Posts Tagged ‘brooklyn’
(Brooklyn, NY) Local New York Sports Club member and alpha male Evan Brown gave fellow NYSC member Ray Lyman’s ass a prolonged, furtive ogling Tuesday evening, under the mistaken belief that the effeminate derriere he was admiring actually belonged to a member of the opposite sex. “Sh-I mean he was really fair-skinned and was leaning over in a pair of tiny shorts over by the elliptical machines, so I thought it was some cutie,” claimed Brown, “[I] didn’t know it was a guy! Ugh! Gross, dude.” Upon realizing his mistake, Brown reportedly experienced an intense wave of self-disgust coupled with embarrassment, followed shortly thereafter by unsettling, introspective suspicions regarding the nature of his own sexuality. Brown, seeking reassurance, then made the mistake of confiding his harrowing experience to his friend and fellow gym-goer, Dan Francis. Francis, however, offered only mocking laughter, asking if Brown was searching for a new “[l]ife- errrr, lifting partner.” Crestfallen and insecure, Brown proceeded to “make up” for his mistake by “[o]gling the shit out of some real hotties” for the remainder of his workout, reported Brown. Corroborating Brown’s account was NYSC branch manager Steve Fellows, who conceded that that Fellows in fact received three formal sexual harassment complaints later on that evening in question, all filed against Brown on behalf of NYSC female members.
New York State employee lunch-walking gang tops New York State Police Gang Crime Task Force’s “Most Dangerous Street Gangs of 2008” list
(Albany, New York) New York State Police (“NYSP”) Superintendent Harry J. Corbitt announced Friday that the Albany-based state employee street gang “Walking on Wednesdays” has claimed the top spot on NYSP’s “Most Dangerous Street Gangs of 2008 list,” topping the former juggernaut Clinton Avenue Crack-a-lackin’ Crips and the much-feared El Mariachi Latin Kings of Swan Street. Established in 2005, Walking on Wednesdays (“WoW,” not to be confused with the now-defunct Wow! arcade in Schenectady) consists entirely of New York State government employees, a subspecies of human traditionally known for its predicable yet docile pack behavior. In just shy of four years, WoW has risen from obscurity to national notoriety after its near-complete, surreptitious takeover of the state employee lunchtime walking industry in Albany. According to the NYSP, WoW routinely walks lunchtime laps around the Empire State Plaza and its surrounding areas, patrolling its “turf” and intimidating other lunchers by hurling state government acronym/jargon-laced epithets and demanding that patrons of State Street’s Tex’s BBQ cart pay WoW a “walking tax.” Retired Office of Employee Relations employee Linda Krolak recently surrendered a $5 bill to WoW “soldier” William (“Wee-Bay”) Baylor so that she could purchase her pulled pork sandwich without incident. Hicks reportedly approached Krolak as she pulled out her wallet and offered her the choice either giving him $5 or “[f]inding a size-10 generic white walking sneaker up her [expletive].” “Oh my word, then he screamed that I ‘better pay my motha-[expletive]’in dues’ or I’d be ‘found floating face-down in the shallow, rancid, Hudson-River-water-filled Plaza reflecting pool,'” stammered Krolak, “I was just petrified because I had my precious little [white Maltese] Jasper with me, and he was already shaking from his morning doggie botox injection . . . I just gave the thug my change and shuffled briskly away.”
Eschewing traditional flashy gang colors and luxurious “bling” jewelry, the typical WoW member dons pleated khaki Dockers from J.C. Penney with a visible half-roll of NY Lotto scratch-off tickets “hangin’ out tha right side,” Wee Bay explains, because “yeaaaah, that’s the WoW side.” Additionally, a WoW member will sport non-brand-name white walking sneakers from DSW Warehouse (with a dress and stockings for female members) and a mid-90’s multi-colored nylon wind breaker from Marshall’s discount rack. This low-profile attire helps WoW members to assimilate into the state employee lunch crowd like a middle aged, slightly frumpy chameleon and avoid detection by State Police officers who have had the misfortune of having been assigned to the Empire State Plaza (hey, at least it’s not the Thruway). Only subtle hand signals, double W’s flashed from one power-walking WoW member to another, distinguish the gang members from the victims of their harassment.
WoW is considered among police as one of the most secretive street gangs in the nation, with only one documented breach of gang security. In April, 2005, freshly promoted WoW underboss Karen (“Cuz Killah”) Springer inadvertently emailed a recruitment flyer en masse to every employee on the Department of Health’s network. The flyer asked prospective members if they wanted to “Lose those holiday pounds!” and “help prevent type II diabetes” by “strutting their stuff with WoW during Wednesday lunch hours.” WoW didn’t realize its mistake until the following morning, when Springer signed into her email account to find six email responses sitting in her inbox; all six of the responses, however, consisted of some variation of “TAKE ME OFF THIS GOD DAMN LIST!!!!” Nor were authorities alerted in time; those emails that weren’t instantly directed to spam filters were either instantly deleted by recipients; the only surviving copies were those forwarded by recipients to their friends for the email’s unintentional comedic value. Moreover, police were still weeks away from acquiring court approval for a wire tap.
Police are optimistic that recent arrests of two mid-ranking WoW members combined with a recently approved state increase in manpower at the Empire State Plaza will turn the tide in the City’s four-year battle with the dangerous street gang. Using wire taps and confidential Office of General Services informants, police have even begun to learn about WoW’s illegal activities before they occur and act preemptively. Just last week, police picked up chatter on one of its wiretaps that WoW members were planning to “tag” the Egg, Albany’s iconic concrete, egg-shaped performing arts center (tagging is street slang for spray-painting public property, often with gang insignias as a way of marking gang territory). Police stationed two 24-hour patrol cars outside the Egg for several days; no tagging resulted. At least some high-ranking officials at the NYSP, however, have privately expressed skepticism that their heightened presence has had any actual effect, instead postulating that the references to “tagging the Egg” picked up on the wire instead referred to the initiation rites of new WoW member Stan “Biff” (the old version, from Back to the Future II) Haligan. According to those officials, WoW members often refer to the dimwitted Haligan as an “egghead” and WoW initiation rites involve the hanging of WoW-gang-colored state-issued ID tags around new members’ necks with a silver, aluminum lanyard- the kind used to attach pens to counters at banks. At press time, NYSP Superintendent Corbitt had not returned numerous phone calls for comment.
(Hudson, NY) 25-year-old Michael Landi of Hudson has been misdiagnosed with Bipolar Disorder Type I since the age of 8, claims area psychiatrist Dr. Herb Allen. “After performing a thorough clinical assessment, I am certain that Michael is instead exhibiting symptoms of classic Hulkamania, which makes perfect sense considering my patient’s demographics and family history,” explained Allen, “He’s simply been misdiagnosed all these years.”
Brought in for an assessment at his family’s urging, Michael Allen’s first clue, he reports, was Michael’s particularly high global level of functioning. Allen attributes this to Michael’s unusually strict daily regimen of saying his prayers, drinking copious amounts of milk, and religiously taking his vitamins; practices not typically characteristic of a person experiencing rapid, unstable shifts in mood. “And Michael’s MMPI [Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory] analysis showed alarmingly high scores on the ‘hypomania’ and ‘hysteria’ scales, which are consistent with textbook Hulkamania,” continued Allen. Such scores typically translate to rapid and nonsensical speech, delusions of grandeur, and claims of immortality.
Michael’s mother clearly remembers when she first started noticing his bizarre behavior: “Since the 4th grade, he was very anti-authority. We couldn’t keep him dressed; he’d rip a brand new shirt right off himself,” said Annette Landi. “He referred to himself in the third person, and called started calling everyone ‘brother.’ We thought that meant that maybe he wanted a little brother to play with, so we got him a dog. He would let the poor puppy run into his extended boot, and he’d carry on about how the cute little thing couldn’t ‘lace the Junkyard Dog’s boots,’ it was just awful.”
Michael was soon diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder Type I, and prescribed lithium to stabilize his mood swings. The medication had little effect; instead it seemed to increase Michael’s outbursts. During the 7th grade, he would regularly feud with the Iranian exchange student, one time even attempting to wrap his ’24-inch pythons’ around his ‘Iron Sheik” neck. As a result, Michael was expelled from school, an occurrence that would plague him throughout his adolescence.
After years of ups and downs, six different schools, and an undeterminable amount of babysitters, things hit rock bottom for Landi shortly after his 24th birthday. Years of futile psychotherapy and failed attempts at medicinal treatment wore down Michael’s will, and he slipped into a debilitating depressive episode. Admitted to the Anaheim County Psychiatric Center for a last-resort bout of controversial electro-convulsive therapy, Michael grew belligerent and assaulted hospital staff. “He was extremely combative and hard to subdue; when we tried to use our stun batons on him, he started vigorously shaking his head, blowing out his cheeks and wagging his finger, then slowly rose to his feet and just let loose,” reported hospital orderly Jose Santos. “I’ve never seen anything like it; it was like he was channeling a supernatural force or something.”
