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Prez Brady Bunch

In an open letter to their customers, Apple, the maker of the iPhones, iPads, and Macs we all use every day, stated that it would not do what the FBI has told it to do—create a backdoor into the iPhone. In the wake of the San Bernardino shootings, the age old argument of “freedom vs. security” is in full swing.

On Thursday night’s competing town halls, the potential presidents from both sides of the aisle answered questions about just how far the government should be able to dig into our pockets, our bedrooms, and perhaps most importantly, our cell phones.

Doing what the FBI is too inept to do, we managed to hack into the phones of the presidential candidates themselves. I wonder how much privacy the candidates will want to protect when it’s their information on the operating table.

What did they find? Let’s take a look.

Hillary Clinton

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We didn’t need to dig too deep into Hillary Clinton’s phone to find some interesting things. No need to go into her emails (the FBI already took over that job for us). But we did find an ENORMOUS pay stub from Goldman Sachs and a few weird choices in her Spotify playlists.

Donald Trump

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The Donald is a man who doesn’t mix words. His daughter IS hot, everyone knows that already. Now as far as Barbara Bush goes, she seems to have taken up for Jeb! in the best/worst possible way. Nothing makes a bully make fun of you more than having your mom get involved.

What did surprise us was the app, Muslim Pro, which calculates accurate prayer times for followers of Islam. Is Donald Trump a secret Muslim? Are he and Obama secret Islamic blood brothers? We’ll leave that up for you decide.

Bernie Sanders

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The Republicans’ worst nightmares are all true. Not only does Old Man Sanders have a copy of Mao’s little red book in his pocket, he’s apparently a fan of V For Vendetta! Just in case he needs to dole out some government funds, he keeps a PDF version of Vermont’s food stamp enrollment form just a few clicks away.

Ted Cruz

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Even though he’s not publicly proud of his Canadian heritage, it appears Ted Cruz has some love for the land of maple leaves and politeness. By combining his research on how not to be creepy and which Christian denominations believe what, evidence suggests Cruz is already seriously planning out his ground game for his campaign through the south.

Marco Rubio

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Apparently the Senator from Florida has a little bit of explaining to do. The popular hookup app for gay men, Grindr, might understandably be accidentally downloaded, but making a profile and talking to other guys? Dressing up in full unicorn garb? Come on, Marco. Does your wife know about this?

Also, top or bottom? Bottom, right?

Ben Carson

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The mild-mannered and quiet neurosurgeon might not say much in the debates, but we’re sure he kills it with his NWA impression. When he’s not reading his copy of On The Origin Of Species and disagreeing with it every step of the way, Ben Carson seems to be a fan of Bernie Sanders’ Instagram page. #FeelTheBern, Ben Carson!

Jeb Bush

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Oh, Jeb. Poor, poor, poor Jeb. Are you that desperate to wrestle away the lead from Donald Trump that you’re turning to HIS book in order to learn how to carry yourself? No one can help Bush at this point, and it seems like no one wants to. From his parents to the Koch Brothers to the Queen B herself, no one is taking Jeb’s calls anymore. We all know the truth about 9/11, Jeb. You don’t have to carry that pain with you in your pocket. Just fess up. Jet fuel doesn’t melt steel beams.

John Kasich

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He still has a Motorola Razr. It’s reliable and simple. It’s old but it still works just fine. Like him.

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.

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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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