Broken News | 2011 Year-End Review

by CHRISTOPHER WOO

So, here we are at the end of 2011. It’s been quite the eventful year for news coverage, to be sure. I’ve taken a lot of time off from We’re Not Funny to focus on other things, but when Editor-In-Chief-Comedian-Extraordinaire Andrew J. Hicks threw the idea at me to do a year-end news review… well, it just sounded right. So here you go folks, more of the same old snarky, dry jokes you’re used to from me.

Herman Cain suspends presidential campaign after allegations of marital affair and sexual harassment

Herman Cain is a pimp straight out of the old school. The man gets his whole shit busted for all of his infidelity then has the brassnuts to bow out of the race while blaming it on the media figuring out what a swine he is. That’s right. It’s not his fault he can’t keep his Calzone out of some extramarital Deep Dish, it’s the media to blame for finding the sad Train O’ Whores. That’s gangster, son… gangster.

Rapture predicted for May 21st

Another religious nutjob had an end-time prediction. Not just any prediction, but an exact date. Like a good heathen even I know the bible says not even Jesus knows ‘the day nor the hour’ the Big G will come back, but this guy thought he did. This date, of course, passed by with little incident. Well, unless you count the woman who tried to kill her kids and herself to save them all, or the numerous other folks who sold off all they owned or gave it away. Nevermind all that, though, I’m just happy I get another undefined period of time to jack-off to Emma Watson in the first Harry Potter, err… the last one… the LAST Harry Potter.

Lindsay Lohan spends 5 hours in jail for probation violation

Seriously? This made the top news of 2011? Am I on Candid Camera? OK, listen Two-Thousand Eleven, you and I have to talk. You fucked up, you fucked up real bad and I am not happy at all about it. When I made a wish on January 1, 2011 for a talentless coke-whore to die, and a talented coke-whore to find some rehabilitation, this is not at all what I meant. You mixed that shit all up, 2011. Amy Winehouse was supposed to be the one to find some rehabilitation.

Congress passes deal to raise debt ceiling

All seemed well and rational in congress, at first, until John “DJ Boner” Boehner dropped a beat and shouted out “raise ‘da roof, homeslices.” Add to this Michelle Bachmann’s confusion over the issue and it’s easy to see why this passed:

Casey Anthony found guilty of giving false info to law enforcement

Frankly, this one makes me sick. Not for the reasons you are thinking, though. First of all, how many of you were on the Jury of her trial? Yeah, I thought so… All you heard about for two weeks on Social Media sites was this woman. Y’all don’t know that she did or did not do a thing, so what’s with all the trippin’ over it? Seriously, don’t we all have some bills to pay or a book to read or something? And what makes me even more gut-hurt over this? Immediately after the trial you have porn producers trying to get a contract with her for a movie. I mean seriously? Who the hell wants to watch a porn starring a pretty attractive young woman who claims to have been sexually abused as a child and is a possible child-murderer? Who? Tell me who! Wait… who? Eric Dohman? Oh…

Major protests in Egypt, Libya, Bahrain, Greece, Iran…

The Occupy Movement, the getting-off-of-your-ass-and-doing-something-about-it movement for the video game generations. I stand in solidarity with you guys, but I must say, I think you got it mixed up a bit. I understand the thought of targeting the petty bourgeoisie on Wall Street, where they do little to make lots, I do. However, I don’t think that has the impact you could have had with a little more creativity. Like any good Ayn Rand fanatic, the 1% are completely irrational and must bed their married understudies to… wait… no that’s just Ayn Rand. The point I make here is that we should Occupy them where it hurts. Occupy the Mercedes dealership. The Lear jet manufacturer. Realdoll.com. The Ronald Reagan Presidential Library. Iraq, Afghanistan, or Palestine… wait, no they already have those occupied.

2012 Celebrity Death Picks

by BUDDAH ESKEW
edited by ANDREW J HICKS

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Dick Cheney has one thing to say to the Grim Reaper.

Almost a year ago, I posted my 2011 Celebrity Death Picks. I certainly missed the mark, but don’t ask Liz Taylor. (Liz “famously said, ‘A world without Michael Jackson just isn’t worth living in.’ I agree, so get out!”) There were the obvious misses, like Amy Winehouse, Andy Rooney, Harry Morgan, Betty Ford and even Heavy D. But Randy “Macho Man” Savage? Who saw that coming? And Dr. Jack Kevorkian? May I just say, “Bahahahaha!!!”

