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Monthly Archives: September 2012

Art Garfunkel Misses Two Shows, Swedes Take Notice

RoyCoup Press– Art Garfunkel, undoubtedly the richer, more famous and talented of the 1960s vocal dance duo Simon and Garfunkel, drew the attention of the Swedes when he failed to show up for two shows in their country. Garfunkel, who undeniably owns one of the coolest possible last names that you will never have, was booked to perform at “Night at the Prom”, a concert series fusing classical and pop music, but no one is quite sure why.

The event organizer, Niels Ustrup, was in tears and shaking when he was informed during the show that Garfunkel had left the country sometime prior to his scheduled appearance. Swedish militiamen were called in to restore order at the Night of the Prom after concert goers rioted when they were told Mr. Garfunkel and his sweet vocal chords that could make an angel cream his cloud would not be performing.

This is the first time that Mr. Garfunkel has missed a show to anyone’s knowledge. But then again, only the Swedes would give a shit anyway, so what do we know. Hell, we thought old Garfunky was still walking across Greece.

 
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Posted by on September 30, 2012 in Music

 

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Arnold Schwarzenegger Writes Memoir, Wants People To Know He Sleeps With Sexy Women Too

RoyCoup Press- Arnold Schwarzenegger, undeniably the greatest actor in world cinematic history, is now the worlds greatest memoir writer after releasing “Total Recall.” In it, he recalls a steamy affair he had with Bridgette Nielsen in 1985 while the two were filming “Red Sonja”.  Nielsen, it turns out, even today looks nothing at all like that maid he shagged some years ago, proving that Schwarzenegger also bangs attractive women from time to time. Okay? So can we all move past the head scratching and bad mouthing of Arnold and just go see his new movie? Bridgette Nielsen. Focus on Bridget Nielsen. In her prime. Nielsen.

Jesus couldn’t write a better memoir. Believe that.

 
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Posted by on September 30, 2012 in Randomness

 

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In Memoram of Game 162 in 2011

On this date, September 28, of 2011, game 162 was played in Major League Baseball. It has widely been regarded as the most exciting day across baseball as two playoff spots were secured on the last day of the season.

The Atlanta Braves lost a heart breaker which enabled the St. Louis Cardinals to go on to the playoffs and eventually to win the World Series. And the Boston Red Sox, my team, completed a collapse akin to the Braves’ and the Tampa Rays came back from a 7-0 deficit to the Yankees to secure a playoff spot.

And so, as I encourage you Red Sox and Braves fans, I am going to celebrate last years proceedings by repeating what I did last year. I will be getting blindingly and angrily drunk off my ass. I will then beat the shit out of an innocent bag of garbage and in doing so destroy a floor lamp as well as the broom I was swinging. By doing so, I hope to endanger my own welfare and cause those around me to question my sanity as well as my interest in the game of baseball. Cheers! Red Sox!

 
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Posted by on September 28, 2012 in Musings

 

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Bing Aftershave…Teach The Bitch

I just finished a book about the history of the beauty culture and, naturally, advertising played a absolutely crucial role in the cosmetics industry. One aspect of cosmetics advertising I found particularly interesting was geared towards men post World War II. The ones quoted in the book were hyper-masculine and at times suggestively aggressive towards women. I won’t go into why that might have been. Instead, I’m going to give a few adverts that I came up with. The first being from the postwar era and the next few modern day examples of how cosmetics advertising can be geared towards men (always attempting to ensure men that they are definitely, definitely not homo in anyway whatsoever).

Buy Bing Aftershave…When your woman is getting lippy and forgets her place, put on Bing Aftershave and remind her who really is boss with a “one-two-badda-BING!” That’ll teach the bitch. Bing Aftershave…Teach The Bitch.

More modern ones:

After spending several hours in your own sweat and filth playing video games as if you’re still in the innocence of your youth, you need a rejuvenator. Something that will take the place of a shower and the maturation process and will show the world that you are ready to meet them on their terms. Buy Man Child Body Spray. Because, well, fuck expectations.

Don’t be a fag. Wear Spruce Cologne and show the ladies you’re ready to go balls deep at the drop of her panties. Spruce…Definitely NOT for fags.

Do you want to show your wife or girlfriend that you aren’t a low-minded American isolationist? Show her how cultured you are. Wear a body spray that will make you smell like the revolting pheromones of a middle aged Italian line cook.
“Oh Ben, you smell like ripened dog shit. Mmm…you’re sooo cultured.”
Rome Body Spray. Bringing out the stank in world culture.

 
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Posted by on September 28, 2012 in Musings

 

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New Jersey To Secede From Union; New York Throws “See Ya Later, Assholes” Farewell Party

RoyCoup Press- New Jersey, the small, smelly, over-populated northeastern state, has announced on Sunday, September 23, 2012 that it is seceding from the United States after 225 years. The state was the third to join the union, doing so on December 18, 1787. But, as governor Christie explains, “it’s like long fuckin’ ovadue that we do our own ting ova hera. Yous know what I mean? I mean, it’s been a fun ride, but, yo we’re outta hera.”

RoyCoup Press stopped a random woman on her way to work in downtown Manhattan to ask her opinion of the controversial move. “Seriously? It’s about time those shit bagging twats got the fuck outta this union. Oh yeah, I’ll get in on that going away party. What do they like to eat over there? shit sandwiches? I’ll bring some of them. No longer do we have to be associated with those clowns merely because of a geographical accident. Fuck off, Jersey.”

