By: Eddie “Cube” Rawls

If you’re seeking the seminal “list” sort of “article,” filled with contemporary political jokes about the salacious details on the innards (and outards) of figures who grace the media on a routine basis, you’re in the wrong place. Really, it’s far too easy — like the combination to Bristol Palin’s lock on her chastity belt.

Here, you won’t find jokes about pin-ups of Levi Johnston’s johnson circulating underneath bathroom stalls at the Y.M.C.A. Nor will you spot a glob of Bill Love, as it’s not worth spilling more ink over. As much as I would like to, I’ll avoid my mind’s eye comparison of Sarah Palin’s vagina to the Laverne & Shirley opening sequence at the brewery. Schlemiel! Schlimazel! Hasenpfeffer Incorporated! Don’t sing that.

Instead, I’d rather present a brief, slightly nuanced, picture of biology in American political science. I mean really, the modern body politic is not the type of America I like to remember. The nanosecond political intellectual brain-jackings that drive by daily are simply not a logical way to learn from our past. That’s why you kids must learn to be a bit more “micro” and a little less “macro” when it comes to United States history. Makes perfect sense. Know what I’m sayin’? Micro yo:

#5 — Captain David Dickerson’s Posterior

Capt. Dickerson. United States Army. President Lincoln’s body guard and keeper of his Executive Branch.

I know what you’re thinking: “What else is new? We all know Lincoln liked buggering dudes and all.”

Well, for those naysayers who attempt to disprove this fact noted in books theorizing multiple gay Lincoln encounters, you’re wrong. That Honest Abe was nicknamed “Honest,” and was married to one Mary Todd Lincoln is a compelling argument — consistent with society’s firm conceptualization of wedded bliss nowadays.

Honest marriages aside, when Mrs. Lincoln wasn’t home, Abe was getting a little nookie on the DL. You see, if mega-buttinski Mary Lincoln’s prying eyes weren’t about, President Lincoln was sharing his bed (using your tax-dollars Glenn Beck fans) with the good captain:

For nearly eight months in 1862-3, Capt. David Derickson led the brigade that guarded Lincoln at the Soldiers’ Home in the District of Columbia, the Camp David of the day. Derickson, in the words of his regiment’s history, published three decades later, ”advanced so far in the president’s confidence and esteem that in Mrs. Lincoln’s absence he frequently spent the night at his cottage, sleeping in the same bed with him, and — it is said — making use of his Excellency’s night shirt!”

Off came the night shirt, out came Dickerson.

Mary Lincoln -- She Tried

#4 — Thomas Jefferson’s Man Lumps

If you’re not up on your history, you might want to look up another body part President Jefferson enjoyed using. Like, if Jefferson had a future-moving gadget or something, he would totally dig the song Black Betty.

Anyhow, President Jefferson had boils on his ass:

In the third week of taking the waters at Warm Springs (1818) Jefferson developed boils on his buttocks. (The 50+ mile ride to the spa plus possibly unsanitary conditions there may have predisposed to the illness.) As may be imagined, his homeward return ride was a trial. Once home, for several weeks he conducted his correspondence lying down. He did not ride a horse for several months. “Jefferson always believed that this experience had greatly injured his health”

Evangelicals claim the boils hailed from the wrath of God due to Jefferson’s interracial sexual proclivities. Other, more scientific Evangelicals, claim the buttocks-boil infestation sprung from God’s distaste for slavery and hypocrisy.

"Why don't you shove that hat up your ass String-Bean?"

#3 — William Howard Taft’s Shadow

President Taft was a fatty-fat. You must know this. At his peak he tipped the scales at 335-340 pounds. My man was the fattest president to ever occupy the White House. He was so fat, he got stuck in the White House bathtub and had to be removed by some fat-president-pickeruppers. In fact, the good folks over at “Fat Bastards Bathing Equipment” had to make a brand new big ass fat tub for him.

But see, his whole ginormous body simply doesn’t qualify as a “body part” for purposes of this list. Strictly speaking.

Taft’s shadow fits into this List-A-PaLooza and obviously is a body part. And you know what? The shadow knows. The shadow knows President Taft probably never saw his own adult wiener.

#2 — Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s Pigmented Lesion

FDR. One of the nation’s greatest presidents. The obvious body parts here are his legs — which were as useful to him as a life-preserver tied down with massive lead weights and thrown to a drowning monkey at sea. President Roosevelt had a bout of the hysterical polio. :(

His pelvis didn’t work either. Elanor (ER) could not be reached for comment at the time of publication.

Lemme tell you something (Mean Gene), the lesion doesn’t get enough pub:

Two independent lines of evidence suggest FDR had a malignant melanoma excised while in the White House:

1. Between 1920 and 1932 FDR developed an enlarging pigmented lesion above his left eye. This lesion vanished between 1940 and 1944, leaving a scar and a sparse lateral eyebrow.
2. During lectures in 1963 and 1965, Dr. George Pack stated that his friend, Dr. Frank Lahey of Boston, had seen FDR in consultation in 1944 and had informed the president that he had a metastatic tumor, and advised him not to run for a fourth term.

Did you see that? The lesion vanished. Gone. Why? Some theorize this was the first noted instance of cosmetic surgery and therefore, the disappearance of the fiendish pigmented lesion. Others question the veracity of such reporting, wondering why FDR would really care. Ain’t like he was goin’ dancing trying to look purty for some hottie.

#1 — Bobby Kennedy’s Finger

November 22nd, 1963. A day that will live in infamy (until September 11th had to go and ruin everything).

President John F. Kennedy was assassinated and the eyes of the world turned to his younger brother, Bobby. What most people don’t know is where Bobby’s finger went to prior to his untimely demise:

Six months after JFK’s death, during a May 1964 dinner cruise on the presidential yacht the USS Sequoia, Bobby and Jackie “exchanged poignant glances” before disappearing below deck, leaving Ethel upstairs. “When they returned, they looked as chummy and relaxed as a pair of Cheshire cats,” according to Schlesinger.

At the Kennedys’ Palm Beach estate during Christmas 1964, socialite Mary Harrington saw Jackie sunbathing topless, with Bobby kneeling at her side.

“As they began to kiss, he placed one hand on her breast and the other inside of her bikini bottom,” Harrington recalled.

“I was shocked. It was clear that Bobby was sleeping with his sister-in-law.”

For any inaccuracies here, I’m sorry. Might have been two fingers. Peace.

***

Follow me on Twitter.

George Carlin just had to get the Last Word, which is rather fitting for one of the most outspoken comics in history. His epic rants and legendary ‘Seven Words You Can’t Say on Television’ made him one of the most well known comedians in history.