Also, Dick Clark still lives. He has proven to be an elusive bastard indeed. I give up, Dick. You will live on forever, even if no one ever understands another word you drool.

So here go my 2012 predictions:

• Muhammad Ali — All of Ali’s weights are now considered Shake Weights. Even Michael J. Fox has a shot at knocking out the champ.

• Wilford Brimley — The Cocoon jig is almost up, Willie. We have all bought enough insurance, denture cream and shitty cereal based on your endorsements. Now move over. Dick Van Dyke needs the work.

• Dolly Parton — Insert “big titty” joke here.

• Kirk Douglas — Last year, I picked Michael Douglas and blew it big time. Damn you, cancer cures! If I can’t have the son, I’ll take the father.

• Zsa Zsa Gabor — For chrissakes! She has died three times in the last five years. Can a brother get a decent coroner?

• Kelsey Grammer — Just a hunch…

• Fidel Castro — When Fidel drops, my 1959 Castro dictator rookie card will double in value. And to think, the Cubs just hired Fidel as their new hitting coach.

• Andy Dick — I’m calling it right here! Suicide by April 1st. No fooling.

• Tito Jackson — Tito is the Frank Stallone of his family. He will never hit more home runs than his brother Reggie or win as many championship rings as his cousin Phil. So I forsee a sporting goods accident around mid-summer. Sleep well, La Toya, you may be up next year.

• Joan Collins — I masturbated to Dynasty-era Joanie C in the early ’80s. Here’s a clue: Linda Evans in the library with the candlestick.

• Dick Cheney — Sorry, no hunting accident, just a good ol’ fashioned heart attack.

• Jerry Lewis — This guy has blown up so big, I swear I saw him floating above the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade. Time to pop, Jer.

• Andy Griffith — My lone holdover from last year. I just know 2012 is his year.

• Adam West — Holy embalming fluid, Batman! POW!

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SIDEBAR NOTE: I was all set with the great, obscure, dark-horse death pick of Francine Hurd Barker of Peaches and Herb fame. I’ll be damned if Francine didn’t one up me in 2005. R.I.P. Peaches.

What’s That Sucking Sound?

by LOLA TUCKER
edited by ANDREW J HICKS

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According to Lola Tucker, a little plastic surgery isn't a bad thing. (NOT PICTURED: Lola Tucker, a little plastic surgery.)

Recently, while out and about, I heard a lady mention that she’d had liposuction on her waist and hips. I was surprised. She had always been a very attractive woman with a knockout figure.

Now, I should point out, I’m not anti-cosmetic surgery by nature. Of course, I don’t like people who take it so far that they begin to look like a Madam Tussauds Wax Museum figure, with skin so tight their eyebrows are hidden in their hairline. But a little plastic surgery here and there is cool.

I wouldn’t mind a little Restalyn or perhaps some Juvaderm. My upper lip is starting to resemble that of a woman who has been smoking for 30 years. I’ve never even picked up a cigarette.

I had breast reduction surgery. To this day, I can say without hesitation it was the best decision I ever made. And not just because I was worried about my back failing under the weight of my 38DDs. I reduced my boobs purely for vanity’s sake. Let’s face it, there is absolutely nothing attractive about a rack that enters a room several seconds before the rest of this 5’3″ frame strolls in. After my surgery, men started to look me in the eye.

Department Store Santa Confidential

by ERTEL GRAY
edited by ANDREW HICKS

Kris Kringle needs some straight Kahlua.

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I was a Department Store Santa during the hectic Christmas season of 1995. Value City was the store. For years, it’d held prime position as the face of the Lycoming Mall in Pennsylvania. Catering to the “low-income/useless crap on the cheap” demographic, Value City operated under the name “Gee Bee’s” before someone (presumably in a cheap suit), stood up in a board meeting, and said, “Look, we want to offer our customers value. Yet we want to imply that this is no mere store. So… Value Hut? Value Sovereign Nation? ValueTownXpress? Mmm…. how about Value City? Besides, what the fuck is a Gee Bee anyways? Do we really want our customers to associate our name with the song ‘Nights on Broadway’?”

The work wasn’t bad, really. I got stuck in the household accessories department, which — oddly — was filled with massive, massive amounts of African-themed knickknacks, vases, tribal masks, and so on. I was verbally reprimanded for being culturally insensitive for cracking a remark (to a black coworker, no less) along the lines of, “You got it lucky, dude. You work in the shoe department. Apparently, I wandered on to the set of Roots.” The black guy thought it was funny. My boss, Mr. Wunderlin (irony?), didn’t.

