“Fuck it,” said a supremely annoyed Clinton. “Charge me with Fusion GPS, Benghazi or with whatever fake fucking thing you want, I’m going to light some candles, do some downward dog, read some JD and chill with Nino, and all of you can kiss my pants suit wearing ass.”

Then, with both arms extended Secretary Clinton flipped off the crowd of assembled media for a full three minutes.

President Trump and Conservative Media initially hailed the move, but since have been uncharacteristically quiet.

Trump tweeted: “Hillary in jail. As promised, Trump, Making America Great Again…”

But since then the Twitter machine has been virtually silent except for a few pop culture observations:

“The Olsen twins would not have helped Fuller House. Total disaster.”

“KFC has the best coal slaw. Delicious!”

“I can tell you this, I won’t disappoint America the way the Great Pumpkin disappointed Linus. Believe me.”

After gleefully reporting the news of Secretary Clinton turning herself in Fox & Friends hosts,  Steve Doocy and Brian Kilmeade sat spellbound through several days of Ainsley Earhardt explaining how she maintains that fresh paper doll look and how she was, then wasn’t, then was again Spartanburg High’s 1995 Homecoming Queen.    

Sharing the Clinton news and becoming aroused as if they were bingeing 1930’s Leni Riefenstahl films, the trolls at Breitbart News quickly returned to their traditional programing: stoking fear about razor blades in your kid’s Halloween candy, the potential of evil clowns lurking on the edges of small towns and how the Obama Administration put chemicals in rivers and streams in an effort to turn all the fish gay.      

Rush Limbaugh was reduced to pounding his desk and crumpling papers while filling out the week with segments on the patchiness of Bo Sneredly’s facial hair and his questionable eye wear choices. He also conducted a Twitter poll and took calls on whether Snerdley looked sexier in one of those stupid urban cowboy hats or a Kangol.  

Only brylcreem model Sean Hannity remained engaged, interviewing the third cousin of a former  maintenance worker at the Brooklyn jail, whose sources confirmed that Clinton was receiving free smokes from the commissary and was getting an extra portion of pudding on a nightly basis.

While Conservative media continues to find its footing Secretary Clinton is said to be relaxed and well rested and is writing poetry inspired by Nino Roto.  

The post Hillary Clinton Turns Herself In At Brooklyn Jail appeared first on buffalomud.com.

Buffalo, NY—A civil lawsuit has been filed in Buffalo City Court against the owners of Calvin’s Bakery in North Park, by Mikey O’Connell of University Heights.

At the center of the dispute is a life-size Tom Brady cake that Mr. O’Connell ordered in early September. He claims the bakery purposely misrepresented their goods and sold him a defective product. Calvin’s Bakery, however, holds that they fulfilled their contract as stated.

“What the hell is wrong with this city?” Mr. O’Connell demanded when reached for comment. “The first two bakeries I call say they ‘don’t serve my kind’. Then these jokers take my order – and I was way specific too – and what arrives on my doorstep? A Tom Brady cake with no pants and a tiny dingle!”

The bakery has issued this statement through their lawyers: “Mr. O’Connell requested an accurate, life-size, lemon poppy-seed cake modeled after Tom Brady. He did not state whether he wanted Mr. Brady in home jersey, away jersey, or other.”

In the lawsuit Mr. O’Connell states that the defective cake ruined his September 7th NFL Kickoff party. “We had grandparents there. Little kids. My jagoff brother-in-law kept asking if it was an ice cream cake cause it looked so cold. No one could focus on the game. And what happens? We get whacked by the Chiefs 42-27.”

This is not the first time Calvin’s Bakery has courted controversy. In 2014 they refused service to the regional dressage team, and last year they were accused of sprinkling bacon bits on an anniversary cake for two vegans from Hamlin Park.

Mr. O’Connell is demanding $1,000 in damages and an apology, and has privately told friends that he’s considering putting the whole city in his rearview.

A decision is expected early next year.

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Though McDermott found Robinson’s belief in god to be “charmingly naive,” he did admire the positive energy it seemed to provide her and how it informed many of her selfless actions. “This really isn’t about her,” McDermott said. “She’s a great girl and the psychotic god figure she believes in, who both loves you and will condemn you to fiery depths of hell for not kissing his ass properly, wasn’t the problem. It was the people at church, they were too nice. At first I thought they were just being polite, ya know,  welcoming the new guy, but they were genuinely nice and interested in me as a person and it made me very uncomfortable.”

Raised in the Roman Catholic tradition McDermott was more accustomed to an austere, disciplined approach to devotion where individuals were held accountable for their actions. Explaining a missed business opportunity at Sunday morning brunch to fellow parishioner John Wilkerson,  because he failed to update a price and a  competitor undercut him,  McDermott was confused by Wilkerson’s response. “I tell this Wilkerson guy how I messed up a sale and he looks at me with these eyes full of kindness and says, ‘Ah, too bad, I’m sure you’ll be better prepared next time.’ “I mean, what kind of bullshit is that? I lost a big sale and commission and it was totally my fault. What am I supposed to do with this, ‘you’ll be better prepared next time,’ stuff? I need somebody to tell me I’m a dumb ass and that I suck. I need someone to feed my self-loathing, not tell me I’ll do better next time. That’s such bullshit”

As hard and confusing as Wilkerson’s response was, the deal breaker for McDermott came during the portion of Sunday service where you provide a peace offering to fellow parishioners with a handshake. In the Roman Catholic church this commonly is a brief transaction just prior to holy communion.  “As a kid I always got anxious just before the peace offering and tried to resist eye contact, especially if it was an adult. In the end though, as our hands touched, I usually couldn’t help myself and would look up and see the unfriendly sneer of my fellow parishioner. At first it was scary, but over time it became quite normal and served as a great reminder of my position in life as a lowly sinner, unworthy of the breath I drew, ” McDermott said with a far away look.

