Seeing as Tumblr (along with Twitter) is the epicenter of the modern civil rights movement, the SWM Elder Council rightfully saw fit to start an account there, exclusively for the purpose of Regulated Apology Sessions, Hello (RASH). Hence we have the SWM Apology Department, Tumblr Division. We know it’ll never be enough, and we know that knowing that will never be enough, but it’s the least we can do until the sacred New Order arrives (see: UTOPIA). You can find our new blog here.
I’ve grown several years older and several degrees madder. Several popular fellows named Bill have been sent to timeout for touching things they shouldn’t. And it seems a lot of people are very angry at a very confused, very old, very rich man. Very.
Perhaps the time is right then.
Firstly, I have a bone to pick. Several, actually. Here they are:
I think I’m going to go with the femur. Now, with that out of the way, let’s get down to business.
There’s been quite a bit of hoopla around things like the Way Awesome Bestest Health Care That’s Way Better Than That Muslim Nigger Gave YouAct Republicans were trying to push through as fast as possible, or the subsequent American Freedom of Free Patriotic Opportunity to Stay Poor and DieAct they were able to actually pass in a similar manner.
But after much reflection, I have made the conscious decision to steer this blog away from politics from here on out.
I have also been notified by a number of lawyers that dispensing medical advice of any kind without a license or degree is unwise. So from now on MEDVICE will feature a disclaimer in tiny print reading “I am not a doctor, everything here is bad and dumb”, right after a few dozen paragraphs slandering medical experts as greedy fools in a conspiracy to give everyone chronic indigestion.
SWM apologizes for the recent inactivity, as our main contributor has fallen mysteriously ill and it’s thrown the staff for a bit of a loop. Here’s a holiday post reposted from my personal blog. As I am contractually obligated to say: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.
Also, WARNING: Explicit language & a hefty dose of reality ahead.
So here we are again, like a 60-year-old widower revisiting the hoar house to have the company of a fugly 23-year-old crackhead for 2 hours. Now keep in mind I’m speaking objectively here; all of the preceding and following are fact-based conclusions that any reasonable person who honestly seeks to be fully informed (of which there are virtually none, excepting myself) would reach. That being said, Christmas is a cancerous cultural plague who’s endless mountains of money is wasted on presents for ungrateful little shits like my nephew Timothy in Sand Hill and donations to lazy drug-addled cunts who can’t be bothered to spend a little of that sweet sweet meth money on clothes (WHY DON’T YOU JUST USE THE MONEY YOU SPEND ON SANTA SUITS AND BELLS, SALVATION ARMY?!?), instead of where it could be put to better use via donations to American Atheists or Feminist Frequency or to clean my fucking toilet. I…
Halloween is over, and I no longer have to listen to the spirit of my alcoholic stepmother haunting the wine cellar. I do, however, find myself periodically puking blood and razor blade fragments whilst the room begins to spin, which might make one wonder: “Did I eat too much candy”?
Step One: Identify the Symptoms
First off as a quick heads up, sorry if I maek a few mistakes, my head feels like its about to explodpmmkadjjR oh god i just shit myself. its everywhere
I DIDNT EVEN KNOW POOP COULD BE THAT COLOR
Step Two: Do a Little Exercise
cant move. colapsed over keyboard, pecking keys with nose. send help
Step Three: Eat Some Protein
been here 2 days. swallowing puke keeps me from starvng. tell susanne i love her. the things with erica frances hillary may veronica and karen never meant anything. dont tell her about the puke eating tho
People have continually asked me about my beliefs, and if I haven’t made it clear yet, I’d like to briefly clarify. I consider myself a fairly devout New Age Evangelical Quasipostculturist (with a philosophical bent toward pacifistic masochism), and as such am ardently opposed to anything that might be remotely considered anything resembling Convention. I have always sought to fight stereotypes, tropes, preconceptions, expectations, vague estimations, and general statistical trends, and fervently promote demographical information as personal identity. So needless to say, when I stumbled upon The Foundation, it was an epiphany.
