Nashville, Tenn.–At 7:49 this morning, one dick eagerly stabbed into a now-legal Miley Cyrus.
With the stink of sex freshly on her clothes, Miley Cyrus told reporters outside her father’s home she is “Ready for adulthood. Really, very ready.”
Asked who took the first legal plunge into her bellows, Miley blushed, and said, “Well, all I can really say for sure is he likes it when I call him ‘Daddy‘.”
Her full spread Playboy, Penthouse and Hustler photo shoots are slated for next month, leading up to a Christmas release that will hopefully stimulate the economy, and our sexual appetites.
Miley Cyrus, a relatively normal-looking child turned on a nation of unbeknown pedophiles and daughter-pimps, breaking new grounds for the Walt Disney corporation and 4chan.
Attorneys are lining up to do blow off of her stomach, and even Walt Disney himself rose up from the grave to “get a piece.”
He said in a statement even though Miley Cyrus has reached adulthood, the distance between his age and hers is still relatively disturbing, adding, “The fact I am so much older is what makes it that much hotter to me.”
Miley Cyrus, named “2008 most-Googled nipslip of all time” by The Elf Wax Times, has completely dropped out of all recent Google Trends reporting and is expected to be forgotten completely by the year 2014.
In a move critics around the internet are hailing as “a relatively inconsequential hypocrisy,” art website Roanoke Revolution took down an “anti-nuclear weapons” article written by one of Roanoke’s finest underground artists.
It was a move not to keep from losing advertisers, nor did Billy’s article challenge the “magazine’s” ongoing narrative of reality, since as of June, they could not yet have one, this being only their third update. It hardly challenged any belief about anything whatsoever, unless of course their editor, Jovan Rahsman, doesn’t support nuclear non-proliferation.
But according to fans on his website, Billy Walshe is “not one to directly attack an issue head-on” in the way his article’s deletion suggests in the minds of some critical thinkers. In fact, Billy is oft referred to as the “Carl Sagan of Nukes” among those privy to his backward-ass ideologies.
“Billy loves nuclear weapons,” said Niall Coffey in an exclusive interview with The Elf Wax Times. “He talks about ’em all the time. He even describes what it feels like to be zapped by a nuke when I’m really stoned, and sometimes he won’t let me stop imagining it.” Coffey even went on to describe nightmares of a fictional nuclear holocaust Billy Walshe sadistically imposes on him, well after the fact, regularly in his sleep.
As of right now, the article is still deleted. However, an editor of Roanoke Jingodilution said they plan to replace Billy’s article with the following video “as soon as we learn HTML”:
Billy told Elf Wax he has notified his hate group of this injustice and now armed white supremacists comb the nighttime countryside, trying to help find the deleted article, or women to rape in his honor.
It is strongly suspected by Lebal Drocer Senior Executive Officers Walshe was targeted for who he is, or perhaps his affiliation with The Glorious And Infallible Elf Wax Times. It is for this reason the staff considers removal of his article a celebration of his apparent greatness and acknowledgment of their website’s inferiority, and embarrassing unworthiness of his material.
Billy Walshe is an accomplished Appalachian craftsman, woodworker, musician, visual artist and status quo minion. In his spare time, he collects pogs and marches to find the cure for Gross Lesbianism.
Washington, D.C.–In an unprecedented bid for the United States Presidency, The Elf Wax Times has entered the race.
It is the first time in the history of the world an entire publication has ran for public office. They will probably win.
“You’re not just voting for a president, but an entire cabinet,” a man known only as ‘The Cold Hard Truth’ told reporters Thursday. He presented himself as their attorney, though his credentials are questionable at best.
He said, “The executive staff of The Elf Wax Times operates ruthlessly and efficiently, and we are fully prepared to step on anyone who gets in our way.”
Viet Zam will be the Defense Comrade, he said, unfurling a tattered scroll. Reading it aloud, The Cold Hard Truth announced, “By the way, we are a Marxist party, which we just formed.”
The Elf Wax Times promised in a television commercial “to president at least once a week,” and said that at no point in time will any part of the administration appear on women’s daytime TV.
“If Elf Wax appears on TV,” said the Elf Wax Times’ Media Mogul, “It will be Spike TV or one of those shows like ‘Pawn Stars’ or MTV’s ‘Pimp My Ride.’
The Co-President-To-Be went on to say, “We’re also considering a downloadable podcast on the PlayStation Network as well as pornography endeavors.”
Afterward, Media Mogul told reporters, and extended to all Americans, that if they wish to see change, then there would have to be sacrifice. He warned citizens must be willing to “game out” at least twice a day. “For some,” he said, “This will require a severe cutback on gaming. For others, it will demand much, much more.”
Furthermore, he went on to cite Gandhi, reminding Americans they must be the change they wish to see in the world. “So if you want pot legalized, start getting high with police officers,” later adding, “I’m just going to sit back and watch.”
