Compared To Later Massacres, Boston's Was A Tea Party (Not To Be Confused With The Historical Event Of The Same Name).
On which British Redcoats fire into a mob of colonial yahoos, slaying five. The incident, later known in America as the Boston Massacre, drives a further wedge in the growing schism between the colonists and the mother country, which in just over five years’ time will blossom into outright rebellion.
Five? Only Five People Died And You're Calling It A Massacre? Let Me Show You How We Do Things In The USA, Son.
Conventional Wisdom Tells Us That It’s Wrong In Every Instance To Bomb Children. Conventional Wisdom Isn’t Always Correct.
Typically the characters to be found skulking through the pages of Promethean Times are a dark and sorry lot of maladjusted degenerates, ne’er-do-wells and comical third-world despots. And yet, history sometimes offers those examples of human endeavor which are not only significant and worthwhile, but also–rarest of all–interesting. We present to you, the Candybomber. If sweetheartery were an award (or even a real word), the Candybomber would be a perennial winner.
Get Yourself Some Jobs, You Master-Race Malingerers!
Although many younger readers many not be aware, Americans have not always been despised around the globe as arrogant behemoths trampling the rest of the world beneath their overpriced Nikes. There was a time, only a few short generations ago, when America was revered as a bastion of hope, and a force for good in a bleak and increasingly repressive world. As the occupying forces in Germany and Japan following their defeat at the end of WWII, a generation of earnest and well-meaning young men served to bolster this impression. The former enemies were disarmed by the Americans’ kindness, generosity and magnanimity, and in this the Allies achieved a victory far greater than anything they were able to accomplish with military means. That Japan and Germany are today stable, democratic–and for more than a half-century, peaceful–republics, is in some ways a credit to these exemplary young men.
Dude, You Know They’re Gonna Expect Us To Act Like This From Now On.
But Gail Halvorsen, the Candybomber, stands head and shoulders above them all. Despite the cruel handicap of being a dude with a chick’s name, in 1948 the young pilot exploded into the hearts and minds of young Germans, who, though now well into middle-age, still revere the Candybomber to this day.
The Candybomber Is A Lot Like David Hasselhoff In That The Germans Love Him. The Difference Is That The Candybomber Did Something To Earn Their Affection.
In 1948, Soviet Premier Josef Stalin sealed off West Berlin (as the nice part of Berlin was then known), hoping to starve out the fledgling democratic republic. The Allies, under the leadership of American President Harry S Truman, began an heroic, round-the-clock operation to ferry supplies to the beleaguered krauts. This operation, known as the Berlin Airlift, proved an historic success, forcing Stalin to ‘blink’ in May of 1949, lifting the embargo.
We’re Not Sure How To Write ‘IN YOUR FACE!’ In The Cyrillic Alphabet, So The Sentiment Will Have To Suffice.
Halvorsen, however, wanted to do more for the war-wearied children he saw lining the fences around the airbase. The nice Mormon boy from Utah hit upon an idea that was an instant winner: he attached small parachutes to bags of candy he had purchased himself, and his plane approached Berlin, would toss them from his plane to the grateful children below. To differentiate his plane from the dozens arriving every hour, he would dip his wings before releasing his payload, earning him the typically ridiculous German nickname Onkel Wackelflügel (Uncle Wiggly-Wings).
You’ll Want To Step Back A Bit, Kids. That’s Not Candy.
Rumor has it that upon hearing of Halvorsen’s actions, his Air Force superiors ordered him to stop. However, someone up the food chain quickly comprehended the PR goldmine which had fallen into Allied hands thanks to Halvorsen’s do-gooderism. The Allies ran with it, and ‘Operation Little Vittles’ was born, magnifying Halvorsen’s individual act of kindness on a grand scale. It remains one of the most unheralded–and successful–American PR campaigns in history.
Not This Kind, Silly. Today YOU Get To Be The Ass. It'll Be Fun!
