Big Tobacco drowns smokers to decrease lung cancer deaths

By: CJ Fritz, soggy broccoli

On Monday, Big Tobacco rolled out its newest marketing campaign for smokers.

For years, scientific evidence has conclusively proved that smoking causes several types of cancer, especially lung cancer. In order to undercut the evidence, the marketing department of Big Tobacco has devised a way to reimagine how smokers die.

Each Friday afternoon, after eating steak donuts provided in partnership with Big Meat, members of the Big Tobacco marketing team convene with a group of smokers in order to collect “data” from passionate smokers.

Once all of the smokers have arrived, the marketing team begins taking them individually into a small bathroom. With gloves on their hands and bloodlust in their hearts, the team then ruthlessly drowns the smokers one by one.

After the last smoker in the group has been snuffed out, the marketing team goes out for beers. The company has branded the weekly event as #FuneralFriday.

Harold Binger, spokesman for Big Tobacco, celebrates the shift in data on smokers. “This is vindication for what we’ve said all along,” says Binger. “If you smoke, you’re more likely to drown than to die from lung cancer.”

When confronted as to why only smokers in Lincoln, Nebraska – where Big Tobacco is headquartered – have a higher chance of drowning than dying of cancer, Binger was dismissive.

“We are confident that we will begin seeing this trend in statistics across the United States very soon. It’s just a matter of hiring people nationwide who have great upper body strength and cold, dead hearts,” said Binger.

An anonymous satanic demon from inside the Big Tobacco marketing team states that, “Beforehand, I got a sense of accomplishment from seeing people slowly dying of cancer, but this is so much more gratifying. I love knowing that, when I watch the light leave their eyes, I’m doing my part to prevent lung cancer,” said the source.

 

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Greedy Uncle Lands Dream Job in Alumni Fundraising

CJ Fritz, soggy broccoli

On Monday morning, Whitman College proudly announced the addition of a new member to its ranks of faculty. Lenny Andrews, local greedy uncle, was added to the renowned staff at Alumni Fundraising.

According to Andrews, working at Alumni Fundraising has always been a dream of his. “Growing up, I always dreamed of taking money from people. I looked up to the greats like Ponzi and Madoff my whole life,” says Andrews.

Rather than pursuing a life of nationwide fraud, though, Andrews chose a life better suited to his family. “We love living in a college town. It’s quiet and beautiful, and Whitman is a perfect outlet for my money-grubbing tendencies,” says Andrews.

Since joining Alumni Fundraising on Monday, Andrews has already successfully swindled ten thousand dollars from Whitman alumni, a Whitman College record. His meteoric rise in the Alumni Fundraising department has even caught the eye of President Kathy Murray.

“Someone like Lenny is vital to the college’s day-to-day function. I’ve always wanted a swimming pool inside my house, and Lenny is making that dream into a reality for me. If he keeps up the good work, he has a bright future in college administrating,” says Murray.

Andrews’ nephew, Carl, knew that Andrews would find his feet quickly in his new role. “Uncle Lenny was born for this job. I was just hoping that this job would make him stop stealing my money, but I guess that was just wishful thinking,” says Carl.

President Murray has lauded Andrews, but she understands that he is now a hot commodity. “We know Wall Street is making him offers, but when you find love like we have with Lenny – something so easy and pure – you don’t let it go. You squeeze every last penny out of it,” says Murray.

Op Ed: It’s Not Even That Cold

By: CJ Fritz, Horny Sandwich

How dare you. How dare all of you walk around with your coats and your pants in this weather. If you honestly think that it is cold you are pathetic. I have never felt cold in my life and all of you should be ashamed of yourselves.

I own exactly two pairs of shorts, one pair of cargo shorts and one pair of zip off pants. You might be thinking, but wait, zip off pants aren’t shorts! That’s right, dumbo. Except that immediately upon buying my zip off pants, I unzipped them and lit the lower half on fire.

Your Patagonya and Uggggs can’t save you from the eternal damnation of feeling chilly. Only once you wear flip flops comfortably in January will you be saved. God does not look kindly on those who shiver in the cold.

No one has ever been as not cold as I am. I’m not shivering, you’re shivering. My teeth are just chattering ironically.

When you return to Whitman ten years down the line with your fancy new coat and your shiny new pants, you’ll reminisce about how not cold I was.

Well, guess what? I’m still not cold…not even close. When I arrive at that reunion inevitably wearing a polo shirt with plaid shorts and slip-ons, don’t come crying to me about the weather because I promise you that I can’t relate.

I don’t want to hear that it’s two degrees outside. Temperature is a state of mind, just like my blue lips and my blackened fingertips. It’s all mental, and you pansies don’t seem to understand that.

With so much fake news swirling around, I felt the need to set the record straight. It isn’t even that cold, and anybody who claims that it is cold is an un-American, lying communist.

 

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Shocked congressmen realize capitol building looks like a boob

By: CJ Fritz, Old Bowl of Pasta

Washington, D.C. – On a rainy day in the nation’s capital, two aging senators nervously sip scotch in a chic bar, too disturbed to make eye contact with each other.

