Guys? Nobody Tell Her.

Bizarro Post Cringe Crisis Response Team- On December 9th, an article was published to Huffington Post's "Style" section by Ellie Krupnick. It referred to a totally legitimate report by a marketing firm that found 58 percent of men ages 18-24 and 63 percent of those 25-34 use some kind of moisturizing product. Brace yourself guys, because that number goes down once a man become elderly. Gosh, it's almost like it's not being used for its "age defying" properties! But that surely can't be the case!

What's more, she strongly recommends getting the man in your life a supply of his very own lotion, because for some reason they tend to use it whenever nobody is around to see them do it:

"A Escentual.com survey found that your boyfriend is likely to grab your Clarins Extra Firming Day Cream or DIOR Capture Totale Multi-Perfection Crème while you're not looking."

Huhuhuhuh. Hey Beavis. "Firming." (Also, what in the FUCK is "Multi-Perfection"?)

And the final line--oh, it is a thing of beauty!

"Avoid that fate by buying your man some day cream of his own -- chances are, he's probably into the stuff already."

Guys? Nobody tell her.

A Special Message From Your Insurance Company

Your Insurance Company is the company that currently provides your health insurance. They join us today to deliver a very special message to you, their valued customer.

Hello, you, our valued customer. It's me, your Insurance Company. How are you? Good? For your sake, I hope you stay that way, because I'm writing you today to cancel your coverage.

You see, we're not a charity. We're not here to be your friend, or save your beloved family members from cancer. Our only objective is to make as much money as we can from you and your stupid, sick family. And thanks to some top-notch lobbying, the Affordable Care Act is forcing you to not only buy our products, but to buy the shitty new versions we decided to make now that there's no need to entice new consumers. We're going to get rich as hell, and by all rights you should be kicking down our doors. Fortunately, you're still blaming Obama, so that's nice. Don't get us wrong! He played into our hands easily enough, under the pretense of compromise. But we're the ones who stand poised to receive the limitless torrent of money that's legally mandated to come our way. All he gets is shitty approval ratings. How's that for a healthcare exchange?

Some of you may have had your hours cut due to the changing requirements for large corporate entities. The excuse for that, of course, is that the company simply can't afford to pay for your insurance and continue giving you minimum wage on a full-time basis.

Hahaha, can you believe you suckers bought into that?

Every single top executive in these multi-national conglomerates can afford to snort buckets of cocaine off the wood of the True Cross. They can afford to paint the Abercrombie and Fitch Fall fashion line on the figures depicted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. They can afford to carve "I'm lovin' it!" on the moon with lasers. And they sure as hell can afford to pay their employees, like, 40-grand a year with full medical and dental coverage. Only the tiniest fraction of their astronomical wealth would be required. But they sure as shit aren't going to part with their hard-bribed gains, and neither are we.

The bottom line is this: You don't live in your country. You live in OUR country. You'll pay any fee, endure any penalty, and endure any prosecution we decide to throw your way. We're King Shit of Turd Mountain. You're a pile of cold diarrhea drying on the sidewalk.

Maybe one day you'll decide enough is enough. Maybe one day you'll storm our gates with pitchforks and torches, seeking to oust us like the Russian royal family or some CIA-backed middle-eastern despot. But when the militarized police demonstrate their loyalty to us, I wonder who's going to pay to fish the rubber bullet out of your eye socket. My advice? Get a good insurance plan.

With Questionable Sincerity,
Your Insurance Company

Bizarro Editorial: Andrew Milkcow Blows Hot Air About Typhoon

Andrew Milkcow is a libertarian and conservative radio host of the Milkcow Majority on Sirius/XM Patriot. He's right, you're wrong, the arguments in this article cannot be broken (he refused to contribute this article unless we put that in the preface).

So apparently a big, scary storm blew down a bunch of shitty tarpaper shacks in the Phillip Peens. And now I'm hearing over and over again about how these people don't have access to food, water, and shelter. And they want it handed to them, and they want it now.

BAAAAAAAAA! BAAAAAA! BAAAAA!! Keep bleating, sheeple!

What you bottom-feeding third-world degenerates don't seem to understand is that holding your hands out to big daddy government is what got you in this situation in the first place. If you relied on free enterprise, your nation would have big, sexy buildings that could withstand a pussy little storm just as well as your American counterparts. If you'd stop being disgusting queermo knuckle-draggers, maybe you would have figured out ages ago that the free market could have prevented all that you're going through right now. This is entirely your fault. And don't expect me to give a shit about your problems, or to have the slightest clue where your dumb country is. Reading is for homos, and learning is for ivory tower elitists.

But hope isn't lost. You can still pull yourself out of this downward spiral into socialist sodomy orgies. You're surrounded by rubble, right? It's got wood, it's got nails, it's got plastic. Build shelters! Become an architect! It's a brand new market that hasn't been tapped yet, and you could be the next big thing if you'd just got off of your lazy asses and stop bitching about dysentery.

And the dead bodies? They're still fresh, which means they're still edible. Don't give me that look, you vegan vaginas! Humans taste like pork, and pork is a perfectly good meat. It's not like those corpses are doing anything anyway. They're just sitting around, spreading diseases and waiting for the government to provide them with a linen sheet to be hastily buried in. BAAAAA! BAAAAAA! I'm dead, please help my shepherd! BAAAAA! Come to think of it, sell the human flesh as mutton. That's show those parasite sons of bitches. Speaking of parasites, be sure to cook the meat very thoroughly before selling. The free market doesn't like bad press from the health department (another socialist scam).

Oh noooo, Milkcow! You can't say that! The PC police are going to be mad!

Let those fairies get mad! I'm right! They're wrong! That's the end of the story! The arguments in this article cannot be broken! And get this! I've got progressives coming up to me every single day suggesting that I'm a deeply insecure man because I keep repeating my mantra about being right over and over again. Bullshit! Only a liberal would mistake confidence for insecurity.

Am I lamenting the fact that my youth is behind me, and rapidly fading into the distance? I don't know, maybe I am! Am I bothered about my receding hairline? Sure, whatever! Do I start screaming farm animal noises at callers who threaten to unravel my fragile sense of reality? Sure, it's funny! Do I support Randian principles and the prohibition of free market positions for businesses I don't like in the same breath?  Sometimes!

Look, no, I'm not getting into this. Come on Milkcow, you've got this...Okay, here we go.

I'm right. You're wrong. The arguments in this article cannot be broken. Andrew Milkcow, Sirius/XM Patriot.

A Bizarro Salute on Veteran's Day

Bizarro Post Veterans Administration- Hello, and happy Veterans Day from all of us here at the old B-P. You know, the great thing about this national holiday is that it's both cathartic and profitable. How? Allow me to elaborate!

Let's first acknowledge that nobody really gives much of a shit about actual veterans. The Department of Defense certainly doesn't. The VA is a shitstorm of incompetency, the upper-echelon is filled with corrupt bastards, and sexual assaults are still constant and unaddressed. Civilians definitely don't care either. Nobody will hire a veteran because of liability issues with PTSD, and all of their military credentials count for exactly jack shit in a civilian job market that measures merit by diplomas, degrees and certifications. If we, the citizens of America, were to think about our constant failure to do anything positive to fix any of these issues it would make us really sad! As someone who isn't directly affected by veteran's issues, it is my right to not devote any of my valuable emotional energy to things that are important to former armed service members.

That's what Veteran's Day is for, folks!

On one day, every year, we join together for ten or fifteen minutes to say "Thank you" for performing duties we only vaguely understand, if we're even legally allowed to understand their mission for risk of being assassinated by elite covert operations units. And after expressing our gratitude through clinical, sanitized phrases and rituals we can go back to not caring. Only now we've got the comfort of knowing that we pretended to care, if only for a little while.

And the profit! If religion is the opiate of the masses, purchasing items on the pretense of supporting veterans is the opiate of a guilty nation that wants to ignore its shame! Break out your POW flags, your bumper stickers, your patriotic pastries and crying bald eagle T-shirts! Millions of brave men died for your marketing opportunities. Never forget their sacrifice as you cynically profit from their demise!

