Get It? It's An Interstate Sign, But It Says 420, Man! Oh, Shit, Is That Fucking Funny Or Am I Just Really, Really High?
Although most respectable folks are probably unaware of it, marijuana abusers have developed their own culture over the years. United by this culture, as well as their love for their brain-numbing herb, hemp-heads communicate with one another through jargon and weird shibboleths.
You Thought Pot Culture Began & Ended Here, Didn't You? We Wish.
If you’re not a dirty stoner, you can perhaps be forgiven for not knowing that today, April 20, is a special day for devotees of cannabis culture. The significance of the date is derived from the number 420 (e.g., the 20th day of the 4th month), which is of special significance to the dissipated ranks of weed warriors.
Because Normally Pot Culture Is So Subtle.
It’s likely that almost every cheeba-monkey you’ll meet will claim to know the significance of this number. Any claim to certainty is false. There are several theories–some more likely than others–as to the origins of 420, none of which has ever been proven conclusively.
Lewis County, Washington: "We May Fuck Sheep And Our Next Of Kin, But Never Will We Soil Our Lungs With The Sweet, Sweet Cheeba."
The explanations are vast, stemming from the easy-to-debunk, such as the notion that 420 is police code for a drug violation, to the credible, that 4:20 roughly coincides with British Tea Time. However, the most commonly accepted explanation traces the word’s origins back to San Rafael, California high school students in 1971, who would meet after class at 4:20 to indulge their addiction.
Like You Can Believe Anything These People Say.
The most insidious thing about the date 4-20 is that it gives stoners a veneer of respectability and self-control. Making such a visual show of their reefer madness on this day gives an innocent public the erroneous notion that dopers refrain from smoking until 4.20, rather than the shocking truth, that it’s more like 24-7.
As Ridiculous As The Excuse Is, We're Inclined To Believe Tardsie When He Says He's Never Inhaled. No Lungs.
We Looked Among All The Nations Of The World, And Could Find None More Deserving Of Our Praise.
We’ll admit it–we didn’t think it would come to this. We figured we’d be rich by now, or at the very least the Rapture would have freed us from our myriad woes. Since it didn’t (it didn’t, right?), we’ve picked ourselves up and resolved to make a game go of it. Moreover, we’re concentrating our hopes on the admittedly feeble chances the Mayans were right in predicting doom for 2012, and that very soon sweet nothingness will obliterate the pain that is existence.
Turns Out Somebody Made A Calculation Error When They Came Up With The 2012 Date. The Revised Figure Is 1492.
Until then, though, we’re even more delighted that, last December, we were the inaugural winner of the Promethean Times’ Person of the Year. Now, as we say goodbye to what we call ‘The Year of Promethean Times,’ it’s time to recognize a new mover and/or shaker for his/her/its contribution or impact to our world.
Having outstripped the rest of the field by light-years in the 2010 contest, Promethean Times could be forgiven for feeling like it has an edge in this year’s selection. After all, no one disputes that Promethean Times’ many, many contributions to the betterment of society rank among the more significant developments in 2011. Still, the beloved news journal remains humble. “Would we like to repeat?” asks Smaktakula, lead writer, “Absolutely–who wouldn’t? But we’ve got important events to cover, and we can’t really spend time thinking about things like that. Besides,” he adds, “Some other stuff happened.”
Among The Many Proposed Reforms Of The 'Arab Spring' Which Began In The Winter Of 2011 Is A Calendar That's Worth A Damn.
Fortunately, the world is in no immediate danger of losing its megalomaniacal dickheads–it seems as if for every despot hanged, another sprouts from the puddle of piss at his twitching feet. The loss of ‘Lil Kim was a blow for North Korea, but made easier when Kim Jong-un waddled into his father’s shoes and accepted his mandate to drive the shitstain of a country further into the ground. Africa maintained its preeminence for venal strongmen throughout 2011, with brutal racist Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe single-lippedly keeping alive the Hitler Mustache, while Julius Malema, an exciting new face on the South African scene, promises to continue the ruination of the one-time economic powerhouse. And throughout the world, Muslims continued to blow things up in protest of the western world’s inexplicable and persistent view of Muslims as violent and reactionary. The West countered with fiercely abject apologies.
Fidel's Still Hanging In There.
Another theme embraced wholeheartedly worldwide was indignation. Contrary to the age-old adage, “What goes up must inevitably continue to do so,” 2011 saw a further decline in the still-ridiculous standard of living enjoyed by the West. Like going out to lunch with Grandma, the belief arose that it was enough to wait it out, and somebody would eventually pick up the check. The jarring reality that Grandma died during a visit to the ladies’ room brought angry people into the streets. In America, this phenomenon took the form of “Occupy Wall Street,” a Tea Party for the under-40 crowd, who still like to break things and enjoy the novelty of humping in Liberty Park, where rank coils of human feces suffice for scented candles and complete exposure for privacy.
For Real, We Totally Would.--Only, It Smells Like Pee And There's A Ton Of Poor People Walking Around.
The year was momentous for the United States. Although ending its involvement in Iraq (kinda, not really) the US steadfastly continued interminable bank-busting conflicts in places like Afghanistan, while also embarking on other daring adventures such as temporary conflicts in Libya and a secret war¹ in the Democratic Republic of Congo. On the home front, the government turned its attention against homegrown enemies, like pot shops in California, while Operation Fast & Furious ensured that narcos and Mexican Army assassins could continue to terrorize the citizenry of the failed state and disappear the occasional American tourist.
The year began with the Arizona shooting that turned US Representative Gabby Giffords into a living martyr, and the rest of the nation into a gang of loudmouthed assholes. Throughout the year the citizenry continued the tradition of killing one another, often in new and surprising ways.
America: Where Our Unsettling Anthropomorphic Monsters Are Just A Little Bit More Patriotic.
President Obama was once again unable to deliver on his promise to make the United States a magical Care Bear land of milk & honey scented with the sweet strains of children’s choirs singing liltingly of the unifying joy of diversity, but from their bastions in college quads and Code Pink meeting-houses, the President’s dwindling cadre of true believers assured us it was Republican obstructionism. And secret racism. Republicans countered that their sole aim was to restore sanity to a beleaguered nation, and promised that only as a last resort would they burn the fucking thing to the ground.
The Bad News Is That Rome Is Burning. The Good News Is That Everyone In Our Studio Audience Will Be Going Home Tonight With Shiny New Fiddles!
Political penii² proved productive in promoting prick-principled puns, as well as gratuitous alliteration. The destructive power of the penis was ably demonstrated by Arnold Schwarzenegger, who showed us that even a wealthy Hollywood/Government powerhouse with an even richer (albeit skeletal) wife will fuck an ugly woman if given the opportunity. Late night talk-show hosts methodically shook every last droplet of humor from the Weiner situation, before putting away their pricks at the disgraced NY Rep.
For Newlyweds Lisa And Bingo Lamb, A Day At The Fair Is A Great Reason To Dress Up.
As did the death of beautiful paper-doll Diana Spencer over a decade before, the wedding of Prince William to commoner Kate Middleton proved Americans are still fascinated with the royal family from which their forefathers once strove so mightily to emancipate themselves. Although America does not have a royalty per se, the Twenty-First Century has seen the rise of a new class of publicly-owned do-nothings. Paramount among these is the vile Kardashian Klan, a bloodline and marriage-based conglomerate that may just be the strongest argument yet advanced in support of the Armenian Holocaust.³ Kim Kardashian’s sham-marriage to basketball legend somebody-or-other netted the vapid perfume-tycoon more money than you’re likely to see in a thousand lifetimes.
There were a few stars whom we were relieved to see survive 2011, not least because their delightfully destructive antics provide regular low-hanging fruit for Promethean Times.Toothless cretin Charlie Sheen managed to bring his life and career to a shattering halt, suffering the additional injury of losing his place in America’s most beloved half-hour of insipidity to a genial retard. Yet through a heroic lack of self-awareness and the public’s perverse predilection for the doomed, the former Carlos Estevez is more popular than ever. The same cannot be said for Lindsay Lohan, once hailed as ‘The Flower of American Skankhood,’ who like Sheen, is one of 2012’s most likely fatalities. Despite a loving and supportive family, worldwide adoration and impeccable personal hygiene, the only audience to prove capable of tolerating LiLo’s act for any length of time were her customers at the LA County Morgue.
It Gets A Lot Less Sexy When You Realize She'll Be Dead Soon.
Sport continued to be a necessary diversion around the world, uniting and dividing people not by races or ethnicity, but by the overpriced merchandise they wore. In American sports, Jesus, sole scion of the Jehovah Dynasty, briefly tried His hand at football before quietly retiring once again to the sidelines, much to the dismay of football fans in the Mountain States. Although a strike marred the beginning of the 2011-2012 NBA season, the 2010-2011 season ended in a thrilling contest that satisfied both haters of LeBron James and fans of Schadenfreude in general. In what was nearly universally regarded as a black year for baseball, the one bright spot was the continuing absence of a World Series trophy in the Lone Star State. And in sports outside of America’s shores, a group of Japanese ladies won some soccer thing.
A Little Bit Like Schnitzel.
With all these notable events and people, both tragic and sublime, from which to choose, our editors had an unenviable task in determining Promethean Times’ Person of the Year for 2011. It was only after a thorough and at-times grueling vetting process, at several points during which the acrimony grew both increasingly bitter and ad hominem, that the worthy candidate emerged. Promethean Times is proud to name as this year’s Promethean Times’ Person of the Year and our first two-time back-to-back recipient, Promethean Times, honoring the venerable publication for its indefatigable and often thankless dedication to fighting the barbaric practice of puppy-killing.
Bravo, Promethean Times.
To The Dear Friends To Whom We Bid Farewell In 2011: May You Find Yourselves In Heaven Before The Devil Knows You’re Dead:
Amy Might Still Be Alive If She Had Filled Her Drug-Pipe With Harmless Tobacco Instead Of What She Actually Filled It With--Drugs.
The Thing We'll Miss Most? The Laughter.
CNN News Personality Anderson Cooper Was Too Beautiful To Live.
