Tag Archive for: sarcasm

Magick Sandwich

Sandwich Fixins #6

Once again I find myself a few (magick?) sandwiches short of a picnic. So I offer you the condiments of my mind with another helping of Sandwich Fixins.

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When you order Domino’s online, you can post your order to Facebook. As technological solipsism reaches its zenith, can the apocalypse be far behind?

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My dream job would be to work in a think tank at Arm & Hammer, coming up with new ways to market baking soda.

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When I need to feel smart, I read a message board—any message board. The writers’ streams of consciousness read more like comatose trickles.

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How many bars of soap could be made from the rendered fat of Rush Limbaugh?

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When did “gift” become a verb? “The star was gifted the necklace after the photo shoot.” Wasn’t she given the necklace?

When did “shone” disappear? For example, “The star shined at the opening.” I don’t understand. Was she polishing something?

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I saw Karl Rove in person, so I can cross “be in the presence of evil” off my bucket list.

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If you feel that any of my jokes require a little help, add your own percussion with Instant Rimshot.

More fixins:
Sandwich Fixins #3
Sandwich Fixins #4
Sandwich Fixins #5

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Fart Filter Product of the Week Magick Sandwich

Fart Filter: Product of the Week

Do you wake up with a wreath of methane hanging around your head from your significant other’s flatus following a Taco Bell bender the night before?

Are you oxygen-deprived by the fart machine who works in the next cubicle?

Do you enjoy emitting the foul, gaseous issue of your rectum in public but rue the accusing stares in the elevator?

Well, thank your lucky stars that there is a product for the sphincter control challenged: it’s the Flat-D.

The Flatulence Deodorizer is actually a discreet charcoal filter that you secure to your underwear before going out on the town for a night of unbridled passing. You can view the how-to video here.

Imagine the joy of blowing a broccoli fart while being reprimanded by your boss. It’ll lower the psi in your colon and he’ll never know what triggered his migraine.

There is one caveat for the guys: this male maxi-pad will not work in boxer shorts, which do not cling tightly enough to your exhaust portal for the fart filter to be effective. So switch to tighty whiteys or face the grim task of actually holding it in.

The company makes a charcoal chair pad, but you’ll need to practice getting your farts to blow straight down into it. An errant squeaker squirting up twixt the ass cheeks can be hard to disown.

Luckily, Flat-D Innovations hasn’t forgotten the ladies. If you prefer to outgas in sexy underwear, the Thong-D is for you!

And best of all, it’s 100% guaranteed. Believe it or not, if you are unsatisfied, you can return the nasty thing with your farts locked inside for a full refund.

But please be kind and seal it well before mailing; you don’t want to knock out the UPS guy who inadvertently gives it a squeeze and releases its stench like smelly minions from Satan’s couch cushion.

Related product:
Scrotal Deodorant Wash: Product of the Week

Copyright Notice 2018 Magick Sandwich

boyfriend pillow 3 great gifts for lonely friends

3 Great Gifts for Lonely Friends

Shopping for friends who can’t seem to function outside of a relationship? Afraid you’re going to be drafted to fill in the gaping hole in their lives? Expend minimal effort to ensure they don’t come crying to you with Magick Sandwich’s 3 great gifts for lonely friends.

The Boyfriend Pillow

boyfriend pillow 3 great gifts for lonely friends

Shield your friend from that empty bed with the Boyfriend Pillow, available here. It will absorb her tears as she cries, “I have never felt so alone.” And it’s wearing a nice button-down shirt so she can also dream that it has a job.

The Bug Vacuum

bug vacuum 3 great gifts for Lonely Friends

This insect vacuum will come in handy because, let’s face it: all her screaming won’t conjure a boyfriend to kill it for her. Hammacher Schlemmer boasts that its version “vacuumed up 24 live crickets in only 15 seconds.” (Did we need to know they were alive at the time?) If your friend needs to vacuum up 24 bugs every 15 seconds, it may be time to fix her up with a local exterminator. It would be a match made in cricket heaven.

Paparazzi for Hire

paparazzi for hire 3 great gifts for lonely friends

Make her fantasies come true by renting a horde of stalkerazzi at Famous for a Day. She’ll be amazed as she’s swarmed by autograph seekers at the laundromat. And when photographers jockey for the best angle, her table for one at MooShu Palace will feel like the best place in town!

Another helpful post:
Great Gifts for Depressed Friends

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LOSER t shirt magick sandwich

You Can Fix Stupid. It Takes a Bullet.

Someone dear to me who shall remain nameless was recently spammed at work by the resumé of a person I’ll call Mr. K. Though the spelling and grammatical errors grated and the cover letter’s promise to add value to the company rankled, it was the sheer number of emails that finally got my friend’s proverbial goat. After about fifty copies cluttered his inbox, he wrote back to Mr. K.

Dear Mr. K:

We may indeed have a position befitting your unique set of skills, positive attitude, professionalism, dedication, work ethic, ad nauseum.

Please report first thing tomorrow morning to our corporate headquarters at 69 Reade Street, New York, for an interview. We are always on the lookout for personnel of your caliber and persistence.