After all, nobody really believes the whole "sacrifice for our freedom" thing. World War II? Okay, Germany did have a whole lot of U-boats off the east coast, and Japan was doing shit so heinous that they deny it to this very day.

But Vietnam? A giant fuck-you to Communism and the USSR that ultimately failed. Gulf War? We gave a CIA-appointed dictator a gentle spanking and went on our merry way. Iraqi Freedom? We removed that CIA-appointed dictator and replaced him with an unstable CIA-backed government that represents a power vacuum waiting to happen. Afghanistan? Oh, you wanted to take it back, Taliban? Well gosh, we're all kind of tired of occupying your country, so go right the hell ahead and move back in. All of these invasions, had they never taken place, wouldn't have effected America's "freedoms" in any way. In fact, thanks to the very military industrial complex responsible for executing those wars, we now have no guarantee that the government won't decide to murder us if we piss them off enough.

In summation, yeah, it's all bullshit. But it's our bullshit. It's real American bullshit. And God bless us all for continuing this proud tradition of disquieting self-deception.

Editorial: Captain Patriarchy-Pants

Mynn Lessina is a novelist and a........is there a reason we keep publishing "Mommy" blogger? Anybody have a rough childhood back in sales? Some mommy issues? Speak up, because I'd really rather not have my face turned into a skinmask in your woodshed later.
"We need a lady monster so we can boss it around."

That was the shot heard round the blogosphere, as Captain Underpants declared war on the female gender and one pissed-off mommy blogger.

This phrase was uttered by a mad scientist, explaining to his dull-witted henchman that they would need the DNA of an "attractive" woman, because a female monster would "wash our dishes and iron our shirts."

I know what you're thinking. These two characters are villains, and cartoonishly inept villains at that! Because they're villains, anything they say is a demonstration of what insane assholes think. What's more, these are villains drawn and written by a pair of gradeschool boys who are notorious for being anti-social little anarchists who have spent the last decade or so shattering their school principal's psyche and making him run around in his underwear placing himself in mortal danger. All of the misogynistic opinions come from the imaginations of children that we're obviously not supposed to emulate. That means it's okay, right?

WRONG, YOU FASCIST DEGENERATES.

As I watched my son laugh at the scene of a beautiful young woman being turned into a giant toilet monster, I found myself wondering if there was a way to castrate a book with garden shears that wouldn't make me seem weird if anyone saw me.

The Night of the Terror of the Revenge of the Curse of the Bride of Hairy Potty is a hate letter to all of womankind disguised as a high-brow piece of children's literature. But its venom has been allowed to course through the veins of America's literary institutions for too long.

Knowing nothing about the Captain Underpants franchise but troubled by this alarming assault on my gender, I spring into action. No Wikipedia article went unskimmed. No TV Tropes page went unglanced at. I talked to two real-live female librarians about it. After I promised to leave without making them call the police, one of them conceded to me that there were very few female characters in Captain Underpants at all. Oh, but this was okay, because it was a book marketed at young boys. SCREW YOU, GENDER-TRAITOR. The world is already delivered to men on a silver platter, but they get to have their own books now? 

And these two fourth-grade boys that act as protagonists in the Captain Underpants world--George and Harold--are more than old enough to know about gender studies. They're more than old enough to fully grasp the nuance of fem-lit-theory and its role in contemporary historical blogging. Don't give me any bullshit about their "brains not being developed enough to make responsible decisions" or "projecting my hatred of all men onto two fictional children who are young enough to believe toilets are the foundation of all comedy." These books are written by a 47-year-old man! What's a creepy old man doing writing children's books anyway? This young, bold children's book author (Me. I mean me.) wants answers!

The crusade begins here! You've fucked with the wrong blogger, Dav Pilkey, you Phalli-Hitler son-of-a-(empowered and self-employed)whore! I'll have you know that my blog has over 10,000 hits, and only 78% are from Russian data mining websites.

Editorial: A Special Message from Lindsey Graham

Senator Lindsey Graham (R-SC), who is not gay, writes in objection to President Obama appointing anyone to any position as long as the truth about a vital incident remains hidden by the administration. Have I mentioned that Senator Graham is not gay? Because he really isn't. Damn, he does have some really nice eyes, though.

My Fellow Americans,

It is a privilege to serve the great state of South Carolina, and the United States of America. During this tumultuous time in our nation's Capitol, it can be easy to lose sight of the most pressing issues facing Americans today. I write, America, in the hopes of refocusing our public discourse on the most important topic of our time.

Benghazi benghazi benghazi benghazi benghazi .Benghazi, benghazi benghazi. Benghazi! Benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi, and  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi.

"Benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi," said Benghazi in Benghazi.

Benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi;  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi .  Benghazi-- benghazi  benghazi  benghazi-- benghazi  benghazi .  Benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi ( benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi )  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi  benghazi?

Yours in Benghazi,
Senator Lindsey Graham.

Editorial: Gan Dainor White-Splains the Redskins

Gan Dainor is an obese white man who really wants you to know that what doesn't offend him should never offend you, and that what offends him should be banned by law and punishable by lengthy incarceration.

Political parties are fighting in D.C., but journalists have decided that the most critical issue facing America is the name of a football team! Which is just ridiculous, since everyone knows you can only be concerned about one thing at any given time. My psychiatrist calls it a "serious disorder." I call it "laser-focused cognition."

What's in a name? When it comes to the Redskins, The Washington Post has devoted a lot of ink to editorials roasting the name as racist and indefensible. In fact, they used 31,000 words this year alone! That's seven times the words that are in the U.S. Constitution (proof positive that the writers are Hitler-loving Communists). But most Americans, and by "most Americans" I mean me because I'm projecting myself on all of you, are not offended by the name.

Naturally, everyone critical of the name has labeled people like me, and Most Americans by proxy, as racists. This is typical of liberals, who have appointed themselves the arbiters of all morality. It's also why I have to go out of my way to tell you what Most Americans really think, and why you deserve to be beaten mercilessly for disagreeing.

Mike Wise makes no bones about his support of Race Thugging (I made that one myself! It's provocative, yet factual.). "Trying to enlighten [Most Americans] is like trying to enlighten your half-cocked, old-head uncle who uses racial epithets at Thanksgiving dinner. At some point, you either let him eat or kick him out." Wow, getting uncomfortable about your racist grandpa shouting about Jews drinking baby blood during Thanksgiving dinner? Who's the real bigot, liberals? The Dainor family has never let a single Thanksgiving pass without playing a rousing game of Madlibs: The Strom Thurmond Edition.

Redskins Owner Dan Snyder has used actual logic to defend his team's name, not white guilt. In 1932, four players and the head coach were Native Americans! And if you can think of a more racially aware time in American history, I dare you to name it!

The bottom line is that the media is once again attempting mind control. They're writing these editorials in an attempt to convince you that their point of view is the correct one, and that's just sick. The same liberals that labeled "Piss Christ" a work of art now rail against a sports team with a terrible, terrrrrible nammmeee!

Let's be honest. America has been extremely kind to Native Americans. We gave them blankets, liquor, and guns. Our military guided them on a scenic and beautiful hike to the heartland of America, where they thrive to this day. And when are white people going to get THEIR reservations? Huh!? We gave you all that out of the goodness of our hearts! I think you owe us one little racial slur that we're allowed to use. Maybe we'll even forgive you for Custer.

I've seen Pocahantas, Last of the Mohicans, and Disney's Peter Pan dozens of times. It's safe to say that I know more than enough about Native American culture than most liberals will ever forget. And as an expert in their culture, I can tell you they would be proud of an entire NFL team that honors their heritage. If they're not, we gave you your dignity, and we'll sure as heck take it away if you cross We the People. Fair warning, injuns.

Editorial: Sodd Tarnes Unmasks a Commie Conspiracy

Sodd Tarnes is a professionally outraged pundit that frequents Christian Broadcast News and Fox News. His accomplishments include being really, really fat at one point and is deeply concerned about white people losing beauty pageants, but he's definitely not racist because I think he might have a black friend somewhere.
Soldiers attending a pre-deployment briefing at Fort Hood were told that Afghanistan wasn't what most Americans think. In fact, it was a training run to prepare American troops to throw evangelical Christians and members of the Tea Party into FEMA labor camps. And if there were any Christians to be found among the goosestepping Obamanazis? They'd be headed for the camps too.

