We Made These Pledge Mom Week Posters So You Don’t Have To

OH MY GOD BEYONCÉ JUST DROPPED A NEW ALBUM ON ITUNES

Pictured: The Queen, just moments after I coated my nether regions in a thick layer of urine.

Guys. GUYS. GUYYYYYSSSSSSSSSSS.

The rumors are true. Beyoncé just dropped a new album on iTunes and didn’t even tell anyone, not even Blue Ivy.

This is basically our generation’s Pearl Harbor, except we’re excited about it, and even the president didn’t know it was going to happen.

Beyoncé’s fifth studio album, complete with complementary videos for literally every song, plus a bonus video, means that this is the most visual material Beyoncé has supplied since posing for the cover of Sports Illustrated: Swimsuit Edition. According to the hastily scrawled iTunes Editors’ Notes, the album is “a provocative, unguarded artistic statement–revealing a side of the icon previously unknown to fans and cementing her status as a pop visionary.”

Not like we needed to study for finals or anything.

We Made Inspirational Posters Out Of Amanda Bynes Tweets

So we thought it would be fun to take Amanda Bynes’ absurd tweets as far out of context as we possibly could.  Granted, her Twitter feed isn’t really any sort of “context,” rather a horrid shitshow of surgery and Drake, but we went for it anyway.  We hope you derive as much joy from making fun of Amanda Bynes as we do.

The Netflix Treatment: Which Other Shows Should Be Resurrected?

Arrested Development caused more of an uproar this weekend than an Apache-themed party at the Arizona capitol building, making every social media account the dumping ground for half-assed references to the banana stands and one-armed men. It’s nice to know that everyone can spoil the fun at the same time! Binge-watching is the new hip thing like moms in bell-bottom jeans or Hillary Duff’s clothing line at Kohl’s. It’s has the fun addictive properties of cocaine and the similar benefits of alienation from friends.

With Ronald Reagan out of the White House and his crack battle long over, there’s no stopping this infectious streaming disease. Plus Barry dug the shit out

Amanda Bynes: Master Troll

Troll

Do you ever think about the celebrity infatuation that exists in this county?

The generous amount of on-air time spent covering the Hollywood aristocracy would make any publicity-seeking radical weep into their manifestos. This is especially true with the celebrity meltdown, the fall from grace which has become a parody of itself. The drugs, the denials, the arrests, it has all become so cliché that you need to spice it up nowadays if you want attention (e.g. with racism, animal abuse, revanchism, etc.).

US Supreme Court Rules Against Gay Marriage Due to Lack of Changed Facebook Profile Pictures

Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Source: Facebook

WASHINGTON, D.C. — Amid heated national scrutiny Monday afternoon the Supreme Court handed down an unprecedented 5-4 decision denying LGBT individuals the right to marriage equality. The Court, in a fiery ruling composed by Justice Kennedy, upheld California’s Prop 8 banning same-sex marriage on the basis of a lack of social media presence.

While Kennedy’s decision cited multiple reasons for his ruling, his majority opinion predominantly focused on the popular Facebook trend of changing one’s profile picture to a pink equals sign superimposed on a red field.

What’s Next for Pope Benedict XVI? New Car, New Digs, New Twitter Handle

Pope Benedict XVI about to receive a 15-yard pass from Kurt Warner, a former Cardinal.

Okay, so as most have you have probably heard by now, Pope Benedict XVI has announced plans to resign from his position as Holy See and Muslim-basher. While he hasn’t been clear on his motivation for resigning, one can only assume that it was because his faith in the Triune God (and any trace of goodness in this world, for that matter) was broken last night when Drake won Best Rap Album at the Grammy’s. Either that, or Silvio Berlusconi touched him in his no-no places and the emotional pain is just too overwhelming.

Hate A Random Country: Canada

It’s waaay too easy to find a picture of a vagina on the Internet.

It’s widely known that there is only one country in North America that matters.  America[1]. All others are entirely irrelevant.  This scientific fact has been proven time and again, during Olympics, world wars, and presumably obesity contests (we have the most mass, so we matter the most).  However, there are other countries that we are unfortunately stuck sharing a continent with, and sadly, one of them is Canada.

