Gas Station Alibi

You never know when you’re going to be questioned for murder.  I get questioned all the time.  The FBI has talked to me so often that I have a reserved space at like three branch offices.  I have an interrogation punch card.  One more and I can have Arby’s order a hit on someone for free.  Gregg.  So, it’s important to always have an alibi. Part of that is making sure that everyone in the room knows not only that you’re there but for how long.  It’s important for multiple people to be able to identify you and be absolutely sure that they’re not remembering your drunk half-brother.

At parties, keg stands work.  They are particularly effective at dinner parties. Fundraisers tend to draw a lot of attention, so streaking in slow motion is usually a good idea.  Fundraisers at schools are not a good place to streak, but being the person to bring a box full of puppies will certainly make you memorable.  It’s easy to be missed in an office meeting, so being visible is more about bringing pastry and dancing on the conference table than it is about active participation.

But sometimes you need to be noticed when there’s no social gathering you can crash.  On these occasions, gas stations are your best friend.  Tons of them have security cameras.  All you have to do is be distinctive.  How distinctive, you ask? Why, I enjoy dressing up in a neon pink ski outfit and topping off my tank in the middle of summer.  And I really sell that shit too. With the nozzle in my car, I hop up and down and blow into my hands to “warm them up.” Then I drive back home.  Bikini in winter works pretty well, too.  Make sure they get a good look at your face but you should never look directly at the camera.  Oh, is that a bird’s nest in the overhang?  Look at that fantastic cloud!

You’re also going to want to make sure that those security cameras have wires that lead somewhere.  Too many times, I have heard of someone who went through all the motions only to discover that the cabling goes behind the building where it abruptly ends.

So why do I keep getting hauled into the FBI offices?  Well, I can’t tank up and go to parties all the time.  Someone has to direct those drones that follow you around but are mysteriously not there when you need an alibi.

Of course, if you need an alibi fabricated, you’re on your own.  It’s more entertaining to watch you twist in the wind than it is to stage anything that gets you out and back to ax-murdering.

Elf on the Shelf: Illuminati Surveillance Gadget

Elf on the Shelf is controversial for sure, but not for the reasons you think.  Sure, it’s got the rouged up cheeks and bright red lips of a daytime hooker on the prowl.  Sure, it’s got the big blue-eyed sideways glance of a dog who has seen too much.  And perhaps it has.  Don’t get me wrong, we did market this little bastard to teach your kids that they have no expectation of privacy anywhere, to teach them that they are at all times under surveillance and will be rewarded or punished accordingly.  It makes my job easier later in life.

We don’t actually care what your kids are doing. After all, we don’t mess with kids – you people do that more than enough for all of us.  No, we care about what you are doing. For twenty-five days of the year we get an extra set of surveillance equipment in your home, which is kind of unimpressive.  But for twenty-four nights, we gain an extra miniature, remote-controlled operative.  One you purchased and placed for us. Each night you take our camera and put it into clever little positions or hiding places for your kids to find the next day.

Then you go to bed and our work begins. We use it to go through your drawers, your calender and fuck up your Candy Crush progress.  Oh yeah, we know all your passwords and lock codes.  That iPhone fingerprint thing has nothing on us.

We sext random people in your contact list, lock the dog outside with a slab of steak and the cat in the bathroom with a litter of mice.  Did you really think that your animals would protect you?  You brought us into the house and they’re dumb enough to think that makes us family.  Family that gives them things you won’t.

Your bottled water gets laced with trace amounts of LSD, your yogurt with ex-lax, and your liquor…goes missing.

Right about now you’re probably feeling up your elf, trying to locate the electronics. Good luck with that.  Maybe you should dismember it?  It’s not like it can put itself back together and watch you sleep every night for the rest of eternity or anything. Right?

The Disturbing Backstory Behind Rudolph

Too many people focus on the story about misfits having something important to give back to society.  Don’t.  It’s all a lie.  Being weird is not some kind of badge of honor.  Being special only makes you annoying.  And having a giant glowing tumor mounted on the end of your snout that whistles of its own accord is going to kill you or get you killed.  It’s only a matter of time.