In 1993 George Carlin asked his friend, and former National Lampoon editor Tony Hendra to help him write his autobiography. For almost fifteen years, in scores of conversations, many of them recorded, the two discussed Carlin’s life. When Carlin died at age seventy-one in June 2008 with the book still unpublished, Hendra set out to assemble it as his friend would have wanted. Last Words is the result. Check out the video, audio and contest. We are lucky enough to have a few copies of the book to give away, so play with us on bookface and the ever so popular twitter.

By: Eddie “Cube” Rawls

(Brevard County, FL) Are you ready to be Saved! I mean ready? Really ready? Ready for the miracle of weed?

Oh ye Brothers and Sisters of the… Temple Of Lampoon? I feel The Holy Spirit inside me. Yes. A Spirit who grows and expands deep inside my very core (in fact, it kind of burns). The blessed Lord gives me power to rise up (maybe I should sit down) and reverse a terrible injustice. I embark on this journey and implore you, my disciples, to join me on a most important mission. To free the Holy Father Of Ganga. Can I get an “Amen?”

The heathen “judicial” system of Florida has taken a Brother from our midst. A Priest. A Minister. The Holy Man of Herb from the Hawaiian Cannabis Ministries (by way of Florida and The Internet):

“Was that your cannabis?” a judge asked.

“Yes sir,” replied Swallick.

He calls himself Reverend Steven Swallick of the Hawaiian Cannabis Ministries and took the stand in clerical garb identical to that of a catholic priest. Even though he faced prison time, Swallick openly admitted to the jury that he grew more than 100 marijuana plants at his home in Palm Bay. But Swallick said he did it because he had a higher calling. [Ed. Note: What kind of schmuck would use an easy pun like that?]

“The cannabis that was growing in your converted garage, that was your cannabis that you were cultivating?” the judge asked.“Yes sir, for religious purposes,” repled Swallick.

The 53-year-old says he was ordained through the Universal Life Church, a group which will ordain just about anybody almost instantaneously on the Internet. Swallick was prevented from discussing what he claims are religious uses of marijuana in front of the jury. The judge declared there was no evidence he practiced any recognized form of religion.

It took a Florida jury a mere fourteen minutes to convict Reverend Swallick on charges he engaged in the unholy manufacturing of cannabis. What Florida calls a crime, Rev. Swallick embraces as a religion. He also inhales his religion:

“I do inhale it. I do use it as an anointing oil. I do ingest it as a food product. There are over 25,000 beneficial uses for the plant,” Swallick said.

But, because the judge excluded testimony concerning marijuana’s long-standing religious use, the Pontius Pilate lot of a Florida jury would never hear or see Father’s testimony. His incantations can only be described as the very word of God Himself: “Cannabis is the ingredient in the Holy Anointing Oil, as given to Moses, though the Lord, when he appeared in the Burning Bush.”

Let there be light! And a cough.

Cannabis, he tells us, “is a holy sacrament recognized in the Bible.” Jesus used marijuana to heal. Reverend Swallick only immersed himself in the blessed herb, “as a priest;” thereby making his humongo pot lab kosher. While Father Swallick contended his stash was protected First Amendment exercise of religion, the judge thought it was an unholy affront to the science of God.

Our good reverend now faces up to ten years in Florida State Prison as he awaits sentencing and possible crucifixion of the Hawaiian Cannabis Ministries.

I am outraged Brothers and Sisters. A minister! A priest! A saint appointed by God Himself! Ten years? It is our holy Lampoon duty to pray for his immediate release and raise the Holy Gravity Bong (in those states where it’s legal) as we join together:

Please bow your heads.

Our Father. Who art a big bag of Trainwreck. Seedless be Thy strain:

Please help our Brother in his time of need… which rhymes with “weed.”

Forgive Florida, for they know not what they do. Which is nothing really out of the ordinary.

Now, we shall inhale you. And stuff.

Amen.

***

Challenge Me To A Wrestling Match On Twitter.

By: Eddie “Cube” Rawls

(Miami, FL) We all know South Florida is a vortex for all that is unholy and will likely spell the demise of humankind and the entire galaxy… to put it mildly. Florida’s a haven for newlyweds and nearlydeads. It has endless miles of bad road filled with strip-malls; where each store seemingly runs and smells like the D.M.V. And, if you’re famous like me, Vegas has back-room odds in a Deathpool on you — with prop bets on whether you’ll get shanked in a Meth deal gone South or run over and turned into a greasespot by some random midget octogenarian wantonly driving a Caddy from the late 80’s.

I can understand folks making irrational decisions to dwell in the toe cheese of Mickey Mouse (see e.g., Florida Recount 2000), however, animals have no choice in the matter.

Horse murders are on the rise and apparently there’s a market for horsey meat in these depressed jazzy economic times:

She was a bay — a dark brown thoroughbred. She had a shiny coat and new horseshoes, all signs that someone took good care of her.

But Saturday night, the 3- or 4-year-old mare was found cut in pieces along a rural roadside in Southwest Miami-Dade, a spokesman for the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty for Animals said.

The mare was the latest horse slaughtered, possibly for her meat, in a rash of such killings this year in Miami-Dade and Broward counties. …

The number of horses killed since January now stands at 21, Couto said. …

In Florida, it is illegal to sell horse meat without proper labeling. A pound of the flesh can sell for up to $40 on the black market. A 1,400-pound horse may yield about 400 pounds of meat, Couto said.

“South Florida is probably one of the only places in the United States that a dead horse is much more valuable than a live horse,” he said.

That’s reassuring! A dead horse in Florida get’s more money on the pony market than one with a pulse. You see, in the recessed gene pool of The Sunshine State, it’s not the carnage and bags of bay organs done at the hands of some deranged lunatic roaming the streets of Miami that governs the shock value here, it’s the economic analysis on the worth of a dead horse found in the crux of this story. This makes sense – in Bizarro Florida.

What the Hell? Forty dollars a pound for horse meats? What a rip off. You’re telling me horse bits are more expensive than lobster? I didn’t even know there was a “black market” for horse meats. Who eats horse meats? Where are these people?

Florida.

Look, I’ll partake in the eating of dog at my local Chinese joint anytime (without knowledge of said dog in food). But, I draw the line in the sand of craziness with dead horses and their trending patterns on the horse-eating stock market.

by Eddie “Cube” Rawls

(Moorestown, NJ) Where to begin? Hmm… I know! Some copper from Jersey f*cked five cows and got off the hook.

Now, I gather you’re thinking this some tawdry Lampoon ploy – a catchy headline, “Moorestown, NJ” as our setting, and the super-popular bestiality/law enforcement shell game trick. I can hear it now: “Moorestown! Ha-ha! I get it! Cows go Moo!” No. This is a good, old-fashioned, veritable act of cow raping.

I couldn’t make up a pile of dung like this if I tried. Well, I could, but that’s not the point. For example, if your humble and reserved author were to conjure up a fictional town for this gripping piece of legal drama, unquestionably I’d avoid a stupid pun like “Moorestown” to represent man-bovine love – Newark makes much more sense.

