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I Hate My Next-Door Neighbors

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NFL Vows To Fix Bottomless Pit On Levi’s Stadium Field Before Super Bowl

SANTA CLARA, CA—Following persistent safety concerns regarding the playing surface throughout the regular season, the NFL made firm assurances Friday to both the Denver Broncos and Carolina Panthers that the bottomless pit in the middle of the field at Levi’s Stadium will be fully repaired before Super Bowl 50.

Area Man Would Hate Cam Newton Even If He Was Different Minority

MURRAY, KY—Adamantly stressing that his disdain for the 26-year-old quarterback is not based on any racial prejudice toward African Americans, local 49-year-old Michael Willet told reporters Friday that he would hate Cam Newton even if the Carolina Panthers star was a different minority.

Monocle-Wearing Oil Baron’s Cigarette Holder Splinters In Clenched Teeth After Hearing Bernie Sanders’ Environmental Platform

GREENWICH, CT—Leaving him visibly seething as he sat in his tufted leather wingback chair in his study, monocle-wearing oil baron Frederick Porter Harriman’s ivory-inlaid cigarette holder reportedly splintered between his clenched teeth upon him hearing presidential candidate Bernie Sanders outline his environmental platform during Thursday night’s Democratic debate.

Driving Vs. Public Transportation

Weighing factors such as convenience, time commitment, and environmental impact, deciding whether to commute via car or public transit can be difficult. Here is a side-by-side comparison of the two options
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Just Like Everything Else!: Fox 8 p.m. EDT/7 p.m. ABC Pete's wife is still on him about building that darn shed, these kids are going to be the death of Sheila and Dave, and the hot next-door neighbor is up in EVERYBODY'S business! Sunday nights on ABC couldn't be any more familiar!

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  • How Theaters Are Trying To Win Back Moviegoers

    The number of Americans who went to the movies hit a 20-year low in 2014, leaving theaters scrambling to find ways to incentivize the public to see new releases on the big screen rather than watch films at home or on the internet. Here are some methods theaters are using to win back audiences and increase box office sales:

I Hate My Next-Door Neighbors

Not long ago, I was the master of all I surveyed. As I gazed down from my mountain-top estate, I was confident in the knowledge that the fate of the yeomanry that cowered below was firmly in my grasp. I owned all the property in the local village and took 15 percent of the harvest. If a peasant wanted to leave the county, he had to pay a toll on one of my bridges and had to be back before night-fall, lest my feared mastiffs track him down and tear him limb-from-limb. Then the nouveau riche started moving in. Yes, I realize I just used a phrase from the hated French language, but it is the best way to describe the Johnny-Come-Latelies who have decided to pollute my environs with their effete ways. They claim they like to "winter" here, far from the chill and coal-smoke of the city, and hunt foxes, play polo and enjoy "cocktail" drinking-beverages and other silly nonsense.

The worst of these sap-heads are my closest neighbors, the Baintons. They are the heirs to an enormous soap fortune and are easily the worst idlers I have ever laid eyes upon. Rather than responsibly hoard their precious wealth in a large under-ground cave, they fritter it away on lavish parties, fashionable apparel and priceless jewels. And they're about the weakest-minded bunch I've ever seen. Last week, Chauncey Bainton, the paterfamilias, paid an uninvited call to my bed-chamber. "Zweibel, old stick, how the devil are you?" he said. "Care for a few holes of golf?" Now, who in their right mind would invite a 130-year-old man encased in an iron-lung to play golf? Barely controlling my temper, I said I would be in-disposed for the remainder of the after-noon. "What a pity," Chauncey said. "But not to worry—my wife C.Z. is arranging the most absolutely cozy little supper with a few of our dearest friends this evening, and we'd be ever so thrilled if you'd grace us with your presence. And please bring along your delightful great-grand-daughter Livia. Our sons Bubbles and Busby are just mad about her, really they are!" I'll be damned if any great-grand-daughter of mine ever consorts with those balloon-headed Bainton twits! But before I could react, Chauncey had scampered out of my bed-chamber, no doubt to mingle with one or more of my equally fatuous sons, who think the Baintons are, to use a slang term preferred by the youngsters, "the bee's knees." How I despise those neighbors of mine!

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