Magick Sandwich

Breaking: Manger Danger!

Pittstown, DE–Is your neighborhood nativity scene safe? Sadly, the answer was no for the Davis family, whose three-year-old daughter, Mensa, was injured last night when a faulty manger toppled onto the youngster.

“We were in the town square watching her throw rocks at squirrels,” her father read from a prepared statement at a press conference this morning. “It’s good for her hand-eye coordination. Then she started to climb up the manger wall. One moment her mother and I were laughing and clapping, the next, tragedy struck. It is unconscionable that the city did not properly anchor the manger to the ground. How could they do that to my little girl?”

Reached by phone, Mensa’s mother stated, “If she doesn’t come out of the coma soon, she’ll lose her spot at Branstone preschool. Her life will be ruined!” She added, “They’re going to pay for this!” before hanging up, overcome with emotion.

Savior Sold Industries, which manufactures the nativity scene, is expected to release a statement later today. This is not the first time the company has had a problem with a defective product. In 2007, it voluntarily recalled its Sweet Jesus Jumbo Tabletop Candy Crèche after a Pekingese choked to death on a piece of myrrh.

In related news, a Wise Man was attacked on December 6th in Baye Village, Ohio. DNA evidence is pending. Local registered sex offenders are being questioned. The manger’s owner, Jerry Smith, has removed the display from his lawn and says it will remain deflated until further notice.

Meanwhile, a church group in Iowa continues its efforts to make peeing on the baby Jesus a felony.Copyright Magick Sandwich

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Armageddon Time

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I guess it was inevitable that something on my computer would become corrupted. Look who it’s been associating with all these years.

While we are metaphorically stuck between floors listening to The Girl from Ipanema, I suggest you check out the Manhattan Airport Foundation, an organization devoted to converting Central Park into an airport. Complete with architectural designs, proposals for incorporating some of Olmsted’s original works into the concourse and support from environmental groups, it is well-done and a hoot to peruse.

It presents itself in every way as a legitimate site, save for the fact that its offices are located on the 58th floor of a 57-story building. No doubt, many of the more than 85,000 people who signed the site’s petition aren’t in on the joke. You can also hop on the shuttle to its Facebook page and check out the many seemingly earnest supporters of converting Central Park into an airport.

I always thought it would make a great water slide. Six Flags, are you listening?

Michael Jackson Magick Sandwich

Elton John, Funeral Whore, to Sing at Michael Jackson’s Service

Michael Jackson Magick Sandwich

Thursday evening, Elton John paid tribute to Michael Jackson at his annual White Tie and Tiara Ball, dedicating his song “Don’t Let the Sun Go Down on Me” to the dead pop star.

Few people know that Jackson was working on his own version of Elton’s classic, tentatively titled “Please Let Your Son Go Down on Me.”

At the ball, John also dedicated “Candle in the Wind” to Jackson, a song originally written about Marilyn Monroe then retooled for Princess Diana.

Rumor has it that Sir John is working on a web-based funeral ballad generator, which fans could use to plug in a dead pal’s vital statistics and emerge with a ready-made eulogy in song.

Elton John Magick SandwichOf course, Elton would receive a royalty for every performance. For an undisclosed fee, Elton will show up at a funeral and throw himself on the coffin. Photos, of course, cost extra.

Elton remains undecided as to which song he will perform at Michael Jackson’s funeral, where he expects a spectacular turnout.

He is reportedly working on finishing Jackson’s version of “Please Let Your Son Go Down on Me” though he is also said to be combing his thesaurus to find a word for pedophile that rhymes with candle.

Related post:
Elton John, Wedding Whore, Sings at Rush Limbaugh’s Wedding

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Magick Sandwich

Don’t Mess with Mamet

It seems Jeremy Piven wished to be excused early from the run of David Mamet’s Speed-the-Plow on Broadway. He was just exhausted and incidentally wanted to attend the Golden Globe ceremony. The schedule was adjusted so that he could attend, tired though he might be, then return and finish his couple of weeks as the lead in the play.

Fulfilling his obligation proved too much for the actor’s constitution. He ditched his well-reviewed role and forced his costars to go on without him. Why? Too much sushi. Somehow he had managed to give himself mercury poisoning.

Forget that the man would hardly have time to utter a line between shoving fistfuls of tuna in his piehole to have that effect. Even if he were sucking, snorting and skin-popping the stuff—I think you catch my drift. Bullshit.

Surprisingly, there was much handwringing done over this. It was taken seriously, with urgent talk of mercury levels, fattiness of fish, highness on the food chain, et cetera. I believe a tuna may have been called in to testify. An order of protection may have been issued.

Whether Mr. Piven could resist the urge to leap facefirst into a sushi bar and wallow, snuffling, in its fleshy delights was a cause for grave concern. Limo routes were adjusted accordingly.

Needless to say, this medical crisis precluded Mr. Piven’s return to Broadway. His experimental chelation therapy via single-malt Scotch had doubtlessly already begun.

At some point, a reporter with Daily Variety thought to ask Mr. Mamet, the play’s author and director, his opinion of Piven’s untimely departure. Mamet said, “My understanding is that he is leaving show business to pursue a career as a thermometer.”

