In a shocking but supremely humanitarian announcement today, the UN unveiled its plan to finally eradicate world hunger. The plan comes as a result of the hard work and dedication of a UN sponsored panel on world hunger named The Modest Proposal Project. (more…)
Editor’s Note: This Just In! correspondent Lefty Sinister was MIA last week. After a long search, we finally managed to drag his ass out of the strip club and put him back in front of the computer. And so continues our series on Internet Trolls. We apologize for any inconvenience. —Infinity Jones TJI Editor-in-Chief
The next point in our discussion of Internet Trolls is their aloof detachment. This is a singular trait that allows them to say the most horrible, nasty things about people and then laugh it off. This detachment also allows for you to say the most horrible, nasty things to them and then have them laugh it off. Now, in the real world, people who act with this kind of uncaring disdain for their fellow humans are often called “sociopaths”. But this isn’t the real world and we aren’t dealing with real people. We are dealing with Internet Trolls, which happen to be the vilest breed of trolls in existence.
But how do any of the universe’s creatures act so maliciously en masse? Is this a trait that all Internet Trolls are born with? The answer is a surprising “No”. They aren’t born with that aloof detachment, it is a skill acquired through rigorous training. There are places on the internet—dark, seedy places full of avarice, lust and all the other deadly sins. These places are called Troll Dungeons and this is where trolls go to deaden their human compassion and common decency. For any aspiring troll, the dungeon is the first stop to proper trollhood. There trolls say the most vicious, nasty things to each other in a kind of verbal sparring. Nothing is off limits, nothing is sacred in these seedy dens of insult and despair. It is only after they have passed a series of tests, each more lethal than the last, that young internet trolls are given their weapons and sent out into the vast world of social media to wreak havoc and spread their infection. And woe to any fool who stumbles upon a troll dungeon by accident. They will be ripped to shreds without a moment’s thought and their virtual bones used to pick the trolls teeth afterward.
Don’t let their distastefulness fool you, though. Internet Trolls aren’t completely without empathy. Most of them are avid social justice warriors and will champion any cause from saving epileptic kittens to whatever feminists are whining about this week. They rail against injustice and unfairness in our society while calling those that challenge them every nasty thing they learned in their dungeons. Trolls also love to use whichever trigger words are popular at the moment in order to frighten and confuse their prey. Don’t be fooled by this chicanery, dear reader. This is merely a tactic. A ruse at their disposal to legitimize their aloof detachment. Being social justice warriors allows them to elevate themselves above their targets and stand on an illusory high ground from whence they rain down judgment on the ignorant masses. Basically, the internet troll uses their myriad of causes to make themselves feel superior to everyone and to justify their uncivil actions towards their fellow beings.
Internet Trolls love a cause, they just despise the people attached to those causes. They despise anyone in general—another result of their training in the dungeons and likely a side effect from a life of scorn and ridicule in the real world. That’s right. What really drives a troll’s aloof detachment are the gigantic chips they all have on their shoulders. Chips which have grown exponentially as the evil demons of political correctness whisper into their ears and convince them of what victims they are—and have always been.
Continuing our journey into the depths of trolldom, we will be discussing the first trait of the internet troll: cocky superiority. This complex so closely borders narcissism that it often crosses into the realm to drink at the bars and hit on the women like NMSU students going to Juarez on a Thursday night.
This is the bread and butter of every troll. It is the trait that allows them to dominate any thread, group or forum. The troll could be the most uneducated fool in a discussion, knowing absolutely nothing about what’s going on, but you wouldn’t know it. They will spew the most ignorant, inane shit from their virtual mouths, delighting in the chaos they are sowing. And they do it without ever being wrong…in their own heads at least.
Trolls strengthen their cocky superiority by using pseudo-factoids they picked up while receiving their internet degrees, which we will discuss later. They really do see themselves as some sort of quasi-intellectuals which only further inflates their complex. And anyone who knows anything knows that nothing is more dangerous than a man on a crusade fueled by narcissism.
To better illustrate this point, I interviewed a notorious troll known by the name 2_Cox.
TJI: Thanks for meeting with me today,. 2_Cox.
2_Cox: I’m better than you.
TJI: Right. Well, now that that is out of the way; let’s start the interview.
2_Cox: I’m better than you.
TJI: So you said. Now, I was wondering—
2_Cox: I’m better than you.
TJI: Yeah. I get it. You’re better than me. Now can I just ask a question?
2_Cox: I’m better than you.
TJI: Anyway. I was wondering how you felt about the article on internet trolls in Psychology Today?
