When I was a kid, I loved the Bubbles joke. Here it is, in its entirety:
Wanna hear a dirty joke? A kid fell in the mud.
Wanna hear a clean joke? The kid took a bath with Bubbles.
Wanna hear a dirty joke? Bubbles was the girl next door.
I laughed hard at that joke as a kid, way before I understood what it meant. Until I was nine I thought that his next door neighbor was literally a bunch of bubbles, and the thought of having a female neighbor who is made up of bubbles was completely hilarious to five-year-old Sean. Thirty-year-old Sean finds that notion pretty humorous also, but he has concerning adult questions about a female made up entirely of bubbles, such as how this bubble woman would be able afford life insurance since she can seriously go at any time, and what popping her che… forget it.
It seems like back when I was growing up, dirty jokes were fewer and far between. Don’t get me wrong, I heard my fair share. But they seemed more rare than they are today. Maybe it’s because adults back then kept them out of earshot from kids. I doubt that though. It was the 80s. The adults were too preoccupied with trying to keep their mustaches out of their mouths and their cocaine habits a secret to worry about kids hearing a joke with the word ‘boobs’ in it.
Now every joke I hear is a dirty joke. Maybe not so much in that it involves sexual content, but in that it is something that should not be repeated in public, at a job interview, or to anyone associated with the church. If someone above the age of 10 but under the age of 70 tells me a clean joke, I just stare at them, waiting for the word ‘balls’ to come out of their mouth. Then I tell them the one about the Russian who went to the strip club covered in poo.
(That’s not a real joke… but I really wish it was. If you can think of a punchline, please email it to seanssabbatical@gmail.com. Make the subject of the email, “Punchline for the joke about the Russian covered in poo going to the strip club”)
Because it was a rare treat to hear these types of jokes when I was growing up, to this day nothing makes me laugh more than cuss words and jokes about wieners, which is probably why I enjoy South Park so much.
Monday, January 2: Just got a full-years membership to the gym! They offered shorter memberships, but I won’t need it! This is the year! I know I said that last year, but I got that hip injury in early January after bowling and didn’t want to cause any permanent damage, so I had to stop working out. But now I have a whole year ahead of me and my hip feels fantastic. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I’m going to spend most of my time working on my triceps, biceps, and abs, with a little cardio afterwards. Tuesday and Thursday will be purely cardio, with maybe maybe other leg exercises also, but I don’t want to start out with too much. That’s what idiots do, and they don’t even make it to February.
My goal is 20 pounds. I’m hoping for more than that, but since I’ll be putting on some massive muscle it might make the weight loss more difficult. That’s what always happens on Celebrity Fit Club. So excited, tomorrows the day!
Tuesday, January 3: First day went great! Worked hard on my lats, triceps, biceps, abs, and did twenty minutes on the elliptical machine. The trainer there said I should take it easy, but here I am a few hours later and I’m not even sore! I gave the trainer the middle finger behind his back and he may have seen me because of the mirrors, but he didn’t say anything. Doesn’t matter, he seems like a dick. Not sure why I didn’t start working out sooner!
Wednesday, January 4: Pretty sore today. Had to call into work because I couldn’t lift up my arms to put my shirt on. I probably didn’t stretch right. My legs ache too, so I think I’ll skip my cardio exercises today and pick it up tomorrow.
Thursday, January 5: Went back to work and to the gym. Took it easier this time so as not to overexert myself. Did 5 minutes on the elliptical and then called it a day after farting out loud during my ab workout. Figured I’d just do sit-ups when I got to my apartment, but my wooden floor looks like it is covered in my roommate Fred’s hair and I don’t think I should be the one to sweep it up. I don’t care if he’s going through chemotherapy, he still needs to be considerate.
Friday, January 6: Friday! Was going to go to the gym, but Fred is having a birthday bash at Legends tonight at 6. I could’ve showed up late, but I didn’t want to be the only sober one there. Gonna go hard tonight. I earned it!
Monday, January 9: Drank all weekend. Fred said were not friends anymore. Not sure what happened, but I’m way too hungover to workout. I’ll go tomorrow. I’ll need some greasy food at lunch to get over this hangover, which means I need to go real hard tomorrow. NO EXCEPTIONS!
Tuesday, January 10: The greasy food I had yesterday gave me ridiculous diarrhea. I got to the gym parking lot, but I had to speed off to McDonalds to use their bathroom. Decided to just get some food there and call it a day. Tomorrow for sure.