I sit across from Senators Shuck Chumer and McCitch Monnell wondering how two of the palest men in the nation managed to look even paler. It is as if they have invented a newer, even whiter shade of white.

Senator Chumer is the first to speak.

“We have discovered a horrifying oversight in Washington that the American people deserve to know about. The capitol building looks like a boob.”

My lack of reaction stuns them. Chumer continues, saying, “You know, the little top part looks like a nipple and the dome underneath is the, uh…booby.”

Senator Monnell clutches his chest and winces as Chumer whispers the word “nipple.” To demonstrate their point, Monnell pulls up an image of the capitol building followed by an image of a woman’s breast. He flips between the photos repeatedly before setting the breast photo as his lock screen.

Steadying himself, Monnell says, “Boobs are a bipartisan issue, and it is our job as congressmen to regulate the public presentation of boobs. We do not know how this hallowed building came to look so boobish, but we intend to get to the bottom of this.”

Chumer nods in agreement, saying “I don’t know how that boob slipped through our fingers, but we plan to clamp down on this issue and give this emergency the old-fashioned bipartisan purple nurple.”

The senators, now both visibly aroused, transition to their proposed solution to Washington’s Boob-onic Plague.

“Starting tomorrow, we will begin tearing down the dome of the capitol building. There’s just no place for boobs in government,” says Monnell. “We will then begin reconstruction, placing an erect missile and two cannon balls on top of the building. That should solve it.”

 

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Mortified vegan swallows gnat

By: CJ Fritz, Kitten Critic

Carmen Allen stares out the window of vegan juice bar Highway to Kale, casting her forlorn gaze across the bustling as she relives the tragic moment. She fiddles anxiously with a PETA stress ball (not tested on animals).

As Allen recalls, it was 3:45pm on Sunday when she left her house to jog to the vegan yoga studio, The Carrot Crevice. Dressed in running sandals and full-body spandex, Allen began her pilgrimage.

She had forgotten to eat her typical pre-jog snack of broccoli and radishes topped with grated brussel sprouts and human tears before leaving and could feel herself becoming ravenous.

“I was already preparing mentally to eat the shit out of some raw veggies when I got home,” says Allen. “Drool was pooling in my mouth and cascading down my chin as I ran. My sandals were starting to slosh with saliva.”

Highway to Kale goes quiet as sympathetic vegans listen in on Allen’s horror story. Allen sobs and stammers as she relives her nightmare.

“I- I- I opened my mouth to- to spit out the excess drool and- and- and, oh GOD!” says Allen. “And I swallowed a gnat.”

Screams echo around the juicery. Several vegans collapse to the ground, heartbroken.

“And the worst part is…it tasted fantastic” says Allen.

In the blink of an eye, a riot engulfs the juicery and Allen is decapitated by the enraged mob.

UPDATE: Despite several health code violations, Allen’s severed head now sits atop a spike on the counter in Highway to Kale.

 

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Man quits therapy, gets girlfriend instead

Three weeks ago, Kevin Nance was a normal shmuck seeing a therapist every week to work through his problems. Like an idiot, for months Nance was paying for local therapist Terry Jones’ expertise backed by Jones’ PhD in counseling psychology.

One day, while shelling out cash following a therapy session, Nance came to a brilliant decision.

After paying for the session, Nance informed Jones that he would no longer be needing therapy. Nance’s revelation stunned Jones.

“I was shocked that Kevin wanted to halt his therapy,” says Jones. “I mean, sure, he was making progress, but the guy is an emotional mess. He needs serious professional attention.”

After quitting therapy, Nance immediately changed his Tinder bio to “Just a dreamer looking for love. Big heart, bigger wiener,” in the hope of attracting a girlfriend.

Nance’s new Tinder bio attracted several suitors prepared to commit to Nance’s chiseled features and sterile personality.

Nance began dating his new girlfriend Tiana nine days after severing ties with his therapist.

“Tiana couldn’t have come into my life at a better time,” says Nance. “I was starting to feel the emotional burden of being out of therapy, but once I met Tiana I could tell that she will be the perfect woman to replace my therapist.”

“Tiana listens so well and is so in touch with her emotions,” says Nance. “Plus, I only have to put up with a couple dates per week in exchange for throwing gobs of my emotional feces at her so she can solve my problems for me.”

Nance claims that he does occasionally feel bad for having left his therapist in the dust.

“Sure, I feel bad for ditching Mr. Jones, but it wasn’t him, it was me,” says Nance. “Getting a girlfriend is so much cheaper than getting a therapist. It was nothing personal, just strict dollars and cents.”

Sometimes Words Rhyme: World Premiere!

The Flush Factory proudly presents the inaugural episode of Sometimes Words Rhyme, titled Lovey Dovey Cuddly Bears, hosted by Kenneth and Alejandro.

As Napoleon once said, “podcasts are the heart and soul of the human condition.”** Sounds pretty smart to me.

Enjoy!

 

**Napoleon is a paid sponsor of The Flush Factory and made this statement against his will.