In the short history of Popular Irony we have had, ironically, very little popularity in our viewership.  We have noted, however, that there are some key terms that tend to generate more traffic in google searches than others.  This post is intended to exploit what little we know about manipulating search terms to increase organic traffic to our website.  I guess you could say that we are selling out, or whoring ourselves for pageviews, which have absolutely no value to us other than simple ego appeasement.  So here it goes, some pictures and text that are designed to appeal to the anonymous internet viewer.

Ron Paul

is a politician that is popular among under-informed young voters because he believes we should legalize marijuana.  He is currently polling well in Iowa, which is having it's caucus tomorrow to endorse a Republican candidate for President of the United States.  Aside from advocating drug use and having total contempt for the office he is currently seeking, Doctor Paul is also an isolationist with his foreign diplomacy policy and wants to repeal the civil rights act... You know, because it isn't fair.

Kim Kardashian

is a whore who is rich by birth and has never done any work on her hands and knees that wasn't filmed for profit.  She is most recently famous for marrying NBA player

Kris Humphries

and divorcing him after only 72 days.  She made several million dollars in reality shows and endorsements surrounding her engagement and wedding, and sold all her wedding gifts to buy her family Rolex watches.  She is also famous for having a deliciously large ass.

Katy Perry

is a pop singer who is in the news for separating from her husband

Russell Brand

.  She is famous for singing and having tits that are too provocative for Sesame Street, and her husband is famous for being a former trick-turning, heroin addicted, sex obsessed comedian from the UK. 

Mitt Romney

is running for the Republican nomination for President of the United States.  He is famous for saying anything to gain popularity with whichever crowd is in front of him at the moment, and for being a mormon moderate who is despised by his own party.

The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn part 1

is a recently released film adaptation of a book written by Stephenie Meyer.  It is about a woman named Bella Swan that is struggling with her two fetishes, necrophilia and bestiality.  She is in love with an undead vampire named Edward and a werewolf named Jacob.  It is famous for having a devoted following of teenagers and adults with social anxiety disorder, and for having an incredibly shitty love story.

Amy Winehouse

is a dead singer/songwriter that is famous for being a total trainwreck alcoholic and drug addict.  She passed away in late July of 2011 from alcohol poisoning,  officially labeled as "death by misadventure".  

Tim Tebow

is the quarterback for the Denver Broncos.  He is famous for loving Jesus WAY too much, writing bible verses in his eye black, miraculously winning close football games late in the fourth quarter (until recently, that is), and for throwing the ball like an asthmatic twelve year old girl despite having the arms of a power lifter.

Lady Gaga

is a pop singer who is famous for trying desperately to become Madonna circa 1987.  She is also famous for wearing dresses made of meat and dressing very strangely.

There you have it, people.  I will periodically update this post with a comment that will give the pageview count for this post.  If you want to encourage this type of shameless pandering just go to the homepage, click on the post link, then repeat!       

It seems like every time we get ready to celebrate the coming of a new year we partake in the tradition of judging ourselves with new year's resolutions, which generally include losing weight, quitting smoking, furthering your career or education, improving your love life, or any combination of them.  It is not clear why we do this to ourselves, but it is simply causing introspective insecurity on a global scale and damaging self image.  This is not a healthy way to begin your new year, and self-admitted loser status is terribly detrimental to your confidence.  That is why this year, Popular Irony is introducing a reverse approach to new year's resolutions that is sure to become popular worldwide!

Considering how making your own resolutions is an embarrassing and painful experience, we purpose that the opposite may be true, and you could inspire confidence and gratification by writing resolutions for your friends and family!  So get out your best holiday stationary and write each person in your life a harsh criticism to kick off a new year in alienating form.  Here's mine!

B.C.