Judge James J. Morley dropped animal cruelty charges against New Jersey Police Officer Robert Melia Jr. after he allegedly had sex with some baby cows. Here’s the kicker, the ruling was based on a premise that the cows may have liked and welcomed Mr. Police Officer’s dong:

[Judge] Morley ruled that oral sex with cows cannot constitute animal cruelty since the cows aren’t talking and may not have been “tormented” or “puzzled” by the experience.

In a simply amazing exchange with prosecutors, Morley went into the uncertainties of man-cow relations: “If the cow had the cognitive ability to form thought and speak, would it say, ‘Where’s the milk? I’m not getting any milk,’” …

Morley went on to explain that children are comforted by pacifiers and perhaps cows are equally pacified by police officers in these cases: “They [children] enjoy the act of suckling,” the judge said. “Cows may be of a different disposition.” …

Morley ignored that one cow head-butted Melia in the stomach and appeared far from happy. The prosecutor objected that the cows were “very upset” by Melia’s action and stated “I think any reasonable juror could infer that a man’s penis in the mouth of a calf is torment.”

You see, bestiality is not a crime in New Jersey. And to answer your question, yes, now’s a good time to buy real estate.

While the omission of bestiality from New Jersey law should really not come as any big surprise, animal cruelty prohibitions are etched in Jersey concrete. Here, there was no animal cruelty as a matter of law. It is to the law of animal cruelty, not bestiality, the judge was duty bound to follow. Clearly, Judge Morley made the right call. By the way, when I write the word “clearly,” I really mean the opposite of “clearly.”

To sum up the court’s logic, the prosecutor couldn’t offer up enough evidence to prove the cow did not dig giving Melia blow jobs. Simple. Case dismissed. Hooray for strict construction!

Here’s where I disagree. It’s not as if the cop’s from Detroit — the man’s from New Jersey. What decent cow would give a cop from New Jersey a hummer?

By Thane Economou
Images by Kris Hanson

In a stunning and surprising move, President Barack Obama signed a declaration of war against the cable news network Fox News in the Oval Office earlier today. He then announced his decision that fighting a television station is clearly a higher priority than focusing on health care reform.
“It is Fox News who is going to need health care,” said Obama, “when I’m done kicking their asses.” Obama then gestured for Fox News to “suck it,” and swaggered away from the podium.
Confrontations between the Obama Administration and Fox News have been occurring for some time now. In recent weeks, the White House had accused Fox News of not being a real news network, to which Rupert Murdoch, chairman of News Corp, replied: “then why is it called Fox News?” White House Press Secretary Robert Gibbs has yet to give a rebuttal to this argument.
Additionally, White House communications director Anita Dunn has branded Fox News as being on the payroll for the GOP. Fox News pundit Glenn Beck responded on his show yesterday saying, “We’re not on the payroll. That is offensively false. We gladly do this for free!” He then wept for four and a half solid minutes of airtime.
After signing the declaration of war, Obama instantly gathered the chiefs of staff and Keith Olbermann to the war room to begin plans of attack. Olbermann was forced to leave the meeting early when he ejaculated in his pants at the sight of Obama.
Two main criticisms of Obama’s war on Fox News have already surfaced. The first is that he did not seek a resolution of approval from a worldwide, peacekeeping organization such as the U.N. or The View. Insiders claim Obama feared a veto from Elisabeth Hasselbeck of The View’s security council. The second criticism is the White House’s alliance with liberal biased cable news network MSNBC. But Robert Gibbs claims the prayers and self-flagellations led by Keith Olbermann every morning in the MSNBC offices for their lord and savior Barack Obama in no way make them a biased news network.
The first shots of The Great Fox News War were fired by the Obama administration announcing it will not be sending officials to Fox News shows for interviews. Additionally, Robert Gibbs urged other networks to not allow Fox News into the White House press room and to defriend them on Facebook.
Verbal assaults from Gibbs and Dunn from the White House have proved the most dangerous attacks on Fox News. Dunn’s insistence that Fox News was biased so enraged Bill O’Reilly that on his show, The O’Reilly Factor, he began a rant claiming rumors of bias had been spread by “pinko, liberal, faggy pinheads!” His head then exploded, and O’Reilly became the first casualty of the Fox News War.

The bloodshed continued when Chris Matthews began a violent rampage through Fox News’s New York headquarters, tearing employees from limb from limb. Those present claim the offices fell into a Cloverfield-esque state of mass chaos. Women and children and Shepard Smith huddled in corners, crying in fear, as a bloody, growling Matthews hulked past. His ferocious attack was only stopped when Neil Cavuto’s head proved too large to eat, and he retreated back to MSNBC’s base.

One glimmer of hope between the war of the biased news left and the biased news right came when former co-hosts Sean Hannity and Alan Colmes were seen embracing one another on a fire escape, singing “Tonight” from West Side Story.
Throughout this bloody combat, the Switzerland of the cable news networks, CNN, has remained both neutral and last place in the ratings. To respond, Wolf Blitzer has added an additional two screens to his Situation Room (bringing the total to 47) and Anderson Cooper is now doing the news fully nude.
Obama claims he will not end this war until Fox News is destroyed. “I will not stop the battle against biased information until every news network agrees with me and repeats that message. And I will not stop this war to maintain our freedom of speech until this news network is destroyed. Can we destroy Fox News? Yes we can.”

Book by Zack Parsons

Review by Aaron J. Waltke

Perhaps it is a sad state of affairs when I can say that I am no longer fazed by the outlandish and disturbing extremes that human beings will go to in order to distinguish themselves as depraved outcasts in a society already overpopulated by the corrupted and insane. I don’t mean to suggest with that statement that I’ve become some hardhearted war veteran, calloused to graphic images of genocide, death, inequality and evil in its purest forms. Those are all still pretty bad, even in my eyes.

I just mean I’ve been on the Internet a lot.

The profound impact of the Internet on the human psyche, specifically the combined aspects of anonymity and the open platform for expressing oneself it provides, has summoned from the cyber-depths and given a voice to some very, very strange individuals. I’ve seen whole online communities dedicated to a sexual fetish revolving around the collecting and popping of birthday balloons. I’ve seen forums where people believe they are capable of firing Dragonball Z kamehameha energy blasts from their palms if they flail their arms and yell into their webcams. I have stared deep into the eye of the digital abyss, and I pray to whichever patron saints are in charge of Google Image Searches and browser histories that those perversions of cyberspace have not stared too deeply into me.

Zack Parsons’ new humor book entitled “Your Next Door Neighbor is a Dragon” takes the grotesque fascination of Internet voyeurism one step further than I am comfortable with— that is, meeting face-to-face with the reprobates and weirdoes of the World Wide Web and documenting his encounters with them in real life (or IRL, in internet-speak). Read More

By Colt Brechtel

Many have donned one. Many have cultivated one. I am unable to grow one. But no one has ever, EVER, in the history of mankind attempted to comb through the great encyclopedia of humanity to rank them. But why rank 100 when you can lop ten off?

