Last night, I had a few friends over to watch men pummel other men in tights and/or bicycle shorts.  Hamtackle and Sir Chapsworth can't get enough of the mixed martial arts, homo-erotic extravaganza that is UFC.  Personally, I am not entirely interested in UFC but I still agreed to host the shindig.  Vicon showed up with a stack of Little Caesar's, so it was shaping up to be a wonderfully drunken evening.

It was raining pretty hard while we were watching the Tickle-fist competition, so we stepped outside to watch the storm.  I live in an area that does not get too much rain, not to mention torrential downpours.  So It was pretty incredible to see the streets swelling with water.

Suddenly, I saw a large toad hop in my front yard.  I see toads all the time but I still like to look at them.  The rain let up for a moment so I approached the amphibic beast.  Much to my surprise it was not the common toad but an American Bullfrog.  "What the fuck?"  I thought.  I don't live very close to any ponds or streams.  Where did this little fucker come from?

How could this slick skinned critter have ended up in my suburban neighborhood?  Could a tornado have scooped him up and placed him in my yard?  Is this the start of a plague like in the bible?  Was one of my neighbors cursed by a witch?  Could a masturbating chimp have dropped him off once sexually satiated?

Did you ever see that video of the chimp using the frog as a Fleshlight?  Fucking hilarious.

My answer on how this unexpected guest arrived at my house was easy to discover.  Just a search for American Bullfrog on Wikipedia produced the following info.  "On rainy nights, bullfrogs, along with many other amphibians, travel overland, and may be seen in numbers on country roads."

I was about to release my moist new friend when he was snatched away by Sir Chapsworth and Hamtackle.  They spent the next few hours watching UFC and sharing their new Fuck Frog.  The frog lived through the night but I don't think he'll ever fully recover.

A dear friend of Popular Irony, Sir Chapsworth, recently moved to Cleveland to pursue a career in Culinary Prostitution.  Sir Chapsworth's illustrious travels have never before brought him to Cleveland.  He really does not know what to expect.  Because of this, I decided to help Sir Chapsworth fit in by providing him with some important information concerning the gorgeous city of Cleveland. 

Cleveland was founded in 1814 by a splinter cult of Zoroastrians and has grown steadily ever since.  It is a city of culture, nature and miraculous wonders.  In 2010 Cleveland received the esteemed titles of "Most Miserable City in the USA".  Some refer to it by the name "The mistake by the lake". 

Cleveland has high unemployment rates, high taxes, terrible commuting times, incredibly horrible sports teams, shit weather, tons of pollution and crime is sprinkled throughout the city like a steamy shemale cumshot.  

Fucking Hilarious!

The worlds largest Hobo Jungle is located several hundred feet beneath Cleveland.  "Cleveland Below" as it is called, is rife with inbred monstrosities and deformed violent rapists.  Generations of circus freaks and escaped criminals have called Cleveland Below home since the mid 19th century.  Supposedly an illusive and mythical "King Hobo" reigns over Cleveland Below, getting the first pick at the food scraps and first rut with the toothless females that fill the ranks of his harem.  The citizens of Cleveland always carry a jar of "Miracle Whip" in case they are accosted by a Cleveland Below Hobo.  Miracle Whip is one of the only things that can soothe the savage freak.  Most of the monster like hobos only come out at night, so tread carefully and always have a spare jar of the MirWhip on hand as payment to prevent a savage raping.

Once you learn how to deal with monsters of Cleveland Below you can fully enjoy Cleveland Above.  Did you know that the Rock and Roll Museum is in Cleveland?  You did?!  Did you care?  Me neither........

Shirley Jackson's short story "The Lottery" was based on the antics of Clevelandites.  To this day, on June 27th,  the citizens of Cleveland come out in force and ritualistically murder one of their own to keep the forces of evil from taking niblets of their souls.  The event is eagerly anticipated.  There are carnival rides, concerts, the children put on morality plays and one lucky person gets stoned to death in Cleveland Browns Stadium.  This event is one of the only times the citizens of Cleveland enjoy themselves at a Cleveland sports facility.  Keep your fingers crossed Sir Chapsworth.  One day you may be the lucky winner of a death by bludgeoning.

Cleveland has the highest rate of prostitution murders in the world.  Prostitute hunting is legal in the greater Cuyahoga river area.  There are only a couple dozen "Ho tags" available per year and the waiting list can sometimes take several decades.  The wild game (prostitute) must be above 50 years of age and must be female.  If a careless hunter accidentally bags a transsexual prostitute they can be fined several hundred dollars by the Cleveland Game Warden and their kill is confiscated.  Be sure to track your prey carefully and observe their actions.  If while tracking your quarry, you see them fulfill the duties of a "top", it's best to move on and find a new target.  Strap-on or no, it's not worth the risk.

 In closing, we at Popular Irony wish Sir Chapsworth the best in all his endeavors.  If you are from Cleveland and disagree with my astute assumption of Cleveland's history and activities, please leave a comment.  I'm sure we will be able to decipher you clumsy keyboard fist poundings and we look forward to your thoughts.  Cleveland Rocks!!!!?