Impossible Burgers calls Mission Impossible Cast

Meatless Meat

Trump: “I believe this is fake news. Science is for losers. Who would eat this crap, anyway? We have to think about all the cattlemen in danger of losing their jobs. Hey, these people voted for me. I made very, very good promises! These nutjobs need to be silenced very, very soon.”

Putin: “I love the smell of burning blood in the morning.”

Tom Cruise: “No comment.”

Trumpcare

Tycoon Otto Rolfing once owned three sweatshops in Hong Kong, Taiwan, and Newark (New Jersey). His thousand employees worked around the clock manufacturing and stockpiling micro mini-skirts in anticipation of their sweeping return to fashion. Non-union sweatshop workers were paid ten dollars a day for sixteen hours, plus meals {which consisted of rice with fish heads.} Otto’s general manager was Klaus Brunner, reputed cousin of Adolf Hitler. One day over a bucket of Extra Crispy Chicken with Otto, Klaus claimed that his cousin was still alive, and a fisherman in Argentina, but had totally forgotten his past life in Germany, being quite senile.  “It’s hard enough,” Klaus confessed, “for him to bait a hook.”  Naturally, documentaries didn’t raise an eyebrow.
–Soon afterward Otto ran out of money. First to be cut off were the telephones, which really didn’t matter as the phones never rang much anyway, except in New Jersey, where Immigration officials called, hoping someone answered with a Mexican accent. Next to go was the gas. Again, even in New Jersey this didn’t matter except on three or four days in mid summer when inside temperatures rose far enough to trip the thermostat, which was permanently set at 141 degrees. It was only when the power company delivered a threatening note to Otto’s trailer with the euphemistically worded phrase “an interruption of service” that the end became apparent. It would have been nearly impossible to operate sewing machines in total darkness. After all, the warehouses were windowless to maintain secrecy in the event that Ivanka or Ralph Lauren Jr. found out what they were up to. (Even the sign outside read: Otto’s Buttondown Shirts to throw off the media elites.)
–So Otto suspended operations, offering each of his employees, both male and female, a mini-skirt as severance pay. He could afford to be generous as he had manufactured, by then, enough micro mini-skirts for everyone east of the Mississippi, with a few left over for the west coast as well. What he needed now was a vacation.
–After selling their respective trailers, Otto and Klaus hopped a cruise ship bound for the ominously Virgin Islands. As if on cue the ship then mysteriously sank somewhere between New York and Miami. To make matters worse a terrorist, swearing he was from Iran despite his blond hair, blew holes in all the life boats but one, and with a compact grenade launcher he’d managed to smuggle on board because ship’s security had mistaken it for a lifesize Miley Cyrus doll.
–In the water now Klaus and Otto worked frantically to lash together the few remaining ping pong tables into a kind of raft. These, however, were quickly seized by the ship’s captain, performer Andrew “Dice” Clay, and Jimmy Kimmel. Then, as Klaus began complaining about circling sharks, Otto lapsed inextricably into a numb recitation of the Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner. Luckily, about then a Ouija board floated nearby, and their spirits improved immeasurably. Unfortunately, it was noon and they couldn’t distinguish east from west, and so paddled their Ouija board in the wrong direction. Soon the two crossed the 200 mile boundary into international waters {not seeing the buoys}, and were instantly picked up by a surfacing Soviet sub. Not just an ordinary day to day Soviet sub either, but a Typhoon-class model carrying 140 warheads capable of obliterating any country within 5000 miles.
–
The sub’s captain, an amiable if slightly nervous chap of 19, understood English well, having been kicked out of several Welsh boarding schools. Ultimately he succumbed to Otto’s tale of misfortune, embellished with opinions on how the overweight citizens of the United States would probably die of heart attacks as soon as the DOW collapsed again anyway. Remembering all the fast food ads he’d seen, the young captain agreed and ordered the sub be taken to Argentina where, according to Klaus, life was simpler and the fishing was still good. He then permitted Klaus to use the deck cannon to scare Dice and Jimmy a bit.
–The trio now lives with Adolf in a little fishing village south of Mar Del Plata, while the sub, piloted by a 20 year old female, glides aimlessly in and out of Cape Cod, looking through the periscope for sights of a Kennedy heir. Adolf himself has undergone an operation, and now resembles Mother Teresa . . . in a micro mini-skirt.
.
Quiz:  1}  Do you believe this story?
 2}  Do you finally perceive real life as boring, yet you’re too afraid to take the red pill or join a book club, and instead prefer ESPN and TMZ?
 3}  Do you watch Entertainment Tonight religiously?
 –If you answered yes to any of these questions, Spy Dish Network will be contacting you with an offer you may soon be unable to refuse.

healthcare

 

How to Become the Next James Patterson

James Patterson
“Are ya talking ta ME?”

