Smaktakula is staring down the barrel of a loaded deadline, finishing a project which sadly, draws him from his Promethean Times’ duties. As we speak the gifted writer is ensconced–as he has been for the better part of four days now–in his ‘thinking place,’ the filthy crawl space between the outside of his office and the back fence. He says that there, among the cinderblocks and empty paint cans, is the one place he truly feels free.
While an observer from those less cosmopolitan echelons of society (i.e., rubes, yokels, boobs and other halfwits) might perceive Smaktakula’s posture as fetal, this is actually a form of yoga. Smaktakula is focusing his chi by performing the ‘supplicant dog.’
This same cretinous fellow, upon hearing Smaktakula’s vigorous breathing exercises might confuse them for the wracking sobs of a man who understands too late that the fox he has captured is in reality a dragon and now can only wait for the sweet release that will prove his ruin when after tiring of him, the beast devours him whole.
It’s laughable, I know–but people get funny ideas in their heads.
And no, he is not sucking his goddamn thumb! He’s chewing on it! It helps him think. Geez…
Anyway, the upshot of this is that for this week, in addition to one or possibly two new pieces, we’ll be reposting a number of “classic PT” pieces that you probably haven’t seen, but are sure to love. But we really don’t care if you do or not.
You Know We Really Do Care. But Regardless Of What You Tell Everybody, You Like Us Better When We’re A Little Mean.
For The Best And Most Reliable News From The Four Corners Of The Globe, You Know Where To Look.
In which we present a few of our favorite Promethean Times’ features. We hope you’ll enjoy as well. ∞ T.
Humor:
We Prefer Humor That Is Neither Hurtful Nor Degrading.
Our readers know that humor is near and dear to our hearts. In the following post, we provide the punch lines to our very favorite jokes. Straight lines not included.
In which we tackle the pressing social issues of freedom of speech and question the true nature of female beauty. We also discuss why blond people shouldn’t wear their hair in dreadlocks, and why their women are so dumb and slutty.
Jimmy, Why Do You Hang Out With Him If He's Just Gonna Treat You Like That?
Like the rest of the world, we’re fascinated by powerful people. In these gems, we explore the friendship between two former presidents, and examine the future King of England’s quest for true love.
His Blood Was An Unsweetened Raspberry-Watermelon. Even The Dogs Wouldn't Lap It Up.
It’s not just real people who get the Promethean Times treatment. Here we explore the tragic effect of violence upon the worlds of soft-drink advertising and children’s educational programming.
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 that stuff was a string of dead dicks, despots and men of low character. 2011 bid farewell to a number of those comical tyrants who, through nothing more than style, a ridiculous outfit and balls the size of grapefruit, commanded legions to do their bidding. Osama bin Laden’s cringing demise among the fluid-spattered catacombs of his porn library taught us all to laugh again, while the image of Keystone Cops stumbling after wacky sand-despot Muammar Gaddafi in a madcap chase aross the Libyan desert gave us reason to laugh even harder. The ascendance of Steve Jobs and Kim Jong-il to their respective heavenly kingdoms reminded us that Gods too can die.
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.
NEVER AGAIN.
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.
We're Awfully Fond Of Ourselves. But You Already Knew That.
Some things you should probably know before reading Promethean Times:
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We take ourselves every bit as seriously as you do.
If it’s not funny, that means you didn’t get it.
Readers who miss the point are invited–encouraged even–to comment anyway.
We do not discriminate against any culture, ethnicity, sexual orientation, occupation, age group or gender. We hold all God’s children in equal contempt.
Tardsie is both Promethean Times’ Editor-In-Chief and a Special Olympics backpack. It’s probably best you get your head around that now.
Just A Backpack? Just Try To Name One Other Backpack Who's Treated A Formerly Bankable Star To A Reacharound. You Can't Do It.
Our commitment to bettering society is surpassed only by our unflagging hypocrisy.
If you get the joke but don’t find it funny, you’re still not getting it.
Journalistic integrity is such an entrenched facet of Promethean Times’ organizational culture that there’s no reason whatsoever to ever check our facts. Seriously, don’t.
We mock short people because secretly, we’re afraid we might someday be afflicted with shortness.
We use swear words to compensate for a meager vocabulary and a dearth of real insight. Your third-grade teacher was right about that.
Whenever possible, we avoid sweeping generalizations and irresponsible characterizations, which can upset more sensitive groups. This is particularly true regarding the people of Cameroon, who have no sense of humor whatsoever.
Just understand that ‘which’ and ‘that’ will always be our grammatical Achilles’ heels.
Copy editor Arturo the Pool Boy is actually 24 years old. The reason for his youthful appearance is Tardsie’s insistence that Arturo regularly use a depilatory ointment to ensure that his slender body remains at all times “baby-ass smoove.”
If you say, “No, I get it. You’re employing a deceptive cocktail of verbal flimflammery peppered with vulgarity to lampoon society’s ills without ever once bothering to offer a solution. That, and it just isn’t all that clever,” then you have no soul.
We’re not trying to offend you, but we don’t care if we do.
We’re cavalierly insincere and glibly deceitful, but only because we love you so very much.
Not telling your Facebook friends about Promethean Times is tantamount to admitting you don’t really have any friends.
Now that Promethean Times tweets, Twitter is culturally relevant. Follow Promethean Times on Twitter.
The cruel remark about not having any friends if you don’t spread the Promethean Gospel applies to Twitter as well, in the unlikely event that there remained any lingering ambiguity.