Tag Archives: Isabel Duarte

The Best Names for Children Conceived on Independence Day:

Fireworks weren’t the only thing banging last nigh, and statistically someone reading this has to be pregnant so consider this your one-stop-shop for baby names!

  • Gloria
  • Mustang
  • Texas
  • Patriot
  • Firework
  • Weiner
  • Sparkler
  • Freefire
  • Sandal
  • Cornhole
  • Kegstand
  • Rocket
  • Yard!!
  • Freedoom.
  • L’il Spark, or Sparky….Cuz everyone knows that if a spark from a firework lands on you, you get pregnant.
  • Baker, for the park in which they were conceived.
  • “America”…after the beer that inspired the conception
  • Pabst
  • Katy Perry, as inspired by firework
  • George Washington
  • Hotdog

Lisa Burl, Isabel DuarteGiovanni Kavota,
Lydia HadfieldEmily PerperT.M. Scholtes

Fifteen Places Your Dog Will Hide When The Fireworks Start

  1. Bathtub
  2. Closet
  3. Under the bed
  4. Under the covers
  5. In the basement
  6. Your boss’s skirt
  7. Bagpipe bag
  8. In a bush
  9. In a purse
  10. Chewing/ripping all the stuffing out of the couch cushion and wearing it like an animal skin
  11. Turning fear into aggression as he chases the neighborhood kids.
  12. His personal flashbacks of Vietnam
  13. FBI witness protection program
  14. Bomb shelter you didn’t know he made
  15. In your cornhole (the game, of course)

Lisa Burl, Isabel Duarte, James McGarvey, T.M. Scholtes, 

DIY Strategies To Defeat Trump

Fellow Americans, who among you has not grown annoyed with Donald Trump’s obnoxious face? It is clogging our newsfeeds, strangely overlapping between politics and entertainment, being the volatile combination of largely relevant and polarizing at the same time; I have compiled a list of tactics for us to wage wide-scale individual warfare against this unexpected cultural political force. Read on, brothers and others:

WHAT CAN WE DO?

Visualize:

It has been said by so many that if you put something into the universe, it is that much closer to being realized. There is weight to the notion that you can speak something into being. Personally, I have heard a number of accounts of this happening with an effect that is nothing less than magic. A woman I know wanted a purse, not just any purse, a beautiful coach bag (as women are wont to want). Because she couldn’t afford it, she put it into the universe. She wanted that bag and let the universe know. Less than a month later, her employer gave her the exact bag as a gift! 

Most recently, I met a woman who spoke of wanting tickets to the wildly successful Broadway hit Hamilton. (YOU AND ME BOTH, RIGHT SISTER??) She was advised by her guru (who I was told is based on Arizona) to put her desires out into the universe. In a similar fashion to the previous woman, less than a month after speaking this want, a friend whom she had not seen in over a year, who happened to be well connected in the business, gave her not one, but FOUR TICKETS TO HAMILTON. ESSENTIALLY, TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS.

With the sort of turn-over rate of less than a month, if enough of us put forth the desire to get rid of Trump, he can be gone by bathing suit season. Although, there does seem to be a trend of helpfulness by having connections to the people who have the things that you want. So, while a great number of us can do it, all we really need is one person on our side who is well acquainted with Her Majesty, Death Herself, to make it happen.

Voodoo Dolls:

Much can be said for the efficacy of inflicting damage by channeling feelings into a different object than the object of your scorn. Like the time in middle school I punched a pillow with all of my might because my ex-best friend, Deborah took my gel pens (it is worth noting her face happened to be on the other side of the pillow.)

I did get those pens back. Thank you for asking.

The most organized way to coordinate this effort of diverted aggression is to have everyone inflict their wrath of the same sort of medium. Now, we can’t very well all go to the same place to enact change. Who can deal with those kinds of crowds? Ick. Now, I’m not terribly familiar with voodoo, but I do know how the dolls work. The instructions are below:

A) Take any base material you prefer. That being said, I would never want to encourage wasting any sort of precious material on this exercise. I recommend just going ahead and using a piece of shit. Animal or human is totally fine- it just needs to be firm enough to handle while still pliable.