Sure, It's A Tragedy For The Ages, But We Take Some Small Consolation In The Knowledge That There's One Less Drunk On The Streets Tonight.
Quiet, Modest And Unassuming, Mr. Savage Exemplified The Qualities For Which America Is Admired Across The Globe.
Get It? We're Being Metaphorical. Trust Us, Chicks Dig Metaphors.
The Colonel's Friends All Believed It Was Gaddafi's Fascination With Thriller-Era Michael Jackson That Prevented His Promotion To General.
This Beautiful Creature Learned Too Late That If Something Lives, The Germans Will Find A Way To Kill It.
This One Time, When Smaktakula Was In Juvenile Hall On An Arson Charge, He Met A Guy Who Claimed To Be Jani Lane's Half-Brother, And Damned If The Kid Didn't Look Just Like Him. No, That's It.
Old Friend, We'll Miss You Most Of All. Circumstances Demand That We Dispense With The Childish, Insensitive Caricatures Upon Which We So Often Rely, But Rather, Respect Your Culture By Offering You A Farewell Not Only More Dignified, But In Keeping With The Proud Traditions Of Korea. In This Last Hour, Dear Leader, We Say Simply, "Sayonara."
¹ While it’s not actually a secret that 100 US ‘advisers’ have been sent to the DRC to help combat the Lord’s Resistance Army, it might as well be for all the media talks about it. ∞T.
² ‘Penises’ is the accepted plural of ‘penis,’ but Promethean Times has always been, and will forever proudly remain, a penii-loving publication. ∞T.
³ It’s a joke, Tanzr–don’t let it curdle your yogurt soda. Yes, what happened to your great-great aunt whatsername at the hands of the Turks all those years was a tragedy, but at least we provided a link to Wikipedia. That’s a hell of a lot more than the US Government ever did. ∞T.
Chehalis, Washington: Newly arrived resident Stavros Livskutchk intends to embrace the Lewis County spirit by spending time with local kids. The rangy drifter, who says he hails from “an Eastern Bloc country which no longer exists,” has taken residence at the KOA Kampground off Interstate 5. Starting Sunday, Livskutchk is offering boys and girls twelve and under free rides in the trunk of his spacious ’92 Buick Skylark. Preference will be given to runaways and children from broken homes.
"For First Kids Comink, Stavros Give Free Pöpzci. Is Like Pepsi. You Trink It Vit Your Mouth."
No American city is more closely associated with coffee and coffee culture than is snobbish Seattle, Washington. From the Emerald City’s brief turn as America’s self-obsessed ‘It City’ in the 1990s, certain aspects of the Seattle phenomenon persist into modern times. Of these, perhaps none is so undeserved as Seattle’s reputation as a coffee Mecca. The practically-Canadian city is thousands of miles from the nearest coffee crop.
Much Like, Say, Christianity Or South-East Asia, Coffee Has A Distinctive, Important Culture.
This delusion manifests itself in the cancer-like proliferation of Starbucks, and in the tellingly-named Seattle’s Best Coffee. The city has seized upon an advertising vacuum created by the marketing unsuitability of actual coffee-producing countries. After all, most Americans aren’t aware that Uganda, Ivory Coast or Guatemala even exit. Vietnam is out, having achieved the rare distinction of beating the US in a war. Likewise, the slogan “Columbia’s Best,” would undoubtedly infringe upon trademarks already owned jointly by various cocaine cartels. And of course, advertising Mexican-grown coffee is a non-starter, largely because Americans are already up to their eyeballs in unscheduled Mexican imports.
Ewwww. You're Gonna Wash Those First, Right?
For Reals: Promethean Times ♥s Seattle
Coffee isn’t just popular in Washington’s King County (Seattle). The beverage is also enjoyed in nearby Snohomish, Pierce and Thurston Counties. However, fiercely independent Lewis County’s traditional beverage is a brew consisting of fermented eggs in yak urine. ∞T.
If your county didn’t hate veterans, it would find a way to tell the world. Some, like Oregon’s Douglas County, have found a way to do just that.
For Their Brave Service, The Least We Can Offer Is Lip-Service.
Some US counties are particularly rough on veterans. Lewis County in Washington State has been known to periodically round up its veterans and force them to fight to the death, gladiator-style. Blood-sports are a local favorite in that thrice-blighted hellhole, which is populated almost entirely by syphilitic knuckle-draggers. Or so we’ve heard. ∞T.
You Are Here, No Matter How Much You Might Wish Otherwise.
You likely haven’t heard of Lewis County, Washington. Named for famed explorer and suicide Meriwether Lewis, this quaint, cultural backwater is further from Seattle, Tacoma, Portland or Spokane than mere geography would indicate.
In appreciation of this idyllic patch of greenery, we offer the following haiku, which we call Lewis County: If I Never See You Again It Will Be Too Fucking Soon:
You cousin fuckers,
Inbred eaters of cow flop,
I hate you so much.
Enjoy Sexual Congress With Barnyard Animals? We Have A Place For You, My Friend.
Don’t feel bad for Lewis County. Lewis County knows what it did. ∞T.