Posts

Anthony Weiner Watch 2018

Weiner Watch 2018: Your Dad’s Not So Bad

Anthony Weiner Watch 2018

That’s the look of love.

There are all sorts of reasons Father’s Day can suck, most having to do with some combination of unrealized expectations, righteous ingratitude, and too much (or too little) alcohol. But it could be worse: your dad could be Anthony Weiner.

Imagine, if you will, that on July 31, 2015, your daddy is babysitting you while your mommy travels around the country working to get Hillary Clinton elected as leader of the free world. You toddle into the bedroom where he is lying with his smartphone held aloft and a happy-Mr.-Howdy tent in his Jockey shorts.

He loves you so much that, when you curl up next to him and go to sleep with your blankie, he snaps a heartwarming pic of you and his throbbing crotch brain and sends it to the 40-something divorcée he’s just been texting about his fond memories of a favorite massage parlor in his old neighborhood. It’s a Norman Rockwell moment. (Not the artist: the guy in the drunk tank who jizzes on your shoes and says, “You’re welcome.”)

Someone shares this lovely father-son moment with the New York Post on August 29, 2016. Your mommy doesn’t understand and leaves your daddy the same day. Since then, grownups love to see you spend time with your daddy because there’s always someone watching. They call this being a “witness.”

After the FBI finds out your daddy used your mommy’s work computer to send photos to nice ladies, it reopens its dead case against Hillary Clinton, and your daddy helps Donald Trump become president. A year later, on November 6, 2017, your daddy goes “up the river” to federal prison for sending obscene material to an underage girl.

Today is Father’s Day and you’re going to see your daddy. You’re happy, even though you were secretly hoping to get there by boat. Mommy drives; you never even see the river. She doesn’t come in with you, though. You don’t need her to be there with you. After all, you’re six whole years old now. You feel her loving support from the parking lot.

You have fun, once you get past all the security protecting your daddy. You hug and have vending machine snacks and he tells you sad stories about inmates (like Bernie Madoff’s brother Peter) who don’t get many visits from family for some reason.

Daddy tells you he’ll get out May 14, 2019. Yay! He promises he’ll be really friendly and go door-to-door and introduce himself to all of your neighbors. He says that even though he has to do it because he’s now called a “quote-unquote sex offender,” he really wants to.

Then he asks if he can borrow your phone.

More Weiner:
Weiner Watch 2011
Don’t Cry for Anthony Weiner
Anthony Weiner Waves His Wiener Once More
Copyright Notice 2018 Magick Sandwich

Gifts for Idiots

Gifts for Idiots

In the crush of holiday shopping, it’s easy to forget to take time to thank the season’s real innovators, those who work at the frontiers of imagination to add ever more useless crap to the world. This season, let’s honor them with the ridicule they so richly deserve before consigning their wares to the landfill of memory.

 

The Selfie Brush “makes your cellphone easy to hold for the best selfies ever”
because what girl doesn’t want to turn her iPhone into a cheap plastic hairbrush?
The Theradome LH80 Pro laser helmet costs $895 and promises to slow hair loss. Though it admits new hair growth may take up to a year to appear, this is worth every penny to the giver who gets another person to spend 365 days looking like an extra from TRON.
Even the most die-hard atheist might feel a bit blasphemous about taking a bite out of the baby Jesus, even if he is in reality a chocolate-covered cherry limned in frosting. But don’t worry: this edible Nativity scene is one of Oprah’s Favorite Things. The thought of her chowing down on the wise men might be disturbing but she’s the closest thing we have to a deity, so if She says it’s okay, it’s okay. Bon appetit.
Finally, for only $12,500, Celestis Pets will launch a “symbolic portion of [your pet’s] cremated remains” into deep space and “provides your beloved pet with an incredible journey through the stars, allowing them to explore places they could have only dreamed of in life.” I’m not sure what my cat Rocky dreamed of but I’m pretty sure he would have spent that money on hookers and blow.
Here’s to a happy holiday season filled with fun, good cheer and the sneaking suspicion that if Fido finds out you’re seriously considering sending his ashes into zero gravity, he will chew on your soft parts while you sleep.

 

Copyright Magick Sandwich
Naughty Little Elf Gets Off the Shelf

Naughty Little Elf Gets off the Shelf

It all started innocently enough. The “Elf on a Shelf” is a pretty self-explanatory Christmas tradition that I thought would be cute to give to my niece. But I didn’t know it has a backstory that makes it special and not a little creepy — depending on how you feel about animated dolls.