Everyone visiting Way Huge Software Company (Swollen Pickle Division) receives a token of our appreciation for visiting and interviewing with us.

Cordially,

I.P. Freely

The guy wrote back, “When would you like me to come in?”

No shit.

Okay, the guy could be forgiven for not knowing that 69 Reade Street was an abandoned building that had collapsed that morning. And obviously, the name of the company didn’t tip him off. He was sending that resumé out willy-nilly without noting where and to whom he’d emailed already. How do I know this?

He kept sending it. Finally, an IT guy had to block Mr. K’s emails to the entire department.

I hope he didn’t have his heart set on that t-shirt.

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Magick Sandwich

National Pigeon Day. Again. I’m Not Kidding.

The first National Pigeon Day on June 13, 2008, was patently absurd. I figured it was some kind of avian fluke. But it’s back this year and bigger than ever, taking place again in Central Park in New York City and launching a book heralding this foul fowl.

Woody Allen called pigeons “rats with wings.” I find that comparison funny but unfair. Rats are intelligent animals, used in experiments to help improve the human condition. But will there ever be a National Rat Day? No. Why? Because it’s a stupid idea.

Like pigeons, rats are fastidiously clean. It’s the squalor of their habitat that forces them to be loathsome, disease-ridden vermin. We should honor our unspoken social contract by allowing them to continue scavenging our rubbish.

In return, they enable us to go on being filthy swine who leave our trash in the streets. Hail them as heroes if you’re delusional enough, but for God’s sake, don’t feed them. They eat our garbage; that’s their job.

I wrote about this “holiday” last year, never thinking it would be repeated. But here it is again, so I’d like to take this opportunity to bring you my original post.

June 13 is National Pigeon Day- Ask Your Boss for the Day Off

June 13 is National Pigeon Day in Central Park. I found this announcement in New York magazine:

“We’re trying to promote a positive image,” says New York Bird Club founder Anna Dove…. “There’s such negativity for no reason. They’re harmless, defenseless. They can’t attack; their beak is very soft.”

It’s great that these disease-carrying merde machines that crowd out other bird species are having their day in the sun. I would like to submit a few more unsung heroes that I believe deserve to be honored.

The Asian longhorned beetle immigrated from China in cargo containers and feeds on maples and elms in New York City, helping us control the rampant tree population, since the only remedy is to chop them down.

Then there’s the Chinese emerald ash borer that’s helped to rid us of over 6 million ash trees in the Midwest. To paraphrase Springsteen (or Edwin Starr, if you’re a purist), “Trees-what are they good for?”

Possibly the most overachieving of these heroes is a plant. Kudzu came here from Japan in 1876 as a decorative plant.It grows an amazing 1 foot per day, smothering native plants and killing trees with its vines. Like something out of the X-Files, it has taken over many southern states and is on its way north. Then we can have National Kudzu Day when it’s overgrown everything else in Central Park. Hey, at least it won’t hurt our precious pigeons.

Kids will learn cool pigeon facts…as they nibble on pigeon-shape cookies, view pigeon-inspired children’s art, and take part in a candlelight prayer service.(Dove worries there might not even be urban pigeons in five years.)

Hey, here’s a cool pigeon fact. They eat meat. I remember one munching on my KFC like some happy cannibal reenactment on the Discovery Channel.

Meanwhile, she urges all New York families to “carry a bit of bread crumbs in your bag, a few seeds to show kindness and respect. The pigeon isn’t a threat or an enemy. It goes along with quality of life to show kindness and compassion to all living things.” That’s a lovely lesson for the children.

Yes, littering- what a great lesson. Here’s another one. Have your kids wait until after dark to see who feasts on the castoff pigeon cookie crumbs and detritus you’ve left in your thoughtless wake. That’s right, folks: our friend the Norway rat. He lives on unintentional handouts, like those yummy crumbs dropped from the pudgy little fingers of adorable children who want to feed the pretty birdies.

But let us not forget what is perhaps the greatest lesson of all. Make sure your kids toss those crumbs right next to the feet of a homeless man. This is a great way to teach your children about irony. He might’ve enjoyed that pastry you crumbled up before you came to the park. He’d definitely drop some crumbs around him to feed the pigeons. You know, those homeless have no manners.

And the Circle of Life continues.

*****Since I had no comments on the blog, I’d like to share the reaction of a reader on nymag.com after I printed a portion of my post in its Comments section.*****

Your bitterness towards the pigeon CATHCOM, is misplaced. It should be directed to the people who do terrible things to pigeons because they are helpless and vulnerable.

I won’t ask how a pigeon managed to get a bit of your KFC, but why don’t you take a peek at the PETA website to see what those chickens have to go through to provide you with that sandwich. Animal cruelty is an extreme euphemism. As for cannibalism, suppose if you were facing a life of having to eat garbage and street scraps, you might not be very particular yourself.

If the rats bother you, consider what a feast day they would have if there were no scavangers like the pigeon to remove most of it. You think that if people stopped feeding pigeons the rats would go away?

