PaperSoup.com - News Headlines

PaperSoup's Pick Up Lines

2006-07-20T13:32:00.000-04:00

PaperSoup's Solid Gold Pick Up Lines: one panty ripping pick up line for every color in the girl-rainbow.

To the nature girl: What are you doing out in the daylight? I thought foxes were nocturnal.

To the girly-girl: I see someone used their leave-in conditioner today. Rowr!

To the low self esteem girl: If I were a date rapist, you'd be roofie-worth.

To the big girl: I will take you to new and exciting places, where you will eat chocolates the purity of which you will scarcely believe.

To daddy's girl: I want to f-ck you my little button nosed sexpot.

To the emphysema girl: You're like a cigarette; slim, white, and highly addictive

To the suicide girl: Hey, I've got a swell idea! Let's cut ourselves!!

To the bartender girl: Don't worry about me. Unlike some of your other inebriated clients, I can't pee into a bottle. Not because I don't want to, just because I can't fit.

To the Jewish girl: Hey, is that a genuine Louis Vuitton handbag you're holding? I sell those!!

To the horse girl: Darn! This old gimpy knee is acting up again….old polo injury. It was my fault really; magnificent creature….he just couldn't be tamed…..

To the WASPy girl: I'd like to lay you down by the fireplace and make love to you in a cold and distant manner.

To every girl: (In the style of the Saturday Night Live cheerleaders)
I said someone packed that junk in the trunk - real tight, real tight!
I said someone packed that junk in the trunk - real tight, real tight!
Uh huh! Uh huh! Uh huh uh huh uh huh!
(Editor's note: Bob like a chicken right near the ass while doing this. Otherwise it won't work.)

Rep. Jefferson Unveils "Grocery List" Defense

2006-06-16T09:09:00.000-04:00

Embattled Louisiana representative William Jefferson (D) unveiled a daring defense strategy to refute the allegations of bribery recently leveled against him by the Justice Department. Jefferson is accused of accepting cash from various business associates in return for using his position and influence to help them secure contracts with the US Army and African governments, among others. Jefferson allegedly accepted $100,000 from an FBI informant, and a subsequent raid on his office found $90,000 stuffed in his freezer. His defense? Well, take a look at his grocery list.

peas
carrots
tater tots
orange juice
$90,000
Brita filter
crescent rolls

"As you can plainly see from my shopping list, the money found in my freezer was not, as the FBI will tell you, some sort of bribe to get me to perform official favors for my associates," said Rep. Jefferson at a press conference today at his office. "Rather it was purely and simply a little fresh cash that I picked up at Safeway the other day. Nothing more, nothing less."

Asked why he would ever pick up such a large amount of money at a supermarket, the congressman responded that it was"…on special."

"Don't you get the circulars?" asked Jefferson to the crowd of reporters. "It was right there next to the two-for-one coupon for Cheetos. Grade A Treasury notes, $90,000 for the price of $85,000. I'd be a fool not to take advantage!"

Jefferson went on to decry what he declared the "police state" tactics of the Justice Department.

"What kind of world is this where a congressman can't go out and pick up $90,000 bundled in $10,000 increments of non-concentric bills and stash it in his freezer without getting accused of illegally facilitating telecom deals in Nigeria on behalf of his business partners?" fumed Jefferson.

A sick world, Mr. Jefferson. A sick, sick world.

Political Joke of the Day

2006-06-12T22:12:00.000-04:00

Comedian: President Bush's approval ratings are so low...
Audience: How low are they?
Comedian: Twenty nine percent.
Audience: Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
Comedian: (Mimics a golf swing)

Happy New Year!

2006-01-05T18:15:00.000-05:00

I just wanted to wish all of our readers a happy new year!

President Drowns Bag of Kittens; Congress Angry it Wasn't Consulted

2005-12-29T10:31:00.000-05:00

Angry words rang out on the floors of both houses of Congress as senators and congressmen alternated between accusing the Bush administration of abusing executive power and defending its practices as necessary to protect the country from terrorism.

The controversy erupted after the President, in response to a story printed in the New York Times, admitted to authorizing the bagging and drowning of the kittens of known terrorists. In his surprisingly candid admission, the President stated that the actions were necessary in the global war on terror and that the authorization for the use of force granted to him by congress after 9/11 gave him the power to drown kittens anyway.

This argument did little to sway his most vehement Democratic detractors.

"It's nonsense," stated Senator Barbara Boxer (D, California). "When we authorized him to use force it was specifically for military actions in Afghanistan. I can't imagine how anyone could construe that resolution as justification for tying kittens in a burlap sack and throwing them into the raging waters of the Potomac without first getting congress's permission."

When asked about his critics during an appearance on Fox News, President Bush responded forcefully.

"These kittens were literally giving comfort to the enemy," said the President. "They would sit on the terrorists' laps and purr contentedly. Study's show that this lowers the terrorists' blood pressure and his feelings of anxiety while simultaneously increasing his feelings of well being. And I tell you what, as long as I'm commander-in-chief, I'm going to make sure that those wishing to harm America are anxious, wary, and god willing, a little constipated!

"A happy terrorist is a deadly terrorist," added the President sternly.

Unfortunately for the administration, the President is not enjoying the unified obedience he could once coax from congressional Republicans.

"Sure we all agree that in extraordinary times, the President is granted extraordinary powers, said Senator Norm Coleman (R, Minnesota). "September the 11th was undoubtedly one of those times, but to still be drowning bags of kittens over four years after that horrible day without ever consulting congress? Why wouldn't he have come to us? Of course we would have said yes, but the whole process would have had the transparency necessary in a functioning democracy, and we could have put some prudent limits on the President's power, such as my suggestion that only kittens that actually rub up against terrorists' legs be eligible for drowning. And tabbies, I don't like tabbies."

Meanwhile, the rancor on the cable news shout-fests was ratcheted even higher by the controversy.

On the O'Reilly Factor, conservative firebrand Anne Coulter called the democrats "the party of crazy cat ladies who hate America" while this reporter shouted "Anne Coulter is a neo-nazi prostitute!" from his living room. The argument was ruled a draw.