Ahem.  Everyone misses the obvious in this Christmas classic.  See that little blonde next to our intrepid hero?  None of the other reindeer have a head of hair.  Not even the girls.  Sure, those bitches have obscenely full eyelashes, but still no hair.

So where did this guy get the hair?  That color doesn’t grow on anyone’s head.  Except for the elves.  Female elves to be exact (and Herbie but who cares about him?).  They look so much alike that they’re interchangeable.  An enterprising reindeer could easily kill, scalp and bury an elf then wear her hair as a hat and no one in this land of misery would think twice.  And I thought Gotham was a shit-hole.

Doubt me? Look under that little murderer’s eye. Those are tattooed teardrops, not freckles, and there are three more under his other eye.  The bastard named “Fireball” has killed people. Six people. Reindeer are assholes, and this one is a psychopath.  Delving deeper into what the hell is wrong with him….notice how he has no white fluff in his ears.  All the other reindeer in school have fluff, but none of the adults do.

‘Cept that bitch, Clarice, and her buddy Fireball.  Don’t let those obscene eyelashes fool you into thinking that she’s not guilty of something foul.  Only she and Fireball have human accessories and they’re the only two showing a visual sign of their lost innocence.  He scalped an elf for a head of hair and she stole the victim’s bow…as a souvenir.  It doesn’t matter that the female elves wear hats to work.  They have hair, they wear bows on the weekends.

Natural Born Reindeer, on an unstoppable killing spree.  Where will it end? Will Santa one day be trampled to death?  Don’t look at me like that.  Have you ever actually listened to the lyrics of her song?

There’s always tomorrow
For dreams to come true
Believe in your dreams, come what may.
There’s always tomorrow
With so much to do
And so little time in a day.

We all pretend the rainbow has an end (Ooh…)
And you’ll be there, my friend, some day.
There’s always tomorrow
For dreams to come true
Tomorrow is not far away.

(We all pretend the rainbow has an end
And you’ll be there, my friend, some day)
There’s always tomorrow
For dreams to come true
Tomorrow is not far…a…way.

Sounds like a lovely death threat, if you dream of Rudolph’s bloated corpse washing up on the shores of the Island of Misfit Toys.

Also, the abominable monster has nipples.  You’ll never unsee it now.

A Stocking Stuffer So Awesome You Will Literally Die

I’m trying my hand at click-bait titles today.  PRAISE ME.

Anyway, I was hopping around Amazon for no other reason than to look for terrible awesome gifts to give my anemic, vegan minions and I found a product that simply makes my black little heart soar like a hamster tied to a helium balloon.


I can’t even tell you how much I love this thing.  It’s so gloriously useful.  Have you ever felt like not enough smoke or grill flavor has penetrated your hot dog deeply enough?  Did you just suppress the urge to cringe just now?  I know I did.

And it’s not just about penetration, but also about caramelizing your dog’s juices.  That’s right!  The SLOTDOG is so incredible that it can caramelize something without the presence of sugar!  That dark brown/black stuff on your dog isn’t “burn” or “char,” it’s caramel, bitches!

Did you ever want to squish a log of ground up animal snouts and anuses into your window screen but were afraid that the neighborhood raccoons would do more to your windows than rub their little butts on them?  Now you can get that wonderful sensation right in your kitchen…or bathtub if that’s what makes you happy.

“But how do I get that neat zig-zaggy mustard design on my dog?” you ask. Why with the SLOTDOG’s “kung-fu grip.”  Just carefully squeeze your favorite condiment into perfectly spaced cracks in your dog and you’re the coolest guy at the table. There are two sets of zig-zags so you can prove that the class you took in Advanced Condiment Dispersal wasn’t a total waste of money and time! Except that it was.  You learned nothing if you need the training wheels that this fabulous tool provides.  Miserable cheat.