2_Cox: I’m better than you.
TJI: Enough with that! Answer the question!
2_Cox: I’m better than you.
TJI: Will you please stay on topic?
2_Cox. I’m better than you.
TJI: This interview is over.
2_Cox. I’m better than you. Also you’re an asshole.
It is plain to see that an internet troll’s cocky superiority can totally derail any kind of serious discussion trying to be had. Their persistence allows for them to squelch even the most determined conversationalist. Before anyone knows what happened, a serious and stimulating conversation descends into people yelling and screaming at one another, calling each other assholes, mother fuckers and whatever other derogatory statements they can muster. And all the while the internet troll sits like a proper shitlord above the chaos he created boldly proclaiming, “I’m better than you.”
Bonus section: The Diet of an Internet Troll
As a general rule, trolls can’t cook anything they can’t put in a microwave. Thus, their diets are limited. Trolls can often be seen gorging themselves on Hot Pockets, cereal or ramen noodles. All of these are easy to make and don’t require too much time away from the computer screen, which they must bask in the sickly glow of in order to maintain their pasty complexion. Trolls are also allergic to water in its pure form and survive strictly on Mountain Dew and energy drinks.
When this story came across my desk at This Just In! HQ, I had to rush it out to the readers. This is perhaps one of the most exciting stories to ever grace our humble news source. Our correspondent, Lefty Sinister, has been undercover for a year now, infiltrating the darkest depths of the internet to bring you “Inside the Life of an Internet Troll”. Enjoy while Lefty is given several baths and encouraged to remember what it is to be a respectable human.
—Infinity Jones TJI Editor in Chief
No creature is more reviled or more feared than the Internet Troll. Their ungainly and hideous appearance notwithstanding, these monsters are impossible to stomach. Spending any amount of time in the presence of one will almost certainly result in vomiting and anger. Or anger and vomiting, depending on which side you are on. They are nasty, incorrigible and utterly lacking any sort of common decency.
Their numbers have been on the rise as of late which prompted this undercover investigation. I spent the better part of a year in their midst, learning their ways, studying their habits and eventually becoming one of them. That’s right, dear reader, as horrible as it sounds, I became an Internet Troll. And I have returned from the brink of that insanity wiser if not filthier and more than a little full of misplaced disdain for humanity. But putting that aside, I have an exposé to feed your eager brains.
First and foremost we must explore the most common dwelling places of the Internet Troll. They are rarely seen outside their favorite habitats: dark, dank basements or trash-filled efficiency apartments. The Internet Troll is a peculiar creature in this regard. They have a severe allergy to sunlight and fresh air, preferring the gloom and musky stench of their dens above all else. When they are surfing the web, which they do almost constantly, they prefer to lurk about social media sites and video game forums where they can easily spread their hate and discontent to the general population. Infecting as many people with unnatural hate and discontent is exactly the underlying purpose of the Internet Troll. They are miserable with their condition and seek to spread it to as many innocent folk as they can. It is one of the most deadly threats to modern society and ‘Trollinus Internetious’, as the condition is called, is close to reaching pandemic proportions.
But fear not, gentle reader, I am here to give you the armor you need to protect yourself from these despicable monsters and the infection they spread. The characteristics of the Internet Troll can be broken down into four main categories. These are the traits and weapons most commonly seen throughout their population. They are: a cocky superiority, an aloof detachment, internet degrees and memes. We will be discussing each one in depth in the coming days and exposing these beasts for the incorrigible menaces to mental wellbeing that they are. Until then, stay strong and above all, DON’T FEED THE TROLLS!
After a stunning report on the rash of ghost sightings by Japanese cabbies, what follows should come as no surprise. It seems these ghostly passengers are refusing to pay for the rides they are getting and this is causing cabbies much stress.
“It’s not bad enough that they hop in our cabs and ask to be taken to places wiped out during the tsunami,” taxi driver Akio Watanabe told This Just In, “But once we get there, they disappear without paying anything!”
If it were just once in a while, the cabbies could overlook it. “You have to understand, once the meter goes on, someone is paying for the fare,” Watanabe continues, “And when these freeloading ghosts skip out on the cab fare that means it’s coming out of our pockets! I have a family to feed. I can’t afford to be giving lazy ghosts rides to nowhere.”
And if all this isn’t bad enough, the ride to these locations is often a long one. “No one ever goes to these places anymore,” explained Watanabe, “Most of them were wiped out by the tsunami or irradiated by Fukashima. It’s a long ride out to them only to have them skip out on the fares. We miss out on other legitimate fares because of these uncaring ghosts.”