- In 2012 you and I will likely continue to associate outside of work, and I look forward to the coming year's experiences.  And to ensure our continued pleasantness I ask that you resolve to cease all discussions of conversations we have

outside

of work, with people we mutually know

inside

of work.  This includes, but is not limited to, tasteless but humorous comments I have made while drinking, criticisms of our coworkers I have made while drinking, political/religious rants I have made while drinking, as well as any discussion about the frequency or quantity of my drinking.

Daniel

- In order to start the new year with your personal development as the highest priority I am now giving you the gift of some personalized new year's resolutions.  First and foremost, and putting your political beliefs aside, you MUST resolve to stop using The Drudge Report as your primary source for news.  This has caused you no end of embarrassment when having to retract hastily-made comments about current events that are later proven false.  And please stop bringing copies of Guns and Ammo to work and keeping them in plain view on your desk.  People have been talking.

Michael

- Happy new years.  You need to stop being such a fucking liar, and try working for a full day once in a while.  And dump your fat girlfriend.  She is a hateful single mother with horrible breath and acne, and manages to finish a distant second when compared to the pro/con ratio of fucking a dry catcher's mitt.  

Sir Chapsworth

- In the coming year I ask that you stop chewing tobacco.  You have left your home state now, and I don't want you perpetuating hick stereotypes while living in another part of the country.  And if your lips fall off I refuse to be seen in public with you.  Also, you must resolve to keep all relationships with the opposite sex purely physical in nature.  If you get engaged to ONE more woman that I have never met I will fucking kill you.  If you experience the desire to make a commitment of any kind give me a call, and I will help you destroy the relationship.

And of course,

Terlet

- In the past year we have grown quite close, and communicate daily regarding post ideas, potential projects, or just to discuss hilarious shit.  And from one friend to another, I have a few resolutions you should observe for 2012.  For one, you must resolve to allow visitors to ring your doorbell once in a while.  You have a habit of nervously peeking out the window like a geriatric shut-in in anticipation of company, and we both know you are better than that.  Second, the whole "bangin' a bunch of highschool cheerleaders" thing was totally cool back when we were 17, but these days it is a criminal offense.  If it doesn't stop I am contacting the authorities.  I am serious.  

Everyday, terrible things happen to countless people.  Horrible travesties besiege the globe.  Not even the innocent are spared from the innumerable catastrophes culling the human population.  If only there was a way to make everything OK.  Generation after generation people have sought ways to lighten the impact of the horrific, to soften the blow of the gut wrenching.  Well seek no further for I have found the cure to the worlds ills.  It is so simple, that it is brilliant.  Hidden in plain site, the motherfucking MUSTACHE!! 

Our first example of the healing power of the mustache is the Pulitzer Prize-winning photo of General Nguyễn Ngọc Loan executing Nguyễn Văn Lém.  Holy shit that is a horrific photo.  It gave many Americans a negative view on the Vietnam war.  But if you throw a mustache on there, suddenly it's just two drinking buddies having a good time.  HA HA!  I GOT YOUR MUSTACHE!

I got your mustache!

Mustaches can make even the strangely, odd historical moments even more memorable.  Especially when that mustache is accompanied by accessories.  Maybe if George Bush had manned it up a bit with a magical mustache and a sophistication disguise, the Iraqi guerrilla fighters might have taken "Mission Accomplished" seriously and not increased the insurgency. 

Now that is a mustache that I can trust!

AAAAAHHHH!!!  NOOOO!! FULL FACE TRANSPLANT!! FULL FACE TRANSPLANT!!  This spaniard received the worlds 1st full face transplant after a "Gun Accident" lost him the use of his face.  Even with his new face he looks like a melted wax dummy.  Good thing I equipped him with a curly tipped mustache.  Mustaches are magic handsome machines.  Take a look, I'd fuck him.

That is one fine mustache!

In certain situations a mustache can save your life.  If only JonBenet Ramsey had a sweet, slim, John Waters mustache.  I bet you anything she would still be alive today. Most pedophiles don't like to choke-rape a child who is staring back at them with their own mustache.  Major boner killer.

