I GET JOKES: #RIP

artwork by Chris "SILLYPANTS" Castro

It's a cold winter night. After one too many games of beer pong, Alex flys down the open highway road. He's gotta piss you know? While switching through his favorite Pandora stations, he loses control of his vehicle and veers off the road. The gash on his head from slamming into the steering while isn't as bad as it looks. No serious damage to himself or his liability only insured car. Too bad he's too wasted to realize that.

Car door swings open. Alex falls out and stumbles to the ground.

Cold. It's freezing. I-I'm bleeding?

Oh God, I was in an accident! Drunk driver?
Wait, that was me. My bad. They don't call me the beer pong champ for nothing!

At least I had my seat belt...oh. Shit. I-I can't move my legs dawg. I'm getting colder. This fucking sucks. I don't think I'm gonna make it. Even if I did, Sarah's gonna be pissed. I told her I was working tonight. What should I do? I'm getting all woozy and shit. Sam. Sam!

After some struggle, he unlocks his phone and makes a call.

Sam answer your fucking phone dude. C'mon. Gotta text his ass now. Foo needs an iPhone already, this shit would be free. Cheap ass...

text:

Sam dude I fuked up. hit tree after left ur pad. dyin man =/ Do me a solid bro log onto my emails & profiles let evryone know I'm dunskees. Dont let Sarah see my inbox! keep those nudes from Jenn tho. Cute AF huh? Thanks man. Later.

text:

yo I forgoet the password! LOL. email is spartan06. ha. FB and Twitter are: gimmiefuel6969. haha. Metallica bro wut?! Cool man. lates.

Oh...my old myspace tho! Nah, that shits dead anyways.

So this it? End of the line. Man, my last pic on Instagram is that Subway from yesterday. I can't go out like that!

Opens camera app.

One last selfie. Dammit.

Turns on flash and takes another photo. Hashtags the following:

#dontdrinkanddrive #peaceout #RIP

This better get more "likes" than Sarah's cloud pictures. This is my LAST pic you know?

His phone buzzes.

What? Liked my status? I didn't post...

He glances at his mysterious new Facebook update that reads:

Alexander Owens is a lying piece of shit. Was supposed to at work but drunk text me instead. Fuck him an that slut still sending him nudes behind my back. YOU KNO WHO YOU R BITCH! Get some respect n get ur own man. wait nvm you can have him. Get HER to help fix your car. Were done. smh.

I text Sarah?!Shiiiiiiiiiiit. She's gonna kill me. Well, if I wasn't already dying here. Fuck. I'm so cold and I'm all wet now. At least I don't have to piss anymore. Wait...

#FML.

I GET JOKES: Job Interview- wut do?

artwork by Chris "SILLYPANTS" Castro

Everyday is your day off when you’re unemployed. Enjoy each one like it’s the last. You never know when some dick nosed job recruiter might call/text/email you back and fuck up the perfect little Friday morning you had planned. Here’s what you do:

1) Don’t answer the phone.
You applied for this job how many weeks ago? Yeah, and they call you back NOW? Fuck that. You’re probably too busy having sex with your girl (hand), hiking (napping) or playing ball (PS3…and no you can’t pause multiplayer motherfucker!) to answer anyways. They’ll leave you a voice mail and they’ll like it.

2) Reschedule the interview. The later the better.
Cynthia from HR has no idea who she’s fucking with. 8am tomorrow morning? Try not to laugh in her face. Hold it in. We all know that choosing between an all night Star Trek The Next Generation marathon on Netflix, and waking up early for some stupid fucking job interrogat…er, interview, ain’t no choice at all. Tell her you volunteer as a crossing guard or have to take grams to the doctor in the morning. Anything to keep you in bed until 9 o’clock.   

3) Bum a ride.
Where is this place anyways? Across town? Hell no. Don’t waste gas or pay for parking when they’re probably not even going to hire your ass anyways. Call Tony. Tell fat fuck you’ll treat him to breakfast and smoke him out later if he drops you off. That McDonalds on the corner (‘Merica!) should keep him occupied until you’re done.

4) Don’t shave.
They don’t own you. Not yet. Once you get the job, if they tell you to wear a tutu and grab your ankles you better smile and ask for seconds (gross…but fetish shit pays well). Until then, don’t shave. You already had plans before they abruptly called you remember? How are you supposed to pick up at the bar if you look like that douche from One Direction? It’s not gonna happen my friend. No beard = no bush. Remember that. If they give you shit during the interview, remind them that this job should be about the content of your character, not the length of your facial hair. If they’re not down with Dr. King, then fuck that place and report this hate crime to NCAA, A.S.A.P.

5) Don’t do any research about the job or company before hand.
Why spoil the surprise? You need work, they’re hiring. It said so on Craigslist. Of course you’re going to apply. Besides, you’re trying to get a paycheck, not ghost write the company’s biography. Their recent expansion into foreign markets, charity work with disadvantaged orphans, or how old man Harris founded the company with just a five dollar bill and the sweat off his brow in 1947, doesn’t mean jack shit. How much are we getting paid homie?! Oh, and do sick days and vacation time roll over? That would rule.

So you got the interview pushed back until 10am and Tony’s on his way. You’re rocking a majestic beard and know everything you need to know about this potential “dream job” you’re interviewing for (it’s in a office, across town)...hold up.

