Perhaps I was being naive, or maybe just a little too hopeful, but I gathered up all my shit and packed it into my car. It all amounted to about two bags of clothes and crap, six cans of food, a dozen or so books, a half empty jug of whiskey, and my gun. I was going back to my old apartment to see Vanessa and hopefully move back in and get properly laid for the first time in a while. I decided to head out early since she was a late sleeper and would almost certainly still be asleep before about noon, and hit the road. If everything went well I would never come back to this shithole.

After stopping on the way to get gas I looked in my wallet at the three twenty dollar bills that seemed so very lonely, like the the final surviving prisoners of a condemned gang waiting silently for their number to be called. I couldn't help but wonder if my fond memories of Vanessa were subconsciously fueled by my need for money and aversion to work, or an indication of my true feelings for the woman. I just hoped she would be likewise yearning again for my company and not still furious over our fighting and the money I took from her purse. If she pressed me I could say I used it to pay for my emergency room visit (lies), and tell her how the betrayal felt more painful than the knife she left in my arm (more lies).


It took another hour and a half to make it back to my old neighborhood, and when I pulled into the lot I saw my old space still unoccupied. I took the stairs and sheepishly approached the apartment door, the carpet in the hallway still slightly orange from the blood I had spilled there. I could hear a muffled radio through the door, proof she was still home. I knocked softly, and after a few seconds heard the locks grinding open. I was face to face with an old man, probably twenty years my senior. "Hello." he said "Can I help you?" I was a bit startled. "I'm sorry... I used to know the last tenant here. Sorry to bother." And turned away, dejected.


On the way down the stairs I decided to drop by the landlord's apartment and see if she knew where Vanessa moved to, until I heard her voice. "Wait!" Vanessa came running down the steps after me in a bathrobe. "Oh my god! Where have you been? I have been so worried..." Tears were rolling down her face, smearing yesterday's mascara. I was confused. "Not worried enough to keep from dragging some old fuck back into our home, huh? Blowing his wrinkled cock in our bed, huh?" Her vulnerability triggered my predatory instinct and I was on the attack. "It's not what you think, goddammit! He's my fucking father, ok?" She was speaking through short, sobbing breaths. How could I be so fucking dumb? Of course it was her father. I took the last of her money, but she was still here. Still living comfortably, probably eating well, and most likely earning her hush money again. "Oh I get it." I said calmly. "Daddy's got his little whore back." I broke free of Vanessa's grasp and watched her fall to her knees on the stairs, wailing and broken, then turned and headed down to my car to get my gun.
 

Welcome everyone to our first annual Popular Irony Halloween Costume Contest!  We have accepted submissions from hundreds of readers and narrowed the choices down to three men's costumes and three women's costumes, with the winner taking home an official Popular Irony embroidered t-shirt!  So without further ado, here are the contestants.

#1.) Here is our first male contestant, dressed up as an army man using duct tape and green paint.  This one is pretty good, but I think the color is a bit off.  Not to sound harsh, but that rifle is also very undersized compared to a real M16.  Also, you can't see his eyes, so I have to assume he doesn't have painted eyelids. In short, this guy probably needs to step it up for next year.  But good effort!

#2.) Wow!  I must say this is an amazing nurse costume!  It looks very professionally made, has the authentic pin stripes and red cross, and the hat matches perfectly.  She has mastered the empathetic and nurturing look to the point that you almost feel like an injured hospital patient just by looking at her.  Bravo.  This one is going to be hard to beat, but I'm sure the rest of our contestants are up to the challenge!

#3.) Here we have a rather mediocre attempt at a skull, but it's not without it's charm.  I admit that the makeup work is pretty solid, but it's pretty clear he applied it himself in the mirror if you look at the brush strokes and the slightly asymmetrical application.  If I were him I would have used a white paint base to make it look a little more realistic (I mean, who ever saw a skintone skull?).  B+ for effort, but a C- for application.

#4.)  Holy fucking shit!  Just look at this Supergirl outfit!  You can tell that she was working on this costume for months in advance, and her effort shows.  Bonus points have to be awarded for the forethought that must have went into this costume idea so she has to be up near first place, although it is pretty close.  Way to step up the effort this year, ladies!

