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Presidential election canceled due to lack of good candidates

After a disastrous first debate in which both candidates looked like escaped mental patients attempting to blend in with humanity, Americans have unanimously decided to not hold a presidential election in November. On January 20, 2017 a small placard with “Fuck it” printed on it will be inaugurated into the Oval Office instead.

The placard is not an acting president, just a verbal agreement amongst Americans that no one deserves to be president right now. No decisions will be made over the next four years, no legislation will be passed, and all laws and funding will remain the same. The only change that will occur is on the placard’s first day, when it plans to sign an executive order to give all Americans free ice cream the first day of each month.

Americans have never been so excited to welcome a new president.

“I really love the placard,” said Melanie Hobbs of New York. “I think the placard will do an excellent job. Nothing’s changing, and while that means nothing is improving, it also means I’m not getting screwed any worse than last year. I think most Americans are pretty thrilled with that.”

Farmer’s almanac predicts you will live in your mom’s basement forever

The Old Farmer’s Almanac released their Long Range Forecast this week, predicting a winter full of icy cold temperatures and heavy snowfall on the East Coast, but milder temperatures elsewhere. Here are a few other predictions the almanac has made for the upcoming winter:

 
– Todd Marston of Superior, WI will continue living in his mom’s basement throughout the season, eating all her groceries and using what little money he makes dealing weed to buy lottery tickets and tattoos of his ex-girlfriend’s name. Around March, he will become restless and begin pleasuring himself with his non-dominant left hand. If he closes his eyes tightly enough, it will feel like he’s getting a handy from a ghost.

– The Minnesota Vikings will install new luxury suites in the players’ locker room, allowing their most wealthy season ticket holders the chance to eat buffalo wings and drink $12 beers whilst watching Adrian Peterson shower.

Wells Fargo CEO agrees to eat a bag of dongs

Citing strong support from the public, the American government is moving forward with its plan to make Wells Fargo CEO John Stumpf consume an enormous bag of dicks. Last week the bank admitted to opening thousands of fake credit accounts in their customers’ names to charge them extra fees. Eating a sack of dicks will serve as punishment.

Shockingly, Stumpf is eager to participate.

“I will eat those dicks,” said Stumpf, fastening a bib with a cartoon penis graphic around his neck. “We committed a horrible act. We cheated our own customers out of money, the very thing we were sworn to protect. We here at Wells Fargo are greedy and worthless shitbags, and to show exactly how sorry we are, I will ensure that each of these cold, mooshy penises slides through my warm lips, lingers for a brief moment in time, and are then swallowed whole. And I will smile like a Miss America contestant the entire time.”

The corporation polled millions of customers, seeking advice on how best to regain their trust. The overwhelming majority stated their demand loud and clear: Eating an enormous burlap sack of hairy dicks is the only punishment strong enough to make things right.

Onions & Orchids

Orchids: To Leonard at Whole Foods for bringing my groceries to my car. His service is above and beyond, as always!

Orchids: To the Beaverton Brown High School Band at this weekend’s horse spooning festival for their excellent rendition of Loretta Lynn’s song “You’re the Reason Our Kids are Ugly”. It was a treat for all of us in attendance!

Onions: To Kenneth Barsley from Owatonna. You don’t nut in someone’s mouth on the first date. That’s third date stuff. You owe me two dinners! No White Castle or sandwich places.

Onions: To President Obama for not responding to my four-year-old daughter’s letter. It shouldn’t matter how many swastikas I drew all over the stationary, or how many times I wrote “HILLARY’S FACE IS SATAN’S SCROTUM” on the envelope. All the children who write him get a form letter back. What is my daughter, chopped liver? Is she merely dingle dangles from Satan’s scrotum? Disappointing.

Minnesota’s smelliest gather at state fair

The old, weathered clock at the Minnesota State Fair strikes 6am, and Sweet Martha’s Cookie Jar stand is already humming. The smell of cookies – so fresh and warm that they melt right into your soul as you eat them – blankets the fairgrounds with its spell, entrancing all who pass.

First to approach the stand is Aaron Brown, a 36-year-old man riding a medical scooter meant for the elderly. He raps his Freedom Wand against the booth counter, signaling that his face is ready for cookies.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” said Brown, with a level of politeness that doesn’t exist outside the Midwest. “Could you fill my mouth with warm cookies until I die?”

“Sure thing, honey!” said the employee, grabbing a large paper funnel. “Open wide and we’ll just see how many we can cram in there. I’ll stop pushing when your eyes roll back in your head or you crap yourself.”

“Oh, you can keep going if I crap myself,” said Brown, loosening the belt on his pants. “Pay no heed to the noises coming from this chair, ma’am. If my mouth gets full, just stack more cookies on my forehead and around the opening of my gaw so they’re ready to be toppled in once there’s room.”