If you need to up your condiment game, remember that there’s Slawsa®! Wait, it’s not a condiment…it’s a whole new category of food!  So, not soylent either?  Color me disappointed.  You know it has to be good when you have a hard time finding a picture of the actual product on the site and it didn’t get any offers on Shark Tank.  Imagine my dismay when I finally got to the store and got to see it!  Looks like diced sauerkraut and…well, there you go.  Cabbage, sugar, and mustard. I hate sauerkraut for the simple fact that cabbage in any capacity tastes like fermented plague-rat balls.  So, it truly is a unique item to add to your condiment selection! 

Back to the awesome SLOTDOG, I know that you’re looking to buy forty pounds of hot dogs and are worried that you’re going to buy the SLOTDOG and discover that you can’t slot any of your dogs.  You’ll have to stare longingly at it while you grill up and eat an inferior dog.  Well, have no fear, the folks at SLOTDOG have provided a list of compatible brands so you can shop with confidence!  You read that right, there’s an actual list of hot dogs which can be slotted happily.  Someone tested this shit, yo and you will reap the benefits of their hard work.  I heard that they slotted dogs until their fingers bled, that they stood over a grill for days just to make sure that each dog was penetrated by the perfect amount of smoke and grill flavor, that it “caramelized” the edges of the slots perfectly and that they tested every single condiment in every single dog to confirm that the “kung-fu grip” would not release any goodness you added after cooking.

I saved the best news for last.  Like all kitchen gadgets approved by the Illuminati, the SLOTDOG can be used as a sexual aid and body modification tool!  But it can’t be used on real sausages.  It’s a SLOTDOG, not a SLAUTSAGE, Kevin.  Stop asking.

Office Attire for the Savvy Illuminati

You spend 16 hours a day at work, so you should be comfortable.  Whether it offends someone else’s sensibilities doesn’t matter.  They’re not in your skin.  They don’t know what it’s like to look in the mirror and see…that…every day.

Whether you like to attend important meetings in club-wear or your team’s bowling outfit shouldn’t be anyone’s business but your own. And that brings me to the dress code outlined in employee manuals.  Total bullshit.  As long as you’re there and pretending to work like a good little minion, I don’t really mind if you duct tape your genitals to your thigh and call it formal wear.  Actually, I think you’d get a raise if you did that, since the last guy who did used three rolls of duct tape and made the annual calendar.

Did you know that some places require women to wear high heels?  Good news for you, ladies, is that they don’t say where.  If there’s no policy in place against hats that’s a good, if not mundane, place to park it.  On the other hand, if you’ve got a boss who gets a little handsy, you can always tape it to the crotch of your pants, heel out.  Superglue some spikes to that and you’ve got a statement on sexual harassment.  Not that I would know anything about that.  I’ve never harassed anyone, no matter what any of these overly sensitive, paranoid men in my office think.  They were asking for it.  You know, to…uh..unwind.  It’s the whole reason behind No-Pants Wednesday.

But again, that’s a dress code thing, isn’t it?  Too late.  It’s mandatory.

Cross-training is Devil’s Work

Not the exercise, we’ve already covered how horrible exercise that is.  No, I’m talking about cross-training at work.

It’s annoying and accomplishes nothing.  Look, when I take an intern who knows nothing about feeding The Wolverpus and have him feed The Wolverpus, do you know what happens?  Right.  Chewed beyond recognition. All that time I invested in teaching him how to re-arrange my collection of jarred human brains was wasted.

So, if your boss wants you to learn a new position, run like hell.  Not because you’re going to get stuck feeding some hypersexual man-platypus-wolverine hybrid but because you’ll now be responsible for doing twice the work at half the price. They won’t tell you that. Your employer is dishonest with you. I’m the only one you can trust for career advice and you know it.

Every new job you learn under the guise of advancement or “helping out” is a job you’re going to be stuck doing when that person leaves. Just keep in mind that you can’t let your employer know that you’re onto him. You must engage in stealth career stagnation.  This means that you learn other jobs, but you give no indication that you know them.  This protects you from horrible things like being called a “hard worker” or “conscientious employee.”