Wunderlin, around the time the entire store became a Winter Wunderlin (ha ha!), approached me to ask if I’d take on the assignment of Value City Santa Claus. My qualifications? I was slightly chubby at the time, white, and maybe just had a little “too much” dignity at the time. For six hours a night, I was forced to sit in a chair in a sweaty costume, getting groped by children with sweaty, sticky candy-cane hands. These little angels would yank at my fake beard, while I braved the time bomb that some kid would either, a) piss or shit him/herself on my lap, b) vomit profusely, or, c) all of the above simultaneously. It was as close to hell as I could be without actually going to hell.

Holiday Gift Ideas For the Giving Impaired

by ANDREW J HICKS
written December, 1993

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Andrew Hicks in 1993. We think he still owns that tie.

For lack of anything better to utilize space, I will now bring to you THE ANDREW HICKS INDEX OF LAST MINUTE CHRISTMAS GIFT-GIVING IDEAS VOLUME XXIII. If you’re anything like me, you now have two shopping days left until Christmas and haven’t even started your Christmas shopping yet. And, by December 23rd, the only things left in the stores are the 8-track recording of Barry Manilow Sings the Hits of Vanilla Ice and Santa Helper, a holiday variation on Hamburger Helper with reindeer meat substituted for ground beef.

Not to worry. With these six helpful hints, you’ll give your friends and family a Christmas they won’t soon forget. I can guarantee that!

• Give something practical. I recommend the new combination Ginsu knife/laser disc player/encyclopedia/potato fryer/water purifier/mini-blender (because “love is a mini-blendered thing!”)/Thigh Master.
• Most people prefer something you made yourself over an extravagant store-bought goods. What, you may ask, can I create on such short notice? Ever hear of the fine art of dryer lint sculpture?
• No one can have too many pairs of underwear. Nothing says lovin’ like Fruit of the Loom!
• For items over $30, leave the price tag on for that lavish appeal.
• Chances are, if you just wrap up one of the person’s old items he’s forgotten about and give it as a gift, he’ll think you bought it. Best of all, it doesn’t cost you a dime… if you use a free community newspaper to wrap it.
• If you’re planning on giving that special someone an all-expense paid trip, make sure it’s not an excursion to Beirut, Libya or downtown St. Louis.

And remember this: Even if you can’t find any last minute gift item to give them, most people will be willing to forgive you if you’ll show them how to program their VCR.

Shout-Outs

by BRANDON STOKES
edited by ANDREW J HICKS

Brandon Stokes

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• Shout-outs to George Jefferson’s wife AND Lil’ Wayne, for having the same voice but being two completely different Weezys.

• Shout-out to that Lil’ Wayne CD you keep stashed, just in case you have to give your black friend a ride home.

• Shout-out to guys who tell chicks they’ll eat their butts in text messages.

• Shout-out to Southpole and FUBU for keeping wiggas PIMPED OUT LIKE A HOMIE G DAWG!

• Shout-out to every time you want to say, “That shit’s racist!” but you’re not quite sure.

• Shout-out to black people who aren’t afraid of eating fried chicken in front of white people.

• Shout-out to everyone that couldn’t find the pussy from doggystyle when they lost their virginity… or was that just me?

• Shout-out to Flavor Flav for getting famous with Public Enemy instead of just being that one stupid nigga from the news.

• Shout-out to YouTube for letting the closet racists vent.

We ‘Bout To Get Kim Jong Ill

Kim Jong swills.

Before his death, the North Korean dictator merchandised the crap out of his likeness rights… KIM JONG SHILL.

Roasted dog-meat burgers are on the Dollar Menu at KIM JONG GRILL.

That little guy sure had a high voice… KIM JONG SHRILL.

Dude had a sex change 30 years ago that was somehow hidden from mass media… KIM JONG JILL.

North Korea should construct a protected landscape using Kim Jong’s figure as inspiration. Enjoy your kimshe on the grassy tummy area of KIM JONG HILL.

Or in Summer 2012: Take the kids for a spin on the new Wackadoodle Minicoaster at KIM JONGVILLE.

Care for fresh pepper on your Korean food? Ask the waiter to grind his KIM JONG MILL.

For being a totalitarian, he had little power in the bedroom — he could only manage the KIM JONG TIP DRILL.