Ladies and Gentlemen: the Top Ninety Mustaches of All Time!

90: Jason Giambi- Steroids, bad for the balls, good for the stache.

89: Dr. Phil- “All those things you do that make your wife angry, you need to not do those.”

88: Walter Cronkite- The most trusted mustache in America.

87: Mel Gibson- Might have been responsible for that time when he did all that stuff.

86: John Cleese- And now for a stache completely different.

85: George Orwell- Big Brother won’t let him shave it and he has no problem with that.

84: Any Barbershop Quartet- mustache… mustache … mustache … MUSTACHE…

83: Carlos Santana- The stache wanted no part of the Rob Thomas duet.

82: Biker from The Village People- Believe it or not, the stache was totally straight.

81: Danny Glover- This stache is getting too old for this sh*t.

80: Pat O’Brien- I wanna f*ckin go crazy on that mustache.

79: Phil Jackson- Perfected the art of the triangle mustache.

78: Sean Penn - “People on ‘ludes should not grow mustaches!” - Jeff Spicoli

77: Wesley Snipes- A tragically underappreciated mustache constantly being upstaged by arm pit hair.

76: Walt Disney - A true OG. What’s with the Lost clue on the tie, though?

by Colt Brechtel

Slow walkers move in packs and are devastating obstacles for city folk with things to do and places to go. They come in many forms: old people, fat people, drunk people, tourists, small dog walkers, and couples so in love they are oblivious to their surroundings. They have given me problems my entire life, mostly because walking around as a loser with no friends has made me impatient. Once, I took a two block detour because I knew it would be easier than getting around two old women with canes. Even when I’m not pressed for time, I still feel as if I have to get to the destination as early as possible. It is a curse that has forced me into more awkward situations than I’d like to admit.

Deciding whether or not to pass sidewalk snails is difficult. I am always a bit fearful that someone I pass will take offense, beat me up, or worst of all, make fun of me for being in such a hurry. If its a group of scary, thug-looking people, I usually slow down and wait for our paths to diverge. This way I can remain out of the way and avoid any chance of a violent confrontation. If its a jumpy, nervous single lady, I usually make a quick move around and trudge onward. Lurking behind a girl like Gollum increases the risk of getting undeservedly maced. Of course, the most embarrassing scenario is when I pass someone only to find that the person was only temporarily slowed and is now at my heels trying to get by. If I do not gear up into power walk mode, he will make me look like a complete ass. Read More

By Alex Moaba , read about Alex here

Mr. President: I’ve been asked to give you a briefing for your upcoming trip to Yellowstone National Park, having myself ventured there on vacation a week ago. I too traveled in a giant SUV, was accompanied by my family and tried to leave the car as rarely as possible.

Driving through Yellowstone is like taking a safari of the American West just as it was 200 years ago. You’ll see things you’ve only read about in the history books — bald eagles soaring through the sky, herds of buffalo freely roaming the plains, dead Native Americans lining the side of the road. Think Dances With Wolves meets Jurassic Park.

The beauty of the pristine landscapes is awe-inspiring. As I overheard a Hell’s Angel say to his 250 pound bearded lady of a girlfriend at a scenic overlook, “this is Church for the day.” You’ve been looking for a new church, right? Nevermind. Tell the cameras you’ve come West for a weekend of peace, solitude, and reflection that can be found here, in God’s Country — it sounds like something Lincoln might’ve said.

Yellowstone should be a nice place to get away from the toxic politics of this week’s health care debate. Then again, Montana is the home state of Sen. Max Baucus, head of the Senate Finance Committee and grand poobah of the “Blue Dog Democrats.” You may need to show up on his porch with a bottle of Roughstock Montana Whiskey, get him really sauced and refuse to leave until you’ve secured the public option. Two words — Whiskey Summit.

Another plus - for now, there are no loaded guns allowed in National Parks, unlike your recent Town Hall event in New Hampshire, where wingnuts showed up armed and yelling. Although thanks to a provision put into the Credit Card Bill you signed in May, that firearms ban will be lifted next February. Well done, sir!

Be sure to give a speech in front of the Roosevelt Arch. It’s like the Brandenburg Gate of Yellowstone, except this time Angela Merkel can’t tell you not to use national monuments for your personal political stagecraft.

As to the message of said speech, consider something like this: “National parks - a shining example of one good thing the federal government has accomplished in the last 100 years!” The National Parks Service was established in 1916, something most people can agree was a pretty decent idea, and after you trashed the Post Office a few days ago the federal bureaucracy is in dire need of a hug.

Be sure not to jump in any hot sulfur springs. While these pools may look like the awesomest of hot-tubs, Yellowstone is a live volcanic site, and the pools are fueled by superheated water and gas that could burn your skin off, leaving you with Michael Jackson Disease. Though the sulfurous stench that radiates from them does provide excellent cover should you feel the need to rip one.

Skip Old Faithful. One of the biggest geysers in the country, it’s been shooting eruptions of water over 100 feet into the air every 78 minutes for the last 10,000 years. It’s also a tourist trap packed with fat asses and mullets. You came here to be in nature, not wait on line for Splash Mountain.

Drive the Bear Tooth Highway. First commissioned by Herbert Hoover and then continued under FDR as government make-work, it’s a windy mountain highway with phenomenal views that ascends up 11,000 feet. If there was a project this cool in the Economic Recovery Act, you’d probably be there this weekend, but there isn’t, because it’s impossible.

Don’t get on a horse. Seriously dude, no. We all loved City Slickers, but there is major Dukakis on a tank/ John Kerry in hunting gear potential here. You may also want to avoid cowboy hats.

Don’t expect to be able to use a cell phone, Blackberry, or access the Internet while in the park. This will mean no checking White Sox scores or texts from Rahm, as well as the possibility of Joe Biden running the country for a few hours while you’re off the grid. In other words, this trip is a terrible, terrible idea.

by Colt Brechtel
images by Kris Hanson

Business Description

The Killin’ Nazi Business is a venture that offers Nazi eradication services to the public of France and bordering areas. The enterprise was founded by Lt. Aldo Raine, a redneck visionary known throughout German military units as Aldo the Apache. Using the latest in United States military grade weaponry, Raine along with a team of associates affectionately called basterds locate problematic Nazi battalions and neutralize their effect on the general populace. Upon capturing Nazi groups, specialists are brought in to implement creative mutilation techniques and discover new opportunities in Nazi killin’. The Nazi aint got no humanity and they need to be destroyed. The company is currently looking for investors interested in becoming a part of a business that is truly a-boomin’.