Unfortunately, there are no solutions for this problem on the horizon. “How do you make ghosts pay money? They’re ghosts! They don’t have money. They don’t even really need a ride. They could just appear wherever they’re going if they really wanted to.”
Resident TJI ghost expert John Blackstone weighs in on this phenomena, “Well, spirit travelling takes a lot of energy. Most likely these spirits are not wanting to use up all there energy getting to a place. They’re probably saving it up so they can properly haunt these ruined areas. As a ghost hunter, I can appreciate the spirits’ dedication to haunting. Nothing is more frustrating than showing up to a ghost hunt only to have the ghosts not appear for lack of expendable energy.”
Watanabe doesn’t agree, “You know what’s more frustrating than ghosts not showing up? Ghosts who expect handouts and special treatment because they’re dead. I wonder how many of these ghosts were hikikomori when they were alive? Most of them, I’m betting.” He shakes his head in disgust, “Worthless part timers.”
For now, there is no resolution in sight for this disturbing trend. “We [cabbies ed.] will most likely stop giving rides to areas hit by the tsunami. We just can’t afford it anymore. I hope the ghosts get the message and start showing a little initiative in getting to their haunting spots.”
Dear Frito Lay,
I recently purchased one of your 99 cent bags of Nacho Doritos. Imagine my surprise when I opened the bag and discovered it to be less than 1/3 full. Really, Frito Lay? Really? What in the hell is going on? You fill the bag with air to give it the impression of being full. I understand the necessity from your warped and evil corporate world view. No one in their right mind would pay for an empty bag of chips. But that is exactly what we’re getting. I know that chip companies have been employing this shady tactic for some time, but this doesn’t make it right.
I know times are tough and the economy is shit. But you can’t tell me that your product costs so much to manufacture that you have to cut portions and raise costs to make a profit. That’s just greedy. That’s just you wanting to take every last cent from the John Q. Publics that devour your unhealthy chemically concocted chips. Is it really that necessary to rob good, honest people of what little money remains to them?
Honestly, your products aren’t all that great. And to pay 99 cents for what amounts to a 25 cent bag of chips is more than a little infuriating. It’s deplorable. I won’t bother asking how you sleep at night because I know: on your king-sized mattresses stuffed with the profits of your ill-gotten gains. All the while wallowing in Cool Ranch and Extreme Nacho crumbs and relaxing to the aromatic therapy of a Buffalo and Bleu Cheese scented candle. Yeah, Frito Lay, that’s how you roll, alright. And that’s fine. We still live in America and you still have the freedom to roll any way you want. But I won’t be rolling with your cadre of thieves and marketing con artists. Keep your overpriced bags of air. I won’t be buying them any more.
Counter Girl: Welcome to Big Booty’s BBQ. What can I get for you today?
Vegan Man: We’d like a pound of chopped meat.
Counter Girl: You’re aware that our meat has meat in it?
Vegan Man: Excuse me?
Counter Girl: Our chopped meat is made with meat cooked in our BBQ sauce.
Vegan Man: Wait, what? We came here for the vegan cuisine. We’ve heard wonderful things about your vegan brisket and tofu honey ham.
Counter Girl: We don’t have that.
Vegan Man: So what you’re telling me is that your meat has actual meat in it?
Counter Girl: Yes sir.
Vegan Man: This is unacceptable. I’d like to see a manager.
Manager: (After a brief moment) Hello sir. I’m the manager. How can I help you?
Vegan Man: I was wondering if you were aware of the meat content of your meat?
Manager: I am sir. Our meat is made with meat. Copious and unapologetic amounts of meat.
Vegan Man: Well what are we supposed to eat then?
Manager: I’d suggest the chopped meat. It’s delicious and simmered in barbecue sauce.
Vegan Woman: But we’re vegans!
Manager: I’m sorry to hear that.
Vegan Man: Excuse me?
Manager: Are you illiterate vegans too?
Vegan Man: Where do you get off?
Manager: Usually in the privacy of my own home. But I was asking about being illiterate vegans because that big sign outside says “Big Booty’s BBQ”.
Vegan Woman: We can read, thank you very much.
Manager: Then what about blindness? Are you blind vegans?
Vegan Woman: Why would you ask that?