JonBenet Waters

So why not take my advice and get some hair growing on that upper lip.  Can't grow a mustache?  Modern science has developed many varieties of "simulated mustaches".  They may be fake but the security and happiness they provide are real.   But don't overdue it!  Sometimes a mustache can get out of control.  Take Hitler for example.  That tiny square mustache caused more destruction that any mustache before it.  That is why it has been internationally banned.  Go ahead and look for it, you'll never see anyone wearing it.  And if you do see someone wearing it, you'll probably end up fucking them.  It is that powerful of a mustache.  So please, mustache safely my friends!

-Stache up bitches.

When Cheryl and I gave way to our desires it became a challenge of sexual equals, a match of lustful will.  We kissed until the swelling in our lips gave way to a bouquet of raw sores, then combined into a two headed beast of shuddering passion with flailing arms reminiscent of the deliberate flutter of a serpent's tongue.  She pressed into my thankful maleness until we could be no closer, then manipulated our fused sex with precise thrusts and parries designed to balance the stimulus of both the lover and the loved.  Cheryl controlled my every twitching muscle, prompting a range of reactions from tears to laughter, and from lust to spite.

To gain control was to take it by force, and a fight she gave with great enthusiasm.  I pressed down her arms and kept her teeth at bay, while breaking her grip on my not-unwilling todger with a rhythmic dance of hip gyration and deep squatting.  Once freed my focus did, by necessity, shift from defense to aggression, turning her shoulders away from me and driving her snarled visage into the bosom of the bed.  With the considerable threat of her snapping maw neutralized, I began the assault of her every vulnerable orifice with my throbbing instrument of vengeance.  Cries of defeat slowly faded to uninhibited grunts of pleasure, punctuated by fits of frenzied barking and spitting.

The uninitiated could view the display as an otherworldly dark ritual of combat, something intended to foster a blood lust in the eager participants, but they would be missing the beauty of mutually combative sexual conquest.  But once the lion had his fill, and the broken feminine form yielded all her fruits for him, her transition from sexual prey to wily puppeteer was complete.  The strength of her musk, and the promise of future fruit she would yet yield was beyond the resistances of the lion's massive layers of corded muscle.  Despite his eager and capable physical power he would become the marionette to her every whim, and she the wielder of his ample capacity.  And the seed she made him spill, the sweat she stole from his skin, would mark the covenant they shared.

The exchange of power complete, Cheryl sealed the agreement with a savage bloodletting, raking her claws across my bare torso with enough ferocity to mark for months to come.  This grim reminder of the encounter to prompt a measure of commitment greater than any that can be achieved through the giving of rings, or the swearing to gods.  We were two carnal adventurers agreed to brave the harsh wild together, and in doing so sharpening our collective resolve. 

Far from home, smelling foul, and in an unfamiliar bar, detective Vic Musket sat perched atop a large bar stool.  It was not often that he made it to bars, and much preferred drinking out in public where he could make lewd gestures at passing women.  "Give me three shots of the house whisky." Vic barked, loud enough to get the attention of the half a dozen or so truckers that sat around him.  They were all stereotypical fat, unshaven rednecks in overalls and foam hats with oil advertisements and such on them.  It was clear that the sign outside offering $5 showers didn't stir up much business here.

"You got it, fella.  Three bucks."  The bartender said.  Vic thought of asking why the shots were so cheap, but decided not to look this gift horse in the mouth.  After one swig he knew the answer.  This whisky was piss.  

"I needed that.  Got my car wrecked up the highway a bit, now I have no way to get down to Dallas to see my daughter get married."  Vic laid that bait out to see if anyone was going that way.  In his limited hitchhiking experience a trucker is usually willing to give a ride to anyone headed their direction.  Helps to keep sane when the roads start to turn into endless straight lines out west. 

"Yer car was wrecked up, my ass!  You that queer boy they locked up last night.  I saw you come in when they was lettin' me out the drunk tank."  The biggest redneck of the bunch chimed in, clearly looking for trouble.

