Category Archives: Opinions

I Have Not Succumbed To The Chicken Carbonara Virus Mack

By Real Joe Biden, Former Vice President, 2020 Presidential Hopeful, Woman Respecter, Not An Intern Or Other Joe Biden

 

People of Barack America, here’s the deal. A lot of you have been wondering where I’ve been the past fortnights. Why disappear from the public eye for over a week when campaigning for a national election for prime chancellor? Well, it’s quite simple Jack. These Burrisma Brothers have been talking up slanderous lies about the COREVID-18 epidemic, alleging I’ve been drugged on the smack or dead all this time? Worse yet, they’ve said I’d done the raps and raves, like those rapscallion teeny boppers and hornswogglers?

 

Look fat. This damn Qdoba disease ain’t nothing. I’ve been asympathetic of dementia, stuttering, Auschwitzeimers, chicken carbonara virus, all of it man. I won’t deny I’ve EVER had it, nor would Hunter, Beau, Jill, or Francine West have. Corner Betty would make a MEAN casserole in the neighborhood back then. Those days, to get the eggs for the roux, you’d have to personally raise the chickens yourself, and wring their necks by your own hand. 

 

She had a nice pair of bloomers, that Corner Betty. Lived on the side I’d less than nigh pay a nickel to bus to, lest Hunter needed me to pick up some of the stuff. Put pomade and hot rollers around that pit hair. Called it gentle wind feathers cause that’s how it’d blow. Anywho, like my former confidante Chairman Hussein Alabama, I hightailed it outta there and into the sanitorium, away from any clear and present danger.

 

I am writing this official campaign press release to confirm I am indeed well, alive, and in the tender loving caring comfort of Dr. Joe Biden’s husband. Fortunately I can afford that comfort, unlike you no-good inconveniencing scallywag macks dropping left and right in the streets like the gadflies you are. Social Darwininianism. Select naturale. No chicken carbonara here. No siree. If any Barney Sandal or Ronald McDonald head wants to test my mettle on that, they can take it outback for some deadlifts. At the place. The one you know.

A Review of the Coronavirus by Someone Who Has Every Disease Known to Man

By Brad Cell

There’s two things that people need to know about me. The first thing is that I have genital herpes. The second thing is that I am not a fan of change. So when I heard a bunch of ruckus about this new disease taking the world by storm, I was of course a little skeptical. Since I am an expert on diseases, I figured I’d try and infect myself to see what all the hubbub is about. After licking a couple of subway poles in New York City, I was eventually bedridden with all the usual symptoms of COVID-19. Dry cough, shortness of breath and implosive diarrhea. After a week with the virus, I have come to conclude that this Corona is not at all as cracked up as people say it is. ITS JUST A WORSE VERSION OF THE FLU! Oh, your throat hurts? Try losing all your fingers to leprosy! I’m currently typing this article by bashing my nose against the keyboard. Try having your butt cheeks removed and replaced with two halves of a watermelon because you got prostate cancer! I’m getting off topic here, so I’ll wrap this up. I give the Coronavirus a 2/5. It fucked me up more than the flu, but not as badly as ebola did.

I Said the End Was Nigh and None of You Fucking Believed Me!

By Hunter Malcolm

Ok fine, it may not have been a giant psychic squid or a zombie apocalypse to do us all in, but I still predicted a global pandemic that would bring the earth to its knees! And who knows, the dead haven’t been dead that long and we don’t know the full effects of COVID-19, so who’s to say! But you all made fun of me. “Look at Hunter, he’s so paranoid,” “he’s crazy,” “wow, he is really losing it.” well look who’s laughing now! I’m sitting on a throne of TP from all my apocalypse survivor kits and you’re all fighting over ass cleaner like it’s goddamn dollar bills.

Then I took to Facebook out of curiosity for how people were doing and everyone is complaining that they are losing their minds in isolation, which gave me a good chuckle. You dumb fucks, my life has not changed in the slightest. After going out once a day for an hour to give all you dumb fucks a warning! Trying to be a hero! Which was useless because look at all of you now! I would go into my bunker for the next 24 hours until the next day. Now I don’t have to do the warning anymore because the end is here and to be honest I never liked trying to warn you guys because you were all really mean. Maybe you bastards deserve this. And once this is all over I will be like the great Noah of the bible and repopulate the earth with what living creatures I could possibly repopulate with. I heard we can have babies with goats, I saw it on the internet once. And of course, with none of you bastards out there to judge me I can test the possibilities with other creatures of God. I’m not sick! I am doing what is necessary! I will rule this earth, for that is my calling! The end has cometh, but the rebirth is nigh!

Stardew Valley’s 1.4 Update Could Ruin the Competitive Scene

By Jack Lumber

Coach of Rutgers Division 1 Stardew Team

 

Let me preface this by saying I absolutely adore Stardew Valley. It changed my life when I first played it, and I wouldn’t be the man I am today without it. I wouldn’t be on the competitive team if I didn’t love it. And of course I can’t get enough of the big content updates, most of 1.4 adds even more hours of great content and all sorts of new secrets to find. Except this: “when you catch a silver or gold quality fish, a ‘perfect’ catch now increases the quality by one. (This is the only way to get iridium quality fish.)”

Fucking really? Fishing is already one of the most useful skills, eventually in the late game, but this is absolutely broken. Not only does it further increase the disparity between low and high ELO players, but it forces us to completely rethink our team roster for tournaments. Our combat + mining flex players now have to grind out fishing to become absolutely perfect at it, which cuts into their academic and personal lives, but if they don’t we’ll be forced to cut them from the team because their niche doesn’t exist anymore. Not only that, but our strategies for most of the major farm types are useless because every team for the foreseeable future is only going to be playing on the river map!