Imagine that you were stuck in a never-ending Northwestern winter.  Now imagine that in the middle of the snow, the only life you could see was a lonely moose jacking off.  Also you routinely got hit in the face with hockey pucks, and your tears froze and turned into little balls of ice before they hit the ground.  Oh, and in the background, Nickelback’s newest album played on an infinite repeat, only occasionally intercut by a song or two from Drake, the rapper who has singlehandedly infected over 39 women with syphilis.  The situation I just described is pretty much what it’s like to live in Canada.

Firstly, Canada is known for hockey.  Their national sport involves various large and drunk eastern European men bashing each other with sticks and fighting for a disc on ice.  Occasionally they pummel each other for no apparent reason.  What the fuck?  Despite Canadian claims of ”originating” the sport of hockey, they actually stole it from Russia, which according to historian “Mittens” Romney, is our #1 enemy.  So not only is Canada responsible for bringing the wretched sport here, it’s also collaborating with our enemies.  It’s like the old saying: “Bring me hockey, shame on you; conspire with Russia, and why the fuck aren’t we invading Toronto already?”

A part of the daily life of a Canadian.

Secondly, their national food is Maple Syrup.  I don’t know about you, but I, like most normal people, don’t like drinking trees.  I don’t swing that way; I don’t like putting liquid that comes from wood in my mouth.  Yet that’s exactly what Canada shoves down the throats of the world.  In Canada, maple syrup is required by law to be 66% sugar (which goes to show what Canada’s government is concerned with regulating useless shit, rather than helping fight Terrorism like REAL countries).  Well thanks a lot for that, Canada.  If I wanted to drink something terrible for me that would burn with sugar as it went down, I would just drink a Smirnoff Ice[2].

Then, there’s the music.  Not only does Canada want us to “call them maybe”, but they have unleashed many terrors on the world.  For one, Justin Bieber, or as I call him, “pussyface.”  Then, Nickelback.  Fucking…Nickelback.  Baby, baby, baby…NO.  Also, Cher.  Anyone with a soul hates Cher.

Yet they get even worse.  Canada is still sucking the metaphorical dick of England.   England is not worth sucking up to (although Pippa Middleton definitely is[3]).  They still have the queen on their (bizarrely multicolored) money!  They could at least grow some balls and put Canadian flags on it, but no.  Random-ass British people.  Yet while Canada remains England’s little bitch, they are also French, which inherently makes them pussies.  This fine line that they walk between kissing the ass of the English and being a pussy like the French makes them even more insufferable.

In short, there’s nothing more despicable than Canada.  From the fact that they originated Nickelback, to their creation of hockey and maple syrup, to their creation of Nickelback[4] they truly are the shittiest and most pathetic excuse for a country on this entire planet.  After all, as their national anthem says… “Oh Canada…goddamn it, why do I live in you?  Fuck my life.”

– Horatio Fourgasm

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[1] Techincally “the United States of America,” but since all other countries are irrelevant, America will here be used EXCLUSIVELY to refer to the U.S of motherfuckin’ A.

[2] Maple Syrup is one of the few things on earth that is even less healthy than Smirnoff Ice.

[3] Side note: Pippa, if you’re reading this…I love you.  Please respond to my letters/e-mails/flyers I’ve tried to distribute around the UK.

[4] A crime so terrible I listed it twice.

Furor Scribendi: Zombies, Canadians, Rihanna, and Chet Haze (or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Pretend to be Malcolm Gladwell)

Brother Jürgen Taintsdorf and Evander Jones trade e-mails regarding celebrity, sport, and all things culture.

Evander Jones:
Dear Brother Jürgen,

Took him long enough.

What follows is a pitiful attempt to be either the Bill Simmons to your Malcolm Gladwell or the other way around. If need be, however, I am willing to settle as the Ke$ha to your Flo Rida. Either way I’ll probably come off as a DoucheMcMuffin, even if I edit our email exchanges to make us both look far more witty than our faithful Sherman Ave readers could ever imagine. A tricky task, mind you, as I just kind of assume that all of our readers are beautiful women between the ages of 18 and 27 who harbor a fond appreciation for unreleased Smiths B-sides, The West Wing, and Morty Schapiro to go with their rabid readership of Sherman Ave.