Desperate, Michael’s mother turned to the Internet. After visiting a few supportive online forums and message boards for mothers with bipolar children, she came across a recommendation of Dr. Herb Allen, a local psychiatrist who specialized in rare mood disorders. Figuring she had nothing to lose, Annette lured Michael to Allen’s office under the guise of buying him a new yellow and red bandana, a staple of Michael’s wardrobe. Though initially angered after realizing the deception, Michael quickly and unexpectedly established a good rapport with Allen. After a few intensive therapy sessions, Allen had Michael weaned off of the psychotropic medication Depakote. For the first time, Michael began to speak openly about his conflicting desires of being a good American patriot, and wanting to just run wild over anyone who got in his way.
Allen thinks such progress indicates that Michael has turned the corner in his Hulkamania treatment. “I’m confident that regular psychotherapy, coupled with a gradual reworking of Michael’s abnormal thought processes will nip his Hulkamania right in the bud once and for all” declared Allen. As part of the treatment plan, Allen also referred Michael to an area dermatologist for treatment of his greasy, orange-hued skin condition.
Azula immediately filed an answer denying Russo’s allegations and contending that, 1) Russo never registered his hairstyle with the U.S. Copyright office as a prerequisite to an infringement suit, as required by 17 U.S.C. §411(a), 2) Russo’s mulletish hairstyle is not fixed in a tangible medium of expression as required by §102(a) of the Copyright Act, and finally that 3) Azula’s hairstyle is “[j]ust far less lame-ass.” Additionally, Azula suggests that Russo “[c]oncentrate on his [expletive] musical ‘career’ and focus his energy toward figuring out why his wife left him, although [Azula] could make a few educated guesses if he wants somewhere to start.”
Reached for comment, Joey Lawrence, who ironically is now completely bald, stated, “I’m not gonna say it, man, you can just leave right now . . . no, seriously, get the [expletive] out of here . . . FINE, JESUS CHRIST . . . WHOA!”
(Right hand of the Father, Heaven) Jesus Christ, the “only Son of God,” is expected to opt out of his infinite-year multi-gazillion-dollar contract with mankind after this year, sources close to Christ reported Monday. Super Agent Scott Boras, who boasts Christ as his client as well as millionaire professional baseball superstars Alex Rodriguez and Carlos Beltran, claims that Christ, as a result of dwindling church attendance numbers, “just doesn’t feel appreciated anymore here on Earth.” If Christ does indeed exercise the opt-out clause included in the infinite-year contract that he signed after his resurrection in 29 AD, he would be considered an unrestricted free agent. Interested suitors include the speculative Extremophiles of Mars, and the theoretical fauna of extrasolar planet Gliese 581 c.
Hicks St. ginkgo tree thinks its shit-scented seed pods don’t stink, says Pierrepont St. sycamore tree
(Brooklyn Heights, NY) A Pierrepont St. sycamore tree called out a Hicks St. ginkgo tree Monday, alleging that the ginkgo tree thinks its fecal-scented seed pods, which it excretes all over the surrounding cars and sidewalk every autumn, don’t stink, sources say. The outburst came at the heels of a particularly still, warm, odoriferous afternoon. “Seriously, that asshole just tosses its plethora of little shit berries all over the damn place with reckless abandon, so then when people walk over them and smush them, the neighborhood is inundated with the sweet smell of partially digested human waste product,” raged the sycamore tree. “What, she thinks her shitty berries smell like lilac?”
A [gag?] gift from Japan back in the 70’s, the ginkgo trees scattered throughout Brooklyn Heights are notorious for their ability to thrive in polluted urban environments. Every fall, the gingko produces a large number of fruit-like, yellow seeds which it then craps out all over the sidewalk and cars below. The seeds contain butanoic acid, giving them their characteristic scent which has been compared to that of rancid butter or human feces. For this reason, in Japan only the male tree is planted along streets, with the female trees relegated to the garden.
When informed of the sycamore tree’s comments, the mostly indifferent ginko tree merely shrugged it’s upper branches. “Puh-lease,” the gingko pleaded, “[c]onsider your source. That Sycamore hasn’t been pollinated in years, probably because he always wears that white trashy camo-bark. Like where did he get that, Hot Topic? He’s just jealous that I’m getting all the action- I even had an Asian threesome last week!” The gingko tree was likely referring to last Thursday evening, when after a particularly windy rainstorm, an elderly couple of asian descent were seen gathering loose ginkgo seeds for culinary uses (the nutty gingko seeds are added to congee, an asian rice porridge). On the seed collectors, the gingko tree opined, “[t]hey LOVE that shit!”
The animosity between the two trees is not likely to subside anytime soon. When asked if the two trees might ever set aside their differences, the sycamore tree scoffed and said, “[t]hat miserable piece of shit, literally, shit, ‘aint worth my time. You can write that shit down.” In a similar vein, the gingko tree responded, “umm, no, actually I hope that miserable softwood contracts Plane Anthracnose Disease and defoliates himself.”