They say you can’t teach an old magician new tricks. You know what I say to them? ALAKAZAAM!

(Doves fly out of a burst of smoke.)

Doves. Hello, my friends, my name is Bailey Jones, and I am the number one magician in this area, and I have the awards and newspaper articles to prove it. But why prove it the conventional way when I can—ALAKAZAAM!

(Doves fly out of a burst of smoke.)

Now, when I was a young…boy, I had a great interest in the unexplained. I wanted to understand magic, and have that power at my disposal. Well, after several years of study, I managed—ALAKAZAAM!

(Doves fly out of a burst of smoke.)

For my next trick I will need a participant from the audience.

(A young woman steps onto the stage.)

Now, we have never met, have we?

(She begins to speak)

ALAKAZAAM!

(Doves fly out of a burst of smoke.)

Thank you very much. You may have a seat.

(Woman sits down, confused.)

Growing up my idol was the famous Harry Houdini. Arguably his most famous trick of all time was being tied up—ALAKAZAAM!

(Doves fly out of a burst of smoke.)

In a container filled with water while locked in stocks. It was known as the Chinese Water Torture Cell. Since them it has been made famous by such world famous magicians as Doug Henning and (pause) David Copperfield. ASSISTANT! BRING ME! THE CHINESE! WATER! TORTURE! (pause) CELL!

(Magician walks off of stage and drags out his Chinese Water Torture Cell, which is not filled with water.)

Excuse me as I let the fill this with (pause) WATER!

(About fifteen minutes go by while the magician half-fills the chamber with water, carried onstage in paint buckets.)

Okay, now I am prepared to do the trick that killed Houdini! Yes! I said KILLED HOUDINI!

(Magician awkwardly locks himself in ankle and hand cuffs, awkwardly wiggles up a ladder, and awkwardly falls into the half-filled water chamber.)

(Garbled) ALAKAZAAM! ALAKAZAAM! ALAKAZAAM!

(The tank slowly becomes filled with birds, which quickly drown in the water. Once he is finished, he pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks his chains, while popping out of the water to catch his breath every ten seconds. He drags himself out of the tank.)

(Exhausted) Alakazaam.

(A deat, wet bird falls from the inside of his sleeve.)

No sir, I’m not nervous. But heck, I got a good reas’n to be.

See, today is Pa’s weddin’, and I’ve got an import’nt job. I’m the ring bear’. And if I screw up, I’ma gonna ruin the whole weddin’, see. Pa told me, “Randy, this is an importn’t job, and if you fug it up, I swear to Jesus, I will make you sleep face first in cow browns.”

I don’t wanna sleep in no cow browns.

First off, I gotta make sure that I got ma ring pill’w. Then, I gotta make sure I got the rings. Then, I cain’t trip or sneeze or nuthin’. Lastly, I gotta maike sure Mee Maw ain’t too hot or she’ll die and haunt me like Pa said.

And the whole time, I gotta behaive, too. If I start makin’ a fuss, the devil’s gonna shove his hand through the dirt and grab me and pull me into Heck!

Oh no! I got hot dog ketchup on ma vest! Pa’s gonna kill me! He told me that I cain’t ruin this day for Harley, or she’ll be the meanest ol’ stepma I ever haid! And I’ve haid ma fair share of mean stepma’s.

Well, nice talkin’ to ya and all, but I gotta go practice ma cotilli’n for the party. I gotta impress Harley’s family, because they think we’re “blue collar bumblefugs.”

I ain’t no bumblefug.

Heheheheheheheeeeee!

Heeeheeehahahahaheee!

Hohohe! Oh hee! Heeeehe!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed!

Heneenneeneeeeeeeeeeee!

Neeheed! Neeheed! Heee!

Hohehohe! Hee, hee, hee!

Heeheeheeehahahahahaa!

Hooo! Hooo! Hooo! Hoooo!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Har! Har! Har! Heeeheheheharr!

Hargh! HARGH! HARGHHHHUHH!

Harghuuuhhhhheheheheheheheah!

Hehehehahahahahahahahahahaha!

Hahaha! Haha! Ha…ha…ooh…ooh.

…

Heh. Ooh.

Hehe, heheahahahahahah!

Hahahahah! Hahhahahahaha!

Hehehehehehehehehehehhe!

Hehehohohohohohohahahaha!

Heee! Hee! Hee! Hee! Haa! Haha!

Hooohahahahhahehehehehehehe!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

(fart)

WAAAHHHHHEHEHEHHEHAHHAHAHAHAH!!!