We Americans are justly proud of our ignorance. Along with obesity and braggadocio, having our heads up our asses is the trait for which we are best known around the globe. Regardless whether you count yourself among these mouth-breathing legions of half-witted cretins, or rather, take pride in the fruits of your three semesters of community college, every American can bask in the oily thrill of being an ignoramus. Holidays like Ash Wednesday provide just such an opportunity.
"Oh Beautiful For Spacious Skies/For Amber Waves Of Grain/For Purple Mountain Majesties/Above The Fruited Plain..."
Ash Wednesday marks the first day of Lent, 40 days of rigorous self-denial practiced by Catholics and also by some of the lamer protestant sects. Catholics, in particular, mark the day by smudging their foreheads with ash as a sign of atonement to a God Who is, after all, pretty vengeful.
You Think He's Gonna Give Us A Lot Of Second Chances After What We Let Happen To His Boy?
Although you may be entirely familiar with the customs of this day, feigning ignorance should be simple enough.¹ When you see a friend, coworker or complete stranger with ash on his or her forehead, go ahead and ask about it. However, by no means should you ask with anything approaching decorum or propriety. We recommend Hey–what’s wrong with your forehead? or Dude–you’ve got some shit on your forehead! The good-natured among your Catholic friends won’t rise easily to the challenge, and may even patiently explain the scriptural significance of the ritual the first several times you loudly call attention to dirty foreheads. But with dedication, persistence and a little luck, you’ll have established your asshole bona fides by lunchtime. Go get ’em, tiger!
"Yeah, I Get It. Please Shut Up Now."
¹Persons of Latin descent may experience additional difficulties in convincing people they know nothing of Catholicism. ∞ T.
We’ve come a long way in just one generation. It wasn’t so many years ago that the nation was buried from coast to coast in filth: trash subsumed parking lots, fields and empty spaces, with refuse festooned along telephone wires and garbage lining the sides of America’s highways. In recent years, wiser and more proactive voices have been heard, and the West has finally begun the slow march back from the garbage-choked precipice upon which it had found itself.
But our commitment to a cleaner environment comes with a price. While the majority of the population derives huge benefits from these changes in the form of better health and therefore a longer and more enjoyable life, the change in sensibilities has proven devastating for America’s forgotten citizens, who see a cherished way of life coming to an abrupt and painful end.
Some Nations Are Not So Hygienically-Inclined As Are Americans.
Ask yourself: who is left out in the cold by the culture’s ecological zeal? How about those fringers who make their living by digging shit out of the garbage? A plethora of half-eaten Chicken McNuggets and Subway sandwiches will ensure that they eat, but where will they find the money for fortified wine? Consider the middle-aged fellow who hangs out behind the Save-Mart, the dude with the running sore on his cheek who’s forever bickering with the invisible demons hunched upon his shoulders. Just what do you suppose this gentleman will do when he digs through a filthy dumpster only to discover you’ve taken your recycling in yourself? He’s not going to be very happy, we can tell you that much. He may even leave a turd on the hood of your car. Again.
Like it or not, unforeseen consequences attend every decision. While our newfound zeal for an orderly environment has unquestionably made the earth a more livable place for the majority, the homeless have seen a radical change to their time-honored way of life. Now, these plucky outdoorsmen must devote a greater share of their time not only to panhandling, but also to concocting a sufficiently heart-rending tale to accompany it.
Rick Santorum turned a great many heads on Tuesday when he apparently swept the Republican primaries in Minnesota, Missouri and Colorado, proving once again that running right down the center of the USA is a big ol’ streak of stupid.
Folks, You May Think You're Being Funny, But This Is An Important Job. Don't You See You're Just Giving Him Hope?
On which, not unlike our superstitious, cave-dwelling, moon-worshipping ancestors, we seek guidance on the mysteries of nature from a hyperthyroid rat named Punxsutawney Phil. Legend has it that if Phil sees his own shadow on February 2, you’ll be doomed to repeat the same awful day of your life–taking piano lessons, assaulting insurance agents and killing time with Chris Elliot–until you mend your selfish ways.
Punxsutawney Phil Is No Less Reliable Than This Asshole.
Regardless Of Whether He Sees His Shadow, Phil Can Expect Six More Weeks Of Buggery.