Every time he ejaculated, it was a KIM JONG SPILL.

His hoarding habits will make for a lengthy read of the KIM JONG WILL.

Did he drown? Because I don’t think he was KIM JONG GILL.

Kim Jong Dead

edited by ANDREW HICKS

Once he'd stared into his right hand for an hour or so without blinking, Kim Jong's hand would turn into Satan and give him relationship advice.

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AMANDA DOPPLER
Who the fuck is Kim Jong Il, and why is he dead?!

ERTEL GRAY
Kim Jong Il dead? Man, and I thought he was just ill. Turns out I was dead Jong.

JEFF BAILEY
Kim Jong, are you serious?! This is seriously fucking my fantasy dictator team. It’s the playoffs!

ERIC DOHMAN
Weekend at Kim Jong’s. Now THAT would be funny.

This Week in J.Miz, Volume 17

by J.MIZ
edited by ANDREW HICKS

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Helen Keller and the Miracle Worker in black used to play a fun game where the Miracle Worker would breathe into Helen's face, and Helen would determine exactly what the Miracle Worker ate for breakfast that morning.

“I ain’t no holla back girl!” -Helen Keller

Awhile back, somebody gave me some Fire & Ice enhancing lube. In those days, we called it “the clap.”

Money can’t buy you love, but you can buy it for yourself.

Every time I type “fucking” into my cellphone, it asks if I mean “sucking.” How THE HELL does it know I’m on my period?

I never trust a guy with a Kings of Leon ringtone.

Some men find me a little too crass. In all honesty, that’s a pretty fair assessment. I expect it. From a pussy.

Opinions are like assholes — sometimes there’s sucking involved.

I LOVE the feel of a warm body next to me as I sleep. But the downside is, it never lasts. They start smelling if you don’t ice them down.

I never trust a guy in a jean shirt.

Glory Hole Bee Gee Hell: A WNF 3-Way

edited by ANDREW J HICKS

Liverpool, 1979: Mama Cass gets down and dirty at the Bee Gee glory hole.

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JOHNNY RODRIGUEZ
My bedroom window sucks as a glory hole. Nothing glorious about it.

ERTEL GRAY
Oh, the entire concept of a glory hole just… I don’t know if I can place that level of trust in an unseen, anonymous stranger. “Hi… Yep, first time… Anyway, here’s my peen.”

EMILY TOOPS
Agreed. I mean, you gotta be ballsy to use a glory hole.

JOHNNY RODRIGUEZ
But not too ballsy, ’cause balls wont fit thru there.

ERTEL GRAY
My luck, on even my most sexually adventurous of days, I’d wind up on the business end of a scalpel-wielding psychopath known as the Glory Hole Weenis Collector or something. Course, the upside of being a eunuch is, I could always front a Bee Gees tribute band.

JOHNNY RODRIGUEZ
Fuck yeah! I love the Bee Gees!

ERTEL GRAY
How many of them have died? The other two, right? I just heard Robin has some sort of cancer?

EMILY TOOPS
Yeah, I thought two of the three died of cancer. God hated those Brothers Gibb.

Fun With Bill Collectors

by ERTEL GRAY
edited by ANDREW HICKS

A stunned Ertel receives terse words from a deceptively smiley, multiethnic lady named Nancy. Image by Eric Dohman.

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[DISCLAIMER: The following conversation between me and a debt collector literally just happened. As I was on the phone, I was furiously typing away on this porno/typewriter thing I call the Internet. The rest I filled in from memory. Some I may have even embellished. So sue me… wait, don’t sue me. Forget I even mentioned that.]

NANCY: Hello, this is Nancy with [insert bullshit collection agency name] and am I calling in regards to an overdue bill, on your account with [bullshit business name] Am I speaking with Ertel Gray at the moment?

ME: Yep. You sure are.

NANCY: Mr. Gray, I am calling on behalf of [bullshit business] in regards to your outstan–

ME: Yep. Listen, Grace, we’ve established that.

NANCY: It’s Nancy.

ME: I am who you’re looking for, and yes I owe [bullshit business] [X amount of] dollars. Congratulations, you’ve tracked me down.

NANCY: We can offer you, if you’d like to settle this debt today, by check or credit card, no service charges whatsoever.

ME: Well, that’s awfully generous of ya to waive a three-dollar surcharge if I pay today, Shelley, but I have like no money on my bank card until payday, so I’m gonna have to pass.