous. Eentually he mustered up the courage to say: "I called Mr. Dutch a 'fasshist fagit', and said that I hoped that he died of 'nhotzee jEw aids'." He began to cry.

The American looked disgusted with the Occupier, and walked away. I didn't even get a chance to tell him about the babyphagy.

The Occupier stared off into the distance, almost catatonic. I told him to "spend some time staring into the abyss", and walked away.

This was a good day.

Rest in Peace, Andrew. We'll finish the crusade for truth that you started! 

The Cynic's Guide to Valentine's Day

“Roses are red, and ready for plucking.

You’re sixteen, and ready for high school.”

                                                                         -Kurt Vonnegut

It’s February, and you know what that means: Valentine’s Day. Bleh. It’s hard being single this time of year, and it’s very, very easy to be cynical. And yet every Valentine’s Day I encounter many people- tens of them, even, who are kind, warm, and befuddled at my intense, burning, and visceral hatred of the happiness of others. They can’t understand why anybody would choose to be mean-spirited and rude. For them, I am going to go through most details of this vile “holiday” from the point of view of Mencken or Diogenes.

The History

            Valentine’s Day was invented in AD 117 by Cupid to sell arrows. It took its current name from Valentine of Terni, an early Christian leader who was martyred. How original. The romantic version, that he healed the prison warden’s daughter and sent her a disgustingly saccharine card(probably with glitter, no less!) before he was martyred was not invented until early Medieval times. You’ll notice that sending people cards before you die is not particularly romantic. You’re catching on.

Valentine’s Day was first associated with romance when Chaucer said in his Parlement of Foules, “For this was on seynt Volantynys day/ Whan euery bryd comyth there to chese his make.” So the first association of Valentine’s Day with romance was from a man who clearly couldn’t spell and had nothing better to do than sit around all day and watch birds mate. Hippie should have got a real job.

A few centuries later, the Victorians started sending each other cards on Valentine’s day to distract themselves from that fact that they were living in a Dickens novel. Then Hallmark capitalized on the Victorians’ futile attempts to escape constant thoughts of coalhouses, child labor, and cholera, and you all know the rest.

The Gifts

            There are a variety of gifts that you can give somebody for Martyring-and-Bird-Mating Day:

Conversation Candies- These are the heart-shaped, chalk-like abominations that have idiotic, misspelled, and often incomprehensible phrases scrawled on them. Here are a few such phrases, and appropriate responses if you get a candy with them:

“Be Mine”- “I’d love to, but I can’t because of that damn Thirteenth Amendment.”

“XOXO”- Read the heart inverted, and then tell them that you’re “just not into barnyard animals”.

“I wuv u”- Ask them to explain in detail what “wuv” is. Have you ever heard of “wuv” before?

“Win Me”- Agree, then back up and try to throw rings on their head. Be careful, these games are usually rigged!

Box of Chocolates- A box of chocolates is a perfect metaphor for high school dating: All but a few of the candies in the box are absolutely disgusting, and those that are not are nothing special.

How about this one: “You never know what you’re going to get, but it will probably be disgusting!"

Or maybe: “You’re trying to find the one caramel, but all you get are lemons!”

I’ve got a million of ‘em! I’ll be here all week!

Flowers- Why anybody would give their “sweetheart” the dirty, disgusting, allergy-inducing, severed genitals of a plant is beyond me. If anybody does give you flowers, I would recommend Agent Orange.

A Steak Dinner and a World War Two Movie- The only acceptable gift, date, hangout, or gathering for any occasion.

     Finally, I would like to warn you of the most abhorrent abomination of Valentine’s Day: Glitter. It’s like napalm, because it sticks to everything and you don’t want to get any on you. However, unlike napalm, the glorious, beautiful-smelling, Lighter Fluid of War, glitter kills you by pure embarrassment, making you look like a dirty Communist poltroon. It is to be avoided at any and all costs.

            There you have it. I hope that all of you perky little pinkos now understand my intense fear and loathing-no, wait, just loathing- of this horrific holiday. 

The Best of Hammacher Schlemmer, Spring Preview 2012

     Hammacher Schlemmer, for those of you fortunate enough not to know, is a high-end retailer. I get their catalogs every few months, and while a lot of their stuff is good, so much of what they sell is overpriced crap. And guess what? I just got a new Hammacher Schlemmer catalog in the mail today. Let's dig in!

Umm... What's that on the cover? It looks like some kind of perverted sex toy. On the inside cover, they usually explain:

Page 69. Oh dear. Maybe it's not as bad as we think. 