There appears to be no lost love on Jersey’s side either. Said governor Christie at the secession press release when asked what New Yorkers might think, “Yeah, like fuck New York, okay? No, Seriously. I’m tieyad of hearin New York dis, and New York dat. I’ve had enuf. I’m puttin Jersey back on da map, okay? We’ve got culture out the ass ova hera too, okay. So, everyone had better take notice, gabeesh?”

It will be a sad farewell for the small, enigmatic, toll-booth ridden state. New Jersey has had a long history as a member of America going back to its status as one of the original thirteen colonies. It’s also the home of the practice of calling someone a complete fucking asshole who is full of shit directly to their face before becoming lifelong friends. It’s the home of Bruce Springsteen. Lee Van Cleef lived there. The Jersey shore is there. Bon Jovi made an ass out of himself for years and years there. They will still be around, but they will obviously be doing their own thing now.

When asked what Jersey would be up to Christie wasted no time in responding by saying, “Libya. We’re going after Libya. After what those teabaggers did? We need to put ourselves on the map, okay, “A”, and “B” we’re not going to lie down after that. No way.”

No word as of yet as to when New Jersey’s official send-off party will happen, but as any New Yorker would tell you “it can’t come soon e-fucking-nough”. No word, as well, as to what kind of relationship New Jersey will have with the rest of America. Either way, good luck New Jersey! Are you going to be called “New” New Jersey now?

 
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Posted by on September 23, 2012 in Musings

 

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Arnold’s Party Tips

Hi, I’m Arnold Schwarzenegger. Are you planning on going to a party tonight, or some time before you die? If so, you might need a few tips to ensure that you make a successful party guest. Well, today is your lucky day. Not because Kindergarten Cop 2 is finally ready for release, but because I have assembled a list of several tips and ideas that can help you make the most out of the parties you will go to in the future. If you are a complete and total loser and do not get invited to parties, here is my tip: throw a party. With strippers. Or elephants. Or whatever would make people want to come to your party, because it surely isn’t you. But I digress. Let’s ‘get down!’ to the list…

Don’t Be A Party Pooper – Seriously, take your poops before you leave your house. No one wants to be in a party pooper situation. People will know its you and god will punish you for having to poop at a party by making it a long, drawn-out, never-stop-wiping affair. Take precautions.
Bring Refreshments – Like crunchy chips. People will think you are a considerate guest, but really you will want them when you are talking to someone boring, which will happen within 15 minutes of arriving. So, while this person is going on, eat the loud, crunchy chips with adandon, and the sound of your crunching will drown out that person. While that’s happening, nod your head as if you are saying to the person, ‘I am eating chips so I cannot say ‘yes, right, of course,’ but I agree with everything you say. You are really an intelligent, funny person. If I wasn’t married (or whatever your relationship status may be) I would totally be in love with you.’
You Are Not The Boss – The right way to go about making an ass of yourself at any party is to go around to each person in the party and insist, absolutely insist, that you are the boss. Do not do this. If you have already done this or were planning on it, stop it now. Irregardless of whether or not you really are the boss, and tower over the people at the party in both sex appeal, raw strength, and monetary success–like me–do not rub your achievements in their face. You may well be the boss, but keep it yourself.
Arrange A Rendevouz – If the party is at a person’s house who you do not know well or care for much, you may want to arrange a sexual rendevouz in the coat room. It’s a given, the girls–if there are any at the party–will be looking good and you do not want to make the mistake of groping them in public. Instead, pick out a girl you are really, really attracted to and talk to her. Pretend like you are listening to her for anywhere between 10 to 15 minutes. Then start to implant the idea of a sexual romp in the coat room. Be as blunt as you like. If she’s up for it in the first place, she will agree. If not, she will say no. At which point you will have to settle for your spouse. Or the housemaid- if she’s around.
Bring Your iPod – There is no guaranteeing that the music at the party with be the kind of music that represents your sexual, successful lifestyle, so you may want to have a back-up just in case the mood calls for it. Nothing kills the potential of a party like classical music or the Carpenters, so you may want to bring your iPod with some German Hause Music or Morrissey or Little Wayne. The host will hate your guts and never invite you to his party again, but that schmuck never made an action-comedy movie with kindergartner’s. So screw him.
Avoid Making A Scene – If someone is upset with you because you propositioned their lover for a quick trip around the world in the coat room, be coy. Do not get upset. Do not really admit to making an advance at any women there. People will naturally give the other person the benefit of the doubt, but stay relaxed. Let him make a fool of himself and storm out of the house cursing all the other people at the party for not kicking you out. When he’s gone say something smart and sarcastic or something like, ‘well, they don’t act like that in Germany!’ and then laugh uproariously until you start coughing. Or dancing, whichever comes first.
Above All, Stay Classy – Do not do something stupid like Robotrip before the party so that you spend the entire night sprawled on the bathroom floor puking into a dried pool of your own vomit. Have one cocktail, or two medium-to-weak ones, before the party. If you take drugs, take them at the party. If you smoke drugs, smoke them on the way. Be sassy, smart and sexy, but above all- STAY CLASSY!

Outside you may keep a cool demeaner, but on the inside you want to feel like this…

 
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Posted by on September 23, 2012 in Musings

 

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Payin’ My Dues

Well, do ya, punk?

Let’s get one thing straight. I pay my dues every. fuckin. day. Got that? I’m out there puttin’ myself on the choppin’ block every day that I live and breathe. And I got mad love for the streets, and the honey’s, and eggs and bacon with home fries and an english muffin. So you can see that I pay my dues. Do you? Well…do ya…punk?

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Posted by on September 19, 2012 in Randomness

 

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