Twas a dreary Monday morning, and I watched the rain cleanse everything below from the attic window as I idly gnawed on the fresh remains of an unfortunate rat. Slumped over the back of the creaky old wooden chair, forehead resting on the icy cold glass, I tried not to think about the computer behind me, nor the blank document in the open wordpress tab. I tried not to think about my writer’s block, or my loneliness, or my worsening hygiene (there’s no shower in the attic and the closest I’ve gotten is licking myself like a cat), or the worrying dip in the local rat population since the keeper stopped bringing me my stale Cheez-It® rations.
EDITOR’S NOTE: XAV is a free range blogger and is clearly lying about his treatment to get more entitlements.
I was at rock bottom, and I knew it. I couldn’t even summon the enthusiasm to bang my fists against the window and scream for help when I saw people pass by (which I had long since learned to be futile anyway, given the room’s thorough soundproofing). As I eyed the rusty butterknife I had layed on the windowsill and began contemplating the unthinkable (which unfortunately didn’t go anywhere, since I couldn’t think of it), I heard the telltale beep of an facebook notification.
We continued talking long into the night. It was an eye-opening experience, particularly when it turned to the omnipotent force behind the despicable evils of conventions and tropes, and the sinister truth behind so-called ‘moderates’…
After tireless shilling and page refreshing by SWM’s Narcissism Department (overseen by none other than Jonathan McIntosh himself), this blog finally shows up at the very top of the page in a quick Google search!
Needless to say, the staff is super excited over this, and our enthusiasm over this insignificant, meaningless foray into the cold, infinite abyss of egocentric futility has been rejuvenated!!! New posts coming soon!!!!!1111!!1!!!11!
The writer that authored SWM’s most recent post made an egregious factual error for which SWM would like to apologize. Rest assured, the writer in question will be reprimanded somehow– though, due to contractual obligations, staff shortage, and widespread administrative apathy, their employment cannot be terminated/threatened/mildly inconvenienced at this time. For those whom have not yet noticed the error themselves, see the image below:
Again, we at SWM humbly ask for the forgiveness of our many, many, many loyal readers for this reckless display of typographical carelessness. We have always striven for 100% professionalism and proper journalistic ethics, and this sort of lingual misinformation being spread by our writers will not be tolerated (unless we have difficulty stopping it).
All that aside, I’ve been officially appointed as the gaming writer for the site. You know, since I actually know what the flying fuckballs I’m talking about. Look forward to seeing me report on gaming news that actually matters (indie) and reviewing games that aren’t infuriatingly overrated sacks of slimy skunk shit (of which there’s, like, two in the last twenty damn years). See you round.
For the first time ever in the history of all everythings, a company has had information on it’s products leaked. Namely, an excerpt from a first draft script for The Walking Dead Game, Season 3. In response, the CEO of Telltale had this to say:
Being comprised of responsible journalists, Every Gaming Site Ever has decided to share this leak. In a shocking and brilliant twist, the leak reveals that Kenny has apparently survived (again), though this excerpt appears to be set well after this reveal, presumably an episode or two into the season. The excerpt goes as follows (SPOILER WARNING!).
Clementine and the rest of the group (Kenny, Marge, Marge’s Baby, Oscar, and Clementine) run into the Break Room and lock the door behind them as the entire school is flooded with Walkers. There are no windows or other doors.
Kenny: Shit, there’s no fuckin’ way out! Clementine: Don’t worry, the door seems really strong. I don’t think they even saw us. They’ll wander off eventually. Kenny: But how the fuck long will that take? We don’t have any fuckin’ food with us! We’ll starve, for fuck’s sake! Clementine: It should only take a few minutes. Marge: I agree. It shouldn’t take long.
Kenny turns to eye Marge, then looks down to eye the baby held in Marge‘s arms. He licks his lips.
Kenny: We have to eat the baby.
DRAMATIC MUSIC STAB.