Location

The Killin’ Nazi Business is constantly on the move. Headquarters shifts across the countryside of France. There is no permanent office or mailing address.

Industry Conditions

The Nazi suppression industry is a growing field that has begun showing impressive returns. What sets us apart from other combat units is our uncommon lack of mercy and affinity for vengeance. While the market is currently flooded with organizations working in the prisoner takin’ business, there are very few that are entirely dedicated to killin’ Nazi. This gives The Killin’ Nazi Business the ability to fulfill the specific needs of a niche market on nearly exclusive terms.

Services

The Killin’ Nazi Business is capable of accommodating a wide variety of Nazi eradication needs. Services include cranial targeted baseball bat swings, close range machine gun ambushes, and oversized explosions. These methods are carried out by experienced professionals who can guarantee satisfaction.

Marketing

The primary marketing tactic for The Killin’ Nazi Business is an unconventional form of word of mouth. By simply being cruel to the German, the people will in time become more familiar with the company. The technique involves three results. The German will be sickened by the company, the German will talk about the company, and the German will fear the company. The company also promotes the brand by leaving easy to discover evidence of the aforementioned cruelty. This takes the form of the disemboweled, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of German brothers that have been left behind.

Projections

The Killin’ Nazi Business has eight employees, all of which have been assigned non-negotiable quotas requiring them to produce one hundred Nazi scalps. Ergo, the company will produce numbers of killed Nazis in excess of eight hundred.

Future Opportunities

The war will not last forever. The Killin’ Nazi Business has planned ahead and is fully prepared to extend its services to include Nazis other than those involved in the National Socialist movement. The company will continue to thrive by focusing its effort on the killing of neo-Nazis, soup and other kinds of food Nazis, and the overwhelmingly aggravating Yahtzee Nazis.

Funding

The Killin’ Nazi Business receives funding from the United States government, but is also receptive to private investment. The company needs to cover a seventy million dollar film budget… I mean collateral… or capital… or something.

by Thane Economou
images by Kris Hanson

Infamously bitchy dictator Adolf Hitler has recently set up his own website and blog, showcasing his sharp-tongued views on celebrity gossip. Under the pseudonym Perez Hitler, the Fuhrer is sure to start a fervor around Hollywood and promises to be as ruthless with celebrities as he has been with the people of Europe.

“I promise to put the dick back in dictator,” laughed Hitler earlier today in a press conference, sporting his trademark pink-tinted hair. “I will make this the most popular celebrity gossip website on the Internet. And let me tell you, when I put my mind to something, I get it done.”

Hitler rose to fame with his first book Mein Kampf. His catty rhetoric and general bitchiness made the memoir a bestseller. It attracted the attention of Hollywood fashionistas, gossip rags, hip fascists and anti-Semites worldwide. He is currently working on a sequel, tentatively titled Mein Kampf In Your Mouth.

Hitler, who writes from his favorite coffee shop, Goebbels’ Gourmet Beanery, has made his mark on the world by making fun of popular public figures, such as notorious attention whores Christian Rakovsky, the Chairman of the Ukrainian Soviet government, and Eleanor “The Super Dike” Roosevelt.

The website will focus on celebrity faux pas - such as Nip Slips, Panty Shots, and disagreements with the National Socialist Party. For instance, when Hans Scholl created the anti-Hitler resistance group, White Rose, Hitler famously said, “Don’t go there, girlfriend!” Scholl was executed hours later.

Former National Lampoon writer and editor John Hughes has passed away at 59. He was best known for his prolific 80’s comedies like “Sixteen Candles”, “Weird Science” “Breakfast Club”, “Home Alone” and “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off” just to name a few. Hughes films dominated the box office with his thoughtfully quirky characters and observational humor that changed comedy writing indefinitely.

John Hughes began his career as an advertising copywriter in Chicago then quickly moved on to writing for National Lampoon during the 1970s and by 1979 became the editor of the magazine.

According to the Internet Movie Database, his first screenwriting credit was for the “Animal House” TV spin-off, “Delta House.”

“National Lampoon’s Vacation (1983),” was based on a short story he had written for the magazine called “Vacation ‘58″ which was based on a fictionalized childhood remembrance of a road trip to Disneyland gone horribly wrong.

We at National lampoon owe a great deal to John Hughes’ influence on the magazine and comedy in general. Hughes will continue to inspire and entertain future generations through his timeless perception of teenage and family life.

We are going to be going through our archives and reposting some of his most famous work published in the National Lampoon, so keep an eye out over the next couple of weeks.

National Lampoon was able to get our hands on some Obama birthday cards from his “closest” friends. Enjoy and Happy Birthday Obama, we’ll see you later at The Body Shop.

Illustrations by Kris Hanson

Joe Biden’s:

From his “Citizenry”

By Gabe Grossman

Excerpts from National Lampoon’s Glorious Book of Records Things: First and Oldest Kenyan Elected President of the United States.

We, as a society, are fascinated by world records. Perhaps it is that Randian strain of pull-yourself-up-by-your-garters individualism that is so prevalent in our American culture that leads us to obsess with the idea of a person, or a group of people, going out and defying the odds to find some momentary, probably perverse glory where no one else can. It’s that spirit-and the unflagging desire for celebrity, of course-that drives it. Go where no man has gone before, invent something entirely new, grow your fingernails to lengths unheard of by man, beast, or shrub. It’s a mixture of entrepreneurial and creative spirits, a mixture which intrigues us at National Lampoon just as much as it does you. That, and we really want to out do Guinness at their own game.

So today, the fourth of August in the 2009^th year of our Lord, we hereby inaugurate the National Lampoon’s Glorious Book of Records and Things. To mark the occasion, we present to you a taste of what’s to come, with our first entry:

On August 4^th, 2009, Barack Obama turned 48 years old. By making it this far, Barack Obama has become the oldest Kenyan elected President of the United States of America. Until now, Obama has held firm in his claim of being an American citizen. But, on being granted the award (thrown over the White House gates and over the Rose Garden by none other than Chevy Chase), Barack Obama surprised the world (and Democrats across the nation) by admitting his true heritage.

“You know, people, they say to me, ‘Barack, why’d you do it? Why take on this job during these hard times?’ [Laughs] and, you know, I always said, ‘We’re Americans, and Americans have always come together when times get tough. We see challenges through to the end, we’re a hard working people, and we always end up stronger and more united than where we left off.’ But, uh, you know, now I feel all right telling the people the truth, getting this weight off my back, you know? Now when someone asks me that questions I’m free to tell them, ‘Well, you know, I hold the record for Oldest Kenyan President of the United States, and the first Kenyan actually elected.’ [Laughs] I’m all like, ‘Psych!’”