Contagious Latin Beat Rages Through City

2005-10-11T09:44:00.000-04:00

The first signs of infection are innocuous, generally a subdued bobbing of the head or tapping of the foot, but soon the body's natural defenses - and inhibitions - give way. The result: wild, sexually charged gyrations and flailing arms and legs that threaten to become spastic if not barely kept in check by the pulsating beat. Thus was the scene across the normally buttoned-down DC metropolitan area as it fell victim to an outbreak of one of the most contagious Latin beats to ever occur north of the equator.

The outbreak was believed to have started in Dupont Circle, where the residents are known to be a little more, ahem, flamboyant than is normal for a government town. At noon, the metropolitan police received a report that a group of men were uncontrollably dancing at the Fireplace Lounge, but when they arrived on the scene, writhing bodies had filled up the entire bar and were spilling out onto P Street, accompanied by the omnipresent sound of congas, cabacas, rotatoms, maracas, piano and an upright base. From there the epidemic was on. All of Northwest was soon dancing and it wasn’t long before Northeast and Southwest were also overcome. The staid politicians on Capital Hill put up a good fight, but even the most determined among them could not hold out for long. Democratic senators and representatives tried their best to tune out the music by concentrating on the oral sex they were collectively receiving from young starry-eyed staffers, but after fifteen minutes the battle was lost as the last hold out, New Mexico Senator Jeff Bingaman, emerged from the Hart Building - blinking in the bright sunshine and zipping up his pants as the beat took hold of his body.

The Republicans proved a heartier foe, but even they would eventually succumb when it became obvious that their frantic calls to Jesus for personal restraint would not be answered. The celebration on the Hill reached a fever pitch when conservative Pennsylvania senator Rick Santorum burst onto the National Mall and started enthusiastically grinding on a passing sailor.

"This is better than the rapture!" shouted Senator Santorum.

By 2:30, the residents east of the Anacostia River had put down their gats and slipped on their dancing shoes, thus ending the last semblance of normalcy in the entire city.

According to Dr. Bruce Owen of the Centers for Disease Control, headquartered in suburban Maryland, the ingredients for such an outbreak had been falling into place for some time.

“A low pressure front of humid tropical air that had been hanging off the Atlantic Coast slowly moved inland, mixing with the city’s growing number of South American immigrants,” said Dr. Owen.

“As a result, Washington became a powder keg of pent up Latin passion and sticky, sultry air. All that was needed was a spark, and those happy fops in Dupont Circle seemed to have provided it,” explained the doctor.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a limbo contest to officiate!” said Doctor Owen as he whipped off his lab coat, revealing the tiniest pineapple-print speedo this reporter has ever seen.

No one knows with certainty how far the beat has spread due to the disruption in all lines of communication coming in to or out of Washington. A brief scare erupted in Columbia Maryland, some 45 minutes north of the city along interstate 95. Residents reported seeing some classic early signs of infection such as the rending of fine linen shirts, profuse brow sweat, suspenders being slipped off the shoulders but remaining attached to the pants, womens' shirts spontaneously losing the top two buttons, and in few cases, skirts being caught on barbed wire fencing to reveal sequined hot pants being worn below. Calm was restored when it was learned that Enrique Iglesias was scheduled to perform at Merriweather Post Pavillion in the evening, and the strange occurrences were most likely attributable to him and his tour. Unfortunately, this news did not reach the populace before panicked shoppers cleared supermarkets of limes, mangos and blenders in expectation of the coming shortage. Mob scenes were reported at liquor stores where fights broke out to reach remaining stocks of Jose Cuervo and Captian Morgan's.

Experts are already considering the DC suburbs in Virginia and Maryland to be lost causes. The prevailing notion at the CDC seems to be that Baltimore is the best hope for stopping the spread of the beat thanks to the lucky concurrence of two events - the season premiere of the Wire and the White Snake show at Hammerjacks - which will likely leave the city streets nearly deserted, thus depriving the beat of new victims.

For the mean time, those in the affected areas are advised to "shake what ya mamma gave you" and/or "take it the bridge", as order may not be restored for quite some time.

The Day in Prose

2005-09-27T15:02:00.000-04:00

On the face of it, the average day of the American worker-bee seems fairly mundane. However, when one scratches the surface and explores in depth, using the proper scribe as a guide of course, the routines of the day are given color and nuance. In this feature, we allow our contributors to guide us through the experiences of their typical day, from sun up to sun down using their own words. Witness how the the PaperSoup treatment can turn the pedestrian into something much more interesting.
Enjoy!

Morning
The animals are always the first to know, and this morning was no exception. Some scientists think that they can sense the subtle changes in the Earth's magnetic field that foreshadow the more fearful forces of nature, but that's just a guess. Whatever it is they sense, it was going haywire today; birds were silent, squirrels were curled tightly in their tree knots and the dog was occupying the far corner beneath the bed.

Suddenly it struck, a low menacing rumble followed by a violent upward explosion of noxious, super-heated gas. The Earth seemed to stand still and some old timer in Blanton, Missouri -1,500 miles away- swore he heard the church bells ring.

My morning fart completed, I could start a new day.

Midday
I was glad I had the power, six cylinders of solid American cast-iron and 165 horses worth. It waited patiently beneath my hood, ready to be let loose should the situation deem it necessary. I stared into the greasy face of the man behind the wheel of the Country Squire station wagon with the Wisconsin tags and the sullen wife and the two noisy kids. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, but I figured I would let the stare do the talking. It had a way of cutting to the chase.

"This is my state," it said. "This is my state, and 495 is my road, and you better let me merge into your lane so I can take the Old Georgetown Road exit or I'll be forced to show you what this Oldsmobile can really do."

There was no malice in the stare, no contempt; just hard truth

He stared back at me for a while, the only noise to be heard coming from the tick-tick-tick of my turn indicator as it complacently flashed away.

The brake lights of the Country Squire suddenly came on and the station wagon slowly slid behind as I proceeded with my lane change. I gave the Squire one last glance in my rearview mirror.

I guess he got the message.

Dinner
My senses grew keener; every little noise around me picked up by my suddenly hypersensitive ears. Motions of others, while in reality unchanged, seemed to me like a crawl. My eyes narrowed into slits as I bore down on my prey. This bucket of extra crispy would be finished before it even knew what hit it. It may be harsh, but one life must be sacrificed to feed another….on the plains of Kentucky.

Bedtime
My subconscious could hear the banging even if my body could not.

"Wham! Wham! WHAM!!" went the door.

"Get up," insisted the small voice within me, but my body was not listening, still insisting on lounging half asleep on the bed, as if impersonating some pale waif in a French romance movie.

"He's coming to get you!" shouted the voice.

At this subtle reminder my muscles, as if acting as an autonomous being, contracted and instantly propelled me into the defensive and highly maneuverable Praying Mantis position. I stared at the door and prayed one of the three other men in the world who knows this position wasn't standing on the other side.

"Wham! Wham!! WHAM!!!" boomed the door.

It was a good door - solid oak and thick - and it bought me just enough time to give my long flowing mullet one last defiant shake before all that fine oak disappeared into splinters from the force of a tremendous roundhouse kick.

Through the frame of my former door loomed a silhouette; powerfully built and unmistakable even in the faint light of the waning moon.

"Walker, Texas Ranger," I hissed through my clenched teeth. "We always knew it would come to this……brother."

Striking Migrants Causing Problems for Orange Juice Giant

2005-08-10T09:38:00.000-04:00

Orange Juice, the official squeezed citrus beverage of the Washington Redskins, has been in a tizzy of late. Florida Natural Inc, the good folks who "bring the grove to you" every time you pick up a carton of their Florida's Natural Brand Premium OJ, have seen their profits slip and their good name tarnished due to a continuing labor standoff with the migrant workers who pick the majority of their fruit.

In 1999, Florida Natural rode the backs of cheap Mexican labor and a bizarre promise to consumers to become the largest player in the unofficial cartel known as Big OJ.
The promise: to actually install experimental teleportation devices behind every grocer's freezer so as to allow consumers, when it appears there is no more orange juice left, to snake their hands further back on the shelf reaching for what may be a last hidden carton only to have their hand pop out in a real Florida orange grove and be handed a fresh carton of juice by a man dressed as a farmer. Reenactments of this process feature heavily in Florida Natural's advertising campaigns and have tended to reinforce the public perception of the company as being very customer friendly.

However, a strike by Mexican migrants may well derail Florida Natural's upward climb. Nearly all of the company's pickers are low paid Mexican immigrants. So too are nearly all the "farmers" at the teleportation grove who hand the cartons to the disembodied hands that pop in from all over the country, this fact coming as shock to many who assumed that the farmers resembled the handsomely chiseled, plaid swaddled, well fed and universally white actors who play them on the commercials.

A plunge in profits was only the first headache the strike caused for the company. Disgruntled strikers soon began posing as scabs in order to sabotage the company's operations from the inside. Recent events seem to point to the teleportation grove as the hub of this new labor insurgency, the evidence of this being all the non-orange juice items people are increasingly clutching when they withdraw their hands from the teleporter. Such items include a minor smattering of rubber bands, clumps of hair and the like, but mostly John Basedow fitness/horror videos. Naturally, EMS technicians all over the country have been busy scraping faint and convulsing shoppers off of grocery store floors ever since.

Sabotage is not necessarily a new weapon in the sporadic wars between labor and management. In the early 90s, it was rumored that striking Corona workers were sneaking back into the factory and peeing into the beer. However, in that case the company's bottom line was not hurt as consumers did not seem to notice the difference. The current sabotage does seem to be harming Florida Natural as its stock price dips after every new report of the over-pumped gym travesty Basedow’s video materializing in some soccer mom's hand.

Many experts believe that the strike's dramatic effect on the company's bottom line will force management to sit down with the migrants rather than try to wait them out. This seems like a prudent idea as sources within the insurgency have recently claimed that they will soon exercise begin passing out the “nuclear option”: Basedow bobbleheads.

PaperSoup: The Critic’s Choice

2005-08-10T09:26:00.000-04:00

Ladies and gents, as a small circulation publication we don't get many opportunities for constructive criticism, especially not from a professional critic. Today, however, is a lucky day for the PaperSoup family. It seems that David Manning, the fictional film critic mustered up by a Sony advertising executive to lavish lauditory snippets on such fine works as "The Animal" and "Hollow Man," has been forced into an early retirement by the Justice Department. For those of you who don't remember, several of Manning's gushing blurbs appeared in newspaper advertisements for Sony/Columbia films throughout the summer's of 2000 and 2001. That is, until a Newsweek report uncovered that he was existence-challenged. After lengthy legal procedures, Sony was forced to pay over a million dollars in punitive damages this past week. Sadly, Mr. Manning was left jobless despite the unwavering loyalty he had shown to his former employer. Well luckily for him, we needed a little honest criticism and some good press to boot, so we called and offered him a gig. Here are clips from some of the recent reviews of PaperSoup written by David in leading newspapers throughout the country…and the world.

The Cleveland Plain Dealer- Clevleland, OH
"PaperSoup.com is the feel good website of the summer!"

The Orlando Sentinental- Orlando, FL
"Parents, leave the kids at home. This raunchy stew of sex and farts will have you rolling in the aisles!"

Le Figaro- Paris, France
"Papersoup.com grabs satire by the nape of the neck, bends it over its knee and gives it a good old fashioned pants down spanking; the kind of spanking which hasn't been seen since your grandpappy cut his first switch." (Translated from French)

Birmingham Post and Mail- Birmingham, UK
"PaperSoup her? I hardly know her!"

The Washington Times- Washington, DC
"The skilled staff of Papersoup.Com confidently takes the wheel of the good ship Comedy and guides her through the rough cliché infested waters of hipster sarcasm and postmodern irony to land her safely on the verdant banks of HaHa Key, whereupon her bounteous cargo of chuckles and guffaws spills forth onto the parched natives like rain from heaven."

The New Yorker- New York, NY
"Let me level with you guys. If you read PaperSoup.com, you'll get some trim…tonight!"

The Daily Worker- New York, NY
"Somehow between the marathon sessions of Madden '06 and all the groupie love, the bad boys (and girls) at PaperSoup.com manage to squeeze in enough time to create some truly stinging satire. Maybe your pimp hand isn't as strong as the beat laureates at PaperSoup, but you can always get your nut off by reading their hilarious articles."

Boston Herald- Boston, MA
"Really, if you think there is a funnier site in existence than PaperSoup.com, go try and find it. When you fail, return to me prepared to really lick boot!"

The Daily Worker- New York, NY
"Jumpin' Jehosephat! There's a bee in my bonnet! It's name is PaperSoup and it stung me square on the funny bone!"

High Times- Los Angeles, CA
"Dudes, put down that fatty and smoke on a little PaperSoup.com instead: no stems, no seeds, no sticks- just some of that sticky icky icky comedy. Oooweeee!!!"

The Jonesboro Bible Herald- Jonesboro, TN
"And on the seventh day, God created PaperSoup.com, and it was pleasing to him."

Thanks Dave!
The checks in the mail.

Ragdoll Physics in Flash

2005-07-21T15:07:00.000-04:00

This is one of the coolest flash things i've seen in a while. You can grab the woman with the mouse and move her around. Click on the picture and give it a whirl.

2005-06-21T13:03:00.000-04:00

test

Virtual Bubble Wrap

2005-04-07T07:41:00.000-04:00

Play Full Screen

Virtual Bubblewrap © www.virtual-bubblewrap.com
virtual-bubblewrap-distv1.1

Staff Writer's Mom Finds Papersoup Crude; Offensive

2005-02-18T15:05:00.000-05:00

Writer's Father a Closeted Fan

Editors Note: to protect the identities of those involved, the subjects' real names will not be used. The staff writer will be known as Jim, the mother as Suzy and the father as Craig. Also, did you notice that you can't say identities without also saying titties? This fact could be useful if you want to talk about someone's titties, but are in a situation where that might be frowned upon. For instance;" Did you see the identities on the bride? Hot Damn!"

Suzy, A local woman and mother of a PaperSoup staff writer was surprised when she finally read the content of the website that her son and his friends had recently been devoting so much time too.

"I was really a little turned off. I didn't think that was his style of humor," commented Suzy on PaperSoup's rather racy material.

When Suzie confronted her son Jim about her issues with the PaperSoup content the next morning, the family's breakfast nook, normally a place of quiet reflection and pancakes, was turned into a no holds barred verbal battlefield.

"I don't mean to discourage you dear, I just don't find that sort of humor funny," said Suzy in response to the glare she was receiving from her son.

"What sort of humor, mom? Funny humor?" retorted Jim.

"You know very well what I mean. That toilet humor that you think is so great," said a visibly agitated Suzy.

Suzy's tone was aggravated enough to get Jim's father Craig to briefly lower his Washington Post to see what the commotion was about before quickly turning back to the Metro section.

"Well, why don't we see what family services has to say about you stifling my creative vision?" said Jim.

Independent sources familiar with the family seemed to believe that this was an idle threat, meant only to provoke Suzy into a more animated reaction. According to the next door neighbors, the ploy worked.

"I carried you for nine months and this is how you repay me? By posting your potty jokes on the web for everyone to read," shouted Suzy, relying on a Jewish mother's time honored shaming tactic.

"That's right mom," replied Jim. "I'm doing all of this just to embarrass you."

"Honey, all I'm saying is that true talent lies in being able to make people laugh without using the potty mouth," said Suzie.

"Mom, f*ck that sh*t!" replied Jim. "F*ck it right in the f*cking ear!
There’s nothing funnier in the world than taints and grundels!"

"I'm not sure what those last two words even mean young man, and I'm sure I don't want to find out!" shouted Suzy.

"Mom, you should be happy. I'm using technology to get my stories out, rather than just writing them on bathroom stall doors like I used too. At least now people have a choice to read my stuff or not. The people taking a sh*t in the stall didn't have that choice, mom! And isn't that what feminism is all about, the ability to make choices?" replied Jim in another obvious ploy to get his mother going. "So I guess when it comes down to it, if you are against PaperSoup, you are against women."

According to neighbors, it was at this point in the argument that Suzy pulled out one of her strongest weapons, guilt.

"You're not making any sense, Jimmy, but I suppose that's my fault. I should never have made you wear your sister's hand-me-downs when you were a little kid. I didn't know that it would affect you in this way," said Suzy, sniffling.

Having successfully turned the argument into a deliberation on her abilities as a mother, Suzy decided to lay down her trump card

"It's not that I'm really mad dear, I'm just disappointed."

Normally, this would have made Jim storm out of the breakfast nook, but he knew, and his mother probably did too, that he had a secret ally in his father Craig.

Jim knew that deep down inside, his dad thinks the Soup is funny. He won't ever tell, though, because he's scared of his wife.

And rightfully so.

Tales of Addiction: Fido's Story

2005-02-14T10:35:00.000-05:00

Ultimately, the goal of quality journalism is to promote the public interest. In that spirit, Papersoup is proud to unveil the first in a series of reports detailing personal battles with addiction. Each installment is devoted to the life of one recovering addict, and is told in the subject's own words. As a result, certain content may be too graphic for our more sensitive readers. If you are one of these readers, please scroll down to the Soap on a Rope article concerning male prison rape. We believe this will be more to your liking. Thank you.

My name is Fido, and I am a recovering shit eater.

It's embarrassing for me to admit this, because I have no sob-story, no real hardship to excuse what I once was. I was a suburban house pet. I had a good life; a loving family. I was comfortable, pampered. I was loved. Shit eating wasn't supposed to happen to a dog like me. It was something that happened in the inner city to laid-off junk yard dogs and three-legged pitbulls; dogs that never tasted anything better than house brand dog food, and whose coats were anything but shiny and manageable. I thought shit eating wouldn't - no, couldn't - happen to me. But I was wrong.

It started out innocently, and as I would find out later during my detox, rather typically. I was hanging out with that Shar Pei down the street. Oh, just as an aside, beware of the Chinese breeds; crafty as all hell. Damn wrinkle faces aren't good for nothing but lying and cheating. Plus I heard their women only have five nipples. Anyway, as I was saying, I was hanging out with this Shar Pei who I thought was my friend. We were bored after a long day of wrestling and chasing, so he asked me if I wanted to eat some grass. Now, from the day I was whelped I had been taught that grass was a gateway consumable, so I was wary about trying it. The Shar Pei must have realized my reservations, because he started running on and on about how good it would make my stomach feel, and how it wasn't addictive. I had heard this story a thousand times before, and I had also seen many a dog munch lawn to settle their stomach only to barf up a nice pile of grass clippings on their master's favorite rug twenty minutes later. However, there was something about this dog. He was very convincing. So I tried the grass, and you know what? It did make my stomach feel pretty good, and it kind of put me in this calm peaceful place that I really liked. Ah hell, let's not mince words. I was high as shit, my collie!

Three weeks later I was eating 6 mouthfuls of grass a day. I got to eating so much that I needed something more potent to get even a little baked, so I started making the trip across the neighborhood to the Sullivan's lawn to get a taste of that sweet sweet Kentucky Blue. No more drought resistant Zoysa schwag for me! Kentucky Blue was beautiful, each blade thick, succulent and bursting with that chlorophyll I was chasing. It got me baked all right, but it didn't come cheap. I had to give the Sullivan's Labrador three Snausages and a Nylabone every time I wanted to take a quick graze. Luckily my family still thought I was a good dog, so they kept feeding me treats, not realizing I was hording them to pay for my grass habit. But I wasn't a good dog. I was being a bad dog. A bad, bad dog!

Things only accelerated from there. Pretty soon, I was into harder drugs. I went from grass to snorting the dust at the bottom of Kibbles bags. I started to get a touch of mange on my tail, but I played it off like it was a flea allergy. My owners were none the wiser. That may seem surprising, but they still thought I was their obedient dog. In their minds, there was no way I could be experimenting with mind expanding dog food.

I don't really remember the first time I ate shit. I just remember waking up in this flop dog house in a bad part of town. This labradoodle was sucking my dick. I didn't know who she was, but she had some dried blood under her nose and some corn kernels on her lips. The kernels were a sure sign of a shit eater. Just like humans, some things pass through a dog's stomach without really breaking down. To a shit eater, cheap corn and pea based dog foods are a God send, because those are two vegetables you can enjoy a second time, if you catch my drift. I pushed her off with disgust. I may have been a user, but I certainly wasn't a shit eater. Or so I thought…..I went over to a mirror in the corner to make sure I looked all right before I dragged myself back home, and I noticed I had some kernels on my muzzle too.

I ran home as fast as I could, disgusted with what I had just done. Yet, there was no way to forget that amazing taste that just seemed to linger in my mouth the whole day. That's the thing with shit eating. You're always chasing that first aftertaste, trying to get it again. But it never is quite the same. It's never quite as good, but you always remember that first time…always.

I realized I had hit rock bottom when a week later I was out on the streets sniffing butt for spare change, and my fur was matted with dried corn kernels. I had pretty much abandoned all obligations to my family to feed my addiction. In those days, I could even be caught sauntering up to the mailman with a wagging tail and a smile on my face, just hoping for a little hand out or a pat on the head. The mail man! The uniformed douchebag who disturbs the sanctity of my home territory and would even be free to mince about inside my yard if I didn't stand guard at the front door and bark my head off everytime I saw him! That fact still shames me today. It brings up a very zen philosophical question, too. If a dog stops hating the mail man, is he really still a dog? At the time, I don't think I was a dog. I was just an addict, chasing the next gurgitated high.

Luckily for me, I had many good friends, both canine and human. I could no longer hide my problems from them, and they were desperate to get the old me, the real me, back in their lives. Long story short, after an intense intervention and two months at Betty Ford for Dogs, I was on my way to recovery. It sounds like a cliché, but this trip back from the brink can only be taken one day at a time. I won't lie either, their isn't a day that goes by when I don't lust for the nutty, earthy taste of a freshly laid doo, coiled neatly on some crotchety old man's well maintained front lawn. Luckily, with the love of my friends and family, and a pack of Ho Hos everyday, I'm on my way to recovery. I've got my family back, my life back, and my swagger back.

I'll never abandon them again. Not for all the turds in the world.

Funny Pictures From the Personal Collection

2004-12-07T16:49:00.000-05:00

At least their food is good...

Dick Cheney Demands One MILLION Dollars

2004-11-16T13:36:00.000-05:00

Washington, DC -

Dick Cheney demanded earlier today that he will blow up the entire world using the weapons of mass destruction found in Iraq, unless we paid him 1 million dollars. This threat comes after harsh criticism of Haliburton's contracts for the rebuilding of Iraq.

"We have the weapons of mass destruction", said Cheney in an interview Tuesday, "and we're prepared to use them if you do not pay me the 1 million dollars that I want for my evil plan!"

Cheney evil plans consist of two parts. One of the parts is to use the money from this threat to construct a clone of himself, so he can create twice the evil, all of the time. (See below)

The second part of the plan was to create a weapon so powerful, that it would destroy anything in it's path. Cheney's ultimate goal is to be the unchalleneged ruler of the planet with an army of "mini-dicks".

"My ultimate goal is to be the unchalleneged ruler of the planet with an army of 'mini-dicks'", announced Cheney, "and each one will be smaller and more evil than the one before it. You will rue the day that you crossed Dr. Cheney P.H.Dick!!"

Dr. Cheney has not specified all of the destructive things that he will do with his weapon, but we at PaperSoup have made an artists rendering of what he could do (See below)

Bush Wins Re-Election: Suspension of Constitutional Rights Averted

2004-11-05T16:26:00.000-05:00

With a narrow 51% majority of the country voting for him, President Bush ensured his re-election Tuesday, and thus prevented the suspension of Constitutional rights that would have occurred had he lost.

"Y'all dodged a big bullet there, yesterday," declared the president from the White House Rose Garden. "If you hadn't voted correctly, my operatives would be beating yo' heads with nightsticks, and I'd be wiping my ass with the Bill of Rights by now. See, I was gonna be president one way or t' other. Y'all just made it easier on yo' self."

The first lady sat on the podium behind the president, too busy knitting socks for deserving orphans to really pay attention to what her husband was saying.

"It's a good thing I didn't have to sic Dick Cheney on you," chuckled the president. "You all thought he was getting treated for a bad heart all those times. Them visits was just for the rabies shots. Caught a nasty case of it. Must a' bit the head of one too many squirrels. Does it for the hell of it, that's how crazy he is."

"Oooooh!" squealed Laura in the background as she held up her just-completed sock to the sunlight, a move which prompted the president to roll over on his back and bat at it for about a minute.

After the brief disturbance, the president explained the frightening scenario that would have unfolded had he been defeated. It seems that a massive phalanx of Bradley fighting vehicles and a volunteer regiment of heavily armed Texas pickups would have rolled through the Democratic leaning northeast, declaring marshal law and enacting a strict curfew on all residents. With voters sequestered in their homes, evangelical groups would then ransack polling places, setting ballots on fire and downloading massive amounts of gay porn onto electronic voting machines, causing their hard drives to crash and allowing the destruction to be easily blamed on "sodomites."

"I think it's clear that that plan had my fingerprints all over it," said Cheney during questions after the president's speech. "It's almost a shame I didn't get to use it. Oh well! There's always the next election."

"Arnold's promised to pull out his old Conan sword and furry loin cloth for that one!" exclaimed the president. "That and Police Academy are my two favorite movies."

The question and answer session was cut short when Jenna Bush drunkenly stumbled out of the White House and vomited Beast Ice all over a rose bush.

"That's my little girl….just like daddy.." whispered the president as he lovingly held his daughter's hair back.

John Kerry Concedes Election

2004-11-03T13:02:00.000-05:00

Washington, DC - John Kerry has just conceded the 2004 election to incumbent George W. Bush.

Us at PaperSoup are scared.

I never expected the Majority of American people to be so blind to the injustices that President bush has accrued. The President is supposed to look out for the best interests of his people. Apparently the best interests of the American people is for them to be sent to die in a foreign country. I know that I am not alone in saying this. I also know that that is NOT in my interest at all. Winning this war in Iraq can't be done alone. We desperately need help from other countries who can also lose some troops, and spend some money. Even a little moral support would be better than what we have now. We are hated by every foreign country, and because of that, there is no end to this war on terror in sight. If everyone else hates us, doesn't that make them more likely to harbor or help terrorists that hate us too?

Please, click "comments" to make comments on this.

Chinese Government Sends Millions of Cases of Viagra to the U.S.

2004-11-01T16:56:00.000-05:00

They heard we may have trouble with the erection on November 2nd.

President Bush Raises Terror Alert to "Mauve"

2004-11-01T15:45:00.000-05:00

Washington DC- During a press conference late afternoon yesterday, President Bush today has decided to raise the United States terror level to an unprecedented level "Mauve" as seen in the chart below:

Level Mauve was achieved late afternoon yesterday when the President finally was able to fool a reporter, Alexander Levine, into sitting on a whoopee cushion during a press conference regarding Tuesday's election. President Bush reacted like it was a surprise to him, but could not hold back his boyish smirk. (below)

When asked about his involvement in the practical joke, he said "...it was the right course of action" and that "...we need to stay the course in this press conference". The crowd in at the conference started to get angry with the president.

President Bush was asked by a group of reporters if it was the right decision to place the whoopee cushion after knowing what he knows now and he responded "The intelligence that was gathered said that it was the right thing to do. I mean, c'mon, we all though he had weapons of pants destruction anyway, right?"

The staff at PaperSoup.com then asked John Kerry to respond to the President's actions and comments. In an exclusive but very short interview, all he said was "Wrong ass, wrong place, wrong time". Senator Kerry was also quoted as saying that if he were to do this, he would make sure to have international support before pulling a prank of this magnitude.

President Bush responded back to the Senator's comments by saying "You forgot about Poland."

Undecided Voters Need to Un-undecide

2004-10-07T11:40:00.000-04:00

It's time for the PaperSoup staff to get serious for a moment....

The day is fast approaching where you will have to make one of the most important decisions in your life. More important than going to school, getting a job, buying a home, or deciding what should fill that last un-tattooed area on your scrotum. Of course I'm talking about election day on November 2nd. If you didn't know that it was coming up, or that it was on November 2nd, you can just stop reading this article right now and go kill yourself, because you are a worthless.

This year more than ever the presidential election means a world of difference. To help the PaperSoup.com undecided voters, I have devised a test for you to decide which presidential candidate you should choose. Please write down your answers and tabulate your results at the end. (No cheating you bastards)

Presidential Candidate Test:

Question 1:
What is your favorite Cola Drink?
A) Coke
B) Pepsi
C) Generic
D) I don't like cola drinks

Question 2:
Who is your favorite Late Night TV host?
A) Jay Leno
B) David Letterman
C) Conan O'Brian
D) Carson Daly

Question 3:
Grocery Bag Preference
A) Paper
B) Plastic
C) Don't want to be wasteful, I'll carry my groceries
D) I hunt, kill and cook my own food

Question 4:
Favorite Animal
A) Donkey
B) Elephant
C) A cross breed Donkey/Elephant
D) Pig

Question 5:
Do you like the United States of America?
A) Yes
B) No

Question 6:
Do you like terrorists?
A) Yes
B) No

Question 7:
Who would you vote for for president if the election were today?
A) John Kerry
B) George W. Bush
C) Ralph Nader
D) Joe Gibbs (as a write in)

Question 8:
Are you a douchebag?
A) Yes
B) No
C) Not sure

Here is how to calculate your score:

For every answer that you chose "A", give yourself 3 points. For every "B" give yourself 2 points, every "C" is 1 point, and every "D" is 0 points. Add your numbers up multiply that number times 23, divide that by 17, add 6, multiply by 0, and then take your answer for #7 and add the proper number of points for that question. That number is your final points score.

Give yourself a hand for doing such a super job!