B) Attach googly eyes to the shit. (Available at your local craft store or a random drawer in your mom’s house.)

C) Set your doll up in a space to complete the exercise. You could do this on the floor, or using a standing desk- whatever you feel is best for your back.

D) Once it’s all set up, stare at it.

E) Stare it right in the goddamn googly eyes.

F) Continue staring and begin seething. Seethe with rage at the thought of Trump stealing your freedom, like Deborah, that pen-thieving whore.

G) Once you’ve hit a plateau of indignant frothy rage, scream at the doll. Say, “GO AWAY, TRUMP”. Feel free to take creative liberties with emphasis and elongating vowels. You will want to repeat this three times for good measure; five, if you aren’t in a hurry.

H) Kick the doll. Kick that shit clear across the room. This may prove difficult if you’ve chosen a higher, back-friendly work option for your work station. But, you’re a champion of justice now, and you will make it work.

Hopefully, this widespread practice will strike an unknown terror into the hole where Donald Trump’s heart should be, and he will in fact, go away.

Be as dismissive as humanly possible:

Everyone knows that the best way to deal with someone so obviously desperate for attention and adoration is to ignore them until their own self-conciousness eats them alive. Unfortunately, this will be difficult to do, as Trump has proven a mastery of garnering attention. So, we must do the next best thing, and entirely minimize everything he says and does. “Trump? That guy?? What a clown!!” Much like that.

Make sure to put as much effort as possible into reducing breath spent discussing his platforms. Really push the baby hands. The important thing about this is to focus ridicule where it really hurts, like his physical appearance and demeanor. It’s just like high school. It doesn’t actually matter how dangerous anyone has the potential of being, as long as the general population acknowledges they’re a stupid ugly jerk face.

Remember: laughter is the best medicine. A real doctor said that, whom I’m sure saved many lives through the practice of laughing away terminal illness. Do the same and use laughter to cure the disease of Donald Trump’s stupid Silly-Putty Dorito face.

Here’s the bottom line: 

At this dire juncture in the course of American politics, our strongest weapon we have is to muster all of the strength we have to resist someone so deeply off-putting. (How embarrassing would he be for America, right?) SAY IT, SEE IT, BELIEVE IT, ACHIEVE IT- Get Trump out of our trending subjects.

**PS: I TOO WOULD LIKE TO GO SEE HAMILTON. THANKS IN ADVANCE UNIVERSE

Isabel Duarte

Good Christian? How Many Of These Things Are You Giving Up For Lent?

Lent is upon us and for the next six weeks Christians will be giving up anything from chocolate to watching TV. We’ve compiled 52 essential things to quit for lent, see how many you’re giving up and tell your friends how good a Christian you are!

1-3: Fallen Angel; 4-10: Decent Christian; 11-20: Good Christian; 21-30: Altar boy; 31-40: Disciple; 41-51: John The Baptist
52: Pope Francis

