Category Archives: Forbidden Love
I’ve had feelings, or sensations of dread whenever I’d be confronted with a fatty cut of meat for the last couple of months. I felt in my core that a dark time was coming, heralded by a malevolent being who would rain down fire and ennui from his teats. This creature would reek of barbecue and gristle, with outstretched arms and a disconcerting, tight-lipped smile that didn’t mask his grotesque desire to consume the world entire. After months I thought I had uncovered who would be the herald of this evil time.
And then Ted Cruz suspended his presidential campaign and I went back to the drawing board.
More accurately, I celebrated with a bottle of sake and some raw oysters. One less person to challenge the obvious Simpson/Hemstead candidacy. But when I went to sleep I had a dream. A dream of that same sensation of dread. In that dream I saw in the smokey, barbecue teat-fire a face. It was the face of this herald of doom, a long and oddly snouted face for a biped.
And he whispered to me.
“I love you.”
“We’ve only just met,” I said in return, in as demure a voice as I could muster when confronted by such a beast.
The beast mistook my tone for coquettishness, “Soon you will know me, my love. Soon you will all know me.”
I was taken back, and even slightly off-put that the herald of doom was so quick to reveal his polyamory. “Who are ‘you all’?”
Was I jealous? Of the beast that had been tormenting me for months? I didn’t have time to think through my emotional state, for the beast bear down on me with his wide-set and oddly vapid feeling eyes that glowed red like the forge of Hephaestus.
He narrowed those eyes at me and said, “Every beating heart will soon beat for me.”
I was taken back. One, that’s just scary. Two, it’s a helluva great pickup line for a swingers convention.
I stammered my response, “Wh-who are you?”
The beast chewed at something emptily in his mouth and then hissed his response.
No, not hissed. Something else. Something more guttural.
“I am Moocifer, and I am nigh.”
I woke up already sitting up in bed, called the ScienceWerks and described the creature I saw.
The first lady and I were sitting in bed talking about virtual reality last night and the following conversation happened:
First Lady: We need virtual reality company names that sound more immersive. Like the opposite of virtual reality so that it feels more real and amazing.
Me: Okay. what’s the opposite of virtual reality though?
FL: Tangible… Fantasies.
Me: That sounds like an escort service for cosplayers.
FL: Either way. This is also a viable business venture.
Coming soon from Vote Simpson/Hemstead ScienceWerks: Tangible Fantasies.*
*No word yet on whether costumed escorts will be available at this time.
What are they? Are they dangerous? Are they simply the brain’s way of collapsing data into quick to process nuggets for the fight/flight reflex? Can they be overcome once the stereotype nugget has passed through the fight/flight barrier and made contact with the higher brain function? Let’s do an experiment, shall we?
The Science Werks, in an effort to understand how stereotypes affect the brain and where exactly a stereotype becomes detrimental to human progress, have worked up this test:
Look at the images of an excessively hairy man with a pink mohawk, and then answer the questions below, keeping tally of your answers.
1: Do you find the excessively hairy man with the pink mohawk’s poses to be gender appropriate?
1 – Strongly Agree 10 – Strongly Disagree
2: Do you find the excessively hairy man with the pink mohawk’s poses to be offensive?
1 – Strongly Agree 10 – Strongly Disagree
3: Do you feel the excessively hairy man with the pink mohawk has no business posing like a 1940’s pinup girl?
1 – Strongly Agree 10 – Strongly Disagree
4: Look at the excessively hairy man with the pink mohawk. After allowing initial gender stereotypes to pass into the logic centers of the brain, do you find the photos appealing on any level (alluring, comedic, zany), or offensive?
1 – Appealing 10- Offensive
5: Look at the excessively hairy man with the pink mohawk. Look at his legs. Do you find his legs appealing or offensive?
1 – Appealing 10 – Offensive
6: Look at yourself. Do you feel the excessively hairy man with the pink mohawk is judging you the way you judged him?
1 – Yes 10 – No
7: Look at yourself again. Have you accepted the excessively hairy man with a pink mohawk doing 40’s pinup poses into your heart?
1 – Yes 10 – No
8: Look at the excessively hairy man with the pink mohawk doing 40’s pinup poses, and gauge your opinion to the following statement: “That dude is hella rad and cute as a button.”
1 – Strongly Agree 10 – Strongly Disagree
Okay, add up your points and consult the chart below.
Well crap. Okay. How about instead we throw away the other questions and just focus on your answer to number 8?
If you scored a 1-3, congratulations, you can look past little brain nuggets and experience a life not ruled by stereotypes and you have impeccable taste.
If you scored a 4-6, you are grappling with some internal issues, but likely will come out for the better for it and ultimately help shepherd others. We have faith in you.
If you scored a 7-10, you can just go eat a Costco-sized bucket of unwashed wieners.
What have we learned here? Well, I don’t know that we really learned anything, but I do know that I’m hella cute as a button.
How the hell is Simpson/Hemstead just hearing about this?! It’s national freakin’ monkey day!