“Scrotum Armageddon”
by The Hot Broads

You just don’t treat me right,
We argue all the time,
You’re always playin’ games,
Your penis is your brain,
Since you’re all ‘bout yourself,
I’m seein’ someone else,
Don’t go lookin’ for a fight,
‘Cause she’s the jealous type,

Black hair and yellow fangs,
She got horns above her bangs,
She’s got a big long tail,
She’s a zero on the pH scale,
She’s got a pointy tongue,
And a case of coal miner’s lung,
The she-devil is her name,
And I love playin’ her games,

The she-devil, the she-devil,
Scrotum Armageddon, 666,
The she-devil, the she-devil,
Nail your dick to a crucifix,

While you watch NFL,
She’s reigning over hell,
When you watch football games,
We’re playin’ in the flames,
You just don’t exercise,
She can’t be exorcised,
You offer nothin’ much,
And she’s hot to the touch (come on!),

Fishnets!
Nose rings!
Big breasts!
Bat wings!
Skull tattoos!
Eye-linah!
Leather shoes!
Vagina!

The she-devil, the she-devil,
Scrotum Armageddon, 666,
The she-devil, the she-devil,
Nail your dick to a crucifix,
The she-devil, the she-devil,
Scrotum Armageddon, 666,
The she-devil, the she-devil,
Nail your dick to a crucifix,

(I hope you fucking burn in… HELLLLL!)

Hey babe, look! It’s that guy from The Cure!

They did that song that 311 covered, you know “How ever far you stray, I will always love you. Badabeebeebeebeebeebeebeebee bowwoww!” Oh, he heard us! Hey!

Hey!

Hey! You’re the dude from The Cure, huh?

So, you’re playin’ a show here tonight, huh?

Yeah, I know how that is, I play a little guitar myself. We should hang out sometime and jam for a while…

Well, whatever. So what brings you around here?

Oh, duh. My ‘B. Say, we were just talking about that 311 song you did, that was great.

Oh yeah, of course. I just know the 311 version so much better.

Oh, no problem! I know how it is, when you’re a rockstar (points to energy drink in hand) everybody wants a piece of you. Can I bother you real quick for a picture, though?

Sweet.

Excuse me! Hey, you! Can you snap a quick picture of me & Robert Plant real quick?

Sweet. Get in here, babe.

Sweet. Alright bro, thanks. Here’s my card if you wanna jam together or whatever. Peace.

Wow, you never know who you’ll run into around here. First Artie Lange now this guy. What a piece of work that guy is.

Oh yeah, probably. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Why? Was he checking me out or something?

…so he’s all like, “You can’t talk to me that way, I’m Brian Setzer!” And I’m all like, “That doesn’t mean S-H-I-T to me, pal!” You’ll have to search high and low to find somebody that boogies on the upright as well as I do!” Then, I flicked my cocktail umbrella at his face, grabbed my wife, and left. I wasn’t gonna let some bleach blond rockabilly reject tell me how to live my life.

Sure, I was ridin’ high on the glitz and glamour of playing in one of the world’s most successful swing/jump blues orchestras, but sometimes you just have to stand up for what you believe in. 

I’ll always have fond memories of my time with the band. Before my wife was “Mrs. Mike Nye” she was “Mrs. Claus” during the holiday season, sittin’ on Santa’s ‘57 Chevrolet, in a sexy little red dress…

(Pedophile - Pedophilia) + Cards = Poker Superstar

What? I was home schooled. I came out alright.

I mean seriously, when you guys were getting a public school education, you had to deal with bullies…and the occasional school shooting.

Me? There were no bullies in sight. Just me, Mother, and a world of knowledge waiting to be explored. And the only shooting that was going on was from me, SHOOTING FOR THE STARS.

And while you were eating all of that lousy cafeteria food, I was getting a home-cooked meal every day. And in my school, Thursdays always meant poutine!

And while you were getting beat up playing dodgeball, I was focusing my mind on three subjects: tap, tap and TAP! Did dodgeball get you on Steve Harvey’s Big Time? I think not.

So you guys can go on thinking that home-schooling is for losers. I’ll be here beading Mother a friendship bracelet.

Sure, I had the same reaction everyone else had when the news was make public of a Kiefer Sutherland—ahem, K. Sutherland—R&B album in works for his Ironworks record label. I myself pondered on what the album would sound like. Would it be a tounge-in-cheek affair? Was he even being serious about the R&B part? Was he being serious?

Luckily, he was. And unlike most actor-forays-into-music records, this album shockingly delivers.

Although it’s a bit jarring to hear Jack Bauer singing velvety slow-jams, like “I Need U To Be Mine” that sounds like a cross between Usher’s “U Got It Bad” and George Michael’s 80’s hit, “Careless Whisper,” somehow it all makes sense. Even more jarring are the songs with the less-than-subtle innuendos. For example, in “After The Sunrise,” which recalls Prince’s “The Beautiful Ones,” Sutherland narrates an especially steamy morning, brewing his lover coffee and offering to be “on the bottom.” There are even songs made for the dancefloor, like “Havin’ Sex In The Bathroom” which bites its melody from Carl Carlton’s “She’s A Bad Mamma Jamma” and just may be this year’s summer jam.