  • Flossing
  • Faith in Christ
  • Lean Pockets
  • The type of art where you make paintings out of your vomit
  • Sharing things on Facebook before doing 5 seconds of research to see if it’s made up
  • Telling everyone that the fish jumped out of the water and somehow got its mouth stuck on your penis by itself
  • Roller-blades (but not skates)
  • Making every bun a pretzel bun
  • Using the words “correctomundo” and “fo-sho” — See also: “epic”
  • Alcohol over 18% (ok, maybe 31%)
  • Indulgent chuckling
  • Ironic appropriation of AAVE
  • Having sex with your friends’ boyfriends (I heard Jesus would really appreciate it)
  • Pro-life bumper stickers
  • Complain-a-bragging
  • Eye contact
  • Chocolate flavored prophylactics
  • Asking to speak with your manager immediately
  • Taking all your self-loathing and personal frustrations out on the Kardashian/West family
  • Thinking about the country of Africa to make you feel better about your problems
  • Answering incriminating questions
  • Self-respect
  • The physical limitations of gravity
  • Using coupons
  • Your virginity
  • ALL television (but, like, TV-television. Not computer television. that’s different.)
  • Buzzfeed
  • Über and everything they stand for
  • Instagramming my breakfast
  • The Annual
  • “Wonderwall” by Oasis
  • Plotting revenge
  • Making ‘Fetch’ happen
  • Catching up on Game of Thrones before the next season
  • Having earbuds in for the sole purpose of not talking to your co-workers
  • Dipping triscuits in straight-up frosting
  • Wiping
  • Cleaning the litter boxes
  • Pooping in the litter boxes
  • CRAZY TALK
  • Football
  • Pumpkin Spice Lattes and Ugg boots
  • My Sherpa
  • My Sharona
  • My Giant
  • The Mayan Calendar
  • Mylanta
  • Lionel Ritchie’s Greatest Hits
  • Tickling bystanders
  • Walking up to unsuspected people whispering “I like the way your breath smells in the morning.”
  • Taking selfies of selfies
  • Drinking Jack and milk

Lisa Burl, Kevin ColeIsabel Duarte, Hannah Gutman, Lydia Hadfield,
David Luna, James McGarvey, Christine McQuaid, T.M. Scholtes

26 Clickbait Articles That You Have to Read!

There are so many great articles on the web and you won’t believe what they’re titled!

  • This Man’s Wife Gave Birth To A Scorpion. His First Dad Joke Will Kill You!
  • 21 life hacks for computer hackers!
  • You’ll never believe what happened after this woman smiled at a man in a CVS!
  • Disney Princesses reimagined as iPhones!
  • A soldier came home from war and his dog literally spoke to him!
  • This video of a little girl learning her ABCs will give you faith in literacy!
  • 12 cats with a picture of Christ appearing in their fur; number seven even has stigmata!
  • The 15 gifts you asked for and didn’t get for Christmas; and the Toys R Us employees you should murder because of it!
  • Top ten gifs of a human penis exploding!
  • These real life ALF look-a-likes will have you questioning society!
  • Read these real theories about the Illuminati, and go undercover protecting the secrets!
  • See all the men your mother has had sex with! You’ll never guess which number I was!
  • Five best ways to get molten candle wax out of your anus.
  • Princess Charlotte, cute? Or demonic porcelain doll? Look at these pics and decide!
  • Weekly viral videos that will have you asking, should I floss more?
  • See the top 20 dead teeth of 2015!
  • 2015 Celebrity Pets Naughty List
  • Top twenty most boring celebrity deaths of the decade!
  • Eight adorable ways to style your hair with just a rusty nail!
  • What your Mac and cheese preferences say about your sex life!
  • Twelve simple tricks to perform mind control on animals! You won’t believe number eight!
  • Fifty slugs that look like Donald Trump
  • This man dressed up as a toilet and hid in a women’s restroom… What happened next will warm your heart!
  • 5 items in the room that are giving you cancer RIGHT NOW!
  • The top super foods that are available at your local Home Depot

Isabel Duarte, Briana Haynie,
Christine McQuaid, Emily PerperT.M. Scholtes

A Christmas Play – Live Read

Live from The Last Hurrah, a staged reading of Lydia Hadfield’s latest production. A tale of a woman in search of gifts who comes to learn much more about Christmas than she could have ever anticipated.

A Christmas Play
Written by Lydia Hadfield

Employee: Christine McQuaid
Cambria: Isabel Duarte
Snaggle: Julia Williams
Stage Manager: Emily Perper

MARTIN SHKRELI: I’m Just Like You

I know I have a lot of critics as of late; and personally I think they should go fuck themselves. Especially while they still can before I acquire the rights to condoms. But guys, listen: I’m like you. I have a story and a dream. When I was a little boy, I was like every other kid. I enjoyed Saturday morning cartoons, eating a big bowl of Apple Jacks, and then going in the backyard and dismembering squirrels with my bare hands. I went to school, and rode my bike, and dreamt about what I was going to be like when I grew up. My dad was a businessman, and I wanted to just like him.

