Friday, September 13th 2002
The already insanely bizarre art form of Animutation just stepped it up yet another notch with the ultra-groove masterpiece EARTH VS. FUNK! Get out your boogie shoes for this one!
By: Dave
Friday, Sep 13th 2002 (12:15am)
The first Viennese Vegetable Orchestra consists exclusively of vegetable-based instruments, although where necessary, additional kitchen utensils such as knives or mixers are employed. After the performance, the instruments are subsequently made into a soup so that the audience can then enjoy them a second time.
By: Dave
Friday, Sep 13th 2002 (12:15am)
Apparantly, the quest for massive schlongage isn't just limited to Johnny Punchclock - eggheaded scientists are also pursuing 'male enhancement' with considerable vigor, and are now growing penises in test tubes!
By: Dave
Friday, Sep 13th 2002 (12:01am)
Is Friday the 13th bad for your health? It may be if you try to pronounce the term for fearing this unlucky day. Say it with me now, Paraskevidekatriaphobia or friggatriskaidekaphobia. Wow, with a name that big, Friday the 13th has to be an odd occurence, right? Wrong. The 13th day of a month is more likely to be a Friday than any other day.

But screw all this technical crap, it's Friday the 13th, you want to be scared! Now I ask you, what is scarier than a Phantom Ghost Dog?
By: Scott
Friday, Sep 13th 2002 (12:01am)
Thursday, September 12th 2002
The International Association of People Who Dine Over the Kitchen Sink: No dress code, reservations, tipping, annoying table conversation; no "soup or salad" decision (have both if you like), no trying to catch the waiter's eye, no deciding whether to use the everyday dishes or the good stuff, no having to endure the waitress calling you "Hon" or "Dearie."
By: Some Nobody
Thursday, Sep 12th 2002 (12:56pm)
A man who publicly confronted astronaut Edwin "Buzz" Aldrin over whether he actually went to the moon said that the Apollo 11 hero almost sent him into space with a punch to the jaw.
By: Some Nobody
Thursday, Sep 12th 2002 (12:16am)
Dan Chambers presents Roger Moore's Requiem. Breathtaking. How can people not love the opera?
By: Dave
Thursday, Sep 12th 2002 (12:16am)
Most of the time Flash games are just too simple to keep me interested for more than a cursory moment. Well, those days are gone, I've been playing Hold The Button now for almost 14 hours!
By: Dave
Thursday, Sep 12th 2002 (12:11am)
With a little selective listening, the proof comes out: Mr. Rogers is a perv. Who knew?
By: Dave
Thursday, Sep 12th 2002 (12:06am)
If you're like me, there's nothing you desire more than the opportunity to run naked with a lot of other naked runners who are also running naked. Well, this is our lucky day!
By: Dave
Thursday, Sep 12th 2002 (12:01am)
Wednesday, September 11th 2002

110 Stories

This is not real. We've seen it all before.
Slow down, you're screaming. What exploded? When?
I guess this means we've got ourselves a war.
And look at -- Lord have mercy, not again.
I heard that they went after Air Force One.
Call FAA at once if you can't land.
They say the bastards got the Pentagon.
The Capitol. The White House. Disneyland.
I was across the river, saw it all.
Down Fifth, the buildings put it in a frame.
Aboard the ferry -- we felt awful small.
I didn't look until I felt the flame.
The steel turns red, the framework starts to go.
Jacks clasp Jills' hands and step onto the sky.
The noise was not like anything you know.
Stand still, he said, and watch a building die.
There's no one you can help above this floor.
We've got to hold our breath. We've got to climb.
Don't give me that; I did this once before.
The firemen look up, and know the time.
These labored, took their wages, and are dead.
The cracker-crumbs of fascia sieve the light.
The air's deciduous of letterhead.
How dark, how brilliant, things will be tonight.
Once more, we'll all remember where we were.
Forget it, friend. You didn't have a choice.
That's got to be a rumor, but who's sure?
The Internet is stammering with noise.
You turn and turn but just can't turn away.
My child can't understand. I can't explain.
The towers drain out from Boston to LA.
The cellphone is our ganglion of pain.
What was I thinking of? What did I say?
You're safe? The TV's off. What do you mean?
I'm going now, but not going away.
I couldn't touch the answering machine.
I nearly was, but caught a later bus.
I would have been, but had this awful cold.
I spoke with her, she's headed home, don't fuss.
Pick up those tools. The subway job's on hold.
Somebody's got to pay, no matter what.
I love you. Just I love you. Just I love --
The cloud rolls on; I think of Eliot.
Not silence, but an emptiness above.
There's dust, and metal. Nothing else at all.
it's airless and it's absolutely black.
I found a wallet. I'm afraid to call.
I'll stay until my little girl comes back.
You hold your breath whenever something shakes.
St. Vincent's takes one massive trauma case.
The voice, so placid, till the circuit breaks.
Ten minutes just to grab stuff from my place.
I only want to hear them say goodbye.
They could be down there, buried, couldn't they?

