Joe Rogan’s family is dealing with the personal tragedy of his infertility.
INTERNET — Doctors report that popular podcaster Joe Rogan is now “permanently and totally infertile,” due to his use of Ivermectin to treat COVID-19.
“I won’t prescribe Ivermectin because the risk to male fertility is too high,” Dr. Angstrom H. Troubador said. “It’s not very good for covid, either. Better to have been vaccinated ahead of time, and less risky, too. Or, if it’s too late, we’ve got that fetal stem cell therapy that saved Donald Trump’s life. It’s very powerful, although illegal in Texas.”
Rogan’s wife, Jessica, is heartbroken. “We’re devestated by this. We wanted to have so many more babies. Joe’s doing everything he can. Ice cubes, oysters, but they’re just not working. I just want everyone out there who thinks they can just log onto the internet and think they’re doctors, think again. The risk of Ivermectin is too high.”
A good friend tells you when you’re fuckin up, a bad friend ignores it, and your ENEMY tells everyone else.
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[Editor’s note: ALL the women i date want to know where this anger is coming from. why so many holes in my drywall? all i want to know is how many holes u got for ME?? PLEASE EMAIL. —Raleigh T. ]
INTERNET — The geniuses at Alphabet megacorp have really fucked up this time, destroying their own gmail web site by migrating some of its only functions into a provably inferior website no one would ever want to use, Google Voice. This piece of shit web site allows users to view only one text message conversation at a time, makes no sound at all when messages are received, cannot embed links or videos, and frequently freezes the browser for minutes at a time.
Why would Google purposefully mangle their own web site, setting users back fifteen years? How could anyone even conceive of such a shitty web site? A roadkilled raccoon smeared across ten miles of highway could write better software. The dried piss caked underneath the lip of my toilet is more useful and has more features than Google Voice.
After the first time I was forced to use Google Voice, I shattered my PC case, ripped out the RAM containing that vile code, and after grinding it to pieces with my garbage disposal I washed it down the drain. Then, smelling the stink of shitty software all through the neighborhood, I had my septic tank emptied.
Inside Google’s boardroom the executives are exploring their ears and noses with screwdrivers as a crayon lunch is served to them on a silver platter by a chimpanzee in a butler suit. “Our decision is final!” the chairman screams, smearing Elmer’s on his tie and pissing himself. “I am the computer KING,” he announces, shattering open his smartphone. He takes a deep breath of the toxic flourine battery vapors just moments before an ignition which bursts open his chest, sending viscera across the room. The executives clap and dance, their shouts and laughs muffled by mouthfuls of crayon. “Google! Google! Google!”
