Satirical
The Man Who Was Almost on Carson
Marty Blevins has spent thirty-eight years in comedy, or thirty-six, depending on whether you count the insurance years he claims were spent “developing material.” He calls himself a veteran of the late-night circuit, a pioneer of observational humor, and a performer whose career was once personally affected by the Amazing Kreskin. The Pompous Post dispatched field correspondent Gerald P. Whitcomb to interview Marty ahead of his set at the Chuckle Bucket, a comedy club sandwiched between a tire store and a building that used to be a tire store.
By The Pompous Postabout a month ago in Humor
Everything Is Fine
There is something reassuring about waking up in the morning, pouring yourself a cup of coffee, and spending the first few quiet minutes of the day discovering all the new and exciting ways civilization has apparently gone off the rails while you were sleeping.
By The Pompous Postabout a month ago in Humor
The Mathematics Are Clearly Not Mathing
Humanity has accomplished some impressive things. We have split the atom, mapped the human genome, landed machines on Mars, photographed black holes, and created tiny computers powerful enough to access virtually all accumulated human knowledge while sitting on the toilet.
By The Pompous Postabout a month ago in Humor
Beasts of Burden
There was a time when romance required very little infrastructure. At twenty-three, you could meet somebody at a party, stay out until two in the morning, eat something from a food truck whose health inspection certificate appeared to have been printed during the Carter administration, and then fall asleep on a couch containing three failed springs and a decorative pillow shaped like a beer can. You woke up six hours later feeling terrific, and went to work without showering.
By The Pompous Post2 months ago in Humor
The Bionic Herald Declares War on the Gray Lady
On my first day at The Bionic Herald, I was told three things: Never mention “clickbait” in front of the editor-in-chief. Never praise the New York Times within earshot of the copy desk. And never, under any circumstances, ask why the office espresso machine is labeled “Pulitzer Fuel.”
By The Pompous Post2 months ago in Humor
It's Don Versus The World
Welcome back to the continuing episodes of The Days of Our Lives. Days of Our Lives is a soap opera that aired between eleven and twelve Central Time. It had some colorful characters, moderately intense story lines, and cheap entertainment value if you were stuck at home, in need of some noise, or a soccer mom not working.
By Jason Morton2 months ago in Humor
DISCLAIMER
A lot of the content on this blog is extreme, offensive, and extremely offensive. Sorry. I am a vulgarian, I wish I wasn't, but I am. What's more: I have always been a vulgarian. I think it's because, where my parents' generation got Monty Python and The Beatles, my generation got South Park and Eminem; frankly, I think us millennials got a raw deal as far as that goes (and also housing, and the job market, and the environment, so on and so forth). The influence of such crass media has irreparably tainted my mind, so much so that, while doing some routine cleaning, I started singing "hello penis my old friend; I've come to blow six guys again" to the tune of Simon and Garfunkle's Sound of Silence . Other hits include "cut my wife into pieces, I told her to abort" to the tune of Last Resort by Papa Roach, and "chickity China, the Chinese wiggers, you play a dope beat and the slopes start spitting" to the tune of One Week by Barenaked Ladies. I am not proud of this, and I alternate between making myself laugh out loud, and slamming my car door against my head to try and put an end to these retarded thoughts.
By INSANITY PROPER2 months ago in Humor