This post is dedicated to Ned Ryerson, and to hard-working insurance professionals throughout the United States and Canada. ∞ T.
Just Look At The Man; You Can See How Much He Cares.
It just wouldn’t be an election cycle without some earnest gasbag telling you that this election is the most important in our lifetimes. This platitude becomes especially poignant in 2012–the most important election of our lifetimes. With the nation’s economy in tatters, our remaining resources bled by unsupportable foreign adventurism, and possessed of a moral and spiritual despondency heretofore unseen since the Great Depression, about the only thing left for Americans to do is to close their eyes, step down hard on the gas pedal and pray that the next life is more kind.
Family Values Are Just Like Any Other Value, And There’s A Lot Of Value In Chucking The Old Model When A New One Comes Along.
Unless we wish to see our national demise become a painful, drawn-out affair, the US needs a president who, like Samson of the Bible, will in his last breath tear down the pillars of society, who will remain unburdened by the prudish notions of loyalty and marital fidelity and for whom the truth is but another tool in his masterful arsenal. Now, more than ever, America needs Newt Gingrich.
‘King Of The Hill.’ That’s What They Used To Call Newt Before He Became A Washington Outsider.
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.
Despite Being Good All Year, Smaktakula Received Only A $25 Gift Card From Bed, Bath & Beyond. Where The Fuck Is His Benefit Concert?
You didn’t get what you wanted for Christmas and it sucks so bad it feels like a kick in the face. Your friends all got iPads–which they’re not even gonna use!–and all you got was two reams of college-rule notebook paper from your grandma.¹ We feel you, Bro.
If You Can Deal With Both A Lifetime Of Seething Resentment And The Culpability In The Complete Ruination Of Your Offspring, Then You Go Ahead And Buy It.
If we might offer a tiny balm for your first world boo-boo, concentrate instead on the relatively lavish life you live in comparison to the rest of the world (and remember, not everybody lives in Sweden, Singapore or Andorra). Don’t let yourself be bummed by the idea that you’re one paycheck from being homeless. In reality, you’re one paycheck away from ruining your parents’ plan to turn your old room into a leather-dungeon, and believe us, their degeneracy can wait a year or two until you meet a nice girl who makes you go out and find a job.
Our Standard Of Living Affords Some Pretty Wacky Pursuits.
Rather, envision life without the great many amenities–among them clean running water, a solid infrastructure, depraved internet porn–available to every man, woman and child throughout the first world. Think of life then not in terms of paychecks, but of meals. You might, for example, prefer not to eat pork products²–in the first world food preferences are among our myriad everyday extravagances. It behooves you to remember, however, the ugly reality is that you’re at most seventy-two to ninety-six hours from “Whom must I blow for a half-eaten McRib Sandwich?”
We Had A Big Breakfast, So The Best You’re Gonna Get Right Now Is A Hand-Job.
¹ This actually happened to Smaktakula one year. You’re awesome, Mrs. B! ∞T.
² That Smaktakula assiduously refrains from eating pork indicates he’s most likely a Muslim or Jew, albeit one who (as indicated in the first footnote) celebrates Christmas. ∞ T.
New Hampshire And Iowa Have A Lot To Say About Presidential Politics.
With a combined total of 11 (out of a nationwide total of 538) electoral votes, unimportant American States like Iowa and New Hampshire wouldn’t normally have very much say in who wins the US presidency. That would be like choosing a first-grade teacher based solely on the preferences of the weird kid who eats paste.
Iowans Determine Their Presidential Candidates Via The Caucus.
But thanks to America’s primary process, it’s not just important and worthwhile states like California or New York which determine the leader of the free world, but also cultural black holes like Wyoming, Alaska and the Deep South. This system, unique among the world’s nations, allows America to refocus its priorities, adding political clout to a state based not on its size or economic output, but on whether or not it produces corn.
It's Not Like Iowa Has NOTHING Going For It; It's The Birthplace Of Fictional Geek Icon Captain James T. Kirk.
"Live Free Or Die?" Well, We Wish We Could Say That We'll Miss You.
Promethean Times 