My friends all made it, and that's why I cry.
He stayed with me, and he died anyway.
We almost tipped the island toward uptown.
Next minute, I'm in Macy's. Who knows how.
I really need to get this bagel down.
He'd haul ass, that's what Jesus would do now.
A fighter plane? Dear God, let it be ours.
We're scared of bombs and so we're loading guns.
Who didn't have a rude word for the towers?
The world's hip-deep in junk that mattered once.
Hands rise to heaven as asbestos falls.
The air is yellow, hideously thick.
A photo, private once, on fifty walls.
A candle in a teacup on a brick.
They found -- can you believe -- a pair of hands.
Oh, that don't hurt. Well, maybe just a bit.
The Winter Garden's shattered but it stands.
A howl is Mene Tekeled in the grit.
Some made it in a basement, so there's hope.
The following are definitely known . . .
You live, is how you learn that you can cope.
Yes, I sincerely want to be alone.
Don't even ask. That's what your tears are for.
The cats are in a shelter; we are not.
Pedestrians rule the Roeblings' bridge once more.
A memory of home is what we've got.
Tribeca with no people, that's plain wrong.
It's just a shopping bag, but who can tell?
Okay, okay, I'm moving right along.
The postcards hit two dollars, and they sell.
Be honest, now. You're proud of living here.
If this is Armageddon, make it quick.
Today, for you, the rose is free, my dear.
We're shooting down our neighbors. Now I'm sick.
I can't do that for fifty times the fare.
A coronary. Other things went on.
It goes, like, something mighty, and despair.
All those not now accounted for are gone.
Here is the man whose god blinked in the flash,
Whose god says sinful people should be hurt,
The man whose god is kneeling in the ash,
The man whose god is dancing on the dirt.
Okay, I ate at Windows now and then.
This fortune-teller went to Notre Dame?
They knocked 'em down. We'll stack 'em up again.
Oh, I'd say one or two things stayed the same.
Some nights I still can see them, like a ghost.
King Kong was right about the Empire State.
I'd rather not hear what you'll miss the most.
A taller building? Maybe. I can wait.
I hugged the stranger sitting next to me.
So this is what you call a second chance.
One turn aside, into eternity.
This is New York. We'll find a place to dance.
With resolution wanting, reason runs
To characters and symbols, noughts and ones.
--(c) 2001 John M. Ford
Flight 93
By: Dave
Wednesday, Sep 11th 2002 (12:02am)
Tuesday, September 10th 2002
Hello, this is your pilot, Bruce Dickinson, speaking. We will be landing shortly. Local time is two mintues to midnight, and I think my spandex is creeping.
By: faedra
Tuesday, Sep 10th 2002 (3:49pm)
If it's on a disk, Malata will play it.
By: faedra
Tuesday, Sep 10th 2002 (3:17pm)
(more)   [Comments: 1]
First I'm thinking there's a Jet Ski on my porch. That can't be good.
By: faedra
Tuesday, Sep 10th 2002 (9:09am)
Here at the Burger King Therapy Center we strive to be a compassionate solace for the tortured & battered souls of past, present and future BK employees. We hope you will find comfort in being here - A place to share your stories, your tears and your victories. Or just laugh everyone else's!
By: Some Nobody
Tuesday, Sep 10th 2002 (12:11am)
The World RPS Society is the worldwide governing body of the sport of Rock Paper Scissors. It provides overall direction, guidance and policy control with a goal of promoting the sport to a wider audience.
By: Dave
Tuesday, Sep 10th 2002 (12:11am)
3-D pr0n! Nuff said!
By: Dave
Tuesday, Sep 10th 2002 (12:06am)
If you see a Garden Gnome,
pick it up and take it home.
Make sure it is really dead;
stick something sharp into its head.
By: Some Nobody
Tuesday, Sep 10th 2002 (12:06am)
A five-year-old Sicilian boy decided to put a piece of wisdom into practice and tore up €1 500 (about R14 700) [$1,486] in cash after being told that money doesn't buy happiness.
By: Dave
Tuesday, Sep 10th 2002 (12:01am)
Monday, September 9th 2002
Learn what all that dangly stuff is for with Better Sex for Married Couples.
By: Dave
Monday, Sep 9th 2002 (12:18am)
The Mission: To visit every Denny's restaurant in the world (or at least as many as possible), getting lots of free stuff along the way.