Vic turned to look at the meaty bastard through the smoky bar air.  "Must have been somebody else, Susan.  I just drove in this morning, and hit a deer at about 60 miles an hour.  Bambi messed up my car real good.  You must have me mistaken for someone else."

"No, sir!  That was you all right.  Cops couldn't stop makin' jokes about what you had planned for that rubber wiener you were carryin'.  You a queer boy fer sure!"  The brute stood up for emphasis and walked over to the bar, making it clear he was at least a half foot taller than Vic.

"Look, friend,"  Vic changed his tone "I don't want trouble.  I just need to find a ride to Texas."

"Well I'll be goddamned if I am gonna let some sissy faggot into my rig!  In fact, yer lucky I don't chain you to the trailer and drag you down to Texas!  I tell you what, sissy boy, I'll give you a ride all the way down to Dallas if you can beat little old me in a friendly arm wrasslin' contest."  The man sat down at the nearest chair with his elbow firmly planted on the table.  For emphasis he turned his cap around to the back.

Vic looked the much larger man straight in the eyes, removed his jacket and took a seat opposite him.  He slowly rolled up the sleeve of his right arm exposing the paleness beneath, and breathed deeply.  His left hand plucked the lit cigarette out from his lips and snuffed it out in the empty ashtray between them, and grabbed a hold of the man's massive hand.  "Ready."  Vic said.

SLAM!  Vic lost almost before the contest even began, his hand crashing painfully onto the table.  "Ha!  I ain't never gonna lose to no queery city boy!  Get out of here, sissy!  I ain't givin' you no ride!" Came the man's immediate victory cry.  

Vic didn't respond, and didn't get up to leave with his tail between his legs like everyone expected.  He just reached into his pocket for another cigarette, lit it and sat back.  Calmly, he replied "Aww, c'mon Susan.  Can't I get a ride?  I'll suck yer dick!"

The man turned and charged Vic like a wounded animal, clearly incensed at the nerve of this stranger who lost at arm wrasslin' and

still

was talking shit.  Vic quickly flicked the lit cigarette at the beast and hit him dead in the face, raining fiery embers all around and leaving him disoriented.

"Fuck!" Cried the large man as he crashed through a wooden table and fell face-first into the floor.  Vic calmly stood up and walked over the downed man, dropping a heavy boot into the back of his head.  All four limbs tensed up and the man started immediately snoring, relieving everyone that he was still alive after the brutal stomp.  

CLACK, CLACK!  The familiar noise of a pump action shotgun being readied came from behind Vic.  The bartender glared at him from over the barrel.  "Get out of here, mister.  Before I do something we both regret."

That was all the invitation he needed.  He downed his last shot and grabbed his jacket before storming out the double doors.  "Great" he thought. "I guess I had better start walking." 

"Hey, mister!  Hey!"  A woman came running put of the bar after him.  At least he thought it was a woman, although she looked akin to the meaty bastards inside.  "I'm headed down through Dallas!  I can give you a ride!"

Vic smiled.  Things were finally looking up.

To be continued...

Just a heartfelt romantic comic to keep the Christmas spirit alive in all of us.  And before you cry foul at the lack of effort today, I would like to invite you all to fuck yourselves.  Merry day-after-Christmas.

Greetings Gentle Reader,

Sometimes, we at Popular Irony like to take a break from the incessant vulgarity and bullshit we spew on a daily basis and do something nice.  Today I have provided my own dramatic reading of "Twas the Night Before Christmas".  Mostly because it is literally the night before Christmas.  I don't really feel like writing a filthy story or making a stupid video.  I've had a few drinks and I am ready to watch a few episodes of Deep Space 9.  (How the fuck is Sisko gonna get outta this one??)