Step 1)  Start by thinking in short sentences. (Turn corners sharply. Make entrances sudden. Exit quickly and quietly. Think scary thoughts. Laugh with sinister glee. Slurp your food.)
 Chapter 2)  Develop a demented philosophy of life—if only to express to your alter ego—while staring into the mirror. Begin by repeating this:  “Nature is cruel. I am cruel. I am fulfilling Nature’s purpose. Does Nature care about individuals, after all? We’re nothing to Nature or Putin, except as drones who trip in the dark and die. Do I want to be a school teacher, or to burp babies, or to have an affair with my boss? Doesn’t matter. Who cares. I know I don’t. Nor does the Universe, far as I can see. So just get off my back, okay? Go collect postage stamps, join a bowling league, drive around at 2 AM with your car stereo blasting. You will anyway.” Chapter 3)  Stop eating oatmeal. Try prunes instead. 
Chapter 4)  Avoid using big words like “mellifluous” or “dysphasic,” which might make critics happy, but won’t keep you on anyone’s recommended beach reading list. (Realize that actually having something to say is somewhat less important than churning out two or eighteen books a year.)
 Chapter 5)  Stop blinking.
 Chapter 6)  When all eyes are on you, wink.
 Chapter 7)  Buy a large, shiny knife.
 Chapter 8)  When you go to the post office, imagine actually going postal.
 Chapter 9)  Develop a taste for organ meats.
 Chapter 10) Hire a successful agent and nine co-authors.
Finally, realize that the brain is just another organ meat. Prior to cooking realize that, as an organ in the head, the brain is said to contain who we are, the mysterious “us” that we believe should oppose and compete with “them.” Also, it’s the least used organ, particularly by hockey or NASCAR fans. Meanwhile, the most used organ is often referred to as having “a mind of its own.” (Now, many say that sex is mostly in the brain, but of course the people saying this don’t really want to play with their brains. Actually, our brains are only three pound clumps of jelly, which you could probably hold in your hand for at least a few seconds before freaking out. A side benefit of grasping this is in also realizing that for much of your life you’ve been worried about what some other clump of jelly thinks about your own clump of jelly. Meanwhile, at various locations across the country there are three pound jellies who recognize the shell holding your clump, and your clump wonders how these jellies are “doing” or “feeling,” too, and if they are coming close to yours next year for what is termed a “holiday,” and if the alignment of electrical impulses inside your jelly mold can ever “forgive” or “love” or “respect” or “whatever” them again. Or even if you should. Feel better now? If so, you are now ready to become either a mystery writer or a serial killer. Flip a coin. (In either case, please seek help soon.)James Patterson Zoo

BRONZE MEDAL– The medal usually won by Olympians who go into bars and no one knows their name. The most bronze medals ever won is credited to Carl Jablonsky who won his 50th consecutive semi-annual Bronze in the Dallas Chili Cookoff, yet all he could do was cry in his beer at being defeating again (and again) for the Gold and Silver by numerous rivals who placed ahead of him previously. “I’m truly ashamed of myself,” he said. “I’ve lost my self worth, my dignity, my savings, my family, and my will to keep on cooking.” Bobby Flay never called him for a Throw Down, although he used humane grass-fed beef instead of the Gold winning Nazi-fed beef from the Texas Longhorn Extermination Camp. Today, bronze medal winners are required to rent from EconoCar, since they don’t merit Avis, whose new slogan is, “We buy silver!”
CELIBACY is the restraint from sex for moral or personal reasons. Unknown in the NBA. Okay?
C.E.O. stands for Chief Executive Officer. That’s someone who ruins a company before bailing out of the boardroom with a golden parachute and backpack full of bonus money. Honey.
CEREBRUM–  The front part of the brain, rarely engaged by WWF fans in favor of the primitive stem area (which also monitors bladder control.)
CLIMATOLOGY–  The study of wind, rain, hail, tornadoes, hurricanes, and other weather related catastrophes (ie. inconveniences) known to delay games.
COKE— An addictive substance known to endorse every politician, sport, emotion, ideology, color, creed, and war. Its market is everyman, its global conquest total, its commercials ubiquitous, and, like North Korea, it rigorously protects its territory and its secrets…albeit not with weapons, just propaganda.
CRAZY BOY– A special deluxe Lazy Boy model featuring heated and refrigerated coasters, a voice activated mini bar, a retractable cheese fountain, and a defibrillator.

