Warm fuzzies crawlin’ all over me

In a pitiful attempt to win our favor, loyal ЯR participant Keywork has written a cloying review of our beloved website. It seems he’s such a big ass-suck fan, he could do nothing but praise our groundbreaking family website. Enjoy, friends! 

You Can Have My Ration.

Ration Reality. I stumbled upon this incoherent, slimy sac of anal seepage a few months ago. And I can tell you this: don’t visit this blog, Bagel has syphilis. Yes, the editor, Bagel of Everything, has syphilis. Frat boys beware. Never in my life have I ever read such horrible propaganda. Let’s look:

Band of the Month: Where’s Moo

This month’s BotM was written for us by Deviant. Thanks, handsome.

ЯR   March’s Official Band: Where’s Moo   ЯR 

 

Band Of The Month: Where’s Moo
or
Get Those Damn Kids Off My Lawn

Maybe it was the shots of Fernet–a digestif drink popular in San Francisco–or it could have been the heavy pot billowing from my mouth, but the music playing on Michael Mangum’s computer sounded aurally pungent, like a mix of the familiar with the futuristic, the dystopian future with the familiar rocking past. I was blown away by the guitars seemingly playing power ballads in slow motion, with a lead singer who sounded like a young Michael Stipe.

“Hey…this is pretty good. Who is this?”

“It’s me,” Michael replied with a grin on his face.

Apparently the dope was great because I’d forgotten that he’d gotten up to play his music to me. I was understandably red-faced.

What Charles Dickens’ Day means to me.

A Zach Action exclusive report.

Charles Dickens’ Day, I thought you would never arrive.

For years, my family and I have celebrated CDD together. February 7, 2008 will mark the first CDD without them, as my parents both passed in an unfortunate car accident last July. My sister and I have looked forward to CDD since the funeral, as it gives us a chance to celebrate what made our family different from most and to carry on the traditions our parents taught us.

We would always start the day with scrambled eggs, and the process of procuring the eggs from the carton was what made it special. As a nod to Sydney Carton, as each egg was taken from the carton of eggs, we would say, “It is a far, far better egg that I scramble, than I have ever scrambled; it is a far, far better breakfast that I make, than I have ever made.”

Scientology is Serious Business

Deviant wrote this for us, while awaiting the coming of Tan.

Anonymous Attacks Scientology
or
How I Learned To Stop Worrying and Love Religious Persecution

I suggest we start to get this idea of “religious persecution” as a bad thing out of our collective thoughts.

We hear all about how the pilgrims came over here because they were persecuted, but we all know deep down in our hearts that they kind of deserved it.

The pilgrims were assholes.

I think our society can afford to religiously persecute several fringe members of our society like the Mormons, the Scientologists, and ITT Tech graduates, and they should be persecuted just a tad bit. I’m not calling for mass genocide or anything barbaric like that, but the following news story of “persecution” I think is comparable to a light playful hazing:

The State of the American Mind

An End Of The Year Editorial On The State of the American Mind:
Looking At Our Lives
or
I’m Not A Drunk, You Are

Deviant was drunk when he wrote this for us, but not nearly as drunk as you. I think it has something to do with this.

There are too many moments these days where I cannot recognize you.

I appreciated you drunkenly pulling me aside this New Years Eve in the safety of your vomit-spewed bathroom to tell me that I have a drinking problem.

Well sure, I seemed to have been functioning well during the office Christmas party, when in fact I had been in a zombiefied black-out vodka state, and yes I kissed the departing CEO of the company on the lips on a dare, and yes I vomited all over the subway platform on the way home in the early evening…

But I think it’s imperative for you to know that, in this relationship, it is in fact YOU who are the drunk.

I may have gotten us forcibly removed from several watering holes by very large black bouncers, but I want you to note something about my drunkeness and your drunkeness.

I don’t sit at home sobbing to myself, complaining about life, and polishing off two bottles of wine all by myself like you do.

Looking back with a discerning eye

Mr. Zach Action is our friend.
His right to self expression we do defend.
But if by this post you are offended,
Remember: He wrote it, we didn’t! 
-Soy

 You ever have one of those moments where suddenly you realize that something from your childhood is insanely messed up?

I was walking from the bedroom to the living room yesterday, humming a song that doesn’t usually come to mind: Jesus Loves Me. I can’t even tell you the last time I heard this song. But there I was, walking and humming. Then I started singing it. And then I realized…

OH. MY. GOODNESS. What in the WORLD did they have us singing as children?!?

The No Cussin’ Club

Hey kids! I’ve found us a new contributor!
The brilliantly funny Scott from In the What? has accepted an asininement. Sucker!

In the following post, an honest to G-d librarian gives us permission to swear. So if you’re ever busted for vulgarities in a library, tell them Scott said it’s ok. They’ll totally understand: ‘Rians are much like blacks, jews, and the gays– they all know eachother.

Pace yourself children. It’s a strong piece from beginning to end. I’m so proud.

 –Bagel

McKay Hatch Was Born on a Pirate Ship

Kids have dreams for some reason. The youth of America all seem to think they’re going to change the world. “I’m gonna be a fireman and save people’s lives!” “I’m gonna be the Easter Bunny and give everyone chocolate eggs!” “I’m gonna be a doctor and cure my mommy’s cancer!” Yeah right. More likely you’re going to graduate with a B average, major in business, and become boring and useless like everyone else. That’s why it’s a good thing that kids are powerless. They don’t get a chance to pursue their dreams until they’re old enough to realize how stupid they are.

But not McKay Hatch! No, McKay jumped upon his dreams before the Sledgehammer of Reality came barreling towards his cranium, and–wonders behold!–he HAS changed the world!

The Myspace Suicide Massacre

 Deviant told me if I didn’t post this, he would flirt with me until I hanged myself. Threats are hot.

---

The entry which you are about to read is a fictionalized reinactment of the tragedy which befell a pair of suburban families, in particular Megan Meier and her non-existant Myspace boyfriend Josh Evans… For them, an idyllic summer afternoon myspace exhange became a nightmare. The events of that day were to lead to the discovery of one of the most bizarre crimes in the annals of American history.

The Myspace Suicide Massacre!!!

What did you pay for “In Rainbows”?

A contribution from the mind of ZachAction. All of RationReality is one collective screaming ZA fangirl!

So when Radiohead released their new album on their website a few weeks ago and let you pay whatever you want, what did you pay? I paid eight bucks and I never pay for ANYTHING anymore. I’m so used to illegally downloading things for free, I am now sometimes dismayed and outraged that I actually have to still pay for things, like a new sofa. But I paid eight bucks for “In Rainbows” and I probably would have paid a little more if I had known how much I’d like it, but after “Hail to the Thief,” who knew?

My point in all this is that my music is available for free all the time on my website, www.zachaction.com. For Christ’s sake, go download the album “Dinner at Michigan’s” already.

That really is my main point, but I’ll throw something else in.

RIP-IA: Jeanne Tripplehorn

Rest in Peace (in advance) Jeanne Tripplehorn 1963 – 20??

As I am writing this, the ever lovely Jeanne Tripplehorn, that hot naked chick from Waterworld and Basic Instinct, has not died.  To the best of my knowledge, she isn’t ill or injured. However, we beings of this mortal coil will each have our last day. 

One of my greatest fears, the elephant on my chest when I’m trying to sleep, is that she will pass on a day when I’m simply too busy, stoned, or sleepy to write a proper sendoff for such a kind, generous, well-endowed lady. So, Jeanne, I’m writing this in advance of your eventual passing. May it be many years from now.