According to the website, this day is meant to celebrate all things simian, to scream like monkeys and to throw feces on whomever you choose. I don’t know about you, but I’m working up a big steaming handful of Monkey Justice for those in congress and their handlers who have suckled too long at the teat of our labors under the guise of national pride. I’m so glad I ate Indian food last night.
If you have a monkey, buy it something special. Also, bring it to me so I can hug it. I’ve never hugged a monkey and dammit, I want to. National Monkey Day seems like the perfect time.
But don’t bring me any of those uppity “too good for people” monkeys. They screw it up for the rest of the monkeys.
Helpful monkeys only. Like that one from Friends. Or this guy.
I stand by awaiting your delivery of helpful, philanthropic simians for my grateful hugs.
There’s apparently an invisible rapist skulking his translucent, rape-hungry schmeckle through Asia, soul-raping young wives in the still of the night, while their husbands are RIGHT THERE!
Holy shit, that’s a cock-sure invisible soul-rapist right there. He’s not even waiting for the husband to go out of town, or to work, or having the decency to shoot him and put shards of broken mirrors in his eyes like a rational god-fearin’ rapist. No, this cat doesn’t care if you’re home with your husband, having a good old-fashioned opium orgy, or playing bridge with the girls; when this cat gets the urge, he indulges.
According to the report from the Asian News Network story:
The man: said his wife would remove her clothing, touch her own body and moan while sleeping at night, since a month ago.
He sought help from a medium, who then told him that someone had used black magic to take away the wife’s “soul” and rape her.
Now, we might not have to worry so much in the states yet, the invisible soul rapist seems to be sticking to Asia for the time being, specifically the Bintulu, Sarawak region of Malaysia. Personally I didn’t know where that was, but don’t worry, I’ve already done the Googling for you.
Apparently, Bintulu, Sarawak looks like the OMG Cat.
But just because invisible soul rape is happening in OMGCatgurg, Malaysia, does that mean we shouldn’t be concerned? Not in the least, in fact we should be hyper-vigilant, for what starts as humorous across the world invisible soul rape soon becomes a national epidemic right outside our own doors that registers a 9.2 on the Dodson scale.
To combat the imagined threat of invisible soul rapists, Simpson/Hemstead has had the ScienceWerks put together a computer generated composite sketch of what the invisible Malaysian soul rapist might look like:
So, if you see yourself an invisible guy with rape in his eyes, contact the local authorities.
However, if you see a hot asian girl in her 20’s slipping out of her clothes and touching herself while moaning in her sleep, contact Simpson/Hemstead as well as EVERY OTHER GUY YOU’VE EVER MET, so that we might get all Bintulu, Sarawak on that scene.
Vote Simpson/Hemstead: Bro’s before ho’s.
When I was a kid, I always wanted to grow up to look like Sean Connery or Harrison Ford, which seems pretty reasonable.
I also, inexplicably, kinda wanted to look like Quint from Jaws. I’m assuming that would be because I knew even back in my impressionable youth that women loved sea men.
But really, I thought that Harrison Ford (1980’s Harrison Ford, not approaching his 80’s Harrison Ford) was a totally achievable goal.
And then I grew up. Clearly I was not going to look like Harrison Ford. Sean Connery is still a possibility, and if my father was anything to go off of it’s a strong possibility. But as I’m approaching 40 I’ve come to realize that I look like someone entirely different: Harvey Keitel.
That’s not really such a bad thing, I mean go back and look at young Harvey Keitel, he’s not a bad lookin’ cat. He’s not Harrison Ford, but he’s not Robert Shaw either. Unfortunately, this isn’t the Harvey I resemble. No, I look like Point Of No Return’s version of Harvey Keitel;
I know what you’re thinking, “No way, you don’t look like him.” So I’ve had my assistant take a photo of me as I look today, under the worst possible lighting conditions, on the realization that I look like PONR Harvey:
I know, it’s hard to tell with the goatee and so forth, and the lighting is horrible… but you get the picture I think. I’ve had the photoshop wizards at the ScienceWerks add a goatee to Harvey to help you see the uncanny similarities:
The more I look at this the more I’m thinking maybe little Sim pson was just aiming realistically low with the Quint aspirations.
Jesus, I had no idea how much I looked like Bill Hicks, too.
So there you have it, in some alternate universe, Harvey Keitel and Bill Hicks got frisky after a night of watching Jaws and apparently I was the outcome. Try and sleep well tonight.
My question to you is, who did YOU want to look like when you were a kid, and who do you think you look like now? Please comment below or on the facebooks (here is nicer, but I can’t stop you from being not nicer).
Photo Credits: Honestly I have no idea who any of these photos belong to, so I shall link you to the source material –
I don’t know why, but for some reason this vehicle sends shudders through my soul. I don’t have a hysterical fear of vans, so it can only be a rapewagon. I didn’t see it long from the sides, but I’m pretty convinced the words “Free Candy” were etched into them with a screwdriver.
It’s like a food truck, but instead of some manner of “fusion” sliders it hands out unsolicited conjugal events of a non-consensual variety.
DO NOT APPROACH THE L.A. RAPEWAGON!!!!