But aren’t those good things, you ask?  Fuck no.  These are the worst things any boss can say about their employee.  That means that they’ve found a way to pull your very life-blood from your anus. Keep your life-blood where it belongs.

At the same time, you can’t seem too useless.  Occasionally perform a task that your boss doesn’t know you know and then when he tries to put you on it again, act like you’ve never done it before.  It doesn’t matter how much detail he throws at you to jog your memory about the last time you did it.  Never happened.

Never happened.

Now your boss is crazy and you’ve somehow come out looking like an unreliable savant who can only be relied upon to work outside your job description when it doesn’t matter at all.

Illuminati Tips for Living Forever

I’m honestly really tired of other sites giving you all these healthy living tips that were not sanctioned by my organization.  They should honestly know better considering that I’m the one to determine the drug ratios in their water supply.  Well, they don’t necessarily know about that.  Especially what I’ve done to their bottled water.  They should know better anyway.

Water Causes Uncontrollable Leakage

Your body is about 60% water. Even one little glass can change that to 61%, at which point you should worry. Your body will panic and attempt to get rid of the excess. It’ll start with your eyes and nose and then it comes out your pores. Eventually, you’re just peeing constantly.

Think about this.  I mean really think.  We all know someone suffering the symptoms. That woman in your office who always has a bottle of water with her? The one who cries at the drop of a hat? Who sweats uncontrollably? Who has to piss every twenty minutes? I know she tells you that it’s menopause…it’s not. She’s over-hydrated. She’s literally killing herself. You’ve got to stop her. Take all her water. Take it then return it to the ocean.

Stop Rehearsing Death

Sleep is an overrated concept.  Not only do you end up flat on your back, vulnerable to assassination, for 7-14 hours, but you end up missing important things all day or night.  As an adult, you’ve come to appreciate bedtime and the occasional afternoon nap, unaware of the potential dangers.  And I’m not just talking about the assassins:  sleep is just a death rehearsal and the older you get, the closer you are to the big show.  That’s why you seem to need more as you get older.  It’s your body telling you that the time is nigh.  So rather than rehearsing death more as you get older, rehearse it less.  Give Death the most offensive hand gesture you know and commit to sleeping half as much.

So, if you sleep eight hours a night, dial that back to four.  At first, it may feel like you’re already starting to die, what with the aching joints, the inability to think straight and falling asleep in random places.  That’s just your body telling you that you’ve discovered the secret to immortality. After a few months, it will realize that this is a battle that you’re going to win and will stop all that nonsense.  You’ll be happier, more energetic and the hallucinations are fantastic.

Exercise is Dangerous

No one actually enjoys exercise, but it’s the “in” thing to say you love it, so those sheep just go with it. The masses get excited over things like spin class  – stationary bike riding in a group.  Fact is that exercise makes us all miserable. Doing it, planning it, even thinking about it…ugh. I can’t even stand it. Not only does the mere thought of exercise illicit anxiety in most of the population, it’s also dangerous. In 2012, almost half a million people were injured while exercising. So stop stressing over having washboard abs.  You were never going to have them anyway.

Junk Food Is Part of a Balanced Diet

It’s no doubt that we need to take in a certain amount of vitamins and minerals, lest we waste away. What nutritionists won’t tell you is that the human digestion system has evolved to a point where it actually requires what experts call “junk food.” Your body doesn’t crave chips or brownies for no reason. It knows something you don’t. Maybe you’re lacking gooey goodness #5 or that perfect balance of oil and chip sawdust which greases the rusty wheel in your brain.

Truth is that people who diet are slow and gross.  They amble around like the walking dead because they are slowly dying of nutrient deprivation.  Their refusal to acknowledge that cocoa nibs, oil-drenched anything, and salty-sweet goodness are part of a balanced diet will be their undoing.  In the meantime, you can operate like a gazelle by grabbing your emergency stash of cookies and tearing into that bitch like a shark with an injured baby seal.