To win the Republicans over, Viet Zam intimated his desire to replace the military with autonomous kill-bots that once set on BLIND RAGE MODE can not be undone, “for maximum defense.” He said freedom will be programmed into their circuitry, hard-wiring them for democratic, bloodthirsty justice that will be unleashed “mostly on brown people” following the 2012 election, but could extend to whites who can’t speak American or who have their own alphabet.
Loki and the Hecktones, premier cabinet leaders, and well-known from inside The Elf Wax Times for building their fame around pure absurdity, have pointed out the necessity to bring back the unwitting “dosing” of agents within the FBI, CIA, and especially the administration itself with LSD-25.
Loki said, “It is our heartfelt belief that every man, woman and child – wait, especially children – should at least once in their lifetimes experience the effects of lysergic acid diethylamide.” A sudden silence fell over the crowded room of reporters and newscasters and photographers stopped taking pictures. At this, Loki’s eyes bulged out of his head as he exclaimed, “What? Don’t be so fucking lame. Jesus Christ who let all these squares in the room?” Kilgore Trout, the self-described ‘Face of Elf Wax’ reacted promptly by placing one hand on Loki’s shoulder as he quietly escorted him off the stage, beaming for the cameras.
While Sarah Palin and Barack Obama scoff at the notion, The Elf Wax Times’ team of political analysts project that the publication’s platform of drug use, videogames and name-calling will be all they need. Voters who “wish to make the right decision” to vote for them in the 2012 election, are expected to “inform themselves,” said a man named Bill, “because we’re pulling the ads.” Experts predict a landslide victory for The Elf Wax Times.
Thanks to LebalSoft voting machines, voters will have the unique opportunity of voting for Elf Wax as early as they feel like, and as many times as they want if they feel their vote wasn’t counted properly. Additionally, voting has been turned into a “game,” according to one anonymous source from within Lebal Drocer.
Due to the dangerously high lead content of their products, all Lebal Drocer representatives speak on the condition of anonymity.
In the game, voters are rewarded with tickets and prizes for casting the right vote in the correct order. Prizes include freedom tickets, XBOX Gamer Points, even the right to vote. Freedom tickets would be redeemable at the United States Government. These are “higher-level prizes” that award freedom of speech allowances and “get out of jail if your 4th Amendment Rights were compromised” cards. “It’s like a get-out-of-jail-free card, but the 2010 version.”
There are no contacts listed for The Elf Wax Times and the staff could not be reached for any comments relating to anything, whatsoever.
The world must simply wait on standby for a glimmer of hope, change, or a press release explaining why there has been none, which sources predict may never come.
Nashville, Tn.–I guess a lot of you newbs are wondering what’s up with Elf Wax and where we’ve been. I know you’ve been whispering about me behind my back. I will kill you.
Some of us are busy and some of us have started new lives, some of us are continuing old lives that just continuously kick ass. That’s Elf Wax for you. But the main thing here is that we haven’t been posting much. The following is a list of excuses:
We are working on other projects. If you know who we are, then you know where to look. We can’t link to it here and certain things simply should not be printed; but, in fact are. Elsewhere.
Fighting foreign wars
Collapse of the Soviet Union (we just found out)
We are officially on the FBI watch-list, so in a way we have “moved our operation” for effectiveness
But in fact the new operation is completely different from this
Also, books, reading, writing, and the band (who are awesome)
poopsex loving dyke whores who like to fool around in hallways, switching between sucking our dicks and half-pooped turds
Yes. Shit is sort of changing for Elf Wax and we have been late acknowledging this but we really don’t care about you or what you read or tell people or believe in your little mislead hearts because you are sheep and cattle anyway. Oh, and just because I am in another state doesn’t mean I don’t still hate Virginia. Your laws are crooked and your police force is as overbearing as they are stupid. I back up this claim with evidence in our new website and with my mere existence.
But seriously, it’s serious time. And we are seriously avoiding this shit right now, because life is short man and there are about fifteen thousand better things to do than write this drivel you couldn’t possibly think of yourselves. We’re creating different things, writing better stuff, working on our own separate and collaborative projects and mainly just ignoring this place and cruising on the sexting hits. See our tags section for sexts. Sexting is where the money’s at. Changing your minds is where the satisfaction lies. And really, truthfully, honestly, Elf Wax readers are not even our target audience anymore so we politely ask that you dumb shit retards not follow our staff around the internet; or better yet, unplug your internet altogether because you’re probably just wasting bandwidth producing a never-ending stream of YoUtUbE COMMENTZ LOLZ I LOVE KE$HA SHE IS SO DEEP. And get fucked, please. Oh, unless you’re that girl from the insurance commercials with swollen red lips in which case I’ll take one blowjob, but then you must leave as well.
Meteor showers are violent death-displays of space’s dominance over mankind, and December’s Geminid meteor shower is only different from November’s leonid meteor shower in that it will be “twice as deadly,” says chief Elf Wax Astronomer Hem Cumming, who is also notably ‘Miley Cyrus’ biggest fan.’
One should look away from the skies between the hours of 12:00 am EST and dawn, and avoid going outside for any reason during these hours until the police tell you it’s safe to come back out of your homes, as there is no safe place in a meteor shower, nor would there be any hope for survival after being struck by one.