Then, before he starts repeating himself, the guest stars come in. Jadakiss breaks out a rapid flow on the Swizz Beatz-produced “Night Drive” and American Idol winner Fantasia Barrino trades come-ons with Sutherland on ”Heart 2 Heart”. T-Pain even drops in on the party, letting Sutherland borrow his vocoder on “Electric Love,” a fun track about those “dirty, freaky, sexy webcam girls.”

Be warned: this is not the same man you watch on the tension-filled 24 every week. This is a smooth, confident, soulful singer that never ceases to amaze on this album. In fact, My Obsession just may possibly the best R&B album of the year so far. Usher, take some notes.

Five things the guy on the left can do:

• Make it “sizzle”
• Buy a big ol’ chain
• Regulate
• Shamelessly self-promote
• Get ANY WOMAN IN THIS CLUB

Five things the guy on the right can do:

• Bite through balsa wood
• Bite through a hardcover novel
• Bend a cheese grater with his teeth
• Bite through a laptop
• Put Gary Busey to shame

Imagine this kid cutting the fingers off of a pair of leather gloves.

Imagine this kid shooting a flaming arrow towards his principal.

Imagine this kid superkicking a bikini-clad woman off of his speedboat.

Imagine this kid lighting a cigarette, taking one puff, then flicking the cigarette in somebody’s face.

Imagine this kid spitting a loogie in the middle of a sentence.

Imagine watching this kid getting into an argument with his mother during dinnertime, then seeing him run out of the house, and hearing a motorcycle start up, and hearing “fuck youuuuuu” as he drives off.

Imagine this kid making fun of an English man’s accent.

Imagine this kid ordering brass knuckles off of eBay with a stolen credit card.

Imagine this kid wowing everybody with his street-learned dance moves in a 1980’s danceclub.

Imagine this kid dead at a young age due to his lifestyle.

My Grandpa In A Nutshell

by Lisa Katrakis, 10th Grade

Every day my grandpa sits on an old bench, and thinks about stuff. He does it from sunrise to sunset. He doesn’t do much else, really. He wakes up, goes to the pond down the street and thinks.

I don’t know what he thinks about all day, but sometimes it gets him angry. Sometimes he mutters to himself a few curse words, othertimes he gets “throw-a-handful-of-pennies-at-the-ducks angry” and we have to walk down to the pond to calm him down.

One day, Grandpa was going through a bag of clothes that were going to be donated to the Salvation Army, and took a pair of Mom’s old maternity pants, muttering something about “a perfectly good pair of pants” and since then, that’s all he’s been wearing.

Grandpa’s beard has a little streak of yellowish-orange right above his lips. I’m pretty sure that it comes from this weird canned meat he eats for lunch every day. I don’t know what it is, but I have a feeling it might be Friskies. That’s what it smells like, at least.

Sometimes people try to talk to him at the pond. He never responds. Occasionally someone will simply greet him, and all he will do is shift his beady eyes towards them and stare at them until they’re out of his point of view.

A lot of neighborhood kids will come and try to mess with him. The older ones leave him alone, and the younger ones are mostly afraid of him. The kids in-between are the problem, as they make fun of him and call him names from Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings. He will usually ignore it, but if the kids get too close, he grabs them by the arm and whispers something into their ear. I have no idea what he says, but the kids stay away from him after that. I hope he doesn’t get in trouble for saying whatever he says.

The reason I worry is because back in the 70’s, Grandpa ran a religious cult, and got in a lot of trouble. We usually don’t talk about it in our family.

Despite all of this, I don’t think he’s a particularly unhappy person. He returns home at the end of the day in a good mood and brushes the cat’s hair for a while, while my parents watch Jeopardy. Then he’ll join us at the dinner table and ask if anything needs to be fixed around the house. Then he’ll go to sleep and do the same thing the next day.

My Grandpa may be a little strange, but I love him. He’s my Grandpa. He never shows his love in the traditional way, but I know he cares about me. He always shows up when I sing with the choir, although he stands in the back the whole time, creeping out the late parents, stinking up the place with his cat food breath. You don’t have to like my Grandpa, but I love him. And that’s why I wrote this report on him.

“I can’t believe it, it’s disgusting.”

“Where we gonna go? They won’t let us into our homes!”

“If there was a strike, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“What would we do witout Giambi next year?”

“I think—it’s just a bad idea to let’em march.”

“It’s gonna put a lot of us outta business.”

“Out there fightin’ fires every night, we deserve a pay raise!”

“I think Bloomberg should just focus on bein’ mayor right now.”

“If something like THAT can happen in Times Square…somebody’s not doin’ their job.”

“I don’t wanna see what I saw ten, fifteen years ago happen again in Crown Heights.”

“For a guy in that position do be messin’ around with hookers and stuff, it sends the wrong message, y’know?”

“It smells like maple syrup out here, but nobody knows whats goin’ on.”

“RATS?!”