DRIVE vs BABY DRIVER

BABY DRIVER MOVIE
Which inspired which, which is better, what is the genre, and which is based on a book? What is the as-yet unfilmed sequel to that book, and who wrote it?

Once upon a time a family of wandering gypsies arrived in America by way of steamer from Istanbul, and later, by banana boat from Costa Rica.  The clan was headed by Haggar Deplorable of the Hungarian Deplorables, a stout, red faced man with big hands and a devious heart.  His wife Rubellah loved those big hands, and placed her trust in them because they never failed her.  Haggar’s hands were big enough to hide wallet leather, strong enough to force any hinge, and yet delicate enough to carry crystal or fine gold necklaces back across any threshold.  Although the knuckles of the right hand were callused from striking the bony jaws of many an interloper, no one could help but admire the stealth and consummate skill with which those hands moved.  Legends are born of less.
—Rubellah was just as impressive herself, but with her it was her eyes.  Dark, penetrating, almost hypnotic in their effect, Rubellah’s eyes could hold the gaze of any others just long enough.  Then, with a swish of long black braids, bound by golden bands, she would be on her way again, a little richer for the encounter. Besides man and matriarch, there were sons and daughters numbering four each.  Stone Deplorable was the bald one since birth, but he made up for his unusual genetic condition by growing hair almost everywhere else.  His thick, coarse chest hair had, on first sight, an animal attraction to women, and his marital engagements and subsequent disappearances averaged ten a year.  Stone was bold, unlike his brother Jacob.  Jacob was the one trained to fit through tight openings, late at night.  He had to be coaxed early, and later used a penlight.  Jacob would not participate in any daylight escapades, such as those perpetrated by Igor and his brother Ahab, who were the identical twins and bungling comics of the clan, and who would often approach a seated mark from either side as Stone moved in from behind with the ether-drenched handkerchief.
—Of the daughters, Ruth was the only homely one.  She kept the books, invested the family earnings, and dabbled in the market.  Her sister Salome, however, looked like she’d stepped out of a Botticelli painting.  Voluptuous, volcanic, verbose, she exuded despicable passions from every pore, and went through men like a diva goes through chocolates.  Meanwhile, Beulah was merely flirtatious, beguiling by comparison; she posed and accessed while Salome pounced.  Finally, Caprice also liked to flirt, but she did not possess Beulah’s detachment, and so often needed to be extricated from amorous situations by Stone’s intervention and wrestling technique.  All four sisters were blessed with their mother’s long dark hair and hypnotic eyes.
—Several years before its demolition the family moved into the projects in Brooklyn just long enough to establish residency, U.S. citizenship, and to play the welfare roles.  Jacob obtained SSI disability payments for his timidity and frail looks, and all the “children” got allowances for food stamps which were later sold on the street at the usual discounts.  As it turned out, they did not need to lie very much, and Haggar even went for worker’s compensation by claiming a fictitious slump in “intrapersonal lifestyle analysis.”  Soon after, they set up a mail drop, scored one final fake drug bust on the building’s pushers, and moved uptown into Trump Tower, which had excellent Hispanic room service.
—“This was a real adjustment for us,” Igor later confided to a cab driver.  “Since poppa was getting older, and found it harder to work with his hands, we hired tutors to teach us proper grammar and etiquette.  Hotel employees who’d complained when they heard Hungarian folk music and Liszt Rhapsodies echoing through the cooling ducts decided they could tolerate us when we stopped singing and dancing, and started tipping.  Guests were not so sure.  Once I was on the elevator during a psychologists convention and got asked if I thought what we were doing was wrong.  After pressing the hold button I explained to a curious shrink what poppa had always taught us, which is that God created us the way we are, so He must rejoice when we do what we do.  Then I asked what he knew, and demanded payment for my session, refusing to release the hold button until I was given a Ulysses S. Grant, although I settled for a Jackson and a Lincoln, which was all the bum had.  After that I started dressing differently too, and began to resemble a politician or a game show host.  It never occurred to me to question our family philosophy or moral judgment, whatever that means.  Like Popeye or The Donald, I yam what I yam.”