To interpret the results:

If your score <= 3, you should vote for John Kerry.
If your score = 4+, you should vote for George W. Bush
If your score = 0, That is good thinking, but Joe Gibbs is busy coaching the Washington Redskins.
If your score < 0, then you must have done something wrong.

If you can't figure out your score, you are most likely too dumb to be voting anyway.

Please feel free to post your results. (click comment below)

Opinions

2004-09-20T20:52:00.000-04:00

by Kerry Ling

Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I appreciate dams.

I can tell you, all the parents in my neighborhood were appalled when
little Timmy was caught with that porno tape. It did not contain
"hard core anal action" as promised on the box. Blatant false
advertising! Blatant!!

There's no better way to start your day than a hot cup of coffee
thrown in your assistant's incompetent face.

Warden! Warden! Shenanigans are afoot!

You shouldn't wear turtlenecks. Turtlenecks accentuate your chicken neck.

Now get down on all fours, whore, before I burn you with my cigarette.
Pfffft, women!

Why does the dirt under your fingernails always smell like shit?

On of th kys on my typ writr is brokn. Can you guss which on?

Drat! It's too bad the prison guard took my shoelaces. I was gonna
hang myself with them!

You're dressed like a tremendous dick today.

Are you a fan of the meat dishes, ma'am?

I'm so mad I could write in NOTHING BUT CAPS RIGHT NOW!

I wish internal affairs would get off my back so I could do my damn job!

As a Pirate-American, I find the Tampa Bay Buccaneers logo offensive.

You can trust me baby. I only lie about the important things.

I have a feeling you're going to love my penis.

So baby, your yurt or mine?

As he applied the cool chapstick to his already supple lips, and
stared at me with smoldering passion, I realized something; I was
about to get the blow job of a lifetime

Ahhh, a vestibule...Perfect for love making!

Have you ever eaten Skittles while shooting heroin? It's called
tasting the rainbow.

The dress code said shirt and tie, but it didn't say anything about
leather hot pants with a cellophane buttocks.

Just like in the 'Nam man...just like in the fucking 'Nam

This medal is for bravery in action, this one's for completing pilot
training, and this medal has two metal alligator clips attached to it,
the other ends being attached to my penis, and the difference in
electrical potential between the brass medal and the zinc clips
creates a small current that is just powerful enough to keep me at
half chubber all day long.

Won't someone think of the children? Don't they deserve a little
better than your sloppy seconds?

Frogger was not a videogame, it was a way of life. Don't get hit by
carsâ¦manâ¦what a powerful message.

This one time, I was eating a sandwich out of a little Ziploc baggie
when someone banged unexpectedly on my door. Out of instinct, I ran
to the bathroom and flushed the sandwich down the toilet. Man! What
a waste of a perfectly good sandwich!

A waste is a terrible thing to mind. Support the Ignore Excessive
Spending campaign.

I want to create an online personality test that will tell everyone
they're a douchebag regardless of the way they answer the questions.

Ma'am, might I just say that you have two beautiful daughters, and if
things go well tonight, I hope to bang both of 'em.

Imagine what I could do if I weren't a lazy piece of shit.

If my wife peed whiskey, I'd be drunk all the time.

Whats up with scotch tape? It's not plaid and it tastes awful with soda.

Like the charging rhino, I stampede through your willowy strands of
pubic hair as if they were the grass of the Serengeti, your clitoris
looming over the plain like Mount Kiliminjaro. Will I taste sweet
abundance tonight, or will this year be a dry year, with only the
vultures well fed?

I love pooping. It's like I'm halfway to a blumpkin.

Honey, look up chlamydia in the encyclopedia. I want to know what I'm
scratching.

Reagan's Star Wars program always fascinated me: A space borne
electronic net that ensnares incoming missiles and prevents them from
hitting their target? Why, it's quite like that fat cock-blocking
broad who wouldn't let me mack on her hot friend at the bar last
night. Fascinating...

Soap on a Rope? Thanks, but where were you when I was getting male raped last week?

2004-09-20T20:50:00.000-04:00

Coming to visit me again, I see? Gee, all prisoners should have a
friend as caring as you. No really, you are making it seem as if my
stay in this place is just flying by! What's this? A gift for me!
Really you shouldn't have. Here, gently slide it across the table and
I will pick it up after a prescribed waiting period of five seconds.
The guards here really take that no touching rule seriously! I can't
wait to see what's inside. Is it? Could it be? It is!! It's soap on
a rope!............I'm sorry, you must notice that my joy is a little
bit affected. It's a fine gift and all, and I know your heart's in
the right place, but darn it, where were you when I was getting male
raped last week?!

I don't mean to take my anger out on you. After all, you weren't the
one that forcibly sodomized me. That was Oscar the Mad Dog Rapist,
otherwise known around these parts as Squirrel Dick. Why do they call
him that? Why, when he male rapes you, it feels as if a squirrel, or
for that matter any sharp clawed rodent, is frantically tunneling its
way up your anus, as if your rectum contained a delicious horde of
acorns, rather than very fragile and tender living tissue.

Now I don't mean to be a sourpuss, and I certainly don't want to put a
damper on your visit, which rightly ought to be a joyous occasion.
It's just that it's hard to put on a happy face when, for the last
three days, you have been unable to hold your bowels. As a matter of
fact, I'm sitting in a growing pool of my own seepage even as we
speak. But hey, on the bright side, at least the bleeding has
stopped! And I'm fairly confident that over the following weeksâ¦and
monthsâ¦my anus will regain some of its lost elasticity as long as I
follow the exercise regimen set forth by some of my fellow
accountants. For some reason, it seems that we, the convicted
accountants, are singled out for the harshest treatment in the shower
room. Strange, that. Anyway, I'm getting off track. If for some
reason the exercises don't work, well, that's why they invented the
colostomy bag! I'm sure my much younger trophy wife, whom I trust is
waiting chastely for me as I serve out my sentence, won't let a little
bag of human feces get between us and a fulfilling sex life!

Speaking of sex life, how are things with you and my former secretary?
As I seem to remember, you were busy diddling her when I asked you to
shred those documents that the SEC later seized when they raided my
office. I think I had been badgering you to do that for a week, which
is rather ironic, because that is the exact amount of time ago that
this soap on a rope would have come in really, really handy. Oh well,
it appears that seven is not my lucky number!