#5.)  Come on guys, are you even trying?  It is obvious this guy just rolled out of bed this morning and thought "Oh shit!  I need a halloween costume for the party tonight!  I guess I'll just roll in some paint and tell everyone I'm Venom from the Spiderman comics!"  Pretty much everything went wrong here, from the undefined lines in the paint job to the total lack of professional polish.  I'm sorry you had to see this, people.  Utter shit.

#6.)  Now this is what I'm talking about!  Here we have a truly professional finish on a halloween classic, the... uh... topless blue girl costume.  It really is a treat to see someone putting their heart and soul into a costume they will only ever wear probably once in their lifetime.  She has a picture-perfect halloween memory that is really something to be proud about.  Kudos to her!

So who wins?  Damn, this is a really hard one.  But after reviewing the merits of each costume, and factoring in creativity and originality, I guess we have to say it's...  a three-way tie!  That's right, folks, we just couldn't decide between three of the costumes, so we decided to reach deep into the Popular Irony coffers to pony up three t-shirts for contestants #2, #4, and #6.  One of our interns just pointed out that it was a sweep by the ladies this year.  What a coincidence!  Well, I guess the men have something to shoot for next year, and hopefully they can be inspired to put an equal amount of production value into their costumes for the second annual Popular Irony Halloween Costume Contest.  See you next year!

In honor of halloween I elected to participate in the zombie survival challenge. You are given five minutes to grab everything that you may find useful should you learn of an impending zombie outbreak. You will need to leave your home in just five minutes, so make every item count.

Here I have some basic medical supplies. There are some vitamins, toothbrush and toothpaste (to fend off trenchmouth), adhesive bandages with antibiotic ointment and hydrogen peroxide, soap, an ace bandage in case of joint injury, some sweatproof sun protection (for my lilly-white irish skin), and a bottle of corn syrup. Why corn syrup? It is pure sugar and packs a major energy boost. Plus you can make prison wine with it.

Next I grabbed a sturdy military ammo box to carry my first aid and basic tools. Then a pack of fresh razor blades, a mess tool utility knife, a bic lighter, one led maglight, one russian military issue hand-pump flashlight, and 100 feet of military grade paracord. Any self-respecting man should have most of these items at their disposal in time of need. If you don't have paracord, buy some. It is cheap, has a 550 lb test, and can be disassembled for emergency fiahing line or suture thread.

And for some close range weapons I included a trusty and rusty combat dagger (affectionately known as a "rib tickler"), a three foot length of heavy chain with a massive padlock to act as a flail, and an adorable little half axe for breaking through wooden doors or stubborn heads. This is the holy trinity of melee weapons: bludgeoning, piercing, and chopping.

And finally, no good zombie survival kit is complete without it's essential centerpiece, the firearm. I elected not to include my AK-74 due to my limited ammo at the moment, and the sparse nature of 5.45x39 ammo here in the US. It would be dead weight without a few hundred rounds. But I did grab my Smith&Wesson .357 magnum revolver with 100 rounds of hollow point ammunition. A revolver like this will never jam, needs minimal upkeep, and will blow the roof off any zombie or hostile survivor I come across.  God bless 'mericuh.

So there you have it. My five minute zombie survival challenge. In these uncertain times it is vital that you know what resources you have at your disposal, so make sure to give it a try. If after five minutes have passes you realize there are more things you would have gone for, then maybe it is time to consolidate your toolkit. After all, your life may depend on it! Happy halloween!

I climbed off the whore an unsatisfied man. Sure, I came. But she had fulfilled the lowest possible expectation of the contract, from the lazy head to the disinterested fucking which ended silently and prompted her to immediately request to use my shower. Oh yeah, that's exactly what I want. A prostitute washing off a day's worth of semen shellac in my shower. But I was a gentleman and gave her the go-ahead.

I wished I hadn't. She robbed me of any delusion that she had even a sliver of feminine sexuality when she took out her teeth and removed her wig, placing them both on my kitchen table with more care than they appeared to warrant, then retiring to the bathroom. "Don't use my fucking soap!" I yelled after her, thoughts of a brown primordial soup pouring down the drain like blood in the title scene of "Psycho" playing through my head.