Shelf not included

The elf reports to Santa every night and returns to a different spot the next morning. Sounds a lot like Chucky. Or in this case, bride of Chucky: I got my niece the newfangled girl elf because, hey, I’m nothing if not progressive. And she loves the thing, tells it she’s been nice, looks to see where it’s sitting when she gets up and calls it Clarice. (Yes, I know.)

So her parents have to get inventive…and this is where this tale takes a dark turn. (Forgive me, Santa.) I suggested it would be funny to put the elf in places wildly inappropriate for a child to discover. And my awesome sister-in-law took the idea and ran with it. I spent the evening laughing my ass off at these and thought it was unfair to keep them to myself. If sharing is caring, Merry Christmas.

My favorite

Playing with Doctor Barbie? Naughty girl!

REDRUM


Haven’t you always wondered how elves drop a deuce? Wonder no more!

To avoid inflicting emotional damage to both young and old, photos of Clarice in compromising positions with Woody from Toy Story have been redacted.

Copyright Magick Sandwich

tombstone magick sandwich fixins

Sandwich Fixins #9

 When I can’t stand the clutter in the fridge, I bring you another serving of sandwich fixins.

 *****
What’s the warranty on an exorcism?
*****
I’m sad that Hugo Chavez’ body was too decomposed to be preserved and displayed like Lenin. It means no one will ever be able to break into his glass casket and dress him in crotchless panties.
*****
 
Why do pickles say “Refrigerate After Opening?”
*****
People who love pigeons should be forced to feed them worms and grubs. Do they
just assume the birds prefer stale bread, with all those carbs and
gluten?  Why isn’t PETA on this?
*****
Could Lois Lane get cancer from Superman’s X-ray vision?
*****
If tombstones are our final caption, I’d like mine to read “Ask me
about alternative medicine.” Or maybe “Incurable romantic.” I also like
“This isn’t my gum.” I can’t decide. Maybe I could pay people to let me
carve things onto their dead loved ones’ gravestones. That could work.
tombstone magick sandwich fixins

Fixins Archive:
Sandwich Fixins #8
Sandwich Fixins #7
Sandwich Fixins #6

Copyright Magick Sandwich

More Great Gifts for Everyone on Your List!

It’s that time of year again. Are you wondering what to get for your loved ones to show you really care? Avoid the Walmart scrum and spread Christmas cheer this season with Magick Sandwich’s sure-to-please holiday gift list!

First, for the friend whose dog makes sweet love to your pant leg as soon as you step in the door, we recommend Hot Doll, the first sex toy for dogs. Its legs boast a “no slide” system and its cone is made from “the same materials used by veterinarians.”

Yes, the cone is exactly what you think it is and yes, it makes your vet sound kinky. It’s also washable, which will make picking up dog poop a joy by comparison. Stylish in black or white, this puppy will set you back 159 euros plus shipping. Did I mention it’s made in France? Of course, it is.

For the aunt who wears leggings because they’re “slimming” and who hasn’t seen south of her own border in umpteen pounds, we suggest the Cuchini Camel Toe Solution. It fits inside her drawers to shore up her sagging nethers. Her inseam will thank you.

If you’d like to see the before and after photos, you’ll have to visit the site. Showing a doggy
sex toy is one thing, but we have to draw the line somewhere. Standards must be maintained. A bacon merkin, on the other hand? Good clean fun.

Distract the coworker who gets preachy about your lunch with What Would Jesus Eat?: The Ultimate Program for Eating Well, Feeling Great and Living Longer. (Spoiler alert: He’s not a fan of processed white bread but He does recommend non-fat cream cheese.)

Along with its companion cookbook, no doubt straight from the savior’s test kitchen, it’s the perfect gift for the believer who wonders, “Are these fishes sourced locally?”

Finally, give that special someone languishing on an organ donor list the gift of a life-sized plush organ from the folks at iheartguts.com.

Some of the organs available are the testicle, ovary, gallbladder, lung, prostate, and spleen. Maybe while Uncle Roy clutches this adorable, festively colored plush liver, he’ll think about taking better care of his next one. If he gets one. If not, you can always re-gift it to one of the other hopeless drunks in your family. Do they sell in bulk?