Elf Wax Scientist Langstrom T. Hugg said the scientific explanation for the Geminids states Gemini, the God of Slayer, master of demise, is reigning pure, crystalline hatred on the Earth for betraying him over Jesus, and this is what brave Astronomers see streaking across the night sky, should they dare to look.
“We’re basically populating the foretold Hell on Earth,” said Dr. Hugg. “The Bible prophecies many things, including the housing crisis, and the Black Dawn of the Anti-Christ, Barack Obama. The mind-blowing pain of the Geminid meteor shower reminds us never to foresake Gemini again, and that we should fear Jesus more than we love him.”
The phony scientific community that claims Dr. Hugg’s research is “invalid” because it is “not based on fact” should be disregarded, said Dr. Hugg, “because they have already proven to The Elf Wax Times, and thus to America, that they are not worthy of God’s Glory when they gave credence to the hedonistic pleasures of the dinosaur bones, put here to test our faith in the glorious Lord who neither The Elf Wax Times, nor I, dare not forsake.”
As lead astronomer for The Elf Wax Times Dr. Hugg is the only source used, his word is accepted as unerring fact. So it is with great responsibility and duty to our loyal readers that you stay indoors, America, and let those Phillipino know-nothings die like dogs in their rice patties under the fiery wrath of Gemini so we may take their land in God’s name, amen.
Back in Roll-a-toke, where I went to high school, my friends (circle of friends has changed very much since then but these are good guys) still get together to play four-player anything – Mario Kart Wii was first, then CoD4 and WaW, and now Modern Warfare 2. I really appreciate that they keep the gaming true to its form. They don’t play WoW, they don’t even have Internet. Everybody’s getting high and enjoying each other’s company around a videogame, just like it was when we were kids. When I grow out of that, just kill me.
One of these guys is an Elf Wax Times writer, and if it weren’t for our basic agreement on this fundamental way of life, we would probably have forever lost contact. But there comes a time in life where one looks around himself and sees nothing familiar, and rather than again venturing into the mist, he opts, just for a little while, to get back to what’s not only familiar, but truly rewarding. In this case, it is videogames with my friends. People don’t get enough of this. Oh, and that’s right – one of your beloved Elf Wax Timers doesn’t have the Internet.
Since moving back to my college town of Larger City, USA, I have not found a friend as good as the one I left behind. You might know him as our best Elf Wax Times writer on staff. He invented Elf Wax. He wrote a program, or maybe two, that spammed MUME into the ground for hours at a time. MUME is EverQuest Online Adventures without graphics. They invented IP-banning because of him. And because I’ve been needing a distraction from reality lately, I have been playing MUME; playing this text-RPG based on LOTR is kind of nice, because it’s a chance to enter a world which he helped create, by attempting to destroy it. But that’s not really why I play, it’s just a nice effect. I actually play MUME because since moving back to the intellectual hub of Any State, USA with an income tax so high it would make the Queen of England grow a dick and jizz her pants, my brain is starving. Can you believe it? In a college town, where I’m surrounded by “smart people,” there’s not a healthy dialog for miles.
When people go to college for the prescribed amount of time, it has this effect on them in which their ideals stagnate, their eyes jade over, and they sort of get by on the notion that “I’m in college. Doing what I can. I don’t feel like I need to be doing anything extra.” Extra includes starting or helping a publication, like the glorious Elf Wax Times. Extra can also include, and does also include thinking. Just plain old critical thinking about something besides your girlfriend and your schoolwork. College makes people forget that the whole point of structured education is to serve the working world. By living under the illusion that they’re serving themselves, feeding their own heads with someone else’s drivel, they’re systematically destroying their ability to hear the real ‘other voice’ inside. It might have something to do with paying for your classes, or the classes themselves. I know that they preach self-discovery and they talk to you like adults. But professors are as indoctrinated as middle school teachers. And 21-year-old graduates are as sheep-like as sheep themselves. There’s nothing adult about being ground up in the same commercialization of human dejection as everyone else – unless you understand it enough to “be able to explain it to your own grandmother.”
See? I learned that quote in college. I think I was on LSD at the time, reading an Einstein quote on somebody’s AIM profile, but I was enrolled in classes. Just like secondary school, college lessons can be applied to the problems of college itself, or of the world in general. It’s just logic. But it’s logic presented in a deceitful way, carefully twisting your brain out of your control, and into theirs. The military-industrial complex, and the pressures it puts on a society lead us to distrust, band together in a xenophobic fury so we may better divide from one another, hate each other more than anything else but ourselves – who we hate the most. Cellularize our lifestyles. It used to be the police showed up to dangerously large parties; now, the “Party Patrol” busts everything up, adding charges, too. Welcome to the cellular lifestyle. Why do you kids still need to party when the government maintains Facebook for your use and enjoyment? The only measurable value left in our world is the artificial value of the paper fucking dollar, and people are convinced, maybe not that they’re happier this way, but that this is the best way for everyone.
Come to college – where anti-intellectualism is taught.