A soldier who attended the October 17th briefing emailed me and identified himself as Lance Corporal Ura Fagot from the 4th Chan Battalion. According to this brave and honorable Fagot, the intelligence agent in charge of the meeting arrived at the meeting wearing a swastika armband, a banana hammock, and a pair of nipple rings. For half an hour, this agent of the Satanic New World Order condemned Tea Party Patriots and Evangelicals as subversives who had to be stopped. Ordinarily, I disregard emails sent from encrypted, anonymous accounts. But when I saw it came from a soldier, I knew that every word was authentic. To distrust a soldier is to spit in the face of every brave patriot who has served our country.

Attorneys with the Liberty Institute of Freedomy Justice have taken up the case of this brave whistleblower, though thus far he has only sent them photos of a crudely drawn smirking face. We're sure Corporal Fagot will rectify this technical issue soon.

"The American public should be outraged that the U.S. Army is leading a crusade against true American patriots," said LIFJ attorney Mitch Barry, a former Marine who would never forsake his sense of duty and justice for large payoffs from 501 C3's.

This Fagot told me he's terrified of being thrown into the Socialist Re-education Bunker beneath the streets of Chicago, but his "Ameri-boner" would not allow him to stand idly by and allow this injustice.

Another soldier who attended the briefing, by some strange coincidence, contacted me about the incident soon afterward. Private Rusty Shackelford insisted that as an evangelical Christian himself, he always carried "pocketsand" to protect himself from Obama's jackbooted thugs.

"This nation is dominated by the 'PC' police, who want us to have a seat over there in the partyvan," said Shackelford. "Real Amerifats have to take off every Zig, for great justice!" he continued, using some charming military lingo.

Tony Perkins, president of the Family Research Council for Familial Families, insists that the Pentagon is on a Atheist crusade to destroy Christianity. Or he would have, if the cognitive dissonance between troop worship and Pentagon hatred hadn't caused a massive stroke. Dun wrry beddy! it hpprns to theeee bessttt f us.

An Army spokesman at the Pentagon insists that there is no list of organizations that the military considers to be extremist.

"We're not entirely sure what you're talking about. And we definitely don't have any personnel at Fort Hood with those names. Now for the last time, you fucking lunatic, stop calling my house," said Ron Weisenheimer, public affairs director at Fort Hood.

I sent the public affairs officer a list of loaded questions and drawings of the Earth soaked in the blood of sinners, but all I received was an arrest warrant in response.

Who will answer for these crimes against freedom? Who will serve as an ambassador for We the People? My friends, as I sit in my jail smell smeared with my own feces, I plan to send a strong message to the Communists running the American government that true Americans will not relent until we are given the respect and autocratic authority we deserve! As far as I'm concerned, that's the only legitimate entitlement there is.

Editorial: Walking Dead? More Like....Tax....Instead!

Dr. Handy Twinerlegs is a practicing OBGYN who for some reason is apparently supposed to have credible opinions about sociology (and can we just acknowledge that the concept of male gynecologists is just.....you know, I really don't want to paint the entire profession with a broad brush, but you have to believe that there's at least one guy out there just in it for.....you know what? Nevermind.).
Is watching "The Walking Dead" seriously hurting American society?

I would argue 'Yes.'  Yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking. You either think I'm some paranoid wackjob, or I'm a cynical asshole who reads into things so I can constantly generate new material for my employers and get paid a nice, fat commission. By the way, acknowledging your criticism has minimized it and removed all the potency that your response might have had. Suck it!

I also know what you're thinking about male gynecologists, so you can stop now.

Violence is the common theme in pop culture today. I know I said that sex was the major threat to our national moral code last week, but my eyes have been opened! We live in a world that is singularly fascinated by zombie violence. Not zombie sex, though, because that's gross. People spend countless precious hours indulging in escapist fantasies where the dead are stalking the living because of a primal urge to murder and eat. I know good and well you've got a guy on your Facebook feed who won't stop posting "zombie preparedness" image macros. Well, it's not just that one guy. It's everyone you know and love. It's you, America.

And the video games! Good God, so many video games with the zombies! Who wouldn't be troubled by the thought of a young, precious child being exposed to an imaginary world where they use firearms and cudgels against inhuman monsters (deer, squirrels, and stray animals are fine, of course). Studies have shown that violent games can make children apathetic towards violence. Yes, yes, I know that they're explicitly labeled to keep them out of the hands of children. But that's just an afterthought I intend to omit for the sake of my narrative. Wait, shit, I didn't mean to write that part. NOTE TO INTERNS: Please remove that part. I am not good with computer.

This whole phenomenon is puzzling to me. Dead people coming back to life was invented by George Romero back in a backwards time where the black guy was the dignified, strong protagonist and the last one to die in a horror movie. Ever notice how America went downhill from there? And now America has a powerful minority as its protagonist, who is desperately trying to convince us to barricade ourselves upstairs instead of locking ourselves in the basement with the sweaty white guy?

And get this! The National Institutes of Health have created a how-to guide about surviving a zombie outbreak! Or maybe it was the Centers for Disease Control. I don't know why you expect me to know the difference! I'm a medical doctor, not an encyclopedia!

Anyway, as a doctor and scientist, I know that dead people are definitely staying that way (EXCEPT JESUS PLEASE NO EMAILS). We should be less fixated on zombies and more focused on the scourge of socialism that threatens to shove its callused, ungloved digits carelessly into America's no-no places. Sure, entertainment distracts you from your dreary existence as an unappreciated wage slave, but I'm afraid I just don't give a shit! I'm paid to make you desperate and afraid, and I'm very good at my job. When I'm feeling especially motivated, sometimes I shout "Oh dear Jesus, this is the worst thing I've ever seen in all my years of practice!" during exams. Gets them every time!

This country is heading towards socialism, and ultimately destruction. I know that pretty much every first-world country in the world except us not only has nationalized healthcare, they've got actual socialist political parties too! But America is exceptional! We know that leftist policies must be destroyed no matter what the cost! The CIA installed right-wing dictators in Iran, Iraq, and pretty much all of South America, and all of those countries....continue to exist to some extent! Yet socialist-friendly countries like Germany can't decide whether they want to be divided in half or if they want to tear the wall down! Make up your minds, you creepy fetishists!

What I'm saying is, if you aren't terrified and screaming in mortal terror every day of your life, you're not living correctly! I hate using cliches, but YOU are the zombie! Wake up, America! Fight for WE THE PEOPLE.

And yes, I know that I could have written this article about literally anything remotely entertaining or distracting. I know that I had to really stretch to make a direct connection between zombies and the fall of society to Lord Ozero. You know what, fuck off, Google Analytics says that "zombies" is a very popular keyword. That's the only reason I wrote any of this. I don't have to explain myself to you. Now if you'll excuse me, there's a speculum at the office that's calling my name.

Bizarro Guests: Check THIS Privilege!

Bizarro Post Edgy Libertarian Bureau- What do you suggest I do about my privilege, you bottom-feeding degenerates?

I'm so sick of feeling persecuted every time someone brings up student loans,because I feel this obligation to lie about struggling to find a decent job or (UGGGHHHH) working for the government. The truth of the matter is, I'm a persecuted minority who is forced to hide his identity like Anne Frank had to hide her Jewyness from the National SOCIALIST Party. I know your pain, Anne! I would pray for you, but I'm an atheist and also you don't deserve free prayers that you didn't earn through hard work.

Like I said, I'm sick of lying. I'm sick of being ashamed for being successful.

I am in graduate school and have no debts. Why? Because my Baby Boomber parents worked hard and made a ton of money. Genetically, that means I also worked hard and made that money. I mean, I didn't even want to take their charity. It was an insult to my masculinity, and even made me think about tight, sweaty manass more than usual. But I bit the bullet and took their money. God, the things I have to do just to get by.