Obama surpasses Millard Fillmore, née Al K. Dah, as the oldest Kenyan citizen to become President of the United States. Fillmore, a petit 43 when he was inaugurated, became the first Kenyan president of the United States when in 1850. He was the first Kenyan to hold American office when, in 1848, Congress passed the United Brotherhood Act. The act, penned by Stuart Jauelly Dobbs (great-great-grandfather of TV pundit Lou Dobbs), stated, “It is heretofore noted that, forthwith, the American people share so much in common with the Kenyan people that we have an obligation-a duty-to give them say in our governmental proceedings. Just as our forefathers demanded, we must lend our ears to our Kenyan neighbors to the East and let our brothers represent.

When asked by trusty National Lampoon reporters how he’d celebrate the momentous occasion, Obama replied, “You know, I think I’m going to have a cigarette, put on a ceremonial kanzu robe, and dance the Sikuti.”

When asked what he thought of his great-great-grandfather’s landmark act which allowed for this historical event, Lou Dobbs replied with a baritone and melodramatic “gobble gobble” and proceeded to peck at some crumbs someone had dropped on the floor.

The End

Illustration by David Dees

by MaryKate Linehan

In a surprise move, Wendell, famed Cinnamon Toast Crunch mascot, admitted in detail to the brutal slayings of fellow bakers Bob and Quello.

Since 1992, Bob and Quello vanished from boxes and commercials, leaving Wendell to inherit sole recognition for this popular General Mills cereal. Upon the brand’s introduction in 1984, the three bakers were hired in order to compete with Kellogg’s Rice Krispie’s trio Snap, Crackle, and Pop but failed to attain the same notoriety. Before they could renegotiate their contracts, Bob and Quello disappeared before anything was adjusted. Read More

by MaryKate Linehan

Aquarius

(January 20-February 17)

Your life straight up sucks. Things will change once you stop eating sidewalk chalk before the 30th.

Pisces

(February 18-March 19)

You will avoid death this week. So wipe that sh*t eating grin off your stupid face.

Aries

(March 20-April 19)

Have you learned to recognize your inner beauty? If a unicorn crapped out a bunch of rainbows would you know the how to divide it by 7? Please reflect. Read More

There are a lot of things going on in the world today: we’re in the middle of a recession, one of the Koreas has a bomb or something and Michael Jackson died.  None of that stuff really interests me, mostly because CNN uses big words and I don’t care to expand my vocabulary.

However, there are certain things in the world that really jump out at me, especially when it comes to odd things and sex.  So when I saw the article titled: “Confessions of a Scarlet Widow: How I used sex to get over my husband’s death”, I was intrigued.  Amy Molloy was only 23 when her husband died of cancer.  Sounds sad right?  But only up until the part where she becomes a huge whore who shags anything with legs.

The excerpts below are from her upcoming book “Wife Interrupted” available July 23rd.  In italics are what went on in my head as I read this widow’s story….enjoy!

By the time my husband had been dead for 13 months, I had slept with 27 men.

Well you don’t waste anytime now, do you?  And if I’ve done my math correctly that’s about 2 men a month, give or take.  I’m guessing you did both.

Because sex I can do: at sex I’m a pro.

No need to brag.  And what kind of sentence structure is that?  Since when can we use semi-colons in sentences?  Oh wait, you’re from the UK.  That explains everything. Read More

By Anayat, Ben Brock, Thane Economou, and Gabe Grossman

Illustrations by Kris Hanson.

With the newest Sex and the City sequel beginning production, agents and managers alike are scrambling to find the synopsis of Darren Star’s latest magnum opus. The project is so super secret that even Sarah Jessica Parker hasn’t read the story. However, through nights of diligent research and highly illegal espionage, our crack team of unpaid slackers apparently found ten never before seen scripts of the latest addition to the Sex and the City Saga.

Now, National Lampoon presents the findings of our hard working young men: The ten uncovered Sex and the City sequel scripts.

The girls decide they no longer can deal with men. Samantha then begins a massive lesbian orgy, wherein the girls give pleasure to one another and moan really loud and it gets really hot and Charlotte is totally a freak and they are all like naked and stuff. Read More

The best inventions are often simply a combination of two pre-existing things.   For example: phones that can check your favorite cat-based blogs; the Irish Spring 2-in-1 hair and body wash that can get you in and out of the shower faster than a pit crew on chocolate covered espresso beans; and a chair that swivels, reclines, and prevents rickets.   These are all basic concepts that someone knew to bring together into one glorious package.   So who did it better than anyone else?

Ladies and Gentlemen (and combiniations of the two), the Top 20 2-in-1’s of all time.

20. Ring Pop: Feel like wearing a little extra bling to a party, but worried you might get hungry?  Look no further!  The ring pop fulfills the desires of a foodie and a fashionista.

19. Heelies: The shoes everyone secretly wanted, but most were too embarrassed to wear in public.  For kids who want to be more mobile pains-in-the-ass.

18. Ice Cream Cake: For those of you out there that can’t wait to eat your ice cream after that large slice of cake. Why just clog your arteries when you can get a double-dip of diabetes as well?

17. Arnold Palmer: The near perfect combination of iced tea and lemonade was patented by near perfect golfer Arnold Palmer.  Unfortunately, the beverage does not cure a scythe-like slice.

16. Skymall: How many times have you been on a plane and thought to yourself, “Shit, this flight is really taking time away from my shopping.”  Alternatively, how many times have you been in a mall and thought to yourself, “Shit, this mall would be so much more fun if it could fly.” Read More

Photos by Kris Hanson
Captions by Anayat, Gabe Grossman, Ben Brock, and Thane Economou

Many people are saying that President Obama’s tookus-gazing antics at the G-8 summit in Italy was in bad taste. Sure, the President stared down that Brazilian girl’s posterior like it was made of tasty, delicious Ovaltine, but it is far from the most embarrassing moments in photographic history for our glorious leader.

Due to some diligent digging by the nifty P.I.’s deep in the basement of Lampoon Central, we have uncovered some very interesting photographs starring President Obama from the past few decades.

Obama the Furry:

While it has been confirmed that Obama had a friendship with William Ayers of the 1960s domestic terrorist group The Weather Underground, their relationship was not as sinister as many Republicans would like you to think. Here you can see Barack attending Underground’s yearly furries retreat “F*ck Like Rabbits ‘98″. Read More

by Colt Brechtel

There is nothing funny about sandwiches. The only thing remotely funny about the lunch item is this classic joke:

Why is it that you will you never starve at the beach?
Because of all the sand-which-is there.

By now, half of you have stopped reading this article, but I want to let the world know that I f*cking love sandwiches. The concept is so simple, and yet there are so many possibilities. Surely, you can tell that I have no academic background or professional training in the art of sandwich crafting. I’m just a guy that eats them all the time. By all means, I have no business acting as an authority on the very personal process of sandwich creation and I do not intend to force you into thinking my way. Still, I believe that I can provide some very useful advice on how to make the most out of your meal.