Out the proverbial window went the idea that there is some worldly value for things besides monetary value divided by time over output. “The Elf Wax Times is a huge success these days.” – Hey, that’s great. You going to advertise?
No, I don’t think I will. We’ve talked about the idea. We’ve shot it down inside while keeping it on the table outside. And now it’s begun to rain on the idea we left on the table outside, eroding the glitter from the thought of a Pabst Blue Ribbon banner ad on The Elf Wax Times. Advertisements are fucking ugly in ways exceeding aesthetics. Why would I put ads on the front page of this website?
They represent everything I hate about society, information, the media, our thought processes which advertising poisons. We won’t do that to you, dear readers. Although we stand to make possibly tens of thousands, we have jobs outside of this website. Good jobs, provided lovingly by Lebal Drocer, Incorporated. We work hard to suckle on the tit of the hard-working, and it pays. Not great, but well enough so we may healthily bring you the Truth. If we advertised Elf Wax Times, we’d be no better than Maddox. The Best Advertising Site in the Universe. The Onion did it, so why shouldn’t George Ouzanian? That’s Maddox in case you don’t know. We figured it out somehow, and we got stoned in high school, called his mom and told her about the site so she’d give us his phone number. She did, and we called him asking for beer, telling him the site was really funny. “How’d you get this number?” And that’s how Maddox’s mommy found out about Maddox, and it created a lot of grief for him. I used to feel bad for doing that. Not so much anymore.
Every day, I listen to the “people” I ‘work for’ fucking up the economy in real-time behind my ears, and I think about how they get away with degrading my quality of life, and yours. Every day, your beloved Roajoke writer goes to his work, which is better than mine in all ways, and thinks about the shit I hear where I work, not knowing that I hear it, but agreeing nonetheless. We need this as people. Why don’t you have it?
I lost a good friend when I came back to this dump of a city. My smartest friend, the friend who laughed with me about shit nobody else even realized is going on, the friend who helped me move, and who chopped a mountain down with the edge of his hand is back there in the life I left behind. He was the only friend who ever thought on my wavelength, and I think it might be because we learned how to make music together. From the first-or-second day we met, we’ve always thought on a higher plane together. That’s not the clandestine Elf Waxian arrogance you’ve come to know and love – the truth is that musicians think on a higher plane while playing music than most humans are able to recognize. I left him behind to pursue my useless college degree. Mother Fuck this place, and this world, and fuck you to help propagate it; you sick fucking bastards.
And now things have changed. I’m having to get by without him; keep this site going without him egging me on to do it; keep seeing things my way, and not television’s way, or the Dollar’s way. But Our Way. I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t afraid of losing who I really am. I’d be a bigger liar if I said I don’t care about becoming someone better. I’d be Oral Graham if I told you money doesn’t actually matter to me, and I’d be a sell-out for admitting it.
So stay tuned to the Elf Wax Times for a brand new ideology.
“The reason our institutions, our traditional religions, are already crumbling is because THEY’RE NO LONGER RELEVANT! It’s time for us to create a NEW philosophy, and perhaps even a new religion, you see, and that’s okay because that’s our right. We are free children of God with minds that can imagine anything, and that’s kind of our role. How do you evolve ideas? I’ll give you an example right here… Why is the drug czar in this country, well I’ll go back, why do we HAVE a drug czar in this country? A. B, Why is he a cop? Why isn’t he a guy in recovery who’s HAD an alcohol and/or drug addiction and overcome it, and why doesn’t he HELP people with the same problem, with compassion rather than condemnation? Why do we put people who are ON drugs in jail? They’re SICK! They’re not criminals. Sick people don’t get healed in jail. See it makes no sense! And if we evolve the idea, you see, the planet might be more compassionate, and something like HEAVEN might dawn.”
Oh hi! Didn’t see you there. It’s difficult to see anything beyond The Elf Wax Times’ blinding white flurry ofsuccess, but we’ve got a finger on the pulse, and we hear you asking yourselves:
How can I get more people to read my [worthless] blog?
It’s a two-step process.
Don’t be such a fucking douchebag. Seriously.
And don’t start a blog.
A long time ago, I was sitting online, my ass was numb, I was talking to my friend and I felt like I needed to break the uncomfortable silence, so I said “fuck people with blogs” to which my friend responded, “Nobody cares what they have to say.”
“Of course not,” I said. “That’s why they start blogs.”
And that’s the kind of fucking genius thought-dissemination that absorbs your blog’s readership before their sunken eyes even leave The Elf Wax Times: your puss-blog about how you don’t get any puss because you’re a giant, throbbing, cheese-flushing pussy is simply not entertaining, and everybody knows it already. Some blogs are so bad that it boosts our readership when people come here in need of healing.
Maybe it’s because you don’t have any insights beyond what simpletons uncover within an episode of Touched by an Angel.
