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Remember that obligatory scene in every drug movie when someone tells some low-level goons not to sample the product? Well, this is why. A drug smuggler in Idaho called 911 and turned himself in, admitting that he and his friend had over 20 pounds of weed.

22-year-old Leland Ayala-Doliente and 23-year-old Holland Sward were transporting the product from Las Vegas, NV to Bozeman, MT on January 23, 2015, but after sampling a little bit too much of the product—which everyone knows not to do—Ayala-Doliente ended up getting a bit too paranoid and calling the police, turning both himself and his accomplice into law enforcement.

East Idaho News was the first to break the story, and they also got ahold of the 911 call, sharing the transcript for everyone to read/laugh about. You’ll find it below. First, though, a word of warning; never sample the product until the job is done. If the job is never done, don’t sample the product ever.

Easy, right? Take a look at the transcript below for a good laugh.

Here’s some of the phone call:

Ayala-Dolitente: Hi, uh, we’re the two dumb asses that got caught trying to bring some stuff through your border and all your cops are just driving around us like a bunch of jack wagons and I’d just like for you guys to end it. If you could help me out with that, we would like to just get on with it.

Dispatcher: You got caught doing what?

Ayala-Dolitente: Ahh… okay. Um… We kind of got spooked here trying to bring some stuff across your Idaho border.

Dispatcher: Ok.

Ayala-Dolitente: And, yeah. A bunch of your cops driving around in a bunch of civilian cars not wanting to pick us up. I don’t know what’s the deal. I was just wondering if you could help us out and just end it.

Dispatcher: Ok… um….

Ayala-Dolitente:Yeah… if you could call one of them. I don’t know. It’s getting cold out here man. I just want to get warm and just get on with this whole thing so…

Dispatcher: Ok. Where you at right now?

Ayala-Dolitente: University Boulevard right next to the gas station and Applebee’s. All your buddies are around us so if you could help us out that’d be great.

Dispatcher: Ok… alright. Is it just you or is there anybody else with you?

Ayala-Dolitente: It’s me and my buddy that I brought with me and then we have a dog that we were gonna bring back to it’s owner but…

Dispatcher: Oh ok.

Ayala-Dolitente: She’s a really nice dog. She’s not mean. She’s a pitbull…

Dispatcher: Oh… cool.

Ayala-Dolitente: She’s really cold in the car. She could use some food too.

Dispatcher: Ok. What was your name man?

Ayala-Dolitente:: It’s Leland.

Dispatcher: Leland… okay. Hold on just one second okay. Stay on the phone with me.

Ayala-Dolitente: Alright. Thank you.

(speaking to Sward): He’s a nice guy.

Want me to jump in the air and click my heels twice or what?

Dispatcher: Do you guys have any guns or weapons or anything on you at all?

Ayala-Dolitente:

Dispatcher: Alright. I just wanna make sure. They’re just curious.

Ayala-Dolitente: Yeah, yeah. We tried walking away from the car a couple times and that didn’t work. We tried waving them down and that didn’t work so I don’t know what’s going on here.

Dispatcher: Ok. I do have one of my marked units. He’s on his way over there so he’s on his way to meet you.

Ayala-Dolitente: Alright. Thank you.

Entertainment

Donald Trump as Seen by Google’s Deep Dream

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THIS CONTENT WAS REPUBLISHED FROM AN EARLIER DATE.

Last Summer, Google unleashed Deep Dream, their neural network that takes pictures and tries to identify patterns and overwrite them, on an unsuspecting public. When you put an image into Deep Dream, what you get when it “wakes up” is often nightmarish. Dogs, birds, insects, pagodas are inserted at random places in the image, giving it a surreal and sometimes beautiful–if terrifying–aspect.

So, since this election season is already off-the-charts surreal, I thought to myself, “What would it look like if we ran some candidates through Deep Dream?” Well, now I know.  I started with Donald Trump, who is already deeply weird and unsettling. The results are spectacular.

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Satire

From the MRA Evidence Archives: The Journal of a Normal, Average Feminist

Awoke and whispered to my boobs, Bea Arthur and Jackie O, “It’s Tuesday. You know what that means, ladies? Time to oppress some dudes.”

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THIS CONTENT WAS REPUBLISHED FROM AN EARLIER DATE.

 Tuesday July 5, 2016

Awoke and whispered to my boobs, Bea Arthur and Jackie O, “It’s Tuesday. You know what that means, ladies? Time to oppress some dudes.”

Walked to work wearing my plunging crop top that says, “This is what a feminist looks like,” hot pants, and six-inch heels. Tossed my hair a lot and sexily chewed my lower lip. Dropped change so I could slowly bend over and pick it up. It took me about an hour to walk five blocks, which is standard.

Exceeded my catcall goal by seven, a personal best. Super flattering, of course, but will pretend to be terrified and make men feel bad about it with a bunch of tweets. That’ll show them.