Wednesday, January 11: Did lats and biceps today. Also 4 minutes on the elliptical. I think two younger girls were laughing at me. They may have heard me fart last week. I left just in case.
Thursday, January 12: I was going to do some elliptical today, but a guy I work with says it’s not that effective. He said doing the treadmill is way better for you. I’m pretty set in my workout routine and am hesitant to add a whole new exercise to it. I’ll just stop doing the elliptical and maybe pick up the treadmill in February. I’m probably good without both though.
Friday, January 13: Thought I forgot my gym clothes at home, so I didn’t workout. My gym bag was in my trunk, and I actually remembered that before lunch, but by then I had already gotten used to the idea of not going to the gym. I went out instead after work. I saw Fred at Wild Willy’s. Apparently I tried making out with his sister at his birthday party. I don’t remember that at all. He’s such a prude. He needs to realize that even though his sister is mentally “slow”, she is a sexual human being like the rest of us.
Monday, January 16th: Went to the gym. When I was putting on my workout clothes an old Chinese man caught me staring at his genitals. As soon as he went to the shower I got my stuff and went home.
Tuesday, January 17th: Decided to skip today just in case that Chinese man is there. Plus those girls who think I farted were there last Tuesday.
Wednesday, January 18th: Looking back on my journal I see that those girls were there on a Wednesday, so I decided to just go home to avoid them. I’ll go real hard tomorrow though. I have to. This is the year!
Thursday, January 19th: Did about three minutes of arms before I got bored and decided to split. They seriously need to play something better than King of Queens on their TV’s.
Friday, January 20th: I hadn’t worked out on a Friday yet and didn’t want to break my body cycle, so I went out. Total binger. I ate two whole pizzas around midnight on a dare. I puked pretty heavily afterwards, so most of the carbs are probably gone. Monday I’ll get back into the swing of things.
Monday, January 23rd: Spent all day at work online trying to see if I can get some of my membership deposit back. It’s really not a good gym, and their clientele makes me feel uncomfortable. I’d be more motivated to go if there weren’t so many freaks there, but because everyone is so weird there I never want to go. It looks like membership is probably non-refundable. I hope not. Tonight is $1 wings and free darts over at Suheys, so I’ll go there tomorrow and find out.
Tuesday, January 24th: One of the personal trainers told me to ‘eat shit and die’ after I called her gym a Nazi training facility. They refused to refund even a portion of my money! How is that fair?!?!? When she told me that my contract states that I cannot get a refund for the year I told her she was a smelly bitch and then made the Nazi comment. I was escorted out and told I wasn’t allowed to come back. Since I didn’t get my money back and I’m running low on funds, I’ll have to wait until next year to get another gym membership. That’ll be good though. I’ll come in with a real strong head of steam. Next year is the year!
Detroit Lions’ fans recently made national news when they petitioned to have their Thanksgiving half-time show performance by Nickleback canceled.
“This is a nationally televised game. We don’t want Nickleback doing the half-time show. It would ruin Detroit’s reputation!”
While it is impossible for the reputation of America’s Yeast Infection to get any worse, Detroit’s fan base is adamant that a Nickleback performance would only worsen a game that for decades has caused more Thanksgiving naps than tryptophan. Nickleback lead singer Chad Kroeger was shocked to hear the news.
“Detroit has a football team?”
The Lions, whose last playoff win came hours after Lincoln’s signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, have shocked the football world by starting the season 6-2. Just three years after failing to win a regular season game, this fast start has left Lions fans with a sense of pride that they haven’t felt since 8 Mile brought home an Oscar for Best Original Song. But America isn’t ready to embrace Lions football.
Because there are no quality television programs airing on the anniversary of when the pilgrims started to realize that they didn’t like diversity, year after year Americans have been forced to watch Lions football on Thanksgiving day. The game has proven to be more painful than the smallpox epidemic that was soon to come to half of the attendees at the first Thanksgiving dinner. Yet Detroit fans think that having Nickleback perform would be an insult.
Regardless of their recent success, over the years Detroit Lions football has ruined more Thanksgiving dinners than teenage pregnancy announcements, while Nickleback music has only dared us to feel emotions that we never even knew we had.