Where is Corporate Lackey Wolverine when we need him? Even if he can’t fight the rapewagon he must know how to file an injunction against it or something.
Editor’s Note: I’ve attempted to right this image 5 times now, but wordpress insists it lay on its side. Perhaps wordpress is in collusion with the L.A. rapewagon industry.
Simpson/Hemstead would like to say bravo to Republican senator Roy McDonald, who signed his name as the 31st senator in support of a bill to put legalization of gay marriage in New York. Equality of citizenry should always be a goal of the American government, but too often hot button topics like homosexuality are used as bargaining chips. It would seem that Roy has broken with the traditional party stance on gay marriage and in one missive has backhandedly declared his allegiance to the Simpson/Hemstad mentality.
“You might not like that. You might be very cynical about that. Well, f— it, I don’t care what you think. I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m tired of Republican-Democrat politics. They can take the job and shove it. I come from a blue-collar background. I’m trying to do the right thing, and that’s where I’m going with this.”
He is also quoted as saying to Times Union reporter Jimmy Vielkind (Simpson/Hemstead would like to ask Jimmy to get an easier to spell last name though):
“I’m not out to alienate anybody. This is driven by compassion. I’m not out to hurt some gay guy, gay woman. Live your lifestyle. That’s not my lifestyle, but God bless ‘em — it’s America. Be nice to people, and let’s all just live our lives”
We’re one step closer to having the Wyld Stallyns utopia with it’s (oddly) single-minded devotion to the color grey, chrome and Rosco Full Blue foretold by Rufus the Grey. Another senator closer to the belief that we are above all things, united Americans.
Since apparently tomorrow is our last day on Earth, I’ve asked our feathered concession speech writer to begin our concession speech for the end of time. So she drank a bottle of scotch (the cheap stuff, she has to work for the good stuff) and jotted down Simpson/Hemstead’s thoughts about the end of all things.
– So, it’s come to this. Rapture. The day of reckoning foretold by the bible and Debbie Harry. Despite 10 years of lobbying, internet-ing and pleading, Simpson/Hemstead has come not closer to elected office than coming in fourth in a race of three for middle school class treasurer in Wisconsin. What do we, those who have looked the other way have to show for this? Rapture. But really, what is Rapture.
According to the bible, the Rapture is when Jesus returns and takes all the true Christians up to Heaven to live in his Dad’s house with he and Kirk Cameron while the rest of the universe is torturously rebuilt as the new converted basement for Jehovah’s seriously pimped out crib. This work is presumably performed by the lowest bidder using the underpaid hands of unlicensed illegal immigrant workers found at Home Depot.
Okay, sounds great for anyone who really wants to spend eternity watching the Left Behind series with Kirk Cameron giving you a running live audio commentary about how the films were made. But what about those who ARE left behind to work on this basement?
Without doing specific math it’s roughly 99.99999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999
9999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999999% of all creation cast into a recycling bin on a whim. 14.7 billion years of intelligent design (6500 years in biblical terms) put into the incinerator “just because.” That seems like a really crummy return on the investment to me, but hell I’m just a bird.
Which brings me to my next point: What ARE we leaving behind? Well, bible says animals don’t have souls so I guess I’m shit out of luck. Trees? Screwed. Flowers? Burn nicely. The Moon? Feh, I’ve seen better. The Complete Second Season of THE FACTS OF LIFE on DVD?. Gone. Robert Downey Jr? Not so fast, mister. That’s right everything in your lives that makes your experience here on this recyclable plane of existence interesting and fun gets abandoned.
What does the universe think about that? What do the infinite number of creations, lovingly constructed over an unfathomable amount of time (read: 6500 years in biblical terms, with 1 day responsible for the majority of the heavy lifting, and 5 days of tinkering with 1 insignificantly small little blue dust speck and 1 full day left aside for Michelob Time) have to say about being abandoned by the infinite loving creator that is judging them in the most horrible and narrow-minded selection process possible? Well, I found a website that pretty much answers that.
So there you have it, nature and creation and apparently Bill Gates have spoken. I guess this is the part where we admit defeat, but Simpson/Hemstead isn’t about defeat. Apathy, procrastination, and voting for our opposition (thanks Hemstead) is more our speed. But also we’re too stupid to give up hope that the pathetic few are wrong.
In either case before the dumb Rapture could you at least order something from our online store? It won’t get to you in time, but at least we’ll have the satisfaction of SOMEONE having bought SOMETHING from us before existence ends.
Who knows, that charitable deed might be the one thing that puts you over the top into being rescued from eternal damnation.
But no pressure.
UPDATE: Looks like this fine heathen has put together a handy flowchart in case you were wondering if you will or will not be Raptured, so you can decide if you need to brush up on your Growing Pains trivia.
this is an actual conversation I heard between 2 hobos walking out from an alley while I was stopped at a signal. One hobo was a quasi transvestite in an orange slip, and he wasn’t fooling anybody.
transvestite; god d@mn man you bit my dick!!
angry bum; what the f@ck are you doing with a dick, that’s not cool lady!!
I’m gonna have to agree with angry bum here, having a dick is definitely not cool lady.