I work hard! I work a part-time job, I babysit, and I go to school full-time. All that, and I can barely afford middle-shelf Vodka. I'm barely better than someone who drinks Burnett's! I apply to jobs every day, and look forward to my career at my father's company.

I want to stop lying about the suits I buy for my internship. I bet nobody even believes I actually inherited them from my cousin. I mean, seriously, my cousin has Armani customs that just so happen to fit me perfectly? Riiiggghttt. And I suppose Uncle Jimbob had these spotless diamond cuff-links just lying around! He didn't. Dad did. I want to be able to accept responsibility for this amazing wardrobe when I'm complimented on it. But as long as I pretend they aren't mine, I am deprived of this basic pleasure. I have the resources to have my hair professionally highlighted and my pubes shaved into dollar signs. That's all me! When am I going to get recognized for my achievements?

 And then there's my address! I have to tell all the jealous scumbags that I earned a high-rise apartment by mowing my Dad's putting green all summer! I'm not racist either, but I see the thuggish gaze my doorman gives me whenever I get a package from J.Crew and De Beers. Should have gone to graduate school instead of relying on a handout of Obamaphones and chicken or whatever it is you buy with your ill-gotten welfare checks.

Stop making me feel like I've done something wrong! Stop making me feel like I don't deserve what I earned from my parents! I didn't ask to be born into this life of affluence, so what kind of asshole would look down on me for it?

I understand a lot of you are struggling out there, but that's why McDonald's has break rooms (they have those, right?). As for me, I'm not wasteful. I'm responsible and fortunate for the resources I have. I'll respect your...hahaha..."background" if you respect the authority over you that I have rightfully earned.

Bizarro Guests: Yoga-unna Wanna Bring a Towel!

Nina Kan is a lawyer, beautician, and yoga enthusiast. She joins us today to discuss a critical first-world problem.

Yoga Etiquette for Sweaty Men

Yoga teaches us to accept what we cannot change. Incidentally, so does Alcoholics Anonymous. However, like most spiritual beliefs, I am inclined to ignore them whenever they become inconvenient. I have been practicing hot yoga since 2008, which makes me something of an expert. But even after performing thousands of sun salutations, I still feel like concentrating my chi into an energy sword to dismember men who sweat excessively and wear revealing clothes to class.

My teachers emphasize over and over that I have to share energy with others in class. I draw the line at sweat. If yogis share studio space, every man present has a duty to prevent their strong, musky sweat from dripping down their taut calves right in front of me. Why can't I stare at your straining tendons without becoming a victim of your pheromone-rich excretions?

I'll have you know that I have taken many yoga classes in a number of different studios, and all of them have that certain sweaty, dripping man that I always end up next to for some reason. Typically, as the class gets hotter and more intimate his sweat will tap against the mat like steamy water from a flowing shower head. I, the distracted victim, am forced to watch in absolute horror as this primal display of power and dexterity plays out before me. Ever inconsiderate, he pays no mind to my probing eyes.

I, the victim, am shamed into silence by the rules of mutual respect that yogis adhere to. Suddenly, droplets of his far-flung sweat begin to appear near my own mat. Why should I be subjected to this acrid vector of disease? Why should I be forced to draw as close as I dare to the quivering pool on the floor, where I have no choice but to draw its essence deep into my violated nostrils?

How can anyone be so inconsiderate? I know that this is yoga, and I'm supposed to let go of worldly things as I practice, but what would he think if I were to coat him with bodily excretions, just as he does every time I place my hand into it and accidentally let it soak into my mat so that every time I press down on it the scent of sweaty jerks permeates through the air.

And don't get me started on those thin, overtaxed shorts!

How can male yogis even dream about attending class while wearing shorts that could practically be painted on? So many victims have been subjected to the horror of a tightly beshortted man in the downward dog. How can I even see this if I'm in the downward dog like I'm supposed to be? None of your damn business, yoga instructor! What do I pay you for? My righteous anger at the bulging, virile display that I've chosen to leer at in rage is how I choose to express my inner chi.

I'm sorry, I actually need to stop now to deal with some toxins and inner turmoil. But rest assured, I've been taking photos with my covert wristwatch cam, and I'm going to make a groundbreaking Tumblr any day now. Until then, I still need to do some final touch-ups to my...gallery.

Editorial: Blue Collar, Red Eyeballs

Brian Lester is a longshoreman with a BA in Patriotism from the Glenn Beck Online School of Liberty. He maintains a website listing every instance of bare breasts in National Geographic, including the articles with mammogram slides because they technically count.

I dont hate Obomba all that much. He just dissepoints me more than anything. See hes supposed to be the commander in chief but hes the divider in chief instead! as I  am a person who believes in the supremacy of the european american, he has failed to make me like him as a person. as I am a staunch evangelical conservative, he has failed to be a republican, which would make me like him a little more because he could be my colored friend and one of the good ones like herman caine. in washington, he has failed to be a republican, which would unite both of the parties together to get washington working again.

My smartass nephews try to tell me on Facebook that Ozero cant stop the house and senate from feuding over a budget resolution. They say that "your wrong because the bi-caramel legislative branch must approve on a budget before the president can even sign it!" I dont know what kind of freaky deaky shit kids are into these days, but Im pretty sure bisexual candy has nothing to do with how MY TAX DOLLARS are spent thank you very much!

As for me I know that the answer is in the middle. Both the Republicans and the Democraps are at fault here and if the Dems would just agree to get rid of that OFAILUREFARTCARE we could all go on about are business.

Last but not lease, I dont want my money going to pay for stuff that other people use. The free market has always done good by me and as far as Im concerned its the solution to this whole mess! If we just let the free market work that goddamn zionist bank would stop threatening me about my mortgage and the power coop would stop cutting off my electric and comcast would stop saying their going to cancel my internets because i keep getting their servers subpenad by the secret service.