She stomped into the room with my towel buried in her armpit, still scrubbing away, every ounce of her ample frame shuddering with each heavy step. After pulling on her dress she reached into her purse and lit up a cigar. I shit you not, a BIG cigar like some prohibition-era bootlegger gangster, which she gummed away at without any shame. I was almost ready to swear off women forever, but thankfully she gathered up her gear and got ready to leave. "Twenty bucks, mister." She said. I handed her a ten dollar bill and she gave me a disapproving look. "Discount for the shower and the towel I have to burn." She didn't argue.


The brand new door I had installed by management had a massive deadbolt this time, and I was happy to have it as I locked the door behind her. I grabbed a trash bag off the floor and tossed my towel into it and checked the bathroom, where I found two fake eyelashes and a wet bar of soap, and tossed both. Whores never listen.


I opened all my windows to let the stink of sex waft out and couldn't help but think about Vanessa. She was a beautiful girl... better than I deserved anyway, and she took care of me. She cleaned, plied me with daily bottles of top shelf, and paid my bills. How did I ever fuck that one up? Putting up with her craziness and the occasional violent outburst didn't seem so bad after a few encounters with the pasty gutter-trash I was pulling these days. I felt like driving back to our home, knocking on the door and sweeping her off her feet, then drowning out the sound of the radio with her screams. But I had never come back to any of the women. Once I walked out the door they were ghosts to me. But I still had questions for her. I wanted to know the full story behind her letter. Maybe I could justify going back after all.

Hello loyal readers! As you may have noticed, the last five posts were all by Hamtackle.  I, Terlet was on vacation all week in Las Vegas!  I greatly appreciate Hamtackle covering my two days of posting.  He is an adorable angel baby. 

We saw Cirque du Soleil - KA.  Simply amazing!  A marvel to behold.  We went to Madame Tussauds Wax Museum.  I'll cover that later.  I won some moneys.  Good times.  Delicious food, with the exception of the Todai Sushi buffet in Planet Hollywood.  I had never spit out a piece of sushi before eating there.  Those scum.

With all the fun and marvels of Las Vegas come the obvious downsides.  Gorgeous hotel lobbies packed with chain smokers, scooter fatties clogging the hallways, the mandatory smell of raw sewage every half block, the over aggressive prostitute trading card merchant, that bitch who refused to put our scoops of gelato into separate cups and strangest of all, the random jar of Vaseline that housekeeping left next to our dresser.

I will cover Las Vegas in greater detail in a future post.  For now, I am going to relax.  The plane ride home smelled like old lady diarrhea........ because of the old lady diarrhea.

Our view... Suck it.

Great art.  Booby Squeeze.

All rise! Be humble in the shadow of his greatness! It is he, the one who has been chosen as the most involuntarily chaste among us, he who hath not experienced the touch of the feminine kind. Bow to the regally rotund one, the leader of all who require assistance bathing, the champion of them that have little need of their squishy bits, and protector of those which claim no desires that cannot be quenched by mountain dew or cool ranch doritos.

Behold his unkempt girth in all it's pimply glory! Be modest in the presence of the hermitage of his unseen penis, for it knows not but of the darkness and the dampness... You must submit to the whims of his ample fancy, for you also know not the pleasures of the reproductively active. In the light of his greatness your inexperience in the commencement of buggery knows no kinship, for the only other to behold his genitalia was, in no doubt, the duo of his parentage and the midwife which received him.

Receive him. For he is the glorious unloved, the bearer of the genitalia of perpetual shadows, the exalted King Of The Virgins!

It was morning again, and I had managed to avoid getting raped and robbed despite my lack of security, but I still had my suspicions that my gambling partners were behind the break in. I put on a pair of pants but didn't bother with the shirt, and left the magnum by the door on the window sill as I went out to express my grievance. Diggs and Bucky were there as always, and pretended everything was normal despite my obviously destroyed door plainly in their line of sight. I told the boys they were a pair of motherfuckers, and suggested they were sore losers on the dice and probably a pair of enthusiastic homosexuals. Diggs reminded me that if he wanted my money he would just walk up to me and take it, and explained that he was off banging his old lady yesterday evening so Bucky was at home. Besides, he said, he only ever kicked down doors for cash on the other end of town to avoid the hassle

I should have walked away. I knew he was probably telling the truth, and that the two of them sitting out front was most likely the only thing that kept the unseen thieves that were certainly watching the goings-on in this motel everyday from robbing us blind, and starting shit with Diggs would only result in the revocation of my street pass and probable ass-kicking, but I've always been more stupid than cautious. I spit on the concrete between us and headed back to my room to get the magnum.