One fine sunny weekend in June, my family went on a day trip. We went to King’s Dominion. I remember traversing the full parking lot and going through the turnstile. The sprawling park overwhelmed me as I stood between my mother and father, each of them grasping one of my hands. We walked a bit, until we got to our first ride. A roller coaster! Oh, it was thrilling. We stood in line, and patiently waited. After an hour without much progress, I remember becoming aware of the sun beating down on my face and arms. I looked up at my parents. My mother stood fanning herself, and my father wiped sweat from his brow. “Wait here,” father said to my mom. He took my hand and we ventured away into the crowd. After a short distance weaving between other patrons, we arrived at a small hut. It had a straw roof and a bright garish sign that said LEMONADE in big pink letters. I stood at my father’s side, and could just barely see over the counter. “Three waters, son,” My father stated to the teenager in the booth. In his blue polo and matching visor, the teen looked quite content sipping on the biggest cup of lemonade@ I’d ever seen in my life. He nodded, and placed three water bottles on the counter. I longed to reach up and touch the condensation on the cool blue plastic to my forehead. “That will be eighteen seventy-five,” The boy declared. Eighteen seventy-five? That didn’t sound right to me at all. That would have been at least a few months of my allowance, and I drank water all the time. I didn’t understand. My father heaved an exasperated sigh as he reached into his back pocket for his wallet. “What are these bottles made of, pure gold?” As he handed some bills to the boy. Father was always hilarious as far back as I could remember.

As we returned to the line where mother stood patiently, I asked “Father, was that a lot for the water?” We continued walking as he reflected, “Martin, almost every day, you have to strive to be the best game in town to get what you want. But sometimes in life, a certain kind of opportunity will arise. The opportunity to be the only game in town. Then the rules are yours.” “Like what kind of rules, father?” I didn’t do well with sports, despite the agility I had acquired catching and brutalizing small animals in my spare time. We stopped in our tracks, and he kneeled down in front of me on the brick work. He gazed into my eyes, “Martin, when the rules are yours, they’re yours. So, it really depends on what you want to be in this life. There are people who are boring, and then there are people who have the brilliant audacity to come as close as they can to fucking someone in the ass without having to go to prison. The choice is yours, son.” He stood up again and tousled my hair. We continued silently on our way, as I listened to the bustle of the crowd. We found mother, sipped on our water, and eventually got on the coaster. The day passed in a blur. I remember being tired, sunburned, and content in the back of our station wagon on the way home. As we pulled out of the parking lot at dusk, I looked out of the window as the silhouette of the park on the horizon that receded into the distance. I wondered, what if the only game in town wasn’t just the whole town, but the whole world? The thought stuck with me. Aside from that, the most I can remember from that day is knowing I wanted to be more than boring. I wanted to have that ass-fucking audacity that father spoke so vigorously of.   

In my adult years, I’ve come to realize: AIDS is like the King’s Dominion of diseases, if King’s Dominion was smart enough to locate its park on a remote desert island where no one could feasibly leave short of dying. Off of this brilliant realization, I make money hand over fist. If you don’t think I deserve it, tell that to the genius who invented “mark-ups” and “business” in the first place. The only rule of capitalism is don’t accrue a big enough list of crimes that you can’t pay off.  If I’m being entirely honest though, it isn’t just about the money, or the warm fuzzy feeling of forcing hundreds of thousands of strangers between financial or literal death. It’s about love. Satan stopped calling me back after the $6.5 million dollar law suit for previous drug price gouging, so I’m hoping a big romantic gesture like this one will be just the thing to impress him. I suppose what I’m getting at is, don’t judge me until you know where I’m coming from.

Martin Shkreli