If you see some irony in the homeless not being fed, ask yourself why society lays the blame for their homelessness on them. Like its their fault they don’t have high paying jobs or that they struggle with mental illness without care and treatment. To people like you however it all reduces itself to the problem of throwing a few bread crumbs to a pigeon. If you want irony we could teach our children how little we value the lives of other Americans, and showing kindness to a few pigeons is a great place to start. “The greatness of a nation and its moral progress can be determined by how its animals are treated”- Gandhi.

By Grimaldy on 06/13/2008 at 3:52 pm

My reply:

Thank you for your comment, Grimaldy. I’m sorry to hear that you are bitter toward people who do terrible things to pigeons. Those kind of resentments can wear you down, especially if you haven’t eaten enough protein recently.

I always specify that my sandwiches be made from chickens that have really suffered terribly. It makes them so much sweeter. And it balances out my diet of hobos quite nicely. The one thing I really can’t stomach is a vegetarian — too stringy.

By the way, I’ll wager you’re no more like Gandhi than I am. He didn’t have to pretentiously quote himself, after all.

By kathcom on 06/13/2008 at 5:23 pm

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Even with this only in its second year and a black man in the White House, I’ll bet it’s easier to get this day off than Martin Luther King Day. Good luck, everybody! Let me know how it goes.

Copyright Magick Sandwich

7 signs I'm getting old tombstone worms

7 Signs I’m Getting Old

1. I’m not sure if I’m middle-aged because I don’t know when I’m going to die. But with every birthday, the conceit gets closer to science fiction.

2. Two years ago, my husband and I went to an Ozzy Osbourne concert at Madison Square Garden. We were deaf for three days afterward and decided (à la Danny Glover) that we were “getting too old for this shit.”

Next week, we’re going to Radio City Music Hall to hear Karl Rove debate James Carville. I am so stoked. If Carville says my favorite line, “I wouldn’t piss down his throat if his heart were on fire,” I’m going to throw my bra onstage.

3. We’re big boxing fans. We saw the first Mickey Ward v. Arturo Gatti fight from the third row. We could smell the blood. I used to box with a personal trainer for fun. Now I get tired out after three rounds of boxing on the Nintendo Wii. I can taste the blood.

4. I consider a good bowel movement a major accomplishment. Not because I’m constipated, just because it’s creative.

5. If I ever lose my mind, I want to make sure I’m still patriotic. So my Living Will stipulates that my caregivers dress me in the following shirt.


6. When I die, I want to be buried in Florida. I’ll finally own real estate that even Disney can’t build on. That’s power.

7. I want my tombstone to say this:

7 signs I'm getting old tombstone no afterlife
Then again, maybe I’d rather it say something simple, like this:

7 signs I'm getting old tombstone worms
I can’t decide, you see. I’m getting old.

By the numbers:
7 Good Band Names
9 Ways to Prevent Your Own Valentine’s Day Massacre

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Magick Sandwich

Sandwich Fixins #5

At almost every supermarket checkout counter, there are signs saying, “Go Green. Skip the Plastic.” If plastic bags are so bad, shouldn’t we give this advice to dog owners as well? I’m only saying this because I would love to take a walk and see people bent over, fingers spread like a catcher’s mitt, waiting to collect the steaming pile dropping from their pooch’s ass. That would be very entertaining for me.

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Years ago, I accompanied my husband to the New York Auto Show. Manufacturers pay people to lurk around taking notes about visitors’ reactions. They’re not presenters; they’re supposed to blend in. Sometimes you can tell who they are as I did when waxing rhapsodic about a Supercharger prototype that never made it into production. The poor guy was madly scribbling, trying to keep up.

So when we got to the Mercedes exhibit, I started asking, very loudly, “Where’s Hitler’s staff car?” I aimed the question at no one in particular. I saw no presenter. I repeated myself several times, hoping to flush out the secret representative. Eventually, my husband hustled me away and ended my impromptu demonstration of support for Holocaust survivors and, by extension, all Jews, many of whom drive Mercedes.

I’ve been telling this story ever since. It’s short, sweet and totally true. But some morons at this year’s show decided to heckle a Chrysler spokesmodel as if she ran the company. So now I have to give a whole backstory to show that I wasn’t harassing anyone. Thanks to those assholes, my story will never be funny again.

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Wanda Sykes caught some flak for wishing Rush Limbaugh’s kidneys would fail. She was speaking at the White House Correspondents’ Dinner at the time, and the context of the joke was her reaction to Limbaugh’s wish for Obama to fail. She also said Rush might have been one of the hijackers on 9/11 but was so messed up on Oxycontin that he missed his flight. Plus she shares how she’d torture Sean Hannity. It’s pretty sweet. Watch it here. It’s over fifteen minutes long and well worth your time.

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Why use Wynonna Judd in an ad for Alli, a weight loss drug? Is it so fat people won’t feel pressured to actually lose weight? This is ingenious advertising that says, “We’re not even trying to kid you that you’ll ever be able to stop shopping in Dress Barn.” It persuades people to buy a drug while lowering their expectation of eventual success.
Wynonna Judd hawks diet pillP.S. Alli makes you shit your pants. Now you know what Wynonna Judd is probably doing right now.

Related posts:
Sandwich Fixins #2
Sandwich Fixins #3
Sandwich Fixins #4

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