Some dowdy librarian tried to help me with the change I kept dropping, and she got catcalled too! No one invades my catcalling turf. Slapped the books right out of her hands. Mostly by Hemingway, whom I both hate and would totally do if he were alive.

Arrived late per usual, but the boss didn’t say anything, just stared at my tits and gave me a pass. I had buttressed Bea Arthur and Jackie O in a push-up bra stuffed with the hard-earned cash of some beta male I cheated on. Good thinking.

By Friday I hope to a) screw my way to executive assistant, b) replace some poor slob who works really hard, or c) file a sexual harassment lawsuit. We’ll just see what the week brings, like whether or not the boss is a lesbian. Fingers crossed!

Spent the rest of the workday playing Candy Crush and convincing Dale from accounting to do everything for me. Stringing Dale along is why I keep coming in. It makes all the pretending to work worth it. I might boink him someday, but I want to see how low he’ll stoop for a bit of action.

I don’t get off on it per se, in so much that I don’t get off. Ever. At all. But I pretend that I could, just to make all the guys I’ve ever been with feel like losers. Watching them fumble and feel emasculated without pants is like Christmas – if I were to sleep with Santa and watch him fumble and feel emasculated without pants.

mens-rights-venn-diagram

Went to happy hour after work and didn’t pay a dime. Cosmos just appeared in front of me. Dumb guys just handed me cash for being hot, and I filled my bra until Bea Arthur and Jackie O ballooned up like the boobs of evil women on TV. My role models, natch.

Some dude wearing a huge, purple hat came up to me and said I looked like an uglier Angelina Jolie. He lifted his shirt to show that his torso was hard, rippling, and embroidered with diamonds so he had every right to tell me that. I hooked up with him in the men’s room. That’ll show him.

Went home and let loose a series of drunken, liar tweets about how hard my life is and how I want equality. Even inebriated, it’s important to keep my stilettoed foot on the neck of men everywhere. Those tweets and opinion pieces just skewer them. More powerful than the laws of God or man are the messages I hastily type with my thumbs.

A good Tuesday over all, but did not receive free coffee by sexily slow jamming my order. The barista must’ve taken the red pill.

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Food

Woman begs city council to bring back McRib

The McRib Shortage of ’15. It was the single greatest tragedy this country has ever endured. But one woman, one brave voice, said, “No. This will not do.” #mcrib #sheslovinit

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Well over a year ago a tragic event occurred: In the fall of 2015, the executives of McDonald’s made a grave decision, the consequences of which are still felt to this day. They decided that when the McRib was released that year it would… it would allow the regional managers to decide whether or not they would offer the McRib. As a result, a staggering 45 percent of McDonald’s locations elected not to offer the McRib. It was the single greatest tragedy this country has ever endured. But one woman, one brave voice, said, “No. This will not do.”

First off, shout out to Reader James from Lake Elsinore, CA for alerting us to the tale of hardship and heroism. You see, when Xanthe Pajarillo, a “McRib activist,” realized that none of the ten McDonald’s locations in her hometown of Santa Clarita would be offering the McRib, she did what any reasonable red-blooded American citizen would do. She brought the issue before the city council.

Now it is no secret that the McRib Shortage of ’15 nearly brought the nation to a standstill. In fact, if it weren’t for the release of a special McRib locator app, experts speculate that America would have ceased to exist as it does today. But amidst all of the rolling blackouts, the deaths, and the riots, we overlooked all of the smaller, personal tragedies that took place because of the cruel decision made by nearly half of McDonald’s regional managers.

In her impassioned plea to the Santa Clarita city council, Pajarillo explained just why the McRib meant so much to her and her family, and why the city council had to act in order to bring it back.

“The removal of the McRib from the menu has affected my family, because every Thanksgiving, my family would, like, order a 50-piece chicken McNugget and like, 10 McRibs. It was like, a tradition in our family, and now it’s like—well, like my family’s holiday spirit is kind of messed up and broken.”

Recently Pajarillo heroic speech before the city council has gone viral, gaining attention at the national stage across social media. Since that dramatic event, Pajarillo has continued to fight for the return of the McRib, even going so far as to release a song dubbed “The McRib Blues.” In it, she lays bare her soul and the souls of those like her to whom the McRib is more than just a barbecue pork sandwich, but is instead, a way of life.

There are those out there, deplorables who hardly deserve mention, that call her bravery nothing more than a stunt. Performance art holding up a mirror to America’s consumerism and obsession. However, others stand by the truth. Pajarillo is a hero, fighting for both a sandwich, but also for something more. Something ephemeral. That little piece of Americana that brings us all together. The McRib.

Fight on, brave warrior, fight on.

♪ Cause we have right to eat what we like, McRib is worth the fight ♪

Still can’t get enough of the McRib? Learn how a McRib is made, courtesy of BuzzFeed.

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