In response to the fear-mongering and sensationalism brought on by a bunch of news outlets running headlines like “EBOLA COULD BE IN YOUR MOM!”, the nation’s wittiest pun crafters have rushed to internet comment sections in a race to create the best play on Barack Obama’s name. One would think that these were written by sixth graders being homeschooled by their illiterate fathers, but, alas, these were all penned by grown, functioning people. Political stances aside, if you’d like to prove a point, the worst way to start is by creating stuff like this and hoping that everyone who isn’t doing exactly what you’re doing right now will take you seriously.
There’s no way to make this work phonetically. If you decide to make the “Obam-” prefix recognizable, the best you’ll get is an Arnold Schwarzeneggar pronunciation: “Obam-ahs-hole.” If you want to put the emphasis on the “asshole,” you get “oh-bam-asshole,” which makes it sound like your yelling it over your shoulder at someone who just bumped into you. It’s a no-win situation.
How many seconds did it take to come up with “Obola?” One? Two, maybe? Words and stuff are hard, but “Obola” goes to show us that the days of quick wit are not over. In fact, they’ve only just begun.
Odummer and Moocow
Taking precious time that you could’ve spent trying to convince other people that Obama is opening the borders in order to allow a wave of diseased immigrants into the country and using it to call the First Lady “Moocow” makes this guy a martyr of a cause that I’ll never fully understand. Was there a press release documenting Michelle Obama’s secret rendezvous with the scientists that remove her human skin to allow the hidden farm animal underneath some breathing room that I don’t know about? That’s the only way that this insult would hit its mark.
Calling Michelle “Moocow” means two things. The first is that you hate women to a degree that you’re willing to call them anything if it means cursing your own impotency. The second is that you’ve obviously never seen Michelle Obama, or Michelle Obama in a sleeveless shirt. There would be logical clarity to this pun if Michelle Obama was just a jar of mayonnaise and pig’s feet personified. If that was the case, we could reply with “Oh, because she’s overweight. I get it. Also, you’re still an idiot.” But Michelle Obama looks like the kind of person who shouts “Focus! Two more! You may dream of donuts, but your NIGHTMARE IS ME.” while you’re doing bicep curls. The hot kind of person.
Jason Derulo’s music over the past year has taken us through the gamut of what it’s like to be in love, from the initial, platonic flirting, to the fun trips with women who can’t speak English, to the world’s supply of butts. His output is the When Harry Met Sally of our generation, and he paints a picture of romance that is jaggedly intimate. It will stab a pike through your heart and hoist you screaming through the streets.
In a time when we’re so focused on ourselves and our ambitions, Jason Derulo’s music can help us, if only for four minutes, remember what it’s like to be in love. This is no more evident than with his latest single “Trumpets,” which is so in love that, at times, I can’t even comprehend it.
Love Doesn’t Have To Be Fun
Jason Derulo frames himself as an extremely intense man. I assumed that, when a girlfriend is taking a shower or changing into a different pair of pants, that I could relax a bit and not be writing songs in my head about all the wonderful things going on with her flesh, but Jason has proven me wrong. Every time that a girl gets undressed, Jason’s head goes into Mozart mode. It’s like an orchestra made entirely out of boners in his skull.
That’s a painful amount of devotion that I didn’t know was required of me before. He says that he “wrote this song just looking at you,” and, considering the complexity of the lyrics, it’s logical that he composed it while focused on something else entirely, but it also means that Jason’s girlfriend can’t go to the bathroom without Jason trying to figure out where the percussion section plays into the whole thing. Love isn’t relaxed or calm. It’s Jason Derulo needing his girlfriend to find a different outfit or he won’t be able to properly do his job. If she stays in sweatpants for a few days, they’ll starve.
I’m different from all of those long-term relationships in the past with all of those guys who meant well. I’m with you now, so that obviously means that I’m different from all of them. Obviously.
I’d never treat you the way that those assholes did. God, when I think about Tyler, your high school boyfriend, who you had to break up with due to long distance, it just makes me so angry. I’ll never approach you the way that Tyler did. I just want to let you know that you’re perfect, and that what we’ve created over the last 5 weeks is special.
For as long as he could remember, Jared had wanted a dirt bike. And as he watched his father unload the bike from the back of the truck, he knew something was going to go wrong.
Jared’s father had wanted to buy Jared a dirt bike for a year now, and had finally saved up enough. His factory job didn’t afford him much, but he toiled as hard as he could, picking up extra shifts in order to make Jared’s fourteenth birthday his best one yet. The dirt bike was heavier than he imagined, and he was tired. The guys who worked at the Raleigh Bikes had made lifting it look so effortless.
Jared watched his father’s arms tremble, but he maintained his grip. All they had to do was get it off the back of the tailgate and to the driveway. A little sweat dripped down both of their faces, and as the front wheel left the back of the truck, Jared felt the weight shift suddenly, too suddenly, and he lost his grip. His father made a slight groan, and lost his grip as well.
“Aw, dammit, I’m sorry,” Jared’s father said. The bike wasn’t totally wrecked, but, from what the two guys could see, the front was now a little bent and banged up from the impact. It had been the perfect present, but now it was a little less.
Look, Lee. You just got broken up with. You’re SINGLE.
You’re free now, man. Come on out with us tonight. It’ll be great.
We’ll pre-game at Rick’s house until Greg gets off of his shift. Greg is going to drive because he has work tomorrow. But we’ll head out to Fyre at, like, 10. Come on, dude.
We’ll get shots, and we’ll get Greg to have one, but he’ll stick to water after that, ‘cause he has a girlfriend. And we’ll just stand by the bar and nod at girls. Dude, I’ll buy your cover if you come. Please. It’ll take your mind off of Emily.
Hey guys. I think it’s about time we made another movie with Spider-Man in it. Or has the word “Spider-Man” in the title. Either one works for me, really.
Look, I’ve been running this company for thirty years, and there’s nothing in this business that makes a little more money than what we put into it than movies with “Spider-Man” in the title. I don’t care who you cast. Hire some writers. The guys who wrote the last one, if you want to be a nerd about the whole thing. It really doesn’t matter. It should be autopilot at this point.