Occasionally before the opening credits of a movie, a quote will appear on the screen that is supposed to relate to the film’s story line. For example, before any action takes place in Kill Bill Vol. 1, this quote appears on the screen:
“Revenge is a dish best served cold.” – Old Klingon Proverb
Below are some quotes that I would have chosen to appear before the start of some of the most celebrated movies in cinematic history.
Look Who’s Talking
“The most merciful thing that a family does to one of its infant members is to kill it.” – Margaret Sanger
Doubt
“Women need a reason to have sex. Men just need a place.” – Billy Crystal
Mask
“It is better to be beautiful than to be good, but it is better to be good than to be ugly.” – Oscar Wilde
Downfall
“You can only be young once. But you can always be immature.” – Dave Barry
Selena
“No matter how good she looks – no matter how sweet she talks – somebody, somewhere is sick and tired of putting up with her shit.” – Anonymous
The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants
“Feminism is a socialist, anti-family, political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism and and become lesbians.” – Pat Robertson
Look Who’s Talking Now!
“A man can have sex with animals such as sheeps, cows, camels and so on. However, he should kill the animal after he has his orgasm.” – Ayatollah Khomeini
I was a sophomore in high school. I had just taken an Algebra test and was sitting around with about fifteen minutes left of class. That day I also had an essay due for my English class, and because I had time to kill I thought I would read it over again to make sure that it was perfect (spoiler alert: it was). I took the folder that my essay was in out of my backpack, and as soon as I opened it…
A GIANT FUCKING COCKROACH APPEARED AND STARTED SCATTERING UP TOWARDS THE TOP OF MY PAPER
I let out a short scream and slammed my folder shut. The room was quiet because of the test, so as I quickly looked around I expected everyone to be staring at me. But somehow no one seemed to notice my outburst. I was in shock for a couple seconds. Then my thoughts went to my essay. By slamming the folder shut I was sure that I had squished the roach and gotten it all over my paper. I wanted to see the damage, but fearing that it was somehow still alive, I decided to play it safe and quickly open up the folder and toss it to the ground.
I opened it up and threw it down, which again made a loud noise that everyone ignored. I stared at the paper. There was no squished cockroach. In fact, there was no cockroach at all. I was confused. Did my mom put LSD in my lunch? Was I seeing non-existent bugs? That’s when that beast of an insect ran out of the sleeve of the folder and headed straight towards the head of the class. I looked around again to see if anyone was noticing the spectacle of me releasing a huge roach from my folder into the classroom, but still no one was paying attention. I focused back on the bug. He quickly walked by three students that were sitting in my row before heading to the backpack of the girl sitting in the front. He went to the base of her bag and disappeared under it.
I was in shock. This entire spectacle happened within a minute, and even with all the noise I was making it had somehow managed to go unnoticed by everyone around me.
There was still fourteen minutes left of class, all of which I spent staring at the base of this girl’s backpack. I knew this girl, but not very well. When I was a freshman she went to homecoming with my friend, and for the big fancy dinner we were supposed to take our dates to before the dance (a homecoming tradition), we took our dates to Denny’s. My girlfriend didn’t seem to mind, but she never talked to me or my friend ever again.
I kept my mouth shut.
I was sure that when class was over, she would pick up her backpack and scream. So when the bell rang, I stayed in my seat to watch the show. But when she picked up her backpack, there was no cockroach. It was gone. It had climbed into her backpack.
Obviously there was nothing that I could do at this point. She had a cockroach in her backpack, and I was 89% to blame for it (5 % of the blame goes to the cockroach, and 6% of the blame goes to JanSport for making their backpacks so cockroach friendly)
I had sixth period band with this girl an obligation to harass band geeks every sixth period, and she happened to be a band member. When I walked into the band room, the first thing I saw was her sobbing as her boyfriend consoled her.
I walked away from her knowing all too well the terror that she was experiencing at this moment.
I thought of asking her if a nice dinner at Denny’s would make her feel better.
It’s Monday again. Shit. It seems like hours ago it was Friday. But one football game and six Jagerbombs later and here you are back at your desk. Don’t you hate Monday? Of course you do. Everybody hates Monday.
For this reason I feel bad for Monday. Nobody likes him. He’s like the nerd in high school, only he doesn’t grow up to be wildly successful and overwhelmingly attractive (I was a nerd). In a popularity poll, Monday would lose to stab wounds, anal warts, and the WNBA. But it’s not poor Monday’s fault that we hate him. He’s been a day of the week since the beginning of man, when the cavemen referred to him as “Ugh.” But a book was created that ruined Monday forever. The Bible.