—The Deplorables all began to wear different hats from that point.  Beulah and Jacob ascended into high society, attending arts openings and benefits in order to case the patrons’ jewelry.  Salome, finally achieving a modicum of self restraint, was able to play the witty rich divorcee just long enough to lure her gentlemen victims to secluded bedrooms where they were seduced and left exhausted and semi-conscious without their dignity, their Rolexes, or their credit cards.  Confiding in Stone, Salome scoffed at marriage.  “American millionaires,” she laughed.  “No wonder women divorce them.  Besides, the only reason to get married in America is to have kids, and I’m sorry, but I haven’t got eighteen years to spare.  What if I have quintuplets, or Siamese twins when all I really wanted was a Siamese cat?  And what will my baby’s first words be?  ‘Wii Wii?’  Get real.  Babies don’t come from heaven anymore, anyway.  Heaven has been out of babies for quite some time.  Then when the kid starts asking Why, what would I tell it?  I don’t know Why.  To top it off, what if my baby is switched at birth, and I don’t find out until nine years later when someone named Galifianakis shows up, and with a basket?”
—Stone responded in kind.  “With me, I find I’m often forced to leave Xerox copies of one dollar bills as tips on dinner dates.  Afterward I send the women flowers with dead insects in them.  If they don’t get the message, I describe my idea of an exciting evening as curling up on the sofa with a book by Kafka while listening to Bach’s Goldberg Variations and eating Fruit Loops straight from the box.  If they manage to find me, I disguise our empty refrigerator with plastic roasts purchased from appliance salesmen down on their commissions, and I allow them to discover this while I’m watching Dancing with the Stars and sipping Ovaltine from an elephant-shaped mug.”
—Speaking of politics, Igor and Ahab had some misadventures of their own.  Identical twins on each side of the game, they raised funds which they also skimmed from both Democrats and Republicans.  Their education on the matter was obtained by attending phony real estate seminars run by former televangelists, and taking copious notes on technique.
—Ahab:  “I told them what they wanted to hear.  I defined class envy as something which occurs in people who don’t have any class, liberals as near-sighted people prescribing rose-colored glasses, and high school grads as young punks who can whistle all the top forty tunes but still can’t read their own diplomas.  Was I tough on crime?  Well, for rape I suggested the perp do a stint as playmate for amorous eight hundred pound gorilla.  For DUI the stint would be as a bumper in a bumper car concession run by crazed 8 year olds.  For slapping, yelling at, or otherwise preventing a child from learning to speak English and to vote Republican the perp got incarceration for twenty four hours with an abusive life insurance agent suspected of murdering his mother.  And just for allowing your kid to watch TMZ on TV as much as he wanted required you to be bound, gagged, and forced to watch House of Cards reruns for two days straight, your eyes stuck open with Crazy Glue.”
—Igor:  “With the Democrats, I tried to cover myself by taking the rich versus poor debate one giant step forward.  I proposed an actual class war by claiming to have inside information that the other side was already mobilizing.  For K rations my lower class battalion would have grits, toast, and powdered milk for breakfast, Spam, Coke, and a slice of government cheese for lunch, and tuna casserole, tea, and a dollop of rocky road ice milk for dinner.  Of course for the rich it was, I admitted, German Sausage Coquettes, fresh squeezed orange juice, and Belgian waffles for breakfast, Tuscan Veal with pine nuts, Amaretto Custard Cake, and cappuccino with chocolate garnish for lunch, and for dinner it was Roast Rack of Lamb Tiffany, Medallions de Trois Viandes aux Trois Poivron, Fresh Mango Sherbet with coulis of raspberries, and Mouton Rothschild 1938.  Unfortunately, I was heckled as any bad stand up comic might be.  This wasn’t the kind of reaction I wanted, so I slipped out the back way with as much slush fund money as I could carry.”
—There were other failures for the twins.  For instance, they later infiltrated the gangs, and attempted to convince various gang leaders of certain credentials, much like a national fraternity official might when visiting a local chapter.  They even set up a school, or rather skool, to teach homies the history of gangs which they’d failed to learn.  To qualify for GEDs {Gang Education Diplomas} kids were told that it wasn’t enough just to know how to blow smoke rings, or how to walk around with their belts unbuckled and shirt tails out without dropping their baggy pants, or even the proper way to flash “get stuffed” to other gangs in order to provoke a shooting spree.  They needed to learn how to fail at everything else in life in order to get into ANGER U, of which the twins were admissions coordinators.
—“Unfortunately, we had a high dropout rate,” Igor soon complained.  “Many were fascinated at first when we told them CRIPS stood for Class Rebels Immortalizing Paint Spray, but when we said that BLOODS stood for Bitter Lads Objectifying Oppressive Dysfunctional Society no one knew what ‘objectifying’ and ‘dysfunctional’ meant, and then it was too late to change it to Boys Learning Of Oppression, Drugs, and Suicide.  So I blurted out something about two splinter groups of the Bloods that went to war–the B Positives and the B Negatives, and who did they think won?  Then Ahab, thinking it a good joke, tried to up me by invoking the LORDS, and asking which faction did they think came out on top, the Legion Of Raging Demented Sociopaths or the Lovers Of Really Delicious Shortcake?  Alas, our humorless would-be subjects suspected we were dissing them then, and we barely made it out of klass by remembering that we needed to attend the funeral of Bloods impressionist graffiti artist Chico Rameriz, who was killed for having a ‘blue’ period.”