Why not go and forcefully wake up the kids, drag them downstairs and have them repeatedly listen to this holiday treasure. Why not make them stay awake until they complete an essay on the poem?  They are getting stupid as shit on the Christmas holiday from school and would benefit from some aggressively instructed academical immersion.  I am sure that they will agree that this is possibly greatest reading of that old fucking poem, EVER!

So strap in and enjoy Terlet's stupid, old man voice reading "Twas the Night Before Christmas"

Murray Crimmus!!

Auto erotic asphyxiation can be an exciting and satisfying release that, if done correctly, can be accomplished with little difficulty or danger.  The practice originates from the struggles of the ancient caveman as they copulated in the harsh environments of times past.  Back then the protocol for lovemaking was quite rough by the standards of a modern society, and greatly resembles rape.  An ancient human would judge the health of their mate during coitus by the vigor with which they fought back.  Because of this ancestral custom, modern humans receive a heightened sense of pleasure from the act of choking.  The practice is not entirely without risk, however.  If one is left without breath for too long they can quickly descend into unconsciousness, and this has led to the deaths of many great and powerful lovers, although usually while engaging in the activity alone.  This was never an issue in caveman lovemaking, as unconsciousness just invited the victor to either complete the act uncontested, or to escape, depending on the gender of the winner.

This is why much care should be taken before attempting this new and dangerous endeavor.  First rule of AEA is to never attempt this alone.  The act was never intended to be a solo procedure, and unless you want to be selected out of the genepool in embarrassing fashion, avoid it.  Your backup does not have to be a sexual partner, although it can heighten the pleasure of the experience, and can be used to grow trust and closeness in a relationship.  If selecting a trusted friend, keep one simple tip in mind before making an invitation:  If you wouldn’t trust the person to spot you in the gym, don’t ask them to spot you in the bedroom.  Physical strength is a premium in the characteristics of an ideal backup.  And don’t be selfish.  Remember to offer a reciprocal turn in the choker, and be as involved and vigilant as your backup was.  And it should be unnecessary to say, but make sure you have no unsettled arguments with your spotter, and be willing to trust them with your life, since that is what you will be doing.

Preparation should be given thorough detailed attention.  This can be the most important step, as most AEA adventurists fall to improperly prepared ligatures.  If you used to be a boyscout, then now is your time to shine.  You need a variable tension slipknot with a safety switch.  When you pull the loose end you drop to the floor, into the protective embrace of your spotter.  If you begin to either lose vision or see floating spots, pull the cord.  The tendency of the greedy masturbator is to finish at any cost, but pulling early will not only ensure a safe environment, but will heighten the experience once you are able to resume.

Please keep this brief tutorial in mind before attempting any self-endangering masturbatory pursuits, and may your towels always be soiled.  Be diligent in your prep work and partner selections, and avoid cameras of any kind.  The idea of watching a homemade porn starring yourself sounds great until you decide to run for political office in the republican party.  Just ask Herman Cain.

You almost did it, didn't you?  You almost absentmindedly gave an incredibly offensive gift to someone you love and respect.  Good thing you read Popular Irony every day, huh?  Tonight we offer a brief last minute checklist to make sure your gifting remains appropriate this holiday season.  No one wants a repeat of that year you gave grandma the personal lubricant gift basket, so pay attention.  Avoid giving any of the listed items to the corrosponding people, and you can be sure that the only tears shed this holiday season are tears of familial hatred, not shame and regret.

