TERMINAL LAUGHTER

As Seen On Terminal Laughter

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September 12th, 2015 · Uncategorized

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The Serious Snacker: Chex Mix

November 10th, 2012 · Criticism, Food, High-Mindedness

Drawing of the Serious SnackerGreetings fellow snackers. I regret to inform you that my once cherished blow-up chair has now completely deflated. The leak in the right armrest I noted last week had spread, as I feared, to the front base. At first this resulted in nothing more than a slight repositioning of the chair’s axis. As the week wore on however, I began to pitch ever forward at an imperceptibly slow rate, till my face was virtually drowning in the cheese dip resting before me. I ask you, is this any way for a man to snack?!

Boldly, I resolved to do away with the chair in a single weighted blow. Focusing myself like a beam of wonderfully radiant light, I ran across the room and leapt, marshalling the full heft of my physique, elbow first, directly atop abomination. My pose maintained in a gothic frieze nigh several minutes before the majority of the air escaped, and my features touched gracefully upon the hardwood.

I hail you now from my new supine snacking position on the foldout. [Read more →]

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Almost Tycoons: an examination of the true cost of billionaire living and why fat-cat caviar-oozing-out-of-your-ass-rich is never rich enough

February 17th, 2012 · Criticism, Politics, Riches

An income of $2,800,000 places you in the country’s top one per cent of its top one percent of earners (effectively the top .01%). But does it make you fabulously wealthy?

Blump! Smash! Kabomp! Skeeeerudge! Baron Rockefeller von Nettingsworth rounds the corner of his living room in his vintage Jeep Wagoneer. Squack! Bugawk! Shubububububuthwack! He’s in hot pursuit of a brood of pheasants let loose moments before. Armed with a 102mm Combat Magnum, Nettingsworth has three minutes to shoot at least six pheasants, or a group of East Asian sociocrats hiding in his basement will be obliged to murder a kidnapped loans officer.

“It’s a game developed purely for my amusement,” the Baron tells me over a post-festivities BBQ in his 700-acre backyard, “but I’ll show you something that’s not amusing—the bill.”

I look down at the creased piece of paper in Nettingsworth’s hand, a list of discretionary and legal expenditures totaling nearly $50,000. Yowzah!

“It may look like I make a lot of money,” says a naked man ensconced in silk getting fed grapes by a Russian model, “but I pay a lot out in bribes.”

“And that’s just for one afternoon’s fun,” he adds with a sarcastic smile.

It’s a truth spoken in hushed voices, in the cloistered, cigar-fueled dens of only the most exclusive social gatherings: being fabulously, absurdly, dangerously, ridiculously wealthy has gotten to be—well—expensive.

“Time was you could really let your obsessions run unchecked,” says Rich Uncle Pennybags, the literal monopoly man. “Nowadays we disgustingly rich folk are forced to feed only our most consuming addictions.”

The average multi-multi-multi-millionaire can afford to spend at most $60,000 to $70,000 a day, a number which, adjusted for inflation, is well below the ‘Hughes Limit’ for indiscretionary expenditude.

And that money can run out fast! When you factor out jet-delivered brunches from San Francisco, Illuminati membership fees, and numerous out of court settlements, there really isn’t all that much dough left to roll around your bed with.

“It may look like I make a lot of money,” says a naked man ensconced in silk getting fed grapes by a Russian model, “but I pay a lot out in bribes.”

Many uber-rich will readily admit their lifestyle is a far cry from the robber baron ideal to which they aspire. The Schwabs, the Carnegies, the Vanderbilts—those guys were wheeling and dealing. Nowadays most moguls are forced to choose between one or the other.

Still, not all rich people are grounding their yachts over the high cost of caviar-infused champagne. Charles Whitmore, a real estate developer who takes home upwards of $190,000 annually, feels torn between the social unrest on both sides of the economic spectrum.

“You can imagine how weird it feels for me,” says Whitmore. “On the one hand you’ve got the 99% saying I make too much money. And on the other hand you have the .01%, effectively my 1%, saying they don’t make enough. I don’t know if I should feel pity or anger towards the middle class. When I listen to billionaire fat-cats complaining like this, I feel like I understand the rest of the nation’s frustration.”

Whitmore is founder of #occupywellfleet, a grassroots political movement driven by a dip in development costs in the coastal town of Wellfleet, Cape Cod. “#occupywellfleet is essentially a planned community on the inner shore of one of North America’s most idyllic summer getaways. We’re offering competitive buy-ins and a host of affordable marina services for families interested in getting in on the ground floor. We’re the 99th percent—it’s time we started living like it.”

How They Spend It:

Rich Uncle Pennybags
Household Income: $40,000,000

Monthly Expenses: Hotels: $1,500,000. (I keep landing on them.) Luxury Tax and Water Works: $300,000. Chance: $200,000. Community Chest: $100,000. Property wax: $10,000. Monocles: $80,000. (You drop quite a few reading the business pages these days!) Keeping my platinum-plated Roles Royce in fine working condition: $90,000. Gold doubloons to hock at poor: $20,000.


Baron Rockefeller von Nettingsworth
Household Income: $17,000,000

Monthly Expenses: Poker: $800,000. Dice: $200,000. (Hoo-wee!) Black Jack: $30,000. (Let it ride baby.) Pre-chewed Cuban cigars: $80,000. Solid oak swimming pool filled with the finest Kentucky bourbon, maintained by the finest Kentucky drunks: $40,000. Human Meat: $120,000. (But don’t print that!) Various Settlements: $600,000.