Marge: What? No! Kenny: We have no fuckin choice, goddamit! We have to eat the fuckin baby! Gestures towards the napkin holder on the table. We can light these napkins up and cook it real thorough-like– Clementine: Kenny– Kenny: YOU shut the fuck up, Clementine! I’m gettin’ real sick and fuckin’ tired of havin’ to make all the tough fuckin’ choices around here! Especially with you always tryna fuckin stab me in the fuckin’ back like this! Ffffffuck! Oscar: [Panicked] Can’t we just give it a little more time? Kenny: There is no more fuckin’ time, goddamit! Look around you! Do you see any time? No? You know why? Cause there is no more fuckin’ time, goddamit! Clementine: Looks Around. But what about the vending machines– Kenny: Stop fuckin’ tryna fuckin change fuckin’ the fuckin’ subject, fuckin’ Clemen-fuckin’-tine! We have to do something about this, NOW! Marge: [Crying] No! I won’t let you do it! Kenny: Then I have no choice! Pulls out gun.
Oscar sees this and audibly shits himself.
Clementine: Kenny, PLEEASE! Oscar: Sighs. He’s right, Clem. Clementine: What? No! Oscar: [Resigned] There’s no other way. We have to eat the baby. Kenny: Exactly! It’s the baby or all of us! Clementine: I– Kenny: There ARE no good choices, Clem! It’s kill everyone or eat the baby! Now choose! Marge: [Sobbing Loudly] What a dilemma!
Kenny‘s grip on the gun slips and it flies through the air, landing between Kenny and Clementine.
Kenny runs for the gun as time slows down for the player.
While shaving my tentacle suckers today, it struck me that I have been neglecting my inbox. As I feared, it turns out that the tutorial requests have begun to stack up like so many layers of poo crust in a 1-star motel toilet bowl. Thus, I will take on these requests as fast as I can handle without hurting myself again. Here, then, is a request from takethepiss696969lololol:
haaaaayyy XAV i gota no hw 2 mak aa zmby apacolips so i cann indulj in mi vilent pwer fantesees plz
We’ve been getting this request since the beginning, and it’s about time we finally fulfill it. To do this, we have to go back a bit, to when Bush committed 9/11. Most people know about this (though you don’t say anything because you’re all cowardly sheep), but not everyone understands why. Bush had in fact collaborated with the Umbrella corporation to test a zombie virus created by Satanic Illuminati Lizard Psychologists, and the test was getting out of control, threatening to escape the towers themselves. Obviously the only answer was throwing away more human lives.
It all worked out fairly well, but the conspirators decided it best to delay further testing and put the virus away for safekeeping in the meantime. Being a huge fan of Blade III, Bush suggested Wesley Snipes handle the task; Snipes was happy to help his government in any way he could. He disappeared from the public eye, utilizing some absurd cover story about tax evasion or something.
To Obtain a Virus Sample, You Will Need:
101 feet of strong rope (attached to a grappling hook)
1 Obtuse Political Philosophy (O.P.P.)
The Secret Service
Your target is located on the corner of Fifth and Main, in a large tower. You may want to wear non-slip shoes, as the walls are of pure ivory.
Practice and Refine your throwing skills for 20-30 years.
Go to the base of the tower and throw the rope up into the small window at the top.
As you reach the top, have your OPP at the ready.
Enter the window and quickly bash Mr. Snipes over the head with the OPP until he is unconscious.
Optional: Throw Mr. Snipes out the window screaming “THIS IS FOR BLADE 3!”
Retrieve virus samples and leave Ivory Tower, and return to your own.
Mail Virus sample to Secret Service with a note saying something like Keep an eye on this. Don’t embarrass us.
Make your final preparations as the virus gets accidentally leaked and claims its first victims (probably hookers).
if the internet are have teached me anything it is that clicks are good and i must get them no mater wat so here is some bullshit i just googled or something:
10: I DONT CAAAAARE
u mite wanna sit down 4 this. lol joke
this part doesnt even matter bcause you alrready clikked and no matter wat i do your still gonna clic if the title is ‘good’. i only hav like five minutes to rite this anyway becus i have 13 other top tens to do today to meet my quota.
9: YOU CANT JUDGE ME, YOURE THE SHEEP
time to get down and DIRTy. lol joke
somthing something sexism. or smoething. #PretendUrBrave
8: IM SAVING UP FOR A CYANIDE PILL
heres another big pun for u. lol joke
republicans suck amirite? yea they suck
5: DIE JOURNALISM DIE
oh hey chek out this other article i rote so ill hav even moooore clicks