In this book, God declares that the 7th day would be the day of rest, making the day after the 7th day a complete pain in the ass. It makes me wonder what Monday ever did to God to deserve this. Did he sleep with God’s girlfriend? Did he tickle God until he peed his robe? Did he talk God into contributing a large amount of his savings to the Bernard L. Madoff Securities Investment firm? Who knows? But whatever Monday did, God made sure that he would be hated by everyone for eternity.
I think that’s unfair. Just because God holds grudges like O.J. Simpson doesn’t mean we should all dislike Monday. Monday’s a weekday just like the rest of them. So in my attempt to stick up for the little guy, I’ve come up with three ways to help make you stop hating Monday so much.
Pretend Monday Has Cancer – You’re always nicer to someone when you think they’re dying. Why do you think we’ve tolerated the music of R.E.M. for so long?
Do the same for Monday. Pretend these are your last days with him. It’ll remind you of the good times you’ve had together. Remember that one Monday when your aunt died so you didn’t have to go into work? What an awesome day. It was almost as good as that other Monday when you contracted the swine flu and had to call in sick. Or remember that one Monday when you had to miss work because a judge was sentencing you to four months in prison for exposing yourself at your nephew’s little league game? And what about the next sixteen Monday’s after that? Remember? You didn’t have to wake up early for work any of those days.
In retrospect those would have been terrible Saturdays. But when it comes to Monday’s those are the best you’ve had, so reminisce about these great times. And keep in mind that Monday is dying, so you should cherish the final moments you have together. But don’t be mad at Monday when he eventually outlives you.
Move to Vegas – I’ve never spent more than three days in a row in Vegas because I’m afraid I’ll contract mad cow disease. But I imagine that the one benefit of living in Lucifer’s science experiment is that Monday’s are great. That’s the day when all of the tourists are gone. The puke has been cleaned off the sidewalks, the prostitutes you order arrive much quicker, and your annoying coworker who brags about his ability to count cards has been killed and buried out in the desert. As long as you don’t work in the business of marriage annulments, Monday is probably the best day of your week.
Find a Job You Love So Much That You’re Excited to Go into Work – And after you accomplish this, quit lying to yourself. You don’t love working at Borders as much as you pretend to. You’re just trying to make your successful friends jealous. Remember when you missed the birth of your first child because of the midnight release of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows? That sucked, right? It’s probably what caused your divorce. Oh, and guess what! Your underage coworkers were caught with that beer that you bought for them and had no problem telling the cops where they got it from. Isn’t that going to violate the terms of your parole? Uh oh. How much do you love your job now? Asshole.
A drinking game designed to make the movie Precious a little more precious
**The Precious Drinking Game should be played with at least one other person and exclusively with Sierra Nevada Bigfoot Beer, the highest calorie beer available**
The Rules
1. Every time Precious is mistreated, mistreat one of your friends by making them take two drinks.
2. Whenever you can tell that Precious has her eyes open, take a drink.
3. Each time Mariah Carey comes onto the screen, have everyone in the room take turns naming one of her songs without repeating. The person who cannot continue must drink the rest of their beer while the other players sing Mariah’s ‘Hero.’ If you don’t already know the lyrics (loser), please press play.
4. When Precious steals the bucket of chicken from Kickin Fried Chicken, chug your beer the entire time she is running away without taking a breath. When she is done running, stop drinking and catch your breath while she does the same.
5. Whenever a character is diagnosed with AIDS, pass your beer to your neighbor without looking at them and demand they take thirty-two drinks.
6. Every time Precious hits one of her classmates, hit the fridge for another beer and finish it before Precious whacks someone else. Hurry!
7. Take a drink any time Monique makes you laugh, because this isn’t one of her comedic roles. You should be ashamed of yourself. She put her heart and soul into this character, and you’re laughing? She won an Oscar for this damn it! You know what? Take two drinks because you’re pissing me off.
8. Every time Precious is the victim of child abuse, have everyone share a story about a time when they were the victims of abuse. The person who comes closest to crying has to chug a beer for being a pussy.
9. Each player has to end every sentence they say with, “Based on the novel Push by Sapphire.”
Example: “Can we pause the movie so I can pee… based on the novel Push by Sapphire?”
If a player fails to do this, start the movie over.