Person recently diagnosed with cancer:

• Electric razor
• Lifetime membership to ANYTHING
• Geiger counter
• An hourglass
• "Bucket List" themed stationary

A male homosexual:

• A subscription to the Westboro Baptist Church newsletter
• Condoms
• Ableware 725120000 Bathroom Anus Stimulator ($67.48 on Amazon)
• Narrow bicycle seat

A paraplegic:

• A pedometer
• A ladder
• 10 year paid membership to e-harmony
• Any length of rope

An obese person:

• Airplane tickets
• A bike
• Industrial size baby powder
• "Adopt a starving child" sponsorship
• One shoe (tasteless diabetes joke)

A recent parolee:

• City bus pass
• New hairnet and latex gloves
• Carton of cigarettes
• Tattoo removal voucher
• Resumé writing service

An expectant mother:

• Rollerskates
• Planned Parenthood brochure
• Extra large novelty underwear
• Victoria's Secret gift card
• Condoms

So just remember to be a little more thoughtful the next time you go shopping for your diverse group of friends.  After all, it's the thought that counts, and you almost let everyone know you are an asshole by giving an inappropriate gift.  You can thank Popular Irony later for this faux pas prevention post! 

The Ableware 725120000, since you're curious.

Yesterday the world lost yet another eccentric, egomaniacal tyrant in Kim Jong Il.  Having recently witnessed the fall of Moammar Gadhafi I am confronted by an irrational longing for insane and evil international supervillain of years past.  So as a respectful send off Popular Irony offers a short biography of Kim Jong Il.  Enjoy.

Greetings... Seriously

As we all know, Kim Jong Il was born at the foot of Mount Baekdu on February 16 1942 under the beautiful celestial phenomenon of a double rainbow and the spontaneous inception of a new star in the heavens.  And from these humble beginnings he rose to obtain the simultaneous rankings of Supreme Commander of the Korean People's Army, Marshal of The Democratic People's Republic of Korea, Chairman of the National Defense Commission of North Korea, Great Leader of The Democratic People's Republic of Korea, General Secretary of the Worker's Party of Korea, and the Chairman of the Central Military Commission.  And you would never know it by looking at his modest garb and simple fur hat.  How's that for modesty?  And considering he had some of the most fabulous hair in the known world, the fur hat speaks to his "regular guy" personality.

Much has been made about the glorious claims made about the man, but there can be little doubt that his legendary exploits are genuine, and have been dutifully documented by the North Korean media.  For instance, did you know that Kim Jong Il doesn't defecate?  Or that he once attempted golf, but was bored by it after hitting 11 holes in one and ending up 38 under par?  It is also a widely known fact that Kim Jong Il sparked a fashion trend the world over and was the modern pre-eminent international authority on the internet. 

And let us review the list of commercial successes that have made North Korea a shining example of the possibilities the western world can aspire to:

North Korean soda is best!

North Korea meat is best!

North Korea paper is best!

North Korea fish is best!

North Korea jam is best!

In his short existence on this planet Kim Jong Il overcame incredible odds and oppression by the United States to flourish as the economic powerhouse it is today.  And although his star burned too bright for most of the world to appreciate, and he certainly made some enemies throughout his political career, his struggle against the evil empire of the United States of America was greatly exaggerated as many government sponsored posters were misunderstood to be anti-American propaganda:

This work of art has been widely misinterpreted to call for the demolition of the American capitol by the North Korean red army.  The artist is actually trying to convey a sense of infatuation with the US by displaying the frustration his country feels in falling behind international standards of human rights, displaying the heavy hand of diplomatic negotiation damaging North Korea's international influence.

This image has often been mistaken as a propaganda piece implying that US troops committed atrocities against the people of Korea during the Korean war.  In actuality, this image shows how troops were able, on occasion, to save the innocent children from certain danger.  In this case a dangerous open air well.  The Americans were well appreciated for their altruistic efforts, as indicated by the joyful expression on the face of the mother.

And here we see a popular political piece that has received much criticism by the uniformed viewer for it's apparent display of contempt for the American flag.  Truth be told, this image does not show a vengeful North Korean subject attacking democracy, but rather a hopeful youth with visions of the glorious annexation of North Korea by the United States to create a new American State!  She eagerly disposes of the current flag to hep usher in a new era that includes the newest 51st star!  Go America!

So before you join your friends or coworkers in ridiculing the fallen icon, just remember how great and influential Kim Jong Il became, and mourn the loss of a great leader.