Maybe you really don’t get any pussy and you try to post about it on the internet, but your half-assed approach to writing fails to capture even the wildest sexual imagination of, say, a pubescent child, who, possibly having never seen the internet before, couldn’t even pay twenty-five seconds of attention to your sex-laden drivel if it were printed off and handed to him to read as an alternative to restriction ad infinitum. In fact, for most folks, reading your blog is probably the equivalent to tasting some cold, stale piss.
But we’re talking about children here. All children are retarded, so they’re a bad example and I should not have used them; if for no other reason than people hate to be reminded of children. Check back next year for an apology.
Conversationally, The Elf Wax Times reporters, staff writers, editors, and our glorious masters are intellectually potent, and should we have a moment in our busy day of cooking up and serving the truth, we need to read thought-inspiring equivalencies of miniature Cat’s Cradles, should we get the chance to read anything at all (usually we have our assistants read to us as we masturbate to rare, uncensored Asian pornography).
So, to us, your Tucker Max attempt at a blog leaves a taste in the mouth of cold piss, too. That is to say, we see through your attempts to piss in our mouths from behind your dual-core PC and you fail to even keep it warm, much less hit your target, whatever that may be. Nobody knows what you’re trying to accomplish. You’re worthless and you suck.
Let’s briefly drop the pissing metaphor for a moment to talk more about why people hate blogs.
I hate blogs because they fail to properly inform. The Elf Wax Times takes an ambivalent stance on blogging, because it is not officially recognized as a medium of any form. A blog is simply something you accidentally click on Google because it contains the most keywords in the most relevant order contained in your search. Maybe you host a copyrighted picture nobody else has, and so people click it, save it, and never see your site again. In all likelihood, if you think people are visiting your blog because your “statistics say so,” look closer and you’ll see that accidental clicks account for at least 99% of your “readership,” and the only reason copyright lawyers have not yet contacted you is because no human is actually looking at your “site.” [Editor’s Note: blogs are not real websites.]
Nobody is looking at your perspective on the world. Nobody is sharing in your unique, subjective experience of reality in the abstract. Nobody is taking the journey as your narrative prose degrades into broken poetry with faulty rhyme scheme followed by ellipses and a question mark. Nobody feels the way you do, because your mechanism for emotion is so completely distorted that you actually believe people are reading your fucking blog. Normal people are not as self-important as blog “authors.” [Editor’s Note: blogs are not authored by anyone because authors write for a living, and bloggers do not.] Nobody will ever identify with a blogger.
Now, I know I’m just farting into the wind here, so we’re going to have to break it down another level.
You write a blog, you have one. You maintain one, as you put on your resumé or MySpace page. No cute girls are reading it. Maybe there are two people who make comments on your posts from time to time, under the unspoken arrangement that you reciprocate. One’s a fat chick, the other’s your online friend who once agreed over AIM that the government sucks. You put a lot of time into your CSS code, your margins are perfect, the padding fucking fits and you feel good because you’ve got shit all figured out, so this doesn’t apply to you – right? Oh boy. How glad I am not to be you. How thankful I am not to be so misled, so delusional, so willing to lie to myself as you; so wrong as youare.
I’m talking to you, blogger. Blogosphere. The bastion of truth–shit, I mean, self-importance. Your thoughts are impure, your opinions invalid, broadly unsubstantiated by anything other than your George W. Bush “gut feeling” fueled by the insights of Neil Cavuto, or name-a-CNN-pundit.com.
Your vision is filtered through orange glasses or red, depending on where we’re at on the Terror Alert scale. At best, you’re the unseen, unheard afterthought of a political mechanism – lost to all keepers of history but your own web browser. At worst, you serve the political machine as they reference your voice among millions in the blogosphere, speaking for you, making determinations about you, without reading you, or knowing you, or seeing you, or even consciously being aware that someone like you might actually exist.
And we here at The Elf Wax Times for once share their anti-sentiment. So without further ado, fuck you and your little blog, too.
WASHINGTON, DC, UTAH–The Elf Wax Times announced today its 1,000th reader in just one week. Executive Editor, Steve Grabowski, said The Elf Wax Times has been spammed with Google Image results almost exclusively under the keywords ‘Miley Cyrus sexting.’ An army of 4chan porn addicts, unable to get off to anything that isn’t a sext message, have been in search of “moar” Miley Cyrus “n00dz” and have found Miley’s infamous sexting image located within our scathing commentary on sexting among America’s youth.
“The Elf Wax Times spiked 500 hits last night alone due to a mix-up around nude photographs Miley sexted out to Nick Jonas,” Grabowski said.
Nick Jonas is reported to sport a so-called “purity cockring” in an image he sexted in response to Miley’s now infamous, but typical, “tease” sext. According to an employee at Verizon’s sext message monitoring headquarters, the rumors are true, but Miley Cyrus sends out these kinds of texts all the time to her family members. “Especially the father.”
“Glory holes in Roanoke, VA” is also turning up “mad results” according to a recent Google Analytics poll, and more users find themselves reading the Times than ever before, when they meant to find elven pornography or how-to guides for waxing a pussy. “People and their cats,” commented Grabowski, with a shake of the head.