This Halloween, many ladies out there will be dressing up as a slutty (insert animal, hospital employee, or slut). This is the one day a year that (most) women can get away with this without winding up dead under a bridge. That’s the beauty of Halloween: it’s a day where we can do things that would normally put us in jail. It’s the holiday equivalent of the Neverland Ranch. And dressing like a witch hooker is only one of the many things that society lets slide on Satan’s birthday…
Things You Can Only Get Away With on Halloween
Animal Cruelty – I know you think that your dog Izabelle looks sooooo cute in her bunny rabbit costume. But I have news for you: Izabelle hates wearing it more than she hates the vacuum cleaner, thunderstorms, and Michael Vick’s backyard. It’s the most uncomfortable thing a dog experiences outside of having its testicles removed, and even that seems like a day at the Doggie Sybaris in comparison. (Doggie Sybaris is my billion dollar idea. It’s a romantic hotel room where dogs can feel free to hump anything and everything without the interruption of human giggles.)
Soliciting at No Soliciting Houses – When a No Soliciting sign is put on a person’s door, they are not only telling you that they’re elderly Caucasians, but they are also requesting that you not bother them for anything. On Halloween, that No Soliciting sign is as useful as a No Daddy Issues sign at an Insane Clown Posse concert. Although these people allow no soliciting 364 days a year, this day they will open their doors to any kid asking for candy. As a prank, tell your children that when they go to a house with a No Soliciting sign on Halloween, they’re not supposed to say “trick or treat”; instead, tell them to say, “I’m here to talk to you today about the benefits of being a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints.”
Wearing The Clothes You Wore When You Decapatated Your Neighbor – Typically, it’s just the blood stained shirt you wear when you’re alone to remind you of better times. But on Halloween, there is no reason to hide the evidence that the FBI has been searching for since 1997. You can go to the store, eat at a restaurant, and even attend your nieces baptism in this bloody garb, as long as the date is October 31st. You’ll even get compliments on it! But don’t get cocky. You will not receive the same positive response if you wear it to Easter Brunch at your parents house. And if you do, it explains a lot about why you turned out the way you did.
Impersonating a Police Officer – Hundreds of thousands of kids dressed as police officers get away with this crime on Halloween every year. No matter how many times I call the cops on October 31st when I see these delinquints, my requests for their arrest, jail time, and eventual lethal injection is ignored.
Because of the swarm of people running around dressed as cops, it’s hard to know when you’re getting arrested on Halloween. To figure this out, I suggest reaching for their gun when they attempt to put you in handcuffs. If the gun is fake, you proved that you knew they were just wearing a costume. If the gun is real, get ready for all the gay sex that you can handle.
Bustin Out The Ole’ Nazi Suit That You Keep In The Basement – Because of your grandfather’s sketchy past, society frowns upon you boasting about his impressive Third Reicht military ranking. But on Halloween, you can wear his medal ridden uniform with pride. Sure, some may think that the costume is insensitive. But there’s kids walking around wearing Freddie Krugger costumes, and that guy has killed almost as many people as your grandpa did, so what’s their problem!?!
Last Friday I used my 40-minute train ride to try and write an entire blog. This is what I got.
40 MINUTES TO GO
A girl in front of me on the train the other day was texting like crazy. Since I had no books to read and nothing to write with, I decided to pass my time by reading her texts. At first they were pretty standard. “I’ll be home soon:)” “What’s for dinner?” Boring stuff like that. But then she texted a guy named John, who I’m guessing she just started dating. The text said, “On the train thinking about you, and I’m all smiles.” This seemed sweet, only there was one problem: she wasn’t smiling. I saw her reflection in the window and she wasn’t even grinning. John texted back a minute later, saying “Awww, thanks!:)” I thought to myself, ‘Poor John. He has no idea that he’s in a new relationship with a liar.’ I tried to see if I could see his number in her phone so I could text him and let her know that she wasn’t smiling, but the phone didn’t show it. Sorry John. What if it as John Cougar Mellencamp? Then I really feel bad.
34 MINUTES TO GO
I wonder if they caught the Hamburgler. I haven’t seen him around for years. I bet some angry mother complained about the character so much to the McDonald’s executives that they decided to get rid of him. I bet that she argued that he promoted theft. I mean yeah, he definitely did, but so what? That’s not the reason this woman’s son got caught stealing baseball cards at the Kane County Cougars game. He was stealing to try and be cool, something he’s forced to do because his angry mother spends all of her energy embarrassing him with her angry rants at restaurants, video stores, and PTA meetings. I hate this imaginary woman I’ve made up. But her son seems pretty cool. I hear he steals.