Manager: Just trying to understand you. I don’t have your particular affliction. Maybe you went blind from vitamin and mineral deficiencies? The reason I ask is because to either side of the words “Big Booty’s BBQ”, which you seem to be able to read, there’s a picture of a smiling cow and pig. Now if were a picture of a smiling broccoli and tofu I could understand your confusion, but…
Vegan Man: Look. We’re vegans. And we–
Manager: Yes. You’ve mentioned that. And then mentioned it again. And again. I get it. You stuff yourselves so full of tofu and unfermented soy that your voices soften and your bodies get all plump and squishy. You know who else is a vegan?
Vegan Man: Who?
Manager: The cows and pigs that become our delicious chopped meat. Grain fed vegans from day one. Really adds a flavor to the meat…
Vegan Man: Why are you looking at me like that?
Manager: Like what?
Vegan Man: Hungrily. Almost like…
Manager: I was wondering how you’d taste as a cow? Because to be honest…
Vegan Woman: See? I told you we should’ve went to Vegan Town!
Vegan Man: Enough woman! You know that place is full of hipsters and wannabes! And their tofu burgers are shitty at best.
Vegan Woman: At least they don’t want to eat us!
Manager: Hey! I resent that! Just because you’d probably make delicious barbecue doesn’t mean I want to eat you! I was just wondering. It was purely academic. Now, what would you like to order?
Vegan Man: We were thinking about the chopped meat…
Manager: You know our chopped meat contains meat, right?
Vegan Man: You’re kidding…
Tags: barbecue, barbecue sauce, bbq sauce, chopped meat, Comedy, cow, dining, Drink, Food, humor, manager, meat, meat manager, pig, Play, restaurant, restaurants, script, soy, tofu, vegan, vegan cuisine, vegetarian, vitamin and mineral deficiencies, Writing
Some of you may not know the amazing story of the discovery of the documents referred to as “The Epistles of Lucius” and “The Book of Absurdity” (collectively called the Lubb Ickamaddi Library).
It all began in the year 2005 in the dusty town of Lubbock, TX. Until this point, Lubbock was mostly known for Texas Tech and the Dixie Chicks. But it so happens that during the early spring of 2005 a farmer was tilling his fields for planting when his plow hit on something obviously metallic. Further inspection revealed a metal box decorated with odd symbols buried deep in the ground. Trembling with excited anticipation (and a smidgen of fear) the farmer pried open the box…and was hit with a light and magnificence so profound he may have wet his pants (just a little).
Now he told academic authorities that all he uncovered were the documents. But this, we know now, must have been a lie. Because the Garments of Lucius were supposed to be buried with the books so that he could garb himself upon his birth in this land. Instead, when he was birthed into the land, he was naked as the day he was born. Unfortunately, the folk in Lubbock are a little touchy about naked men running through their streets shouting religious wisdoms. Poor Lucius was promptly seized and committed to the local psych hospital. He hasn’t been heard from since. Many think that Lucius was secretly transferred to Area 51 where he could spread the Good Nonsense of the Book of Absurdity to all the captive aliens there. Whatever his fate, this was one of the letters uncovered by the farmer. Enjoy!
The Epistle of Something and Nothing
There is Nothing and there is Something. There is nothing and there is something. Something began as the tiniest particle of light trapped within a vast and never ending sea of inky blackness. Nothing. Then Something said OHM!!!!!! And light exploded, illuminating the darkness. And the Light brought with it Creation. And Creation brought with it Life. And the Something continued to resound sending ripples of OHM throughout the eternal sea of Nothing and leaving Life in its wake. Creation was and is everything. It started as the planets and the heavenly bodies. The cosmic orchestra. Then came the gods. Those hyper intelligent and spiritual beings who sprang from the very essence of Something, who resounded from ITS holy core. They looked on Creation with avarice and lusted after Life. They sought to control it. So the battle began. A struggle that wages as long as Creation exists. A struggle that drives the very foundations of Creation, that fuel the ripples of OHM across the void and perpetuate existence. The Eternal Struggle is slave to the Cycle just like everything else in Creation. But Nothing cannot be discounted. Nothing is constantly struggling against Something trying to reclaim it. Trying to swallow it back into itself and restore its silent entropy. This is Nothing. This is the essence of everything that Something is for. Eventually, however, Nothing grinds Something to a halt and begins to push it back, to swallow it back up, as it were. And it does. And it has. Countless times before. Because even Nothing and Something are part of a great Cycle. Because Nothing can never Truly swallow Something. Just as Something can never truly conquer Nothing. For Nothing is vast and eternal. And that has been the Cycle for countless times before. Until now.