Too often, I see men and women wasting the potential of their groceries. The passion is there, the desire to create an enjoyable meal is there, but something goes wrong with the execution. I hope that you will continue on with me as I explore the many ways to not ruin a sandwich. Read More

by Gabe Grossman

Something is rotten in the state of Neverland.

As the world-except the Lost Boys and some of the giraffes on his ranch-by now knows, thanks to a glut of coverage reaching its boiling point, something big happened this past weekend, and it was not in Honduras. The Hindenberg to humanity’s hope, Thursday the 25th of June marked the end of the Dynasty of Pop. Though short-lived at only twenty years, its reach spread far and wide: from the snow-capped mountains of Carpathia to the sinking temples of Tenochtitlan, from the Alaskan archipelagos to the humpbacked whales of Cape Horn. Read More

by Carly Verble

Over the past decade, George Clooney has been crowned “The Sexiest Man Alive” two times. First of all, someone really needs to explain how you can go from sexiest to unsexy to sexiest again, without mentioning a Justin Timberlake lyric. Second, that’s two times too many. As a woman, there are varying characteristics that make a man sexy such as his sense of humor, his smile and of course his big thick biceps. (You thought I was going to say penis didn’t you? Penis is actually in the “deal breaker” category.) For the life of me I just don’t understand why people think George Clooney is sexy or even hot. Maybe it’s because his eyebrows remind me of my dad. Actually, I’m a little creeped out that ‘penis’ and ‘dad’ are even in the same paragraph. But seriously, with all the incredibly good-looking men on the planet, there is no way George is worthy of that title. Now before heaps of women send me death threats I would like to clarify one thing I am NOT saying George is ugly, he’s simply average with nothing incredibly special about him, except maybe what’s in his wallet. That being said, the following men put George Clooney and his alleged sexiness to shame. Read More

by O.C.

History

In 1776 a committee of our forefathers, two men wearing wigs - Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, one balding with long hair on the side - Benjamin Franklin and two men that names don’t really need to be mentioned drafted the Declaration of Independence. Actually Thomas Jefferson wrote up the draft and the only thing John Adams and Benjamin Franklin did was make a few minor changes and deleted several sections including one condemning slavery before it was submitted to the Continental Congress. It was probably fat ass Benjamin Franklin that decided to delete that section and his rationalization behind it, who else would hold his kite with the key attached to the end in the middle of a thunderstorm - not like he wasn’t crazy enough to do it himself, but I guess this would be more fun to watch. Read More

by Jeff Lutz & O.C. Newby

It starts as soon as I get out of my car and walk by the smokers.  Every ten minutes, they’re filing in and out of the office for what they like to call a “smoke break.”  The only consolation:  they probably have lung cancer.

I sit down at my cubicle and look around.  I’m like a rat trapped in some kind of experiment.  Why three walls?  I’m not an actor in a play!  I look up.  Oh, God.  It’s the Happy-Go-Lucky Morning Guy.  He is ALWAYS in a good mood.  “How was your weekend?  Are you working hard or hardly working?”  he says, laughing at his own joke.  Well, I just walked in the door and sat down so what do you think?  I can’t wait until Happy-Go-Lucky Morning Guy becomes a victim of this competitive environment.  We’ll see how happy he is then.

The Young Gun struts by and hands me three memos.  “This proposal is red hot.  Let’s hit a home run and expand the pie.”  Punk brat.  He thinks he knows everything because he went to some fancy school that ends in University.  I start typing up a report - Is this project pigs or chickens? - only to be interrupted by Forward Guy.  He’s going to “shoot” me an email.  Please read string below.  This guy has more communication with me than my Domestic Dependent Plus One.  Chain letters, page-and-a-half-long jokes, wildly inappropriate pictures.  Today, it’s a video of Spencer Pratt getting f*cked by an emu which he thinks is hilarious!

Read More

By Thane Economou and Rachel Arbeit

“She Went To Neverland”
- Johnny Depp, Finding Neverland

Michael Jackson, sadly passed away on June 25, 2009.  Tours were cancelled, celebrities mourned, British housewives shrieked and the music world lost a genius.

For the man who entertained so many, it is time for us to give back.  Is it too soon to make jokes? No, we’re National Lampoon.

These are the best Michael Jackson jokes of all time; we’ll just call it the Michael Jackson’s Greatest Hits: Jokes Edition.

A: Get out of my son.
Q: What did the lady say to Michael Jackson at the beach?

Click here for more of his Greatest Hits

by Jocelyn Richard

Excerpts from Edith Wilson’s An Accidental Idol

CHAPTER 86: “Lovely Burgers and Burgeoning Love”

It was an hour before show time, but Susan Boyle was already nervous and unsightly. Her stomach churned with angst, and also from the Mini Sirloin Burgers she ate earlier that day. The penetrating smell of competition overwhelmed her elfin nostrils like bad wasabi, but that was nothing compared to the pressure she felt from deep within her heart, past all the layers of fatty tissue and everything, to find the perfect man-one that would appreciate Susan for Susan. “If only I could find a man that is desperately seeking Susan,” she pondered ever-so-cleverly, recalling the last movie she’d seen in theaters. “I would marry him in a heartbeat, provided my heart is still beating after so many trips to Jack in the Box.”

Read More

by Anayat Fakhraie

Douchebag  (Duh-ce’ bag) noun/- commonly referred to as the gym or club rat.

Examining the creature known to many as the modern-day douchebag, it is imperative to understand the animal that populates many of our cities and nightclubs. The douchebag is a tricky creature mainly due to its slimy hair follicles and budging physique. However, anybody that doesn’t shop at Abercrombie & Finch, mainly minorities who aren’t allowed inside, knows how to spot this elusive animal.  From the popped collar to the leased BMW, douchbags have flourished in the healthy economy of yesteryear.  Growing at an alarming rate, they have expanded from the West and East coasts to infiltrate the larger portion of America; leaving a trail of women filled with regret behind them.

Read More

“This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.” T.S. Eliot, known for his positivity, remarked that the dramatic explosive apocalypses depicted in fiction rarely mirrored reality, in which ends come about slowly and sadly and completely explosion-free.