Sultan Abdul Mughni Asik
Household Income: untold riches

Monthly Expenses: Love: $230,000. Happiness: $940,000. A yacht powered by smaller yachts: $6,000,000. Assorted fineries: $1,400,000. The entire cast of The Love Boat: $700,000. Princely sums: $2,000,000. Transitions eyeglasses: $120.

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World Kindergarteners Association Declares Cooties Nearly Eradicated

January 14th, 2012 · Babies and Small Children, News, Science

Cutaneous immune emission syndrome, known commonly among schoolchildren as Cooties, appears to be on the brink of extinction, according to a press release by the World Kindergrteners Association (WKA).

“We’re still treating new cases, but numbers have waned dramatically over the past few years,” says Logan Klein, a 6-year-old first grader with a dual cub scout merit badge in band-aid application and removal. “If this trend continues, Cooties will be completely eliminated by 2014.”

Klein and others attribute the sharp decline to the tireless awareness and education efforts of the WKA, along with increased availability of preventative medical treatment. [Read more →]

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A History of Boxing, as Revealed Through Its Revolutionaries’ Nicknames

June 29th, 2011 · History, Wikipedia

1810s:

“Human” Harold Boggs

Romulus “Not-A-Bear” Eckersley

1820s:

Joseph “The Verbalizer” Richelieu

“Disagreeable” David Porter

Rutherford Graves, “The Boston Badmouther”

1830s:

Peter “Intimidator” Kohler

Theodore “The Physical Presence” Renholt

Norman “Kid Argument” Samuels

“Instigating” Pavol Krupcyk

[Read more →]

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TL Exclusive: Excerpt from Tim Allen’s “I’m Not Really Here, Officer”

August 14th, 2010 · Dads, Literature, Man Humor

I know what it looks like, officer. But that’s just it – what it looks like. Have you ever heard of Korzybski?

You see, Korzybski was a linguist. A real cunning linguist, if you know what I mean – woff woff woff, arooo? Actually, what I mean is, he realized that the word “to be” is all wrong. He realized that you can’t say what something “is”. Like, say you hire a contractor – ’cause the old lady won’t let you sleep at night until that kitchen counter is installed, y’know? Like her life is depending on it – which, if you’re doing things right, it should – so you call the guy up, he comes over and say, “yeah, that’s gonna be about $1800″. And then he and his dumb klutz nephews show up and run you $2500 and any beer you had left in the fridge! [Read more →]

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Scientists Surgically Lodge Man’s Foot in a Door

July 17th, 2010 · Science

It’s like a scene out of a movie: A big downtown firm is interviewing candidates for a top sales position. It’s been a long and draining day full of dull questions and even duller responses. The fat cats are getting ready to call it a day, when suddenly they hear a knock on the door.

“Gentlemen, I’m here about the new position. I think I may just be the man you’ve been looking for!”

“Sorry. We’ve finished interviewing people, you can pass your resume on to Jenny out front and she’ll contact you when we have another opening.”

THHUUDDDD!

The door topples onto the floor like a giant domino, and in it’s wake a man stands tall, Royce Leather briefcase in hand, dressed to his neck in Brooks Brothers, his left foot embedded deep within the oak hardwood.

“Well I’ve already got my foot in the door!”

[Read more →]

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Toronto D20 Conference Plagued by Riots, Orcs

July 1st, 2010 · Canadiana, Ghoulish Goodies, Politics

Some unexpected violence and conflict broke out at the Toronto D20 Conference between stalwart adventurers and a dungeon master (DM) whose actions have been described by attendees as “power-mad” and “utterly unrealistic”.

The D20 Conference is an annual event held between the world’s highest-leveled Dungeons & Dragons characters, and a magnet of media interest in the often-clandestine world of fantasy power playing. The characters and their roleplayers convene in an agreed-upon location that must be properly supplied by the host. Ringolos, Orange Crush and progressive rock (or, alternately, fantasy film soundtracks complete with incidental cues) must be provided, and the venue must be secured from possible intrusions such as doting mothers and sunlight. However, problems with the Toronto venue plagued this years conference to the point of calamity. [Read more →]

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For Hire: Shirtless Guy in Suspenders

June 30th, 2010 · Man Humor, Obesity

Hello there,

I am a middle-aged, second-generation immigrant to your land looking to find an honest day’s work for an honest day’s wage. I am an extremely sturdy worker, whose size betrays a strong, working-class back/ethic. I should add that when I work, I do not wear a shirt. Instead, I prefer to wear trousers held up buy a set of high-duty suspenders. I also do not wear CSA approved steel toe safety boots, but rather a pair of dirty tennis shoes I’ve owned since 1982. I do not carry a wallet.


The following are some manual labour jobs for which I am well suited… [Read more →]

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The Miller Chill and Bud Light Lime Casual Man-ifesto

June 17th, 2010 · Corporate Literature, Dads, Man Humor

Why do we drink light lime beer? You’re actually asking us why we purchase, transport, drink and enjoy light lime beers? Why we, as self-respecting, subculturally-savvy twentysomethings, are unsarcastically swigging Miller Chill and Bud Light Lime? Because they’re delicious, because we’re mortal, and because we’re through letting questions like that be answered for us.

We’re putting our quarter-life crises behind us, and getting ready for our third-life crises. We’re long enough out of school and far enough from a real job that our parents just tell our grandparents that we’re “doing fine” in the city we’re in. Time was, all our free time was party time. We’ve still got the free time – we just don’t really party. We’re learning about food allergies instead. We wouldn’t know where to get pot if we tried. We haven’t seen shrooms since that guy with the stupid jacket went to do his master’s at Queen’s. We’re completely out of the mind-blowing loop. But we’ve got a hookup for Miller Chill. We’ve got a hookup for Bud Light Lime. [Read more →]

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