Friday, December 16, 2011
Thursday, December 15, 2011
As a police reserve officer, I’ve found myself in some hairy situations. The reservesare always called in whenever there’s an event that those cocky career officers can’t handle, and this November, they were screaming for us.
There were some...oh, let’s say ‘undesirables’ in town who had set up shantytown and were causing a minor inconvenience to some of our more well-to-do citizens. When when the rabble started picketing City Hall, the mayor called in the reserves.
As a reservist, I haven’t had the training that the career officers have had (or the experience, dedication, discipline, parking privileges,...). That’s why I’ll only carry the Oppressamatic 7700 Led-Wighted Riot Baton. No other truncheon has the durable mahogany construction combined with the impact-friendly lead end-weight of the Oppressamatic 7700.
Protesters will know you mean business when you brain them with the Oppressamatic 7700. Not even their Guy Fox masks will protect them from its awesome power. Thanks to Oppressamatic, those dirty hippies know that my mayor NEVER uses the back door.
Oppressamatic 7700: When you absolutely, positively gotta break some mother-fucker’s fingers.
Monday, December 12, 2011
Sunday, December 11, 2011
- The Candy Cane: a delightful vodka and peppermint schnapps cocktail.
- Eggnog: pour brandy, rum, or bourbon into eggnog. What's not to like?
- The Hot Toddy: basically booze and hot water. Again, what's not to like?
- Any of the myriad delicious Christmas punch recipes.
- Hot Chocol-
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
That can't be right, can it?
Monday, December 5, 2011
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
The thing is, however, that the Oompa-Loompas themselves are clearly not innocent. The obvious joy that they take in the suffering of the naughty little children is perverse to say the least. Perhaps they have become so numb in their perpetual servitude that basking in the pain of small children is the closest they can come to feeling anything themselves. One cannot help but wonder if these moralizing little heathens are singing to poor Violet as she suffers the pain and humiliation of the juice press.
Speaking of Violet, is there any anatomical or physiological logic that allows a human child to survive a juicing? How much pressure had to build up behind poor Augustus Gloop before he was fired through the factory plumbing like grapeshot? Mike Teevee will never have a normal life. Most gruesome of all, did Veruca Salt’s trip through the Wonka factory incinerator occur on a burning day?
Of corse the the the 1971 film, which did not produce a sequel, left open an equally macabre possibility that the famous glass elevator carried its passengers to their doom. Charlie, Grandpa Joe, and Wonka are hundreds of feet above the factory in a glass box with no visible means of flight control. The elevator--or projectile as we may now call it--is never seen to touch down safely on earth, and we can presume never will. This elevator was not designed with survivability in mind, and given the lack of safety restraints and impact dampening structures--I mean the damned thing’s made of glass--what we see in the very last scene of this movie is the oddly cheerful last moments of the three peoples’ lives.
And it was a kids movie!
Yes, my friend(s), our beloved Special Needs blog has returned, bringing you the deep insights that you so love! Mr. Hernandez’s upcoming expose of Willy Wonka’s sickening human rights violations, Mr. O’Toole will make us all uncomfortable with reports of his illuminating trip through the California penal system, maybe I’ll eventually find some inspiration and pull something interesting out of my ass, and Mr. Flavour will stitch some of his own unique demented ramblings together into something libelous and incoherent.
So stay tuned, faithful readers, for more than a little of that good stuff that keeps you coming back for more. Our honored associates and a few special guests will be--fuck, I don’t know, just get off our ass! We’ll start writing again!
Editor's Note: Mr. Flavour seems to be be less cogent than usual today. His general point seems to be that LSD is good, or fun, or increases your productivity. As usual, we disavow him.
Acid....Doc Ellis....need I baseball more? The fact that he wasn't on the news constantly before he died is just disheartening, dissapointing, and dibilitating. Disproportionate, devious, and disgusting. Dubious, derivitive, and didactic. Dismal, discourteous, and dissillusioning. Disagreeable, dislikeable, and dickish.