I wasn't going to shoot them, at least I didn't think I was going to, but either way I didn't get the chance. I heard two quick boot steps and saw a big flash, like when someone takes a photo of you when you aren't expecting it. I wanted to turn around and fight back, but that's when I realized I was laying face down on the pavement. I rolled over and then Diggs was on top of me. I put my arms up to try to defend myself, but I just flailed wildly with dead arms that felt like they belonged to someone else and I was unpracticed at controlling them. I took two big punches right in the jaw and started snoring with my face to the side, staring at the steel wheel of my car and unable to move for about five seconds. I could feel a giant hand raping the pockets of my jeans while Bucky was cackling like a retard with a puppy.


I regained the use of my arms and legs and managed to halfway get back up before falling down again and ultimately deciding to lay against my car until my head cleared up. I watched as Diggs pulled a handful of loose bills from my wallet and then threw it on the ground at my feet and said "That's the toll for being a bitch" then sat down on the steps next to Bucky and pulled out a deck of cards. "Now you want in on this? I'll spot your broke-ass the ante, unless you want to go cryin' to the po-lice..."


Looking down I saw that I was wearing a bib of my own blood, and guessed that I had at least one tooth knocked loose. That's when I realized he was telling the truth. He didn't know I still had a wad of cash back in my room. "I can pay it" I told him. "Just let me clean up a bit. Liquor's on me."


A qucik splash of filthy faucet water on my face and chest had me looking a little less fucked up, so I threw on a shirt and grabbed some cash and booze. Sometimes you take a beating in life, and I wasn't about to let it ruin my welcome in my new home. On the way out I thought about grabbing the magnum off the window sill and unloading on Bucky. I could still hear his annoying laughter ringing in my ears, but I didn't. We gambled like gentlemen for a good four hours, and I ended up bringing in another $45 bucks after being down over $200. I probably broke even from what Diggs took out of my wallet.

Recently we have been getting a lot of questions from readers at our popularirony@gmail.com account, and we have decided to answer a few of them to satisfy your curiosity. And in the spirit of this heated election cycle we opted to answer in the style of a presidential candidate, so please enjoy this very informative post.



I have been checking your blog daily since the beginning, and I was curious about how Hamtackle and Terlet got to know each other. So how did you guys become friends? - goldyboy222@yahoo.com

First goldyboy222, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your loyal readership. It's readers like you that make this country great. And thank you for asking such an insightful question, as I am certain this is an important issue for our readers everywhere. The fact is, Terlet and I have a very strong partnership that has been a fruitful collaboration since the inception of our blog just over a year ago, and such a symbiotic union is absolutely vital to the daily creation of original content that our readership has come to expect from us. In the beginning of the blog we dedicated ourselves to exceptional quality that would set the standard for humorous internet blogging, and I believe we have delivered on that commitment.



I enjoy all of your posts, but I have a few favorites. Do you have any plans on continuing Masturbation Enthusiast Monthly or Federation Starship USS Hindenburg? - sluttypantsxxx@gmail.com

This question really gets to the heart of the debate over this issue in America. So we are very much dedicated, sluttypants... may I call you sluttypants? Ok. We are very much dedicated to the continuation of our efforts both domestically and abroad towards the conclusion of these very important matters. With your support this November you will be able to expect us to redouble our initiatives that will ensure a satisfactory result going forward. And it is our belief that this kind of commitment stands in stark contrast to our opposition. So when you are exercising you civic duty at the poll booth in just a few short weeks we hope you will remember which campaign has made the issues that are most important to you a priority, and support Popular Irony.