It’s a well-known fact that if God intended for cats to be naked and pink, he would have birthed them that way, or burned a few with solar flares. But God works in mysterious ways, sometimes neglecting facts altogether, as one Elf Wax Times reader found out the hard way.
“I was searching for Jesus,” he said with a pause, and trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
But even inadvertent Elf Wax Timers are converting to full-time readers, according to some contrived interpretation of a combination of anecdotal results. For instance, one reader who searched “whore lithium weed” happened to dig 11 pages deep into the Times. Looks like somebody found what they came for!
The entire Elf Wax staff could not be reached immediately, and the office voicemail redirected to a vacation response from Easter which connected reporters to a full mailbox in which no message could be left or returned.
Elf Wax staff writer Cold Hard Truth was not immediately available for comment, but wrote an email to the editor saying, “I once had a job installing cable for the cable company. One time I had to go in ‘their kid’s room.’ There was this big nine-foot retard standing behind me in the corner, the whole time, breathing real hard and real loud – and just staring at me, watching my every move. Just staring, and breathing, stopping only once to piss himself and scream. I imagine having a big nine-foot-retard with jaundice could come in handy at times. But not when you need cable installed. That freaked me out. Do you think hermaphrodites, like true hermaphrodites, could get themselves pregnant? And like, clone themselves?”
His email response went on like this for another two pages attached to a .avi file of Japanese piss bukkake, and was completely irrelevant to the questions reporters asked.
All attempts to reach Wayne were futile, as a Spanish-speaking woman answered his publicly-listed phone number demanding cocaine in exchange for a beheading she’d performed just moments earlier. An ape was heard howling in the background, believed by sources to be owned by Wayne himself, or traded on the black market, again, for drugs or possibly even “sexual favors” according to the woman when asked about the noise. “He do lots of thing.”
Steve Grabowski said the Elf Wax Times is growing at up to 100 percent on good days, and as low as “90 percent on a slow day.”
“Mostly,” he added, “People just plain don’t know how to search for porn, and they wind up here. But we gladly welcome you. Sick, twisted fucking perverts are the backbone of The Elf Wax Times.”
And so are you. Thanks, dear readers. Keep refreshing the Elf Wax Times for the latest news on things that happened a few days ago. Also, be the first to get to Elf Wax Times by Googling ‘marijuana’ and win a free trip to an F.B.I. holding facility!
The Elf Wax Times has no relation to the ELF, an eco-terror group which has claimed responsibility for several recent terror attacks. We hate the environment.
So we didn’t reach out to anybody, exactly. But it did keep me from moving in with a lesbian. You see, I was going to move in with my girlfriend. She’s not the lesbian. Just keep reading you lazy fuck, you’ll get the story. We don’t dumb it down, you’ll have to cope, sound it out, we’ll get through this together. Anyway, things “didn’t work out” so I had to put an advert out on the most hilarious website in the Universe, craigslist. Man, I don’t even know where to begin about that website. God it’s greater than The Beatles. Anyway, I found this lesbian who was looking for a place to live. Real naive girl who didn’t have her shit together but knew she wanted to move out of mommy’s house. So, being desperate to move into this sweet, overpriced ghetto apartment as soon as possible, I told her we’d sign the lease together the following day if she liked the apartment. She did like it, and we agreed that it would be pretty cool.
In my craigslist ad, I indicated that I’m an editor for The Glorious and Critically-Acclaimed Elf Wax Times.
Where I live, you can’t find peace on the back porch, because some low-life have-not bum will hit you up for a “cig” or failing that, the beer out of your hand. Come test it out if you want. You’ll say, “Hey Elf Wax was right, that fucking loser can’t afford his own cigarettes, yet somehow he’s addicted to them.” Actually don’t come over. I’m sitting in my underwear playing PS3 online and I don’t want shit to do with you unless you are good at Pixel Junk Monsters and have weed. And in this editor’s experience, that pretty much means no one’s coming over.
Anyway, this lesbian and her dyke mommy fired up the old cable modem and took a peek at what her future roommate has been doing with his livelihood. And boy were they amused, or some other emotional contradistinction of a similar degree. Here’s the jist of the half-hour phone call I received at 9 o’clock the same night we looked at the place together:
“Heroin junkheads anonymous. Smack your addiction. How may I help you?”
“Yeah what’s up?”
“James, we need to talk.”
Hot damn, I thought. What’s this girl trying to do? Usually only Lauren’s allowed to call me saying that. “Sure, what is it?” I asked, knowing it would not be good.
“This website,” she began. Jesus Christ, it was just like Weenus, Incorporated and high school. How familiar with this situation I am… “Do you write all the stuff on here?”
“Yeah. You must really like it to want to call me and talk about it. But that’s OK, I know it’s good.”
“Creep you out? Was there something on there that bothered you?”
“Well, the last three stories. And basically everything by Media Mogul. Is that you?”
“Ah, well yeah sorta. You see, ‘we all’ write under that name. I have five writers, every one of them posting under it. Only the regulars get their own pseudonym.” I’m starting to cover my ass but I can tell it’s already too late. I might even have to kill her.