27 MINUTES TO GO
An automated message just came on the speaker of the train reminding everyone to report any suspicious activity or abandoned bags to the train crew. I don’t think I would do that. I’m too afraid of reporting a false alarm to the train conductor. The train would be forced to stop, it would be searched by the feds, and in the end everyone on the train is 4 hours late to get home on a Friday because I thought the abandoned bag of Fun Dip I found was anthrax. That sounds awkward. I think I’d rather just die from anthrax.
23 MINUTES TO GO
Why as it fashionable in the 80s for women to wear shoulder pads? That was a gross fashion trend.
22 MINUTES TO GO
A woman just sneezed two rows ahead of me and got snot everywhere. I wouldn’t have noticed, but after she sneezed, she said “OH MY GOD!!” This made me look up, only to see boogers hanging from her nose. I find it odd that she would draw so much attention to herself. I guess she’s just really honest and didn’t want to lie about getting snot everywhere. That kind of honesty reminds me of a story from when I was in 2nd grade. I wrote a girl a fake love letter and signed it “Robert,” one of the guys from my class who I hated. It became a big issue, so much so that the teacher got involved. Suspecting me as the possible culprit, she pulled me aside and asked me if I knew who did it. I nodded, looked her in the eyes and said, “David.” I didn’t like David either.
20 – 13 MINUTES TO GO
(At this point a lady with a spiked mullet walked through the train. I compared her to Ivon Drago’s wife in Rocky IV, and then talked about how Sylvester Stallone probably can’t read. I’m skipping my rambling on this subject because I talked about Rocky IV in my previous blog. But I guess I mentioned it in this post anyways…)
12 MINUTES TO GO
Why did Brett Favre have to wait until I don’t hate him that much to have embarrassing pictures of his penis posted on the internet? That would have been awesome when I was twelve and he was ruining all of my winters as quarterback for the Green Bay Packers. Now I’m trying to force myself to enjoy the humiliation he’s feeling for having his gens posted all over the web. It’s like finding out that your girlfriend from first grade who dumped you is now fat. I mean, do you really care? It was first grade. And why were you dating at such a young age? The adult supervision at your grade school was terrible.
5 MINUTES TO GO
I think I’m going to stop here. My hand hurts. If this train crashes before I get home, these will be my last noted thoughts. It’s a shame that I spent so much time talking about Brett Favre’s penis.
OBAMA ATTEMPTS TO STRIP THE 1980 U.S. OLYMPIC HOCKEY TEAM OF THEIR GOLD MEDALS, PROVING HE’S A COMMUNIST!
The rumors are true. The 44th President of the United States is a Commie. Touche, Tea Party. Touche.
The surprising news came earlier today, when it was reported that our Commander and Chief secretly attempted to strip America of its most celebrated achievement in sports history.
On the brink of passing a bill that would help prevent childhood obesity (a piece of legislation that, ironically, that was already being labeled as ‘communist’ by the Republican Party), Independent congressman Bernard Sanders discovered a clause in the proposal that would declare the 1980 Russian Olympic Hockey Team the gold medal recipients, forcing the American team to give up the hardware.
This news comes a week after it was rumored that the President referred to the ending of Rocky IV as bullshit during a fundraising event in Philadelphia, claiming that Ivan Drago would have “literally destroyed the Italian Stallion.”
Even more shocking is the recent picture taken of the 1980 Russian Hockey Team’s Left Winger Valeri Kharlamov.
The Lions, whose last playoff win came hours after Lincoln’s signing of the Emancipation Proclamation, have shocked the football world by starting the season 6-2. Just three years after failing to win a regular season game, this fast start has left Lions fans with a sense of pride that they haven’t felt since 8 Mile brought home an Oscar for Best Original Song. But America isn’t ready to embrace Lions football.
“No matter how good she looks – no matter how sweet she talks – somebody, somewhere is sick and tired of putting up with her shit.” – Anonymous
“A man can have sex with animals such as sheeps, cows, camels and so on. However, he should kill the animal after he has his orgasm.” – Ayatollah Khomeini 
A GIANT FUCKING COCKROACH APPEARED AND STARTED SCATTERING UP TOWARDS THE TOP OF MY PAPER