Well, that’s all for now. Click here for more gift ideas. While you’re at it, see our advice on gifts for depressed and/or lonely friends, bacon lovers and drunkards. Remember: Don’t wait for their birthdays. They may be dead by then.™

More gift-giving know-how:
Great Holiday Gifts: Bacon Edition 
Great Gifts for Depressed Friends!
Great Gifts for Everyone on Your List!

Copyright Notice 2018 Magick Sandwich

Christmas Gifting 101: A Visual Aid

You’re in that mad, last-minute scramble to find a present for that special someone. When it comes to gift-giving, a scarf is always a safe choice, right? Not always. Behold:
In your frenzy to get out of the store, don’t forget to pay attention to what you’re buying. Unless she wants to look like her nipples sucked a lemon or saw their own shadow and retreated for six more weeks of winter, put this back on the clearance pile. If she’s into that sort of thing, go ahead and get it. I’m sure Freud would have an opinion on this. But he’s dead and anyway, sometimes a scarf is just a scarf.
Copyright Notice 2018 Magick Sandwich

Let’s All Shut Up About September 11th

I can’t wait for September 12th. Why? Not because I fear an attack on the 11th but because I just want everyone to shut up about it.

There’s something unseemly about the orgy of coverage surrounding the tenth anniversary of the 9/11 attack. On one level, we deal with the chilling knowledge that we are not safe. Maybe we know somebody who died. Maybe we know somebody who got lucky. Maybe we know somebody who knows somebody. Or we got upset watching it on TV. We all own this experience, at least in our minds.

But before we play “where were you when _____,” let me just say that I am not up for that particular game. Yes, this is a defining moment in modern history, “our” Pearl Harbor, “our” JFK assassination. But it is also defined by this modern age of reality programming and 24-hour news cycles. We would never have seen Walter Cronkite chasing down everyone who had ever been to Dealey Plaza to get their input.

Disaster porn is profitable. Reporters in the field seem to get paid by the tear, as evidenced by a recent CNN interview with a woman whose house had been destroyed by a Texas wildfire.  She was understandably terse, distracted by the sight of her home’s charred remains. The reporter tried to draw her out by asking, “How does this make you feel?” The woman stared at the reporter for a long moment before replying, “I’ve lost everything!” The “what kind of a stupid question is that?” was implied. I assume the people who express that aloud get edited out.

There is also the phenomenon of what I would call Chicken Little Syndrome. CNN coverage of the East Coast earthquake took an absurd turn when the worst thing found was a crack in the Washington Monument. So they covered it for days. That, and some bricks that fell on a car in Virginia. By the time Hurricane Irene started to look like it was headed straight through Central Park, a lot of people thought it was just more hype and didn’t pay attention.

Now the dedication of the September 11 Memorial will be taking place and there’s a “credible threat” of a terrorist attack. Well, duh! Of course, they’d love to let us know we haven’t cut off the head of the snake. Speaking of bin Laden, wasn’t the jubilation a little distasteful, after the moral outrage at al-Qaeda celebrating when the planes hit? I am grateful he’s gone but it’s hard to claim the high ground when we’re jumping up and down about a person, even a villain, being killed.

Networks make money on this. Do we share responsibility for that? Why do we watch? Is there some perverse pleasure in the celebration–sorry, commemoration–of awful events? There are people who suffered and died that day. Most of us were not touched by this tragedy in a purely factual, physically actual way. Why must we lay claim? Have we become a nation of professional mourners? Why can’t we acknowledge this sad anniversary without total media sensory immersion?

It was nice back then when people rallied around the city, proclaiming “we are all New Yorkers.” But we’re not. Visited here once? Saw a movie with the Towers in it? Worried about Homeland Security threat levels in Gary, Indiana? Sorry, thanks for playing. New Yorkers, and I’m proud to be one, will do what they’ve always done. Get up, go to work–orange, yellow, puce alert–doesn’t matter. We remember the fires, the smell, the subway walls covered with signs searching for loved ones that were surely dead. I spent hours thinking I’d lost my husband–he was supposed to be there–but he ran late. We were lucky on a day so many people weren’t.

No offense, but I don’t need anyone to remind me of this. I certainly don’t need Wolf Blitzer “catastrobating,” a term my brother-in-law coined that perfectly captures the breathless reportage that will hopefully climax and enjoy a cigarette on the 12th. That will be the day I can watch the news again, the day I’ll stop getting email ads for The New Yorker’s 9/11 e-book and the day the History Channel will return to its regularly scheduled Hitler-related programming. That sounds like a good day to me.

Copyright Notice 2018 Magick Sandwich