I have been a Denny's fan for as long as I can remember. When I was a wee lad, my grandfather would take me there for breakfast. As I grew older, I quickly realized the benefit of a place where you can get semi-decent coffee and an omelet any time of the day or night. Sure, all the food tastes the same and it always leave a thick layer of grease on your plate, but where else can you get a Moons Over My Hammy?
By: Some Nobody
Monday, Sep 9th 2002 (12:08am)
Look, I'm not a hateful person or anything—I believe we should all live and let live. But lately, I've been having a real problem with these homosexuals. You see, just about wherever I go these days, one of them approaches me and starts sucking my cock.
By: Dave
Monday, Sep 9th 2002 (12:08am)
A man has been nicked for allegedly having sex with a traffic cone. Passers-by alerted cops after seeing a man grappling with the red and white plastic bollard late at night.
By: Dave
Monday, Sep 9th 2002 (12:05am)
Sunday, September 8th 2002
If you are easily offened, go to hell. If you don't like pizza, go to hell. If you hate this site, go to hell. If you have a problem with it, contact me. And if you are my mom, you are not allowed to view these pages.
By: Some Nobody
Sunday, Sep 8th 2002 (10:11pm)
I'm so jazzed about this particular Sunday - it's the first Sunday of the 2002-2003 NFL season! Guess where I am? No, knucklehead, not church, I'm planted in front of a TV in a seedy motel room in Flagstaff! Call it a sabbatical. Anyway, thanks to remote control, I give to you all the religious dreck I've found in the past week. Enjoy!
In the beginning, the plan for a divine human design was painstakingly implemented.

"The nerve endings," said St. Peter, "how many will I put in her hands?"

"How many did we put in Adam?" asked The Lord.

"Two hundred, O Mighty One."

"Then we shall do the same for the woman."

"How many nerve endings should we put in woman's genitals, O Mightiest?"

"How many did we put in Adam?"

"Four hundred twenty, O Mighty One."

"Oh yeah, now I remember, we wanted Adam to have a little fun procreating, didn't we? Do the same for woman."

"Yes, O Great Lord."

"Wait! Hold it, Pete, Give her ten thousand, it'd be a hoot to hear her scream out my name..."

Wow, what a stinker that one was. Well, let's not dwell on it and move on to the holy linkage:
Microchip Of The Beast · Satan Kicked Out Of Prison · Bad Christian Movies
Nazi/Mormon Connection · Suck The Rug · Reggae For Jesus
Juggler For Jesus · Congressional Chaplains · God Machine
By: Dave
Sunday, Sep 8th 2002 (12:11am)

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