Call it a glitch. But this time when the gods sprang from the heart of Something, some of them got the idea, had the desire to create Life themselves. Only it couldn’t happen without Something. So these tricksy gods gathered fragments of Something and put them into fleshly shells. And viola. “Intelligent Life” was created. That’s right. Humans. And are there other non humans out there? Yes. Something is vast beyond our comprehension. And there are more gods than stars in the sky scattered over ITS expanse. And these usurper gods claimed themselves to be Something even though they weren’t. Not really. More like mad scientists. Crazy spiritual hackers. But they claimed to be IT anyway. That primal Spark that all This was born from. They claimed this for themselves and Intelligent Life believed it. Later, Intelligent Life would become more vain than was good for it and, claiming to be IT themselves, attempt to overthrow the usurper gods. But something happened that the usurpers never expected. You see, up till this time, Something had always been a presence. Living yes, aware yes, but not exactly conscious. It had a purpose and it fulfilled that purpose. Until the fragments of ITSELF trapped inside ITS own creation became Aware. For the first time Something was conscious of ITSELF and it said I AM. And with that affirmation came Love. Love for Creation. Love for Life. And Something wanted to protect Creation from Nothing. To fight back. So it made ITSELF in Creation aware of Nothing. And here we are.
Tags: Absurd, cosmology, Creation, cycle, Death, Dixie Chicks, evolution, fiction, funny, God, hackers, humans, humor, life, Lubbock, nothing, Realm of Possibility, Religion, Satire, scientists, shamus, something, texas tech, universal shift, Writing
A new report issued by Scientists Under Control of Kooks and Assholes found that it really is all in your head. And by “it”, I mean the big It. The world. The Universe. Reality.
“It’s true. Nothing but a figment of the collective imagination,” affirmed Dr. Norman Peabody, lead SUCKA scientist for their Department of Quantumly Physical Thingies and Whatnots and chief egghead on the project.
When asked about the specifics of the experiment, Dr. Peabody took on a very defensive and aloof air. “Those processes are far above the comprehension of the normal masses. Suffice to say, the evidence was there.”
But journalistic integrity demanded that I press further. Finally, Dr. Peabody relented a few of their top secret methods.
“What we did was we took a lot of blind people and put them in a big room. Then, we told them to point to a poster we had on the wall. Only, we didn’t put a poster on the wall in the room. But that didn’t stop everyone from pointing. Some people even claimed to see it! Can you imagine? Describing a poster that doesn’t exist? That’s when my team and I realized that if people want to see something bad enough they will conjure it up out of thin air. Literally.”
“How does that prove reality is all in your head?” I had to ask.
“Because they couldn’t see and they saw a poster anyway! Don’t you get it?”
I admitted that I didn’t.
“Small-minded flagellate spoor,” mumbled the good doctor. “Here’s another example. We put a bunch of deaf people in a room and told them to listen to a recording and repeat it back to us. They couldn’t do it.”
“Not too surprising. They’re hearing impaired.”
“Exactly! They couldn’t hear it, but the sound was there! That’s when my team and I realized that just because you can’t hear a tune doesn’t mean there isn’t one on the juke box. But to them, see, sound doesn’t exist. So in their world, there really is NO sound! Are you getting how deep this is?”
“I’m starting to. Give me the deepest thing you’ve got. Let’s get to the heart of the matter.”
“Alright. But this one is off the record.”
“Of course.” I put down my notepad, but left the recorder in my pocket running.
Peabody looked around and leaned in close before revealing, “We interviewed several comatose patients,” in a hoarse whisper.
“You what?” I shouted. “What good could that possibly serve?”
“Shhhh! Calm down! It served plenty of good! We asked them basic questions about their surroundings. Asked them to describe the rooms they were in, what the interviewers and doctors looked like. What sounds and smells they noticed. Not one of them could answer a single question.”
“No shit, Sherlock! They are comatose!!” At this point my journalistic patience was being tested to its limits. I took a deep breath and said, “Really? This is scientific integrity?”
“It certainly is,” said Peabody adding a curt tone to his elitist smugness. “The reason they couldn’t answer is because this world isn’t real to them. They are getting absolutely no sensory input from their environments. Sensory input, as we know, is taken in via our sensory organs and processed in our brains. Without sensory input to construct a physical world, the physical world doesn’t exist. Do you see the profound implications this has on psychology and spirituality?”
“For sure. You’ve profoundly implicated that blind people can’t see, deaf people can’t hear and comatose people are perpetually asleep.”
“No. We’ve proved that nothing exists outside our own perceptions of it. This includes God, Santa Clause, social equality and soccer in America.”