It goes on like this for the next 20 minutes. She tells me about her ideology and how it affects her to the core. “I’m a lesbian, and a lot of the stuff you say. Like your opinions. Like, I don’t know if I’m gonna have to put a padlock on my bedroom door, ya know?” (those doors are hollow honey, a padlock won’t do you any good, I thought) “Am I gonna have to look over my shoulder all the time? Sleep with my eyes open?”
I’m laughing quietly to myself at this point. I even mute the phone to tell the others around me what I am hearing, as well as relaying our conversation via gmail chat to some of the other writers online. It was just so unbelievably funny, that I had to make sure others could remember it as it happened, or else it’d be forever denied as some fabrication or a future embellishment of an early point in the Grand Legend of The Elf Wax Times. This website has cost me a roommate.
The first casualty of war between The Elf Wax Times and the world was not a job, or a friend, or a girlfriend, or my car, or a possession charge – but a dyke roommate. No loss, she had bad teeth and an ugly haircut. Oh, and her attitude was just deplorable, not to mention embarrassing.
“There’s a lot of penis love, and woman hating. And I understand that – boys will be boys.” Yep. And stupid judgmental, hypocrite lesbians will be stupid hypocritical lesbians. This is a girl who expressed to me “We shouldn’t have police. That’s just my opinion. That’s why I want a shotgun. The police are pointless. Fuck the government. We’ll take care of ourselves.” I remember thinking to myself, hey a lesbian I can agree with.” And in all fairness, it stands to reason that a person who harbors such a strong opinion toward the government and humanity might not necessarily love the Elf Wax Times, but see that there’s room enough for this line of thinking, questioning, enough to where any reasonable man would expect the same kind of acceptance for his beliefs equal to that which he gracefully engages, right? Wrong. Not with judgmental hypocrite lesbians. In fact, once we got to talking about The Times, I said, “Yeah I remember you talking ‘down with the government.’ You ever think about writing? We need writers.”
“Yeah, poetry,” was her response. The tone of her voice changed to cautious optimism.
I said, “Oh, well nevermind. We need real writers.”
And that was pretty much that. She called me the next morning waking me up with some excuse about insurance. “If I move out of my mother’s place, I lose my insurance, and that’s like $1,400 and I just can’t afford to move out now, I guess.” I thought, yeah whatever, but if that really is the case…then what we’ve got is not only a judgmental homosexual hypocrite, but a stupid judgmental homosexual hypocrite – almost reduntant in theory, but certainly not in practice. Way to plan ahead, stupid bitch. Or way to tell a transparent lie because you’re too spineless to stand behind some stupid shit you said. Either way, good fucking riddance.
And that’s about all there is to say about the worthless cunt from two weeks ago. Except that yeah, we here at The Elf Wax Times still would’ve hit it.
And hey, this isn’t to say we hate women, or even gays or gay women. In fact, lesbian porn is alright. I have lesbian friends that I wouldn’t want to see in a lesbian porno, but then again, they’re probably not real lesbians. Gay friends, too, people I would do anything for. Well, anything but that. Plus, you’ll never have a gay guy get in your face and say, “Hey Bubba, I think Christian’s the only way to be and I’ll take you out back and kick yer fuckin’ ass if ya say it ain’t again.” You’ll never meet a gay guy who threatens your alpha male status. Likewise, you’ll never meet a gay guy who steals your girlfriend, unless they’re going shopping – and if that happens, bring him over for dinner at least once a week to ensure a long and prosperous relationship with your happy girlfriend who no longer makes you shop with her. You’ll also never accuse a woman of “shopping around with other men.” All in all, leg-shavers aren’t too bad, either. But mostly they are.
On that note, I would like to change the subject. The Rolling Stones stole a beat from Bo Diddly. But the law doesn’t protect drumbeats from copyright infringements. Go figure.
Moving on, I’d like to completely change the subject again using this beautiful transition that I call a period following a sentence. You like it because I tell you to like it. You’re a coward and too afraid to formulate your own opinion, so I’m going to tell you what to think here in a minute. Just sit tight. I learned this from Rush Limbaugh.
Alright, I’ve got myself another beer and I’m one step closer to enlightenment. Or blacking out. One or the two, they’re both the same in the cold, dark end, following a well-timed nuclear holocaust. Now it’s time to molest your little eyes with the truth, my babies. Prepare yourselves for a pointed statement.
Noam Chomsky said that the reason he is not on these late-night TV talk shows can be summarized by one word: concision, something he reportedly lacks. And it’s a judgment he agrees with because, you see, politics and economics and social structure are complex issues that require thoughtful, lengthy dialog, sometimes in the form of exchanged monologue. TV News and Talking Head Shows require their guests to answer a question or refute a claim in two sentences or less. It can’t take more than 30 seconds. The whole idea must be discussed between commercial breaks. Given this, actual intellectual discussion is abandoned, retarding any true progression of American ideology and standing in the way of enlightening discussion of important issues such as the military-industrial complex, the space program, the failures of mainstream media, or the government’s role in health care, if any. This means Noam Chomsky simply won’t be heard, in spite of the fact that he is the most reasonable, thoughtful man you’ll ever hear talking about modern issues that affect us all. His ideas may lack “concision”, but make up for it by the fact that after listening to him, you are enlightened and put at ease; put at ease not by means of pacification, or pandering, but you find yourself eased by reason, something TV news is lacking, and something we’ve learned to live without. Noam Chomsky is what’s wrong with America, simply by way of the fact that no one gets to hear him argue with anybody.