You haven’t clinched this thing yet partner. There’s still one more thing we’ve got to cover before you start abusing the company gas card. This one is important so make sure you write it down if necessary.

Do not, I repeat, do not forget to bring extra copies of your resume to the interview!

You’re trying to make a good impression for Christ’s sake.

I GET JOKES: Free Speech

artwork by Tiffany Reza

Did you know it’s illegal to yell “fire” in a public place? Well you can, but only if the joint is burning down. You can’t falsely yell “fire” in, oh, let’s say a crowded theater, or any packed public place that could cause panic and result in people getting hurt. I know, I know, but what about muh FREEOMS?! Freedom of speech is great (thank you Larry Flynt) but limitations like this one seem necessary in my book. 

You know what other phrase should be illegal? “It’s yours.” I’m not talking about slices of pizza either. Falsely identifying someone as your baby daddy should definitely fall under the limitations of free speech. You better have a warrant, forensics and eye witness testimony before you come at a guy with that. Why? Well the threat of a fire/disaster in a public sphere is illegal because it could result in bodily harm or death. False fatherhood accusations on the other hand are equal to certain death. It’s an 18 years to life sentence (depending on how fucked up the kid turns out). Say goodbye to the existence you once knew. It’s diapers, braces, data plans and tuition/bail from here until the little bastard gets a full time job when he’s 34 (thanks Obama).

If you can’t yell fire in a public space, you shouldn’t be allowed to accuse potential baby daddy’s on Twitter either. Think about it. The social media sphere is more crowded than all the theater houses and sports arenas in the world. Do you have any idea how hard it is to shake the hashtag #deadbeatdad. You’ll be an instant pariah. Even something harmless like: “Joey Joe Joe was tagged at The Yard House with 4 others” will result in endless comments like: “He needs to be wit his family at home.” “PREACH” and “ReALTALk.”

I know that big government is the enemy and the last thing we all need are the feds telling us how to live and what to say…but this is serious. The Clear and Present Danger doctrine has been instituted in our legal system for almost a century now, I just think it’s time we updated it for modern times. No false fire or paternity claims in 21^st century America. And remember ladies, the burden of proof rests solely on the prosecution. God, I love this country.

I GET JOKES: Existential Porn Crisis

artwork by Tiffany Reza

Summer 2001:

It took some time to find you, navigating the backwoods of AOL for safe passage. Last Friday at Johnny’s, in his dad’s den at 2am. That’s where I fell in love. Fell in love at the keyboard. “Forget about her,” they said. “Who cares?” I did. Those punks just wanted a quick fix. I was in it for the long haul. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, but they don’t swim like you Angel. By swim…I mean take three dicks at the same time.  

Angel la Cox.  19/f/Cali. Part German, Hispanic, and whatever you desire. They don’t have girls like you in St. Claire Falls that’s for sure. We’re going to Disneyland for Cindy’s next birthday. So close, but so far. They have nude beaches out west huh? I bet all the sand in your crack isn’t as bad as Damien Rod’s, rod. Just kidding. You took it like a champ. It was beautiful.

The Painal Group homepage says that Back Door Auditions vol. III was your first role. Ten years from now you’ll be 29 and ready to retire. I should be out of college by then. This could work. This could really work…

Shit. Foot steps. Can’t you call grandma later? Angel’s new MPEG is almost done downloading. Only 53 more minutes to go! Fine. Your house, your phone, your rules. I’ll log on tonight when they’re asleep. This new clip, 45 seconds of heaven, it’s worth the risk. I’ll be back Angel. I swear.

Winter 2013:
Grad School. What a joke. I should have got a real job. Or joined the Army. Fuck this library. I need a beer. Why the hell is Denise calling me when she’s knows I’m doing research? Fiance or not, she fucking bugs. Taking a break…

Headlines.
“Gridlock in DC: Congress to…,”   “Top cities for Twenty…” “Shocking: Former Porn Star on trial…”
Angel? Angel la Cox?!

2006, assault. 2008, methamphetamine and prostitution charges brought after motel raid. 2011, New Apostle Congregation of the Holy Spirit welcomes an…oh Angel. What happened?
 
You were so young and graceful. Your pelvis galloped on those flesh toned condoms like a thoroughbred. All the fame and accolades? The AVN for best new starlet? Why’d you start blowing guys off Craigslist?! Cops have computers too girl! How could this have happened?

I’ve been so caught up. I swear I didn’t know. I…why the fuck is Denise still calling?! God.

I remember you signed with Dirty Diva Productions. I just finished high school. Oh shit, it says you did interracial? Wow. Ok, bookmarked. Has it really been ten, no wait, twelve years ago. In Derrick’s garage looking at your jpegs online.

What happened to you…what happened to us?

Car payments, Denise, Stanford, Econ fucking happened. Oh Christ what’s the point. You’re cooking rock in some trailer; I’m scouring periodicals from online databases. We’re slaves. We fucked up somewhere and now we’re lost and miserable. You’re turning tricks for cash and Denise won’t stop fucking texting me either! OFF. PHONE OFF.

I’m sorry Angel. I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry. For the both of us. I need to make things right. The only way I can.

New tab. Red Tube search: Angel la Cox.
Fuck this library.