I'll save what it really is for the end. Until then, let's go through this glossy toilet paper to see what we can find!

"Bitterness eliminating coffee maker"? Does this come from some Bizarro parallel universe where everybody's perky in the morning, and it's the bitter people who are annoying?

Is this some attempt by The Conspiracy of the Perky to purge all bitterness from our lives through our beverages? Are they sapping and IMPURIFYING our PRECIOUS BODILY FLUIDS!? ARE THEY!?

Does it matter? For $150, I'm sure some idiot is gonna buy this.

Ummm.... What's an epilator? Is it the thing that puts epaulets on jackets? Let's read:

Hmm.. "Removes hair in a single pass. Seventy two tweezers..." Holy crap.

It's a freaking beard trimmer? Why call it an "epilator"? 

Because people won't pay $100 for a beard trimmer, that's why!

Forget talking to girls! You can talk to R2! There's no shame in that, right?

RIGHT?

Are you so much of a scrawny-armed pansy that you can't hold a leash properly or actually train your dog? Then this is for you! Beam highly painful sound rays right into their little eardrums to instill compliance in man's best friend!

I'm tired of my disorganized, chaotic carry ons! I need an efficient carry on! IT VILL MAKE ZE TRAINS RUN ON TIEM!

Back support: The best kind of support, after ankle support, artillery support, and close air support.

BEHOLD! THE MOST BORING OBJECT IN EXISTENCE! NOISE REDUCING DRAPES!

I find the best way to reduce noise is to give those pesky teens a few "warning shots"! That'll teach them to turn the music up after 7:15!

The title admits that this clock is only for people too senile to know what day of the week it is.

"Grandpa, what time is it?"

"Back in my day, before the Red Chinamen stole all of our industry and before we had to stop the insatiable appetite of The Hun, we had a real President, and his name was Benjamin Howard McKinley! He'd come over to our house and give all the kids lemonade, with sugar in it, even! Yep! "Sweet Lemons McKinley", we called him! And we were DAMNED HAPPY TO HAVE THE PRIVILEGE!"

"Ever wanted to play the piano but were unlucky enough to not have Asian parents? Then this is for you!"

Also, it's very easy to play piano in a flash-sorry- FLASH! Playing piano well, on the other hand, takes some time.


Time that you don't have because you're wasting time on these worthless DVDs.

I don't think any GIs ever went into battle with a leather fanny pack holding their toiletries. WWII ≠ The Village People.

If you see anybody using this... abomination... to pick up their dog crap in your sub, BEAT THEM TO DEATH WITH THEIR OWN DOG!

Honestly, the only people lazy enough to buy this are the people who bought the ultrasonic collar.

"Illumicube". It sounds like a website run by Adam Weishaut and Gene Ray. 

WHAT THE HELL IS THIS!? WHY DOES IT HAVE TO EXIST!? WHO ON EARTH WOULD SPEND FOUR HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS ON A CASHMERE SWEATSUIT!? IT DOESN'T FUCKING MAKE SENSE! IT'S -(illegible rage)

Whoo. I'm better now. Where was I? Oh, right- A CASHMERE SWEATSUIT!? ARE THESE PEOPLE ON DRUGS!? I(illegible rage)

It sounds like a parody of extravagance. It's like something Robert Mitchum would say in the 21st Century: "Stick with me, baby, and you'll be wearing a cashmere sweatsuit."

THE BEST INFLATABLE BED! ALL YOU INFERIOR INFLATABLE BEDS CAN SUCK IT!

Why does this exist? The only reason people buy inflatable mattresses is for guests they don't like, or if they can't afford a real bed. In neither case is anybody willing to spend $150 on one.

The same people who put a robe on backwards and called it a "Snuggie" and charged you $20 put safety pins on a towel and called it a "Turkish shower wrap" and charged you $50.

Hope springs eternal.

And, finally, let's see what the fuck that thing on the cover was!

You have got to be shitting me.

$10,000 for a juicer. 

But not just any juicer! A "commercial juicer" that can pulverize, disembowel, and eviscerate 28 oranges a minute! For only $10,000! 

I don't care if it magically turned oranges to titties and bacon, I still wouldn't buy it for $10,000! Hell, I wouldn't spend more than $100 dollars on a juicer- if I needed one. Which I don't.

Who is this even for? Restaurants aren't going to spend $10,000 on a juicer- they have to make a profit, and an $80 juicer makes juice just the same. 

This should not exist.

And yet it does.

There is no hope. 

All is lost. 

We are all damned.

Only Darkness awaits.

Goodnight, everybody!