You Ungrateful Bastards!

Top Headlines

Recent News

Roommate Skulking Around Edge Of Party Like Victorian Ghost Child

SEATTLE—Appearing initially in the far corner of the living room and then several minutes later on the threshold between the kitchen and the hallway, local roommate Kelsey Stahl was, by multiple accounts, seen skulking around the edge of a house party Friday like a Victorian ghost child.

Fact-Checking The Third Presidential Debate

Presidential nominees Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump sparred over subjects including foreign policy, the economy, and their fitness to hold the nation’s highest office in the final debate Wednesday. The Onion examines the validity of their assertions

Man Praying Interviewer Doesn’t Ask Any Questions

MINNEAPOLIS—His mouth going dry and his palms growing sweaty as he arrived at the offices of Regent Advertising Partners to interview for an open account manager position, local man Devin McKee reportedly prayed Thursday that the hiring manager wouldn’t ask him any questions during their meeting.

Origins Of Popular Slang Terms

As the internet helps push new words and expressions into common usage, many may wonder where our most ubiquitous idioms come from. Here are the origins of some popular slang terms and phrases

Intergalactic Law Enforcement Officers Place Energy Shackles On Hillary Clinton

PARADISE, NV—Materializing through a dimensional portal in front of a stunned audience at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, intergalactic law enforcement officers reportedly appeared onstage during Wednesday night’s presidential debate and placed a pair of glowing blue energy shackles on Democratic nominee Hillary Clinton.

Man Had No Idea Cough Was Going To Be Wet One

MUSKEGON, MI—Caught completely off guard by the viscous lump of sputum that was dislodged and sent rocketing upward from his lower respiratory tract, area man Luke Reese confirmed Wednesday he had no idea his impending cough was going to be a wet one.
End Of Section
  • More News
Up Next

You Ungrateful Bastards!

You bastards! Why will you not buy Old Uncle Zweibel's Patented Tripe-Flavored Ices? Damn you! Damn you!

Nearly half a million dollars I've sunk into this venture, and I'll be lucky if I see a penny of it. I added a whole new wing to the estate slaughter-house, kept continuously cold by precious ice shipped via barge from the Arctic Circle, so that tripe and other miscellaneous drippings collected from the slaughter-house floor could be frozen into delightful summer-time refreshments. It's the wonder of the age, by cracky, and it's going to pot because none of you damn fools will purchase my ices!

I also spent a pretty penny on elaborate molds into which the tripe is poured before freezing. Who wouldn't drool over a tempting tripe-flavored ice shaped like a steam-locomotive, the Lady Liberty, or Grant's Tomb?

I can't understand it. It's summer-time! The heat is stifling! The American people are languishing on the roof-tops of their sordid tenement houses, slowly being driven mad by the neighborhood organ grinder's cacophonous rendition of "I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles" below. This should be the ideal time to manufacture and sell delicious tripe-flavored ices. But no takers! I might as well have tried to sell rabies to dogs!

I'm always trying to do nice things for you. Who sponsored the public hangings and bear-baitings in the nearby village? Who gave every townsperson a shiny new button for their birthday? And who got the entire village hooked on opium? Me, that's who!

At this moment, my estate is lousy with melting, stinking tripe. We tried to feed some of it to the estate's herd of boars, but the spoiled goods exploded in their stomachs, and they died spectacular deaths. So now I'm forced to store crates of it in my armoire. Now I don't even have a place to put my jars of urine! This glut of tripe breaks my spirit. I've always prided myself on my uncanny ability to sell anything to anyone, be it through sheer force of personality, legal writ, or physical coercion. But I learned long ago that when plans backfire, it's best to find a scape-goat and pin the blame on it. You'll pay dearly for this, you bastards!


Sign up For The Onion's Newsletter

Give your spam filter something to do.

X Close