You Ungrateful Bastards!

Top Headlines

Recent News

New York City Abuzz Over New Resident

NEW YORK—With word spreading rapidly through office towers, apartment buildings, and across all five boroughs, sources confirmed Friday that New Yorkers were abuzz over reports that a new resident had moved to the city.

Your Horoscopes — Week Of July 7, 2014

ARIES: Your belief that nothing can stop you will be tested this week by depression, procrastination, concrete barriers, dysentery, armed gunmen, and the unanimous passage of several laws targeted specifically at stopping you.

Ranking Women Somehow Not Issue In Miss USA Debacle

NEW YORK—As backlash against the Miss USA pageant continues to spread following controversial anti-immigration remarks made by the contest’s owner, Donald Trump, sources confirmed this week that the overt ranking of women is somehow not a part of the ongoing nationwide outrage.
End Of Section
  • More News
TV Listings
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!

Special Coverage

Business

Coworkers Pull Off Daring One-Hour Lunch Break

TUCSON, AZ—Saying they couldn’t believe such a wild exploit had even been attempted, employees at local marketing firm Synergy Media Services told reporters they were still completely dumbfounded Thursday after account manager Tim Gibbons managed to pull off a daring one-hour lunch break.

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!

Next Story