I’ve heard him called extreme once – in a YouTube comment. He’s been called liberal – by a Conservative. He’s never been called a liar, though, and he’s never lost objectivity.
The real reason he’s not on TV can be summarized by middle school algebra, actually. Meet the Press wants to talk about story A and how it relates to story B. Story A indicates this and that, while story B reflects Story A’s ability to really outline the effects of Story B and A+B=A all over again. Let’s consult Mr. Chomsky on this. Chomsky’s response? “Well A and B are correlated, there’s no denying that, but you will see that if you look back through history and compare it to what’s happening with Story C and even the peasants revolt taking place today in Story D (EDITOR: didn’t see C and D coming, did ya fucker?), you’ll see that Story A and B are just an unfortunate side effect of Story E and what’s going on in relation to Story E. Now you see, Story E is unique because of this and that, and I think if we step back and think—”
“Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Chomsky that’s all we’ve got time for tonight. Thank you for coming on – we’ve still got so much to talk about. I really hope you’ll come back and talk to us again, it’s been a pleasure having you.”
Concision, kids. He lacks it. But did you ask for it? Write NBC, ABC, CBS (leave Fox alone, though, nobody takes them seriously except your stupid neighbor) and tell them you want real discussion on important events. They’ll laugh at you of course, but you can always tell them…just to say you did it, I guess. But let’s face it. Nothing’s going to change. They’ll ride us like whores because we let them fuck us like whores. And when I said write to the networks, I meant mail them letter-bombs with concise slogans like HOPE or CHANGE written on the packaging. They listen to concision, apparently, so maybe this is a good approach. Nothing says concision like a bomb-blast to the face, which is all that TV news is, if you think about it. Domestic terrorism of the mind.
Fuck concision. Concision is something lesbians like. “We’re here! We’re queer!” ….I know. Your point? Oh, you’ve been conditioned not to actually substantiate a claim by nightly news programs such as Heads Talk and Important Issues THAT MATTER MOST TO YOU, YOU FUCKING MCDONALD’S EATING PIECE OF SHIT HYPOCRITE. Yeah, I understand. The concision of your sound-byte argument makes up in attitude what it lacks in substance, right? Did Bill O’Reilly teach you that? Your own worst enemy is often who you parallel, or intersect perpendicularly – or inconsequentially, as you see fit.
‘But hey…I listen to Rage Against the Machine,’ you think. Stand up to the Man, you fucking lazy honkies. I swear to God, we need the fucking bombs of freedom exploding over our skies. They’ll call it terrorism, but that’s how America was fucking born, and how it’ll die. Bombings. Carpet-bombings. Nuclear bombings. Gas-bombing our own students, anti-protests and tanks running over people, just like the streets of China – that’s our future, America. And you welcomed it here when you voted for sleaze bags with big campaign finances in the local primaries – fuckers like Bill Richardson would not have even gotten close to the Presidential Race if it weren’t for you. And he seemed like a good guy when pitted against Mitt Romney and the likes of Gore, Obama and fucking Hillary Quittin. And McCain…what a joke. What a joke the whole god damn thing has been. You told it America, and I guess my reaction is the punchline?
I got an email today. The subject line reads “Fear is Winning.” I agree. It’s from freepress.org. They’re big money grassroots. I met them at the National Conference for Media Reform last year (or was it the year before last?). They’re big money. I used to campaign heavily, personally taxing myself at great lengths to protect net neutrality and that’s how I got wrapped up with them. They do email me every so often, saying, “Net Neutrality under fire again.” I think that issue is their catch-all. People have donated a lot of money to them in the name of Net Neutrality, believing that’s all they do. I don’t know, man. I used to really follow them. I would even go so far as to mail out their auto-letter, where the thing is written for me or I could add what I wanted to it. I don’t know if I trust them anymore, though, given that they make all that money, and I am afraid to just sign a letter they’ve already written for me. So I don’t do that anymore. I write my own letters. Congress used to get letters from me saying, “I would like you to vote on proposition 327 in favor of…” – now they read, “You savage fucking crooks! How could you rape your own countrymen as if we are your back-alley whores and prostitutes. We don’t serve you, you serve us, now get down on your knees and pray to your fake-ass God you don’t have to work for all that money you get.”
I think the message is clearer my way. But I still use freepress’s handy interface to “mail my local congresswhore.”
So after all this, I bid you goodnight, dear readers, and I hope that I wake up tomorrow and find in the AP wire “Extremist exposes himself to a federal judge after reading internet news column.” I’d do it for you, dorks. Now fuck off, I’m drunk.