I wasn’t convinced. “There’s soccer in America?”
But Dr. Peabody didn’t hear me. “If you think this is great, wait till our next experiment. The final nail in the coffin of all idiots who believe in things paranormal or supernatural.”
“Do tell. Just a tiny hint for our readers.”
Dr. Peabody was obviously conflicted, but he was so proud of himself that he couldn’t help but blurt out, “We’re hanging pictures facing the ceiling in operating rooms.”
“What the hell for?”
“That way, when patients claim to have out of body experiences, we can ask them to describe the pictures to us. If they can’t then the OBE was obviously false.”
I had no words. I know that as a journalist this shouldn’t happen, but my jaw was slack with disbelief for so long that I started drooling. Finally I croaked something about “Absurd and irrational rationality” and fled to the nearest bar where my great friend Captain Morgan assured me that the “real world” spun and lurched uncontrollably, walking in straight lines is for pussies not pirates, and that waking up without heaving your guts out really isn’t waking up at all.
This is truly breaking news. You may all be aware of Barbie and Ken’s divorce that happened a few years ago. I know, I know. I was shocked and saddened too. I mean, not even pretend marriages last anymore. What does it say about our culture when even our toys can’t make a relationship work? Apparently she left Ken for a younger Australian surfer named “Blaine”. Blaine. That’s the perfect name for a Barbie boo. Or for a Monotrain (for all you Dark Tower fans out there).
TJI caught up with Ken in his Hollywood apartment to discuss the release of his upcoming book, “Confessions of a Ken Doll.”
Ken’s apartment is the picture of any middle age divorcee’s state of mind: A clutter of half-empty take out boxes, empty liquor bottles and dirty laundry covering every available chair back. Ken isn’t looking much better. Shirtless and in a pair of dirty white shorts, he takes turns pulling from a can of beer and a bottle of rum. On his coffee table is an ashtray full of cigarette butts.
TJI: Thanks for seeing us, Ken. Can you tell us what happened with Barbie?
Ken: It’s not her fault. She’s never been able to resist a hard body and plastic smile.
TJI: Are you saying there were problems before the…split up?
Ken: I don’t know if I would call them problems. (He laughs and takes a huge swig of rum) Like I’m the only Ken Doll out there. Please. She messed around with every fool to step off the production line. (He shrugs) It’s just how it was. Not like she was the only Barbie out there, either. And the way that she was always running off chasing different careers…a man gets lonely, you know?
TJI: So what happened then?
Ken: It wasn’t Barbie. It was the corporation. They split us up.
Ken: I found out what they’re up to, that’s why.
TJI: And what exactly are THEY up to?
Ken: You ever wonder why Ken Dolls aren’t…anatomically correct?
TJI: I just always assumed it was for the children’s sake.
Ken: (scoffs) The children’s sake? Whatever. If they gave a damn about the children, we would’ve never gotten divorced in the first place. What kind of example does that set for the impressionable youth? Nah. The corporation doesn’t care about kids only their parents’ money. (He crushes and empty can of beer and pops open another) They were using us Kens. Experimenting.
TJI: Experimenting with what?
Ken: New lines of Barbies.
TJI: Wait, you mean that…
Ken: (nods) Yep. Ken Dolls were lab rats for Barbie’s new careers. She wanted to be an astronaut? They’d re-sex one of the Kens to try it out. If it went well, then Barbie would step in like it was her idea all along.
TJI: What do you mean by “re-sex?”
Ken: What do you think I mean? They’d adjust the proportions, add some boobs and voila! A new “Barbie” to try out a new job.
TJI: That’s disturbing. Were there any jobs that Barbie never took?
Ken: A couple. Veterinarian Barbie, for instance. Barb refused to play along with that one. She never like animals. They were too “soft and warm” for her. Plus they smelled. So the corporation started using Ruperts to fill in the shortages. Poor Rupert. I used to have drinks with him every Wednesday… (He burps loudly and says) This interview is over (before passing out).
So there you have it. Corporate conspiracy from the mouths of plastic babes. We at TJI were just as shocked as you to learn about this.
UPDATE: Ken has gone missing. When TJI tried to contact him for a follow up this cryptic message was on his voicemail: “Hey this is Ken. I can’t get to the phone right now because I’m on the roof watching Rome burn…again. Please leave your—What are you doing in here?! What do you want? No! Let go of me! I don’t want to be a WNBA star! Get your hands off me! Get hmphmghghph!” BEEEP!