Boom! This is why I love David Mamet. What a perfectly crafted line. I like you, too, Jeremy, but you’re the Tawana Brawley of Broadway. Don’t turn your back; there might be a writer there poised to take your measure.

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Magick Sandwich

Twitter Tragedy: A Cry for Help Unheard

Cleveland, OH — The body of a young woman who will perhaps forever be known simply as sadgirl1188 was found early Tuesday morning in her apartment, dead of an apparent suicide. Was she a victim of the phenomenon of social networking?

Suzie Gernsall, who spoke on condition of complete lack of anonymity, said she had learned of her friend’s demise through a mutual acquaintance. “She Twittered ‘killing myself’ and a little later,’dying’. But, honestly, I wasn’t following her anymore. She’d turned into a real bummer. She stopped Stumbling stuff, her MySpace bulletins were out-of-date and her Facebook page went on and on about some girl named Sylvia Plath, who isn’t even in our network—I checked. After that, I deleted her and told everybody else to, too. But she never knew. It’s nice that you can do it like that now, so you don’t hurt anybody’s feelings.”

The local pizza delivery person was shocked and saddened by the news. “She always ordered online because she didn’t like to talk,” he recalled. “I noticed it was taking her longer and longer to answer the door lately. Also, she was tipping a lot better.”

Her brother, who lives in a nearby gated community, was devastated. “I hadn’t seen her in a while but she’d installed a GPS tracker in her cellphone, so I always felt like I could keep an eye on her. She started wearing those adult diapers after we all heard about that crazy astronaut lady. She said it was just in case she got too depressed to get up from the couch when she had to go. But she seemed really into her new marketing blog, so I thought she was okay.”

Although she had left out extra food and water and had died only hours earlier, the victim had been substantially gnawed on the areas of her body not covered by her filthy bathrobe. Police, shaken by the gruesome discovery, alerted Animal Control personnel, who removed her two cats, Dieter and Scooby, from the premises.

Within hours, images of their adorable bloodied maws began circulating the Internet with a petition to “Save the kitties. Send this to 7 people within the next 10 minutes and you won’t believe what comes up on your screen. I don’t know how, but this really works!!!” PETA is rumored to be mounting a vigorous defense of the felines, citing, among other things, “the irresistible succulence of human soft parts.”

A search of the dead woman’s email revealed thousands of unanswered Digg shouts and several “Is it time to reorder?” queries from Vitamin Shoppe.

A source inside Twitter remarked that the site sometimes goes down for maintenance, causing a member’s lifestream to be briefly interrupted without warning. An upgraded suicide filter is said to be in the offing.

A neighbor of the dead young woman waxed philosophical when informed of the loss. “I don’t know if you could call it a tragedy, really. I mean, the girl didn’t really have any friends.”

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Idiocracy Now Qualifies as a Documentary

The movie Idiocracy will get a second chance with American audiences during its upcoming release as a documentary, say Hollywood insiders. Overlooked during its initial run as a comedy, critics found the plot too far-fetched, with a pro wrestler as president and a dumbed-down future in which Ow, My Balls! was the highest-rated TV show on Earth.

Thanks to the behavior of our president and the pretenders to his throne, this scenario is more “near-fetched”—to borrow from George Carlin—than ever. President Bush appears on Deal or No Deal.

Hillary Clinton, Barack Obama and John McCain pander to the fans on WWE RAW. Barack bowls. Hillary does shots.

Although Idiocracy is set 500 years in the future, it seems that our political hopefuls are appealing to the movie’s constituency right now. Are we that stupid? There are ow-my-balls-ish signs: Farmer Wants a Wife, Living Lohan, a hundred seasons of America’s Funniest Home Videos and counting. Et tu, Tom Bergeron?

Are the candidates that stupid? For an amusing yet sobering answer, check out this collection of the 2008 campaign’s most embarrassing moments.

Personally, I’m holding out for the La-Z-Boy with a toilet in it. Adult diapers were a good first step, but I believe in American ingenuity.

idiocracy throne

Now there’s a throne we can believe in.

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Magick Sandwich

Reduce Your Carbon Footprint – Don’t Breed!

I have wondered what legacy I will leave behind, having borne no children. There is the unsung heroism of not passing on my own unpalatable genetic soup to future generations. (Since women in my family tend to start menopause young, I see Mother Nature as a lifeguard trying to hustle us out of the pool.) But really, other than money, time to travel, intact abdominal muscles, an unscathed perineum and the same complement of stretch marks since puberty, what’s in this childless lifestyle for me?

I have found the answer! By remaining childless, I have reduced my carbon footprint to the tune of every generation of progeny who might have continued to breed until global warming requires the evolution of gills. By my reckoning, I have earned the carbon footprints of all those unborn children. This is the ultimate carbon offset—I can drive an SUV to the catalogue-choked mailbox at the end of my driveway, charter flights to fly in circles with loads of bricks just to burn fuel and roll flaming rubber tires into the rainforest without guilt. It’s a free pass!

In fact, since the only thing I will leave to posterity is my carbon footprint, I’d like to make it as large as possible. And I’d also like to offset that big dark imprint on the posterior of the next person who assumes that every woman must want to have children or that the world can be saved by wearing vegan shoes.

While we’re at it, what the heck is a “vegan shoe”? Does it not eat meat?

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