I love the vulgar humor that popular irony brings me everyday, but my girlfriend is easily offended. Do you have any plans to lighten up some of your content to attract a broader audience? Keep up the good work guys! - 2dollatugjobs@harvarduniveristy.edu

Well, this has been a point of contention among the public for some time, 2dollatugjobs, and I don't have to tell you how important this is for the future of our website. In the past our approach to this issue has been a measured one, and we have enjoyed great successes in the evolution of our policy. I am reminded by the words of a proud Ohio woman I met on the campaign trail just a few weeks ago named Wilma Crapburger. Wilma approached me after my stump speech there and said "I am a mother of five Mr Hamtackle, so what are you going to do to keep my children safe? They are all that I've got in this world!" And she was right. Not enough is being done to ensure that our youth have a safe haven in their communities to keep them focused on growing their opportunities and guaranteeing them a place in America's future. In the coming years we vow to uphold the values that made popularirony.com a voice of reason in this uncertain world, and every decision we make is agreed upon only after careful consideration of the sentiment of Wilma Crapburger and people like her all over this great country.



So there you have it, dear readers. If you have any questions that you feel might benefit from clarification in the future, please email them to us at popularirony@gmail.com and we will make sure your voice is heard.

Just a few days ago there were international reports of Fidel Castro suffering a catastrophic stroke, leaving him incapacitated indefinitely. It seemed certain that not only would he be unable to contribute to the policy making and everyday procedural decisions, but we may not even ever see him make a public appearance again! But in true communist fashion, Cuba released an image of Castro reading the newspaper that declared him to be in horrible medical condition. So who do we believe?

Well there are many possibilities that explain these opposing reports, not the least of which is photoshop, but lets be honest, Cuba isn't exactly well-known for their technological prowess. And if there's one thing I learned from my nearly obsessive and encyclopedic knowledge of 1980's slapstick comedy, it's that manipulating a corpse to comedic effect is quite easy!

So here you have it, the movie poster for the newest cadaver-marionette film to come charging out of hollywood: Weekend at Fidel's!

For a week I drank like a king and ate like a pauper, and kept a low profile in my shithole room. It was getting to be brutally hot in the daytime and I had no air conditioning, so I spent most afternoons in the cool darkness of the bar. I had bought enough drinks for the locals that they had warmed up to me, and I was even putting the lean on a couple loose broads that frequented the place.

But despite my modest living I was burning through Vanessa's money fast. I was down to just over a grand, which was less than half of what I pinched from her purse, and there was no pot of gold on my horizon. I was going to have to get a job or start some sort of hustle. But I wasn't the type to put that kind of effort in unless my dick was on the chopping block, and I had at least a couple weeks if I slowed down on the booze consumption, so I started throwing dice against the bricks out front. I was laying down my dollars with the two black guys that seemed to never leave. The skinny one was called Bucky, since he had some serious dental problems that come with generational poverty, and the big guy with the afro was called Diggs. They never told me how he got his nickname, but I suspected it had something to do with filling holes in the local cemetery. He was hard but we got along fine since my money was good. I lost more games than I won, but I managed to lay bigger bets when I was winning. In two days of playing I was up by over four hundred bucks.


I was getting a bit paranoid about keeping all that money around so I rarely left my room. And I didn't like to drive that much for fear that somehow Vanessa would somehow hunt me down and sic her crazy on me, so I got most of my food from the gas station or from the local food carts and I was starting to get sick of it. So I drove my car a couple blocks out and picked up some fresh bread and vegetables, some cans of chili and soup, and hit up the liquor store for a few gallons of cheap whiskey. I was preparing for lean times, especially if I ended up dropping a lot of cash on the dice in the next few days.


When I pulled back into the lot at the Burgess I could tell that something was up because Bucky and Diggs weren't out front. I left my bags in the car and walked up to my door to see it had been booted open, then carefully closed again. I ran inside and immediately went for my dirty clothes hamper where I left my cash, and found my wad securely nestled in a pair of shit-stained underwear, right where I left it. The room was normally so fucking trashed that no one would be able to tell it had been tossed, but the rat that lived in the filth knew it well, and I could see that my garbage was well out of order.


I ran over to the managers offices but no one was there. It seemed like the property owners were never anywhere to be found except on Sundays when they expected to get paid. So I went back to my car to get my bags and grabbed the magnum from under the seat. It was getting dark and if I was going to sleep without a locking door then I was going to sleep with a gun in my hand.