thats my peace of mind anyway. let me know if youall agree!

~~~semper fi free til i die~~~

Editorial: Inquiring Globe Chief Names His Beef

Chris Powers is the Editor in Chief of The Inquiring Globe, the sole surviving newspaper in the town of Centralia, Pennsylvania.
Journalism is all a'bonered over Jeff Bezos acquiring The Washington Post, insisting that his genius and innovative spirit will keep the long-running publication alive through this grim era. I am now coughing while muttering "bullshit."

Amazon might be an unstoppable titan of internet commerce, true. But its entire model of success is dependent on tax evasion, and not the cool kind with the Cayman Islands and hedge funds. With the efforts of my friends in the lobbying business, enough palms will be greased that Bezos no longer gets to ride the gravy train without paying for his ticket. Then his digital news revolution will fail, just like the rest. The truth is, the internet isn't killing print media, and it isn't nearly as powerful as many would have you believe. I assert that there is another party at fault for our noble institution's decline.

It's you, dear reader.

You insist that news isn't worth anything unless you can switch to quasi-legal Brazilian pornography whenever you get bored halfway through an article. Nothing is worth knowing unless it can be condensed into a lolcatz image. Reddit claims to be the front page of the internet, but it has sadly become the first and last page of an entire new generation of pony-cartoon-watching manchildren. A generation whose outage at political corruption and violent crime is tempered by unlimited access to disturbing Japanese fetish comics.

And you assholes that raised this "millennial" generation aren't blameless either. You've chosen to raise your stunted children in single-parent households because of made-up boogeymen like domestic violence and spousal mortality. You've chosen to have children you couldn't afford. You've chosen to wait until you're in your late 30's to replenish our nation's population because you "couldn't afford" to have a child earlier, so you're putting the fetus at an increased risk for autism and other disorders (how irresponsible can you get!?).

Am I the only one noticing that people are getting dumber? I see all these reality shows, and I read all these positive reviews of movies I don't like, and it seems abundantly clear that I am an oasis of knowledge in a desert of fools. Why aren't you idiots voting, by the way? 65% of you aren't voting in state elections! Get off your asses, you simpletons, and choose our elected officials as a citizen should!

Enlightened society is crumbling. Civic engagement is receding with the release of another vapid pop song every other day.

You sons of bitches who "work too much" to join your local Rotary Club or Freemasons chapters are scum, and don't deserve The Inquiring Globe. You welfare queen whores who decide to reject the firm leadership of a male head of household don't deserve The Inquiring Globe. You illiterate morons who never learned to read because of terrible public education systems or Down's Syndrome can burn in Hell, because you don't deserve The Inquiring Globe. You probably couldn't even afford a subscription for my love letter to old-school journalism, you desperately poor fucks.

You don't want to buy my paper? Fuck you. You don't deserve my paper. Nobody deserves this sexy, savvy editor's masterwork. Enjoy your Soduku and Yoga and Twerking. I'll just be here in my ivory tower like the golden god of journalism that I am. Feel free to join me if you ever learn to wipe your own ass without a Wikihow article.

Sponsored: Brace for D.C. Doomsday with Purestrain Gold!

Bizarro Post Shady Ad Sales Bureau- Hello, Bizarro Post family. If you're anything like me, you're rich beyond all reason. So you probably aren't. But you can get one hell of a lot closer by doing one thing: Diversify your investment portfolio with gold!

But Bizarro Post editor, I don't have any investments whatsoever! "Diversifying your assets" sounds like something bad guys on TV shows say! True enough, but those bad guys are probably as rich as hell. If celebrity court cases and white collar crime have taught me anything, it's that being rich means never being responsible for the negative consequences of your criminal actions. You too can wield this mighty power with gold!

The meager collection of American currency you've managed to acquire through wage slavery is comprised of a thing called "fiat currency." Fiat currency is a monetary system that retains its value just because people believe it has value. There are no stable physical commodities backing up this money. Sounds insane, right? But it wasn't always this way!

There was a glorious time when America's monetary supply was backed by beautiful, glorious precious metal. It was a time where affordable labor could be bought for next to nothing at auctions. It was a time when only astute, land-owning gentlemen were allowed to vote in elections. A time devoid of illegal immigrants and petty political bickering! Believe it or not, your investment in gold is one small step back towards this utopia. So what are you waiting for? An invitation from the socialist in the White House!?

When fiat currency collapses due to massive inflation and society is in shambled, you're going to be glad you chose to hoard a big ol' chunk of glimmering gold in your crawlspace or bunker! Remember, fiat currency is only as valuable because people believe it is valuable. Shiny rocks are actually valuable because....I mean, come on, they're so goddamn shiny! No matter what bloodthirsty conclave you join after the upcoming nuclear Holocaust, your gold can be exchanged for goods and services absolutely anywhere. It's the universal symbol of value! Highwaymen and bandits have a long history of respect for men who carry gold on their person, because you've rejected the New World Order's system just like they have. Only you'll be going to Heaven with Alexander Hamilton and Thomas Jefferson, and they'll be going to Hell with Communists like Ceasar Chavez and Mr. Rogers.

Don't take my word for it! Some of America's most beloved icons know that gold is where it's at:
-The Mario Brothers
-Blackbeard
-Goldfinger
-The Esteemed Lord Doctor Ron Paul
-Olympic Swimmer Michael Phelps (Before the devil's grass claimed him)
-Scrooge McDuck
-Yukon Cornelius
-Professional Wrestler Dustin Rhodes
-George Castanza
-Mr. T

And think of all the practical applications that gold will have in a post-civility world!
-Forging chains, which hang low
-Paying tribute to Baal
-Building a Muisca city that is legendary among invading Conquistadors
-Making excellent headphone jacks

And that's just getting started! You'll be the talk of the wastelands when you wow the natives with your investment prowess, and then you're free to violently oppress them just like you always fantasized when you were bored at work!

If you're looking for a solid, stable foundation in this violently shifting modern world, an investment in gold is as good as.....gold.

Voice of the Bizarro People: Government Shutdown

Bizarro Post Public Policy Bureau- If there's one thing we enjoy at the Bizarro Post, it's soliciting the opinions of the general public on complex political skirmishes involving arcane bureaucratic rituals. Mostly because the stunning ignorance of the general public makes us feel so good about our terrible lives.

Today's Topic: Who's to blame for the upcoming government shutdown?

Rich Greenfield- I blame both sides equally. I don't, really, but I say that to women to appear as though I'm not prone to explosive rage over political arguments. Plus, it makes me look wise and level-headed even though it's an intellectually bankrupt stance. In reality, I have a massive stockpile of Chinese ammunition in a fire safe hidden in my crawl space. I also filed my high school class ring's gemstone to a point in anticipation of the day when I finally give the scumbags ruining America a four-knuckle salute to the eye.

Mel Colm-Cille Gerard Gibson- The Jews.

Ron Paul- The Jews.

Jessie Ussery- So they're laying off non-essential personnel, why did they hire them in the first place? I'm an assistant third-shift janitor at Piggly Wiggly, and I see people there every day that can be replaced in a second. Hire who you have to, and not a single person more.

Rachel Ozman: If the Affordable Care Act is so good, why is there such a big fight over it? It stands to reason that a good bill would be supported by everyone, right? Like with desegregation. They like, passed a bill to stop that and everyone was like, 'Duh, why didn't we do this earlier?'

Kayla Olbermann: ALL OF THEM! I don't read nothing with political stuff, so it's just easier to get mad at everyone and call it a day. Who has time to watch Schoolhouse Rock videos when a 13-year-old invented a new dance on YouTube?

Eric Walkowski: It's all because of tax and spend Democrats. When Reagan (pbuh) was in the White House, did he collect taxes and spend federal revenue!? Hell no! Did the founding father's do it? No way! They knew taxation was slavery, and the only slavery I support is the kind that involves Madame Cruella's House of Pain on 3rd Street behind the strip mall. The IRS should look into safewords too.

Pamela Meed: CUT THEIR SALARIES!!! They live paycheck to paycheck like we do, but if they're not working, they should struggle like we do when we're fired for gross incompetence and threatening to sue customers.

Ron Dorner: Blame the people that won't fire them! They for WE THE PEOPLE, and we have the power to kick them out if we don't like the job they're doing. Don't believe me? I sent Bill Clinton a citizen's pink slip in January of 2001. and suddenly George W. Bush was president.

Aaron Wachowski: Affordable healthcare=Someone else pays the bill. People need to stop stealing from insurance companies by forcing them to pay for your procedures. I swear to God, people think because they pay premiums they're ENTITLED to have their medical bills paid for.