Luckily, careers have been ending in a ball of flames for years. I say luckily, because the cataclysmic fall off one’s pedestal is often enjoyable for the people below. And it’s for this reason that we’re proud to present: the Top 30 Career Suicides of All Time! Read More

by Champs O’Fallon

Growing up with brothers and sisters can be hard, but try raising them. Eight of them for that matter. Just ask Kate Gosselin, one half of the miracle duo featured on Jon and Kate Plus Eight (Which can be seen twelve hours a day on TLC, along with the channel’s other program, Little People, Big Problem). I  can commiserate coming from a normal Irish Catholic family of twelve brothers and sisters. (Note: That’s actually just a little O’Fallon family joke, I really only had 11 siblings, but Dad’s healthcare wouldn’t cover Alex’s corrective surgery until s/he was 14. Dad still tells him that he was the daughter that he’s always wanted. Oh, dad…) Being the youngest of seven brothers born in 1984, (All fraternal, no twins. Our doctor used to call my mom the “McUterus”) you can imagine my struggle for our parents attention. I can still vaguely remember nursing at eight months old, as my mother laid on the couch with her blouse undone, exhaustedly reading People magazine as my siblings and I would desperately climb over one another for sustinance. I can even recall one time, when my older brother, Michael, to slow my approach towards my mothers breast, wrapped a shoelace, procured from my father’s work boot, around my tiny neck as my other brother, Jimmy,  pushed down with all his little might on the soft spot at the top of my head. Boys, will be boys. Read More

by Carly Verble

It’s rare to see mascots that represent products like we did way back when.  Companies would rather spend their money on celebrity endorsements in the hope that more consumers will buy their products.  I’m sure Doublemint sold TONS of gum when Chris Brown was their spokesman and Kellogg’s definitely saw a spike in sales after Michael Phelps’ ‘Bong-Gate” incident.  If celebrity endorsements are too risky, they get a professional like Billy Mays, who can literally sell anything.  With his charm and slick salesmanship (read: screaming), it’s impossible to keep anything on the shelves.

However, there are companies who have stuck to the old way of doing things by creating a fictitious character to be their spokesperson.  For many companies, this has proven to be very effective.  Take, for example, Morris the Cat, brand representative of 9 Lives.  This cute, cuddly feline has crawled his way into the hearts and homes of many consumers.  Why?  Because he’s a cute, cuddly cat, that’s why!

Read More

by Colt Brechtel

It’s the worldwide fad that refuses to die: dancing.  People from vastly different cultures regularly engage in the practice and seem to truly enjoy it.  It has been the subject of many of our nation’s most beloved films like Dirty Dancing, Save the Last Dance, Footloose (soon to be remade), and of course, You Got Served.  However, there is a small section of society that is not so fond of the institution.  A young adult, who has requested not to be identified, is speaking out on the craze that he believes is not as fun as they say.  This incredibly charming, intelligent, and impressive young man has trouble understanding the phenomenon:

“I don’t get dancing.  Really, I don’t get anyone who does something other than standing around somewhat uncomfortably when loud music is playing.  I reluctantly participate, but its appeal is beyond me.”

Read More

The best films of all time have a lot in common: big stars, auteur screenwriters and directors, and a noticeable lack of Jessica Alba. But while the themes of great films all vary, most have the same thing in common: revenge! Few topics cause America to flood the cineplexes than someone done wrong on a quest to make it right. That’s one of the reasons Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen is the most anticipated film of the summer.

But what movies did it better than the rest? Which gave us a tortured hero and an unconquerable villain who Had It Comin’? Ladies and gentlemen: the Top 20 Revenge Films of All Time! Read More

by Edith Wilson

Since its inception in 1997, critics have rejoiced in Pixar’s ability to infuse youthy, hip subject matter with deeper, darker and more philosophical facts of life (hence it’s industry moniker, “The Pauly Shore of Animation”). Up, it’s most recent animated feature, successfully punctuates an upbeat adventure story with a montage about aging and loss; but according to a recent LAtimes article, Pixar overlords were hesitant to include the segment for fear that its somber subtext might impose too harshly upon its lighter fare (such was the case with Up’s disastrous prequel, Operation Dumbo Drop).

It is a little known fact, however, that Up is not the first Pixar film to undergo intense montage-scrutiny; in fact, past producers were forced to cut montages in some of their best-known works. For reasons known only to Michael Eisner, The National Lampoon has been given exclusive access to Pixar’s archive of banished montages: Read More

by Thane Economou

Image: Kris Hanson

Over the past week, celebrity Heidi Pratt claimed she had been tortured during the NBC show I’m A Celebrity … Get Me Out Of Here!. Pratt claimed her time in the “Lost Chamber” where she spent 14 hours with spiders caused her to spend an evening in a Costa Rican hospital, and thus is torture. NBC officials claim they only use enhanced interrogation techniques on their celebrity stars. However, this recent issue has brought the decades long debate over television administrations’ treatment of celebrities and attention seeking amateur reality contestants. Read More

In a live conference anxiously watched by nerds and nerds alike, Apple released the innovative new features in iPhone’s 3.0 software, which will be released in coming weeks along with the new iPhone 3GS. But there were quite a few that were missed by the online community. So here’s a list of what to expect in iPhone 4.0:

iAmADick: Whenever you answer your iPhone, your ringtone will say: I Am A Pretentious Dick! Look at me! so you don’t have to.

iBuse: Why hit your kids when you can remotely cause their iPhones to vibrate at levels comparable to Viet Cong interrogation practices? Read More

by Colt Brechtel

Nobody wants to drag ass in the fast-paced world of today.  That’s why the market has been flooded with energy products to keep people awake, anxious, and jittery throughout all hours of the day.  It started off with drinks like Red Bull, Monster, and Rockstar which were promoted as fuel for extreme events.  Since then, it has evolved into energy shots, energy candy, energy gum, and energy mints.  And politicians say we are in an energy crisis.

For many of these products, the energy effect is psychosomatic.  You consume the product and believe that your go-forces have been renewed.  In reality, these products have less caffeine than a cup of coffee, but they taste bad and make you urinate blood*, so something special must be going on.

*This actually happened to a friend of mine who binged on a certain sugar-free energy drink whose mascot is commonly dodged by matadors and is a color associated with communists.  He went to town on these drinks during a week in Vegas, started noticing blood in his urine, and went to a doctor.  He was told to stop drinking the beverage and the bleeding stopped shortly after. Read More

With the upcoming release of The Hangover, one of the movies that we’re most looking forward to seeing this summer, the NatLamp Interns have compiled a list of our 20 favorite Las Vegas movies of all time. Enjoy!

20. Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery - Titles Considered for this film included: “Mike Myers: One Trick Pony”; “Dude, What Happened?”; and “At Least There’s Always Wayne’s World”. Read More

by Mike Rosolio

Hypocrisy is wonderful. To a satirist, hypocrisy is like his insulin. To a diabetic satirist, insulin is still insulin, but hypocrisy is close.

Gamblers across the east coast have been celebrating Delaware’s recent decision to permit betting on sports. They’ve already got racetracks, slots, and tax-free shopping (which is like gambling…without losing…it’s like gambling against an idiot). This has been music to the cauliflowered ears of degenerates of all shapes and sizes who loved throwing down a five-team parlay, but hated dodging transsexual hookers on the way into the Taj Mahal. (sidenote: Atlantic City should be defecating in their suede pants right now. If Delaware goes one more step and permits table games, the stankiest part of America’s arm pit is going to experience a new degree of dead). Read More