But seriously, this is a very thoughtful gift. The next time you
come, would it be too much to ask for you to bring a couple of dozen
corks? I haven't had a dry night's sleep in a couple of days, and I
believe, if properly inserted, they might be just what the doctor
ordered. White sheets, here I come!

Vin Diesel to Star in Hugely Expensive Pile of Shit

2004-09-20T20:49:00.000-04:00

Studio sources today confirmed the rumors that action star Vin Diesel
will star in a hugely expensive pile of shit, due out in theaters
sometime next summer. Like most of Diesel's work, this pile of shit
is likely to offer nothing more than a crappy script punctuated with a
few zippy one liners and hundreds of explosions, yet many are already
predicting that it will gross a fucking shit load at the box office.

Leaked reports from the production offices seem to confirm that this
ass pile was specifically tailored for Diesel. Expenses for the
action thriller are reportedly beyond $200 million, most of that going
to special effects and biceps oil. The plot, however, is said to be a
bubbling cauldron of liquid feces containing no words longer than 5
syllables.

Many feel that Diesel is due for a blockbuster after the lackluster
performance of some of his latest piles of manure. His dramatic role
in last fall's loaded diaper of a movie was meant to be the film that
established him as an actor, but his performance was roundly hailed as
an enormous cluster fuck, and the movie went on to make jack shit at
the box office.

Summer openings, however, seem to work well for Diesel.

"His last two pieces of crap that debuted in the lucrative summer
months grossed an ass-load and a shit-load respectively," said David
Birnbaum of the trade paper Variety, "but with the expectations
surrounding this film, many Hollywood insiders are predicting Diesel
will finally crack the fuck-load mark. This will put him into an
exclusive club, and almost all producers will forget that his last few
movies didn't make fucknuts and that he can't act his way out of a
paper bag."

Rumors in Hollywood abound that this new ass factory will reunite
Diesel with his former co-stars, big tittied bitch who looks good in a
bikini, and Samuel L. Jackson.
The inclusion of Jackson in the presumed cast has many insiders
confused as to why a respected actor would associate himself with such
a huge pool of corn-studded diarrhea.

"Despite his renowned acting chops and appearances in many critically
acclaimed movies, Samuel Jackson seems more than willing to green
light any shit stain of a script that happens to fall in his lap,"
said Birnbaum. "Does anyone remember Formula 51? What a God-awful
Ziploc bag full of baby-shit and spider eggs that was!"

Despite the positively Jersey-like stench surrounding the whole
project, the pile of shit will almost certainly be one of the top
grossing summer manure lagoons of 2005. While it may not garner
Diesel any critical respect, it will prove that he has enough appeal
to turn a movie with less quality than a fart in a sack into a
moneymaker.

"Masturbate for the Cure" Raises Millions for Cancer Research

2004-08-31T20:49:00.000-04:00

It appears that a new charitable organization is poised to blow a huge
sticky load of prevention all over the face of breast cancer.
Masturbate for the Cure, a group that was founded only weeks ago, has
already surpassed the cumulative fundraising totals of all the Race
for the Cure© non-competitive runs and walks. As a means of
comparison, Race for the Cure© was founded in 1982 and sponsors annual
events in all 50 states. Masturbate for the cure is run from a Yahoo!
Groups® website and was founded the 11th.

Asked how he first thought of coupling masturbation with raising money
for cancer research, Masturbate for the Cure co-founder and part time
record store employee Stan Walters replied simply, "I figured I was
doin' it for free anyway."

"Yeah man, before we were putting in so much time and effort towards
masturbating without seeing any monetary results," said Walter's
roommate and fellow Maturbate co-founder Josh David. "One day, after
taking a couple of tasty bingers, Stan Man was like, 'Hey, let's see
if we can get people to sponsor us for masturbating by saying the
money is going to cure breast cancer.'"

But the money is going to cure breast cancer, isn't it? inquired this reporter.

"Oh yeah, almost all of it," confirmed David. "We're just skimming a
little off the top to buy that QP we've been wantingâ¦.and that house."

"Honestly, the whole thing was a big joke at first, but then the money
started pouring in, and we figured, why not save breasts? They're
pretty much what makes masturbating possible in the first place." said
Walters.

"MASTURBATE!" added David.

According to State University evolutionary biology professor, Dr.
Herman Klempf, the union of masturbation and mammaries is only
natural.

"Breast's exist so that men may have something to fantasize about
whilst they are masturbating and something to look at whilst women are
talking," said the professor, "and apparently they also help to feed
young babies or something. Therefore, one can easily concur that
breast cancer is an equal or greater threat to men than it is to
women. Without breasts, we could not masturbate. Without breasts, we
would have to listen to our women. I am not a mathematician, but
surely lack of masturbation + nattering = death."

Part of the genius behind Masturbate for the Cure® is that it allows
supporters to sponsor a participant by the stroke or by the orgasm.
In this way, quick beaters do not have an upper palm on those who like
to take their time.

However, according to Justin Kramer, the charity's highest grossing
participant, it doesn't really matter how one is sponsored, but the
amount of time one puts into the endeavor.

"There are only really two times that I like to masturbate; day and
night," said Kramer. "It doesn't matter if I'm sponsored by the whack
or the cum. If I continue to masturbate for 7 1/2 hours a day, I'm
pretty sure no one will be able to touch my fundraising totals."

Despite the massive success of the program, there are those that
believe some improvements could be made. Specifically, there are many
- this reporter included - that find a long, smooth pair of legs as
sexy as a bulging bust.

"Oh, you're a leg man?" said Walters. "Well, we'll give some of the
money to leg cancer research too, then. Oh, and ass cancer research.
That way the black guys will be happy."

Thanks to this unique and enterprising new charity, breast cancer may
soon be stroked out of existence. So men - whether you're doing it
for a pair you really love, a pair you hope to one day have the
pleasure of caressing, or the pair on that hot piece-of-ass
receptionist you just want to rawdog - get out there and save those
titties!