James Waters: So let's get this straight. The last time the government shut down was under DEMOCRAT Bill Clinton, and now it's going to shut down under DEMOCRAT Barack Obama. How are the Republicans responsible for this again? No, I'm actually asking. I don't know how checks and balances work and politics is basically a team sport to me.

Nichole Harden: Slavery was a law too once! Now I know the pain that black people suffered when slavery was still happening! Word to my soul brothers from other mothers!

Wendy Bowers: I'm so sick of Congress not getting anything done! I demand action from the right now! Fire them all right now and schedule special elections a few months from now!

Tim Sawyer: President Obama, Democrats, Republicans, and Mossad. In that order.

Dianne Walden: Blame? I'm glad they're shutting down! What the hell does the government do right these days? Who needs them!? Oh god, my Digornos supreme! I completely forgot. Jesus, my kitchen is on fire! Call someone that can put this out! Does anyone know a if the Geek Squad does this sort of thing!?

Jewel Smith: Obamacare is going to destroy the whole healthcare system....and it's gong to make insurance bad with not goodness....and there's a fine tax because of Supreme Court cloture votes.

Brad Morrison: I am a single dad and I know for a fact I can't budget Obama care. When my son gets hurt I just take him to the ER and ignore the bills until they stop. Now I have to pay somebody!? That's socialism!!!

Christopher Benson: I work in a pharmaceutical company, so I kind of know what I'm talking about here. Obamacare is going to force us to abuse patents, create artificial shortages, and cover up side-effects just to make ends meet. None of that would have happened without Obamacare.

Editorial: How Firm a Foundation *UPDATE: MAGENTA ALERT*

Bizarro Post Punditry Bureau- I've done a lot of thinking lately. As a pundit, a person who opines professionally, it is essential that I know exactly where I stand. A pundit must be able to navigate through nuance, or ignore it entirely. But no matter what they ultimately choose, they must be consistent. We live in an era where everything we write, say, and do is recorded for all eternity. You can delete your Tweets and status updates all day long, but somebody has archived your mistake fifty times over if they want to destroy you badly enough. So, let me reiterate, it is absolutely essential that I know where I stand when it comes to all of society's most pressing issues. At last, I have come to a conclusion.

I fucking hate everyone who keeps me from getting what I want.

I want to be able to take fast food workers and retail "associates" for granted. Forcing employers to pay them a decent wage and not hold their wages hostage during political battles would force me to pay attention to them. Therefore, I do not support raising the minimum wage or the Affordable Care Act.

I want to get luxury electronic goods as cheaply as possible. Therefore, I support outsourcing to sweatshops, paying the Best Buy drones as little as possible, and I am really fucking pissed at corporations for artificially inflating the cost of these goods with micro-transactions and terrible insurance programs.

On the other hand, I work for a major corporation, and my own paycheck depends on their good will. Since a globalized market forces me to compete against sweatshops and the value of my labor is devalued to virtually nothing, I have no choice but to demand special privileges for the corporation that employs me. I hope that in doing so, they will bestow upon me enough money to allow me to feel like a man.

NO NO NO. Keep it together. You were on to something. Go back to that.

I want to satisfy my most fundamental animal needs. Therefore, I oppose pro-abstinence groups and feminist groups that want to punish my sexuality in order to glorify their own. I oppose prohibition supporters, because I want substances that make my crippling sense of self-awareness go away. I want food, so I hate the government for regulating dairies so harshly. But I want my food to be safe, so I oppose outsourcing of butchering operations and I demand strict inspection standards for the food that I consume.

NO. Stop. Just stop. I can fix this.

I....I....want to be happy....but if I'm happy, I have to take something from someone else....I have to wrest control from weaker people....and I have to spit in the face of honesty and compassion.....I just....

I want

I don't

YOU CAN HELP: We are missing a member of our pundit staff, and are offering a modest reward of one Hot Topic gift card for information leading to his return. Please hurry. The gift card expires in, like, three weeks.

How to Make Your Wedding Day Unforgettable!

Bizarro Post Bitter Nihilist Bureau- So you're planning on getting married, huh? Isn't that precious? Devoting your whole life to a person who might die before you do, leaving you miserable and far too old for society to accept you dating again. Or maybe you'll die first. Who gives a shit? And that's assuming your husband doesn't decide to get some strange, or your wife doesn't run away with her tennis instructor named Juan. Here's Bizarro Post's guide to making your "speeecciiaalll dayyyyy" really magical, and in September for some reason. Who the hell gets married this time of year?

FLOWERS

It's Fall, so you can't go wrong with Australian Frilled Tulips with a touch of holly.

Just screwing with you. You're buying plant genitals. Pick you favorite color and put that shit everywhere. Here's a protip: They all look the same when they're dead. Oh, and guess what! So will you.

For bouquets, take a shitload of flowers and tie those bastards together. Try not to strain yourself, sweetheart.

RINGS
Nothing says, "I'm a stupid asshole who will fall for literally anything!" like buying a nice, big diamond ring for your lovely bride. You know who made that a thing? De Beers. Do you know who carefully controls the market for that shiny rock your lovely lady demands? De Beers. Do you know who hires hitmen to brutally murder anyone developing artificial precious stones? De Beers. Do you know who monitors the diamond mines run by ruthless African warlords? De Beers. And you bought into it. I hope that African orphan blood on your diamond doesn't tarnish your big day. It's so hard to get that stuff off when you let it soak in too long. Try to avoid scratching yourself with the gemstone too, since I'm pretty sure that kid had HIV from birth. He got it from his mother, who got it from the sectarian paramilitary commander that assaulted her.

But yeah, you have a great wedding day.

DRESS

Hide your eyes, groom! Don't you know it's bad luck to see your bride decked out in her giant gilded-ass table cloth before she walks down the aisle and seals her fate?

Brides, your dress is a relic of the patriarchy that demands a constant supply of subservient virgins for God-fearing genocidal barbarian men. Did you know that the Old Testament says women who don't bleed all over the white sheets on their wedding night deserve to be beaten to death with rocks? Oh, but don't worry, since you're a modern religious type you can just ignore that part like you ignore all the other ones that don't agree with your political agenda. So feel free to give Mrs.Ramirez from Holiday Inn housekeeping a well-deserved reprieve.

By the way, what the hell is a garter belt anyway? It looks like the hair scrunchy industry made some oversized product and was like, "Holy shit, this would look great around a chick's thigh!" So what, it's a pit stop on the way north to the only part of the event the groom actually cares about? And apparently it's frowned upon if you try to stuff it in your pocket and take it home. Hey Uncle Dan, don't throw that shit if you plan to keep it, idiot.

TUXEDO

Haha, all that's expected of men is to wear a tie and maybe put something on their hair. And we can just rent that shit. Nobody expects us to hang on to it. Thanks patriarchy!

PHOTOGRAPHY

What's the point of spending money if you don't have an HD, high-pixel-count depiction of your excess? Don't answer that, it's rhetorical.

Here's a concept: One day you'll be dead, and your children will be dead, and their children will be dead. Do you remember the intimate details of your great-great-grandparents' wedding? You don't!? Then why the hell would you expect any different? One day the sun will implode, and nothing you've ever created or done will matter. No life form will ever acknowledge that you lived and loved. Your photos will be devoured by an indifferent universe, just as a lion devours a gazelle.

LOCATION

Justice of the Peace's office. You get all the paperwork, all the tax incentives, and all the satisfaction of being lawfully married. The Justice might even shake your hands if you're lucky. You'll have wasted no money, nobody's time, and you've achieved the same conclusion. Enjoy your fleeting years of happiness together, assuming there's any happiness at all.

I'm emotionally exhausted now. I'm going to go smoke a cigarette and listen to some Radiohead. Have a nice life, you drones.

Review: The Blacklist Makes Bullshit Fun Again

Bizarro Post Television Bureau- NBC's The Blacklist, initially pitched as The African-American Ledger, is a remarkably bold show in a TV-land that yearns for nothing more than safety and predictability. A cynical examination of the promos would lead you to believe that this is a flagrant ripoff of Silence of the Lambs--made all the worse for NBC's remake of Hannibal--and a standard-issue police procedural. What we got instead was a brisk blend of satire and over-the-top violence. From start to finish, the pilot episode is a comedy delight.

International mega-criminal Red Reddington (James Spader) has turned himself in to the world's most incompetent FBI to see if they can do a little housecleaning on his behalf. After strolling into the Hoover Building with no disguise and telling a security guard his name, Reddington is forced to wait several minutes while the G-men's CSI face scanning machine confirms his identity. Did I mention there's a wanted poster of the man a few feet away? Because there is.

So anyway, get this, They put Red in the cell from Skyfall, and he offers them a list of super-duper-ultra criminals that he wants them to take out. However, he'll only help if he is allowed to work with rookie DEFINITELY NOT HIS LONG LOST DAUGHTER criminal profiler Elizabeth Keen (Megan Boone, no relation to Daniel). 