—Although the twins did manage to start a gang of their own in Chinatown, that didn’t pan out either.  The short lived Kung Yu Gang followed no particular martial arts code, although they had plenty of black belts, purple belts, and quite a few gold chains.  To the twins fiscal disappointment, the gang’s rumbles became mainly intermural food fights, pitting the Japanese VS. the Vietnamese, or the Chinese Szechuans VS. the Taiwan Mutant Ninja Tenderloins.  For fun the upstart youngsters even vandalized price and options tags at American car dealerships.
—Meanwhile Ruth continued to buy Krugerrands, gold stocks, and commodities futures in preparation for the coming economic collapse, which “any fool could see” was inevitable once one of the two candidates set up in the Oval Office.  Such became her acumen in international currency exchange that she had three additional phone lines installed into the Trump casino suite where Rubellah had once sung songs of the old country and cooked goulash for Haggar.
—“They tried to audit me once,” Ruth confessed to a hotel maid, “but I put the kibosh on that and diverted the audit by slipping an herb concoction into the auditor’s tea which had an aphrodisiac effect.  Then I seducing him with what really turned him on–-new ideas for torturing an auditee (or candidate unwilling to release their tax returns for public dissection.)  One suggestion I made was that he strap the evasive taxpayer to a Delco battery and jolt the truth out of him for two hours while his property was sold at auction to a bunch of yard sale junkies.  The auditor was so excited by my concepts that he had to go back to his office to relieve himself with some day trading.”
—For Rubellah’s part, she worked part time as a self employed psychic hotline operator, so she could be near her children.  When the kids were out she told fortunes with her crystal ball in the Marriott ballroom.  Rubellah relished her job, and often repeated a favorite fortune for people she disliked, which was that their ambulance driver would favor the scenic route.  But secretly she also longed for the old days, when her family danced and sang with Bollywood stars.
—As for Haggar, he found employment by becoming a reincarnation of The Prophet.  Simply by growing a long gray beard and calling himself Ahred Dustafo he was able to make a video tape dispensing Gibranesque wisdom, and was soon asked to speak at prestigious area colleges.  This, after trying other unsuccessful boasts, like claiming his grandfather was King of Liechtenstein.
—Haggar:  “Before I found this particular niche, I was bragging to everybody I met that granny played gin rummy with Queen Victoria, that our family psychiatrist was Freud himself, and that before I was ten I’d been on eighteen boxes of cereal, including Muselix.  But then I met a shoe salesman who told me his family was so rich once that even their butler drove a 1936 Auburn Speedster and had a winery in the Napa Valley he’d never seen.  I grew tired of my con job after that.  And then one day when a hot dog vendor asked me the meaning of life, for some reason I told him I couldn’t tell him or he’d go mad, shave his head, and attack the Pope.  Other people asked me even sillier questions, like why I wore a long white robe-–which was better to hide things under–-or why the city of Toledo is considered holy.  This was the last straw.  It was time to get back to the old ways, to get on the move again, and to find happiness.  So Rubellah bought me some Ben Gay for my hands, and we gathered our children together and hit the road.  I can’t tell you how good it felt to laugh and sing again as we danced our way across America, doing what we do best in the land of freebies and the home of the Atlanta Braves.”
—So confessed Haggar Deplorable in a letter to the Trump Tower doorman, explaining why they’d left, and how much they enjoyed trashing the room and insulting everyone.  And to this day it seems that everyone is looking for the clan, because we all need someone to blame.  This may also be why politicians on both sides of the debate are suspicious of each other, and why they continue to talk about the despicable Deplorables. —Ryback Solomon

CNN
Democrats or Republicans? Tea or Coffee? Choose or die.

Restaurant Offers Speed Dating Delivery Service

dennys

Dennys offers speed dating delivery service for busy bikers. Do you want to ride on the wild side with a bad boy gang banger? Here’s your chance. Not responsible for the high speed accidents ahead…that’s the signpost up ahead…reads The Twilight Zone. You could end up alone, or sleeping with a cell phone with an exploding battery…

 

die

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