I tell you, this is going to lower public interest in the professional scene too. Remember Overwatch League Season 2, when every game was GOATS vs GOATS? If you saw one game, you saw them all, because the game balance didn’t encourage more than a single style of play. Mr. Barone needs to get this sorted out before the next season starts, or this could screw Competitive Stardew Valley on every level.

There is not Enough Sex in Call Of Duty: Modern Warfare

By Kevin Diamond

As modern military shooters get more and more realistic, they should strive to provide the most immersive experience possible. That is the ultimate goal of most video games isn’t it? Every year resolutions, frame rates, and file sizes go up in the pursuit of the most realistic graphics possible so that when I shoot an enemy combatant I can feel the power of my weapon, and the weight upon my soul as the realization that I have claimed yet another virtual life in a MTN Dew and hot pocket fueled rage dawns on me. That is all well and good, and I thank the wonderful people at Infinity Ward, or whoever they’ve got developing that shit, for the number of polygons they’ve pumped into Price’s luxurious stache. However, what is the point of gracing Price’s lips with that stache if I can’t see them pressed up against the hard, hairy chest of a fellow soldier in a moment of passion?

Better graphics do a lot to make the game look authentic, but not enough effort has been put in to make the new Call of Duty feel authentic. I want the experience of a soldier in a modern military setting, and you know that I know that we both know that that means A LOT of man on man action. These men are taken away from their wives and girlfriends and thrust into the middle of bumfuck Not-America for months and you mean to tell me that they don’t start experimenting the moment they touch down? Bull. Shit. I can’t get through a sleepover at my friend’s house without an attempt being made on my asshole, so there is no way that I’m believing Price managed to get through so many years of deployment without being somebody’s boy toy. And don’t you tell me that the developers aren’t aware of the buttplay that permeates military culture.

The first Modern Warfare alludes to it almost immediately, with Price riding in a helicopter puffing on a big old cigar. It’s obviously a metaphor for a penis. I could tell when I first played, and I was 12 at the time. It was an honest attempt at the time. The technology wasn’t there for fully modeled soldier on soldier action, so it was accepted and praised by critics. But it’s 2019. We have the technology. We have the market. We have the desire. I demand that resources be diverted towards the creation of a dating sim DLC pack in which you can romance no less than five of your fellow soldiers at once. I don’t need for there to be a secret orgy ending involving the entire chain of command up to and including the president, but if they’re going for realism, I don’t see how they can leave it out.

Abortion Should Be Legal and I am Why

If any of you guys knew me, you would totally agree, too.  I’m pretty sure no one likes me. It’s gotten so bad, even my professors ask me to not even bother coming to classes anymore, they know the rest of the class is gonna just make fun of me for eighty minutes.  I try telling my parents about it, but my dad just calls me a pussy before going to cry about his failure of a son, and my mom always says I’m “a walking abortion advertisement.” This last time I went home, while sleeping outside in the dog house, I had an amazing idea: I could get aborted!

I was so excited and told my parents and they were just as excited, saying, “Oh thank God!”  However, as a cis white male, I was totally unaware of any political movements, and apparently there are people who want abortion to be illegal?  I don’t know, something about “pro-life” and “we own women,” but none of these people know me. If they did, I’m pretty certain they would all agree that abortion should not only be legal but even required in some cases.  On top of this, I feel people should be able to be aborted at any age, so people like me don’t have to inconvenience everyone else anymore. Please, if you’re reading this, make sure to vote pro-choice in the coming elections, so I can get put down like the filthy animal I am.

Why I’m Pivoting from Politics to Alternative Prop Comedy

By Amy Klobuchar, Minnesota Senator

Salutations, my fellow warm blooded mammalian homo sapiens. As you may already know, I’ve had a relatively successful performance throughout the 2020 Democratic Presidential Debates, as well as an obedient chattel of subservient meat sacks interning out of my Senate office. When I meddled with my daughter over telephone as one homo sapien matriarchal figure does, she likened my charisma to the rousing movements of a fish washed ashore, floundering for it’s last dying gasps of air. 

 

Like all Earthly human denizens, I cherish achievement, conquestual accomplishments, and having my Maslowian hedonic needs satiated. Unfortunately, I am announcing my departure from pursuing one such need, that being the highest seat in the Oval Office. Ultimately, I and my focus group have determined that my “funny” aphorisms would be better suited for the environment of stand-up comedy than stand-up debates. My relatable observational analysis is resonant to commonplace homo sapien occurrences, such as meddling your offspring, enjoying salad with a pinch of dandruff, reading the damn bill, and when your dermal flesh suit enters it’s fourteenth molting cycle. 

 

I like to use a little humor on occasion, and I like to deliver said humor in a dry, robotic, deliberately monotone parlance. According to Wikipedia, anti-humor is a type of indirect humor that involves the joke-teller delivering something which is intentionally not funny, or lacking in meaning, and I embody those anti-humor stylings axiomatically. I’ve also begun to acquire the highbrow comedic tastes of Gallagher, Carrot Top, and the sadistic power-tripping supervisor who routinely exclaimed obscenities in the break room of your first job at Applebees. My worker sacks responded with excited stimuli upon having office supplies weaponized as careening projectiles towards their gelatinous skulls, and spectatorial sacks will respond no differently.

 

So, it is with bittersweet sodium benzoate flavoring that I announce the end of my presidential campaign, and the beginning of my live comedic one. Touring comedy club to comedy club nationwide, including New Brunswick’s native Stress Factory, I shall build a tight hour of one-liners, verbal, and physical abuse before a paying audience. I look forward to your congregation.