By the way, Elizabeth is a wacky sitcom wife who transforms into a no-nonsense FBI superbadass when duty calls. Agent Keen is brought to the CIA black site to meet with Reddington where, fuck it, they flagrantly rip off the first meeting between Hannibal and Starling. The FBI, in a rare moment of clarity, realizes there's something up with this new employee of theirs. How could Reddington demand her partnership if they didn't have a prior relationship (a relationship that is IN NO WAY PATERNAL)? That line of discussion gets dropped for some reason after Keen is interrogated by her new employers in what is one of my favorite bits of the episode. To paraphrase:

FBI Guy: "Mrs. Keen, please profile yourself for me as if you were a suspect."

Keen: "Well, I'm very stubborn, confident, and I take charge of any situation I find myself in. As a result, some refer to me as a 'bitch.'"

You see, you might think that this is a commentary on the way society judges strong women as opposed to strong male characters. Blacklist turns your expectations upside-down by using a blues-rock cover of Jay Z's 99 Problems to call her a bitch for standing up to Reddington mere minutes later. Dohohoho, Blacklist, you rogue!

The FBI assigns their newest profiler to guard the daughter of a brutal foreign general as she leaves ballet practice, because that's totally what profilers do when they're not writing reports on how mommy issues compel people to make masks out of human skin. Just as nature intended, terrorist Explodey McJihad (Some Guy) manages to overwhelm the entire FBI convoy and steal the girl. McJihad, naturally, is on Reddington's blacklist. Why did a member of this super secret society show up just as the FBI discovered his existence? Reasons.

The FBI is so desperate to catch this bad guy, they cater to Reddington's every whim in exchange for intelligence. The most dangerous criminal in the known universe is given a lightly guarded hotel suite, an unlimited supply of expensive wine and veal, and a vinyl copy of Sinister Classical Music for Scheming Masterminds Volume III.

Meanwhile, Explodey McJihad has just strolled into Keen's apartment, which evidently had no surveillance in place whatsoever. Keen enters and finds her husband taped to a chair and battered. Before she can produce her weapon, McJihad pulls a knife and threatens to stab her hubby if she doesn't help him release some pent-up exposition. In a bit that's right out of Kids in the Hall, McJihad punctuates every sentence by stabbing Mr. Keen in a new place with his paring knife. His job complete, the infamous terrorist is allowed to walk casually out of Keen's apartment while she makes no effort to draw her weapon, shoot him, and end the whole thing with a completely justifiable use of deadly force. Keen proceeds to render first aid to her husband by gesturing violently at his many wounds.

In the meantime, Reddington (giant mega ultra criminal under FBI custody) rappels out of the window of his hotel room using the courtesy rappelling kit. What, your hotel never gave you one? Sounds like you got suckered. Reddington proceeds to do all of the FBI's work for them, because they're all bigger idiots than he anticipated, and he goes on to move around downtown Washington D.C. with no intervention from the authorities who know damn well that he escaped. Mostly because he called them to gloat.

It turns out that McJihad has taped a dirty bomb to the general's daughter and left her in the zoo with strict instructions to wait for her father on a park bench far away from any populated areas. Evidently the FBI is in charge of zoo security as well, since nobody noticed the digital clock visible through the fabric of her backpack is counting down. Also, it beeps every single second and it has wires clumsily jutting out of it, and it's blatantly duct taped to the midsection of an unattended minor.

Reddington sends his finest explosive fetishist to disarm the bomb just in time, while Keen comforts the little girl by offering to let her stroke the giant lucky scar that "her daddy gave her." Hahaha, yeah, I know. Hey, you know how I mentioned the demolitions guy is a fetishist? I wasn't joking. His payment for disarming the thing is the backpack itself, which he gleefully clutches to his chest while skipping away; happier than the guy who finally found a kid who wanted free candy more than he distrusted strangers. To Keen's credit, she does tell the FBI backup that arrives to go catch the dude who just made off with a WMD clutched to his chest. They don't take her advice, but she tried.

Oh, and get this. At the very end of the show, Keen finds out that her husband is a foreign spy! You'd think a thing like that might be revealed during an intensive FBI background check! And if you did think about that, you're clearly not ready for what Blacklist is dishing out.

The Blacklist delights in thumbing its nose at FBI-show conventions. Viewers get an all-you-can-eat buffet of Spader smugness without the buzzkill of serious police work, because none of the FBI agents know what in the hell they're doing. I strongly suspect that each episode will pit the nincompoops at the FBI against another nefarious character from the blacklist, and the day will be saved by an escaped Reddington who will then turn himself back in to get ready for next week's adventure. It's an Inspector Gadget for a new age, and I'm all for it.

Final rating: A

Review: Dexter Finale Stunning, Polarizing

Bizarro Post Television Bureau- As if Breaking Bad's grueling, breathless ride to the finish weren't enough for us to endure, Dexter came to a polarizing conclusion after eight seasons of acclaimed drama.

Dexter began so long ago that it seems like an eternity, but countless fans of been drawn to its riveting tail of a young boy genius trying to claim the highest honors in science while concealing his vast secret lab from his parents.

An empire was built on lies, deceit, and violence as Dexter attempted to conceal the massive electrical demands of his facility, launder the money produced by his government contracts, fend off the ill intentions of international superpowers seeking to obtain or destroy his brilliance, and escape the many threats of the evil mastermind, Mandark.

Both Dexter and the viewers were lead to believe that Mandark was successfully disposed of by Dexter's plot to goad Mossad agents into eliminating his rival while he was in Turkey assisting in the construction of a perpetual energy machine. When he appeared in the previous episode, now augmented with super-powered cyborg assassination implements, we were forced to watch in disbelief as Mandark ended the tragic existence of Dexter's drug-addled sister, Dee Dee.

Now the walls were closing in, and excuses were getting less and less plausible. It all culminates in a tragic scene where Mom confronts Dee Dee about her strange behavior, and inadvertently discovers her daughter has been replaced by a robot.

Call it Emmy-bait all you want, but Mom's performance in this scene is top-notch. She tearfully demands answers from her son, the only person she knows that would be capable of building such a device. Dexter spills everything. The lab, the money laundering, the feud with Mandark that grew into a massive international incident.

"So you did it. All of it. You bastard! How could you!?" Mom screams.

Indeed, how could he? Dexter could have stopped so long ago, refusing government contracts entirely. Instead he sold to the highest bidder, even if they had the worst intentions. Dexter could have negotiated with Mandark when he offered to take his business to North Africa and the Middle East, leaving Dexter with North America's market. But Dexter wanted it all. And for his hubris, he everyone he loved was punished severely.

"Mom, I can explain! Everything that I have done, I have done it for this family!" Dexter explains. Now that he's no longer in control of his circumstances, his lies aren't smooth and convincing. They're desperate, frantic, and insulting.

"Get out of my house, you monster."

It's a line that resonates like a gunshot. Dexter's lab is in ruins after Mandark's retaliatory strike. And it now becomes apparent why he was so careful to let Dexter's parents live, and to minimize damage to the house. It wasn't enough to take the lab. Dexter had to loose the very last support system he had to make the victory complete. Dexter had to lose his family.

Years pass by, and we see a slow pan of news articles tacked to a crudely constructed wooden wall.

"PSYCHO SCIENCE: DEXTER DEVELOPED NERVE AGENTS FOR SYRIA"

"MELTDOWN: DEXTER DESTROYS LOVING NUCLEAR FAMILY"

Outside, we see a landscape of frigid white. Dexter, now bearded and disheveled, chops away at the trunk of a tree with an elderly axe. Isolation is the only thing standing between him and war crime trials. This is Dexter's purgatory, his prison. It is bitter and inescapable. These are the fruits of Dexter's Lab.


Rating: A-

Fuck Steve Harvey and the Cookie He Rode in On

Bizarro Post Indignation Bureau- Fuck Steve Harvey.

He's an insufferable asshole. He is an ever-flowing fountain of pseudo-intellectual bullshit.

Normally, I wouldn't dream of wasting the Indignation Bureau's considerable talent on the latest host of Family Feud. After all, it's the place where acting careers go just before vanishing into the aether, never to be seen again. It's like an elephant graveyard for supporting actors from successful sitcoms that ended years ago. When's the last time you saw Al from Home Improvement, or Elaine's boss from Seinfeld? Exactly.

 But he had to go and get a talk show, didn't he? Now there's a second season, and that's terrible. Here's why:

- I am honestly baffled that he managed to succeed as a professional comedian for 27 goddamn years. Steve takes milquetoast grandpa-isms and tries to shout them to life like Dr. Frankenstein on a cloudless night. While other comedians are scaling the cocaine-dusted crags of Mount Stand-up, Harvey is content to pace around at base-camp while his interns Photoshop him onto the summit. Here's an example of what passes for comedy on the Steve Harvey Show:

A woman stands up in the audience and asks Steve why her boyfriend insists on calling her "Bob" when her name is Ashley.

"Well, maybe it because you got something bobbing when you walk by, you know?" replies Harvey, palming two invisible asscheeks. "When you walk by, he's like BOP BOPPA DOO BOP BAH BOP BOP BOP!"

How's that for a big scoop of comedy oatmeal? Harvey starts with some casual sexual harassment, takes the word "Bob", determines that it rhymes with "Bop", and then he decides that belting out Little Richard is good for a cheap pop from the audience. Sure enough, he gets it. Rinse and repeat for episode after episode.

- So Steve wants to be a Christian entertainer? Alright, that's fine. All the best. But Steve, you want to have it both ways. You want to be able to telepathically palm the asses of your trusting audience members and paint yourself as T.D. Jakes. There's no law against doing that, but it makes you look like a tremendous tool.

Harvey, in especially saucy moments on his show, mops sweat from his brow while mumbling, "I sure am glad I'm a Christian right now, let me tell you folks." It's like his faith, which he barely seems to adhere to, is the only thing keeping him from going full Bob Filner.

- The Cookie.

To most people, it's a delicious baked good. To a certain Sesame Street character, it's a crippling addiction. To Steve Harvey, it's sex.

No, really.

If you're wondering why Steve is referring to a woman's body as an object, it's not an accidental window into his innermost psyche (for once). This is absolutely what he means. Harvey, projecting like a fucking I-Max, insists that all men are sexually insatiable creatures that are dominated entirely by barely restrained libidos. Therefore, all the smart ladies out there can use their bodies to manipulate men into serving their interests, since men would never, ever do something for a woman out of respect or love. In Steve-world, men are dogs, and women exist to serve as the dog biscuits that motivate them to sit, stay, and to stop humping everyone's leg. Men are consumers, women are merchandise; so a smart woman had better learn to haggle! See what I'm driving at here?

I suppose it's to be expected from a man with as many obvious issues as Steve. He's on his third marriage, and his first two wives aren't his biggest fans. As a matter of fact, Wife 2 is still insisting that Harvey cheated on her. I don't have any direct evidence of this, of course, but Steve's done absolutely fuck-all to convince me he's capable of the commitment necessary to form a lasting relationship. There's never any mention of friendship or love. Steve views the entire breadth of human romance as the conflict between the Sex Givers and the Sex Wanters.

Okay, Steve, you're a broken human being. We get it. I hope you fix that someday. But you wrote a goddamn book based on your warped concept of human interaction. People read that book and believed it. So fuck you very much for that.

Did I mention that Steve suggests a 90-day probationary period before giving your new boyfriend The Cookie? Because that's how relationships work on his home planet Asswipe 7, in the Sociopath Nebula.

"When I worked at Ford Motor Company, they have (sic) a probation (sic) period...[before they] release their benefit package to you. Why do women, who possess the greatest benefit of them all (Fuck. Off.), why [are] you passing on your benefits to a guy who has not been on the job for 90 days?"

A benefits package. There you fucking have it. A woman's body is a benefits package that you earn by, what, spending money on her for a period of no less than 90 days? And is she obligated to provide her "benefits" at the end of that period? I don't know if that's what he's suggesting, but I get this horrible sinking feeling that it's exactly what he means. No mention of marriage, naturally, so there goes his devotion to living a devout Christian life. What a goddamn shock.

Why doesn't Steve abstain? Why is it the woman's responsibility? Because he's never had to do it, he's never intended  to do it, and I wouldn't be surprised if he gets caught with his hand in the "cookie jar" once again. Devout Christian over here, everyone.

- A good talk show host knows how to work an emotional moment. Steve Harvey is not a good talk show host.

Occasionally, Steve will have a guest on his show that hasn't seen their mom or their daughter for a decade or so. He finds them, reunites them. It's Talk Show 101 stuff. So Steve brings out this estranged loved one, the two guests embrace and cry. Steve sits motionless in his chair, his mouth agape, his eyes vacant. Perhaps he's experiencing faint twinges of this "empathy" thing he's heard so much about. In any event, the weeping party is left to their own devices for about 90 seconds too long as the guy who's supposed to be hosting eventually tosses together some platitudes about God having a plan. Toss to break. Collect the paycheck.

And animals. Animal segments are required for talk shows by several international treaties, so it is with great reluctance that Harvey has on one of those guys with the khaki ensemble and pith helmet to play America's favorite talk show game: Will it Poop?

Nobody likes doing these segments, but they're at least polite about it. Conan O'Brien is especially good at playing off of his animal guests. Again, these are skills that a talk show host should have. Harvey spends every animal segment cringing away from every crocodile and parakeet that gets within 50 feet.

"You keep that thing away from me now, before I have to smack somebody," Harvey stutters as he's stared down by an elated Labrador puppy.

"Come on, Steve! It's fine!" says the visibly puzzled handler, desperately trying to push this stalling segment forward.

"No. I ain't getting anywhere near anything you're bringing out here."

He's trying to save the show that's named after you. Pet the damn sloth and move on with your life.

- I'll admit, I don't have the highest opinion of people who willingly go to a live taping of The Steve Harvey Show. However, my prejudices have been dashed time and time again by seeing the many instances in which audience members are clearly bored or disgusted by what they're witnessing.

My favorite moment of all time came when Steve was giving dating advice to an older woman who had a printed list of standards men had to meet before she'd date them. You see, most of this came from being horribly betrayed by men she had been involved with in the past. Anyone can see that she's hurting, and doesn't want to be hurt again. A smart person would build her shattered self-esteem and her bruised sense of confidence. Dr. Phil would be all over that shit. Steve hones in on item number one in the woman's list. Naturally, she wants a man who has never cheated on any previous partner. Sounds pretty reasonable to me!

"No!" gasps Harvey, as though he were chastising an infant who had just said a bad word. According to Steve, guru of love that he is, EVERY man has cheated in their early adult years! You can't seriously expect to find a man who has never cheated!

The camera pans to a sea of scowling women, some shaking their heads in quiet fury. Steve's reflexive attempt to keep the pillow pressed firmly over the face of his atrophied conscience had fooled no one. The chivalrous veneer crumbled more than enough for them to see that this poor woman who came to Steve Harvey for advice was being insulted because she held romantic partners to a standard that Steve had zero fucking interest in reaching.

On top of that, Harvey insists that men and women can never be friends. While I freely admit that I've seen many examples of men and women having secret romantic intentions with friends, to say that it is impossible is yet another example of Steve's warped beliefs on his gender. Specifically, all men are exactly like Steve Harvey. To think otherwise is just silly! You're just not dealing with home truths! And if he's right (God help us all), Steve Harvey must really hate Steve Harvey! Because I sure as shit do!

- But Steve doesn't hate himself half as much as he should. As a matter of fact, his ego is so far beyond acceptable that it's obscene (I know it when I see it). The Steve Harvey Tumblr account is filled to the brim with image macros of Steve Harvey quoting himself.

"Anyone who quotes themselves is a shitstreak on the jockey shorts of civilization." ----Me

You see, Steve is a man's man. He's a provider, an alpha male firmly in charge of his God-ordained destiny. His children have everything they'll ever need to succeed because of his efforts, and the women in his life get their alimony and Trophy Wife dues every month without fail. That just makes him a superior human! Hell, why not? The rich are already basically immune to the laws that bind puny mortals. Why not take it a step further and enshrine them as Godkings? Jesus quoted himself all the time! Guess that explains why a demigod like Steve feels no compunction about doing the same thing!

Oh, what's that, starving Ethiopians? You object to Harvey's rules of manhood because you live in an economically depressed country with no hope of ever being able to truly provide for your family? Well gosh, I guess you should just work harder if you want to become legitimate members of the human race!

What's that, millennial wage slaves? Can't afford to buy a house for you and your girlfriend, cash out of pocket? Well fuck you then, little boy! You don't deserve to be given your mandatory cookie ration with that can't-do attitude!

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When Steve Harvey wrote "Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man", he wrote it to "empower women" by explaining the mindset of all men, and how to manipulate it to their advantage. The thing is, it's really an instruction manual on how to avoid the kind of walking douchestorm that nobody should ever interact with for any reason. It's a glimpse into the dangerous psyche of a man who thinks wealth defines value for men, and genitals define value for women. It's Steve Harvey's hate letter to himself, and he didn't even realize it. Well this is my hate letter to you, Steve Harvey.

Fuck Steve Harvey.