The peace offering at Grace Lutheran was far less transactional. Parishioners were encouraged to exit their pews and have a real social interaction with each other while offering peace. It was this practice, which usually delayed the service by 10-15 minutes, that led McDermott to end the relationship with Robinson. “I couldn’t take it,” said McDermott. “All these people laughing, smiling, drunk with fellowship, wishing each other peace. And, so not full of judgment. There was also this kid, maybe 8 or 9 years old who was making it his business to shake every hand in that goddamn church. He was so sincere and earnest and full of love, I thought I was going to be sick. He wasn’t going to get me, though. I kept moving, trying to avoid him, but he finally cornered me and with an angelic voice he raised his little hand and said, Peace. Reluctantly, I took took hold of the young man’s hand and there was a great cheer of approval throughout the church. “

Feeling lightheaded McDermott stumbled outside, took some deep breaths and regained his equilibrium. Then, looking up and realizing the church roof was covered with solar panels, he said to himself, “Christ, solar panels. Catholic churches are powered by the bones of useless dead sinners.”

Later, over coffee,  McDermott ended the relationship with Robinson.

Ms. Robinson is said to be doing well and receiving support from fellow Grace parishioners.  

The post Promising Inter-Denominational Relationship Ends appeared first on buffalomud.com.

The often terminated and twice married Palo Alto resident complained for years he was misunderstood and his statements to women in the workplace about the way they filled out a sweater or how certain stretch pants really brought out the roundness of their asses were meant as compliments. “I was just trying to be nice,” was often the refrain he used to explain himself to human resource reps. “Ya know, point out to the ladies that whatever they were doing, it was working.”

Despite his struggles with inappropriate statements in the workplace Dunphy claims he has evolved. His first wife left him after he sent her a short video of himself masterbating while each of them were at work. Understanding this mistake he left out the video and made a call to his second wife while she was at the grocery store and made lewd barking noises as he achieved completion. The unnamed second wife is said to have left her shopping cart, driven to her parents house and locked herself in childhood bedroom for three days until the hideous barking noises left her head. “My second wife was very sensitive,” Dunphy said. “I feel bad about what I put her through.” My acts were meant to show how much I loved and missed being away from both women, but now I know what I did was wrong. And, I’ve learned from these experiences and only engage in self love privately these days. Except for a couple stumbles in the Sunnyvale  restrooms, I’ve been very good at controlling myself.  And, to be fair, those stumbles occurred when the Stanford women’s cross country team was practicing in the park. I mean, what was I supposed to do?”  

Learning about the Weinstein scandal and noting some similarities in his own behavior led Dunphy to do a fateful Google search: creepiest things men do. The results were shocking. Consistently, at every site he consulted, Dunphy found his thoughts, deeds and statements in line with what women found highly creepy.  He said, “At first I tried to rationalize, telling myself, ‘What’s so wrong with telling a woman she’s beautiful like fifty times while invading her personal space? Or asking them to: Smile. Or informing them you’ve been thinking about them in private moments and then make the universal gesture for rolling your own dice.’ What’s wrong with any of it?’  And, don’t tell me it’s not funny to send a dick pic asking “How do you like my new hair cut?”

But given the torrent of outrage directed at Weinstein and his own research Dunphy was prompted reassess his life. After a few days of moody reflection which included denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance Dunphy came to the conclusion he is a total asshole and his tattoos are pretty stupid as well.

Dunphy is grateful for this breakthrough, but is unsure where to go from here. “It’s really gratifying to become more self-aware, but after a lifetime of being a total asshole, its not like there’s some switch I can just turn off that would make all my creepiness float away into the ether. My revelations also don’t make Haley, the mail room girl’s ass any less spectacular either. So, for now I’m just trying to remain focused on my work and remove myself from compromising situations, while I get some therapy. But, I swear removing these tattoos will be easier and less painful for a creep like me than not being hypnotized by a healthy pair of boobs…Arrgh, there I go again. I’m such an asshole.”       

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Winslow, a software engineer said, “Games against good teams like the Broncos are typically over at halftime and rather than wait to the bitter end, experienced Bills fans know how to move on and get the most out of the rest of their Sunday.”

Even with the Bills leading 13-10 at halftime the jaded fans suffering through a seventeen year playoff drought drizzled out into the yard, cracked a beer, took a swim and bitched about how rookie Zay Jones couldn’t catch a cold and how Sean McDermott not only couldn’t manage a NFL clock, but he probably didn’t even know how to tell time.

Only Uncle Peter remained inside watching the game and even he became discouraged when the Broncos came out and tied the game on their first possession of the second half with a Brandon McManus field goal. But the Bills marched right down the field on the ensuing drive and regained the lead on a six yard Charles Clay touchdown pass from Tyrod Taylor.

When Uncle Peter updated everyone on the score Winslow’s wife Cyndi, called from the pool, “Give it up Peter, it’s only going to hurt worse when they blow the lead and lose,”causing everyone to laugh and nod in agreement.

But when the Broncos star linebacker Von Miller was called for taunting after a third down stop with just under eight minutes left in the game the Bills held the ball another four minutes and increased their lead 26-16 with a twenty-seven yard Stephen Hauschka field goal. With a little over three-minutes left and a ten point cushion it was hard to imagine how even the Bills could screw this up.

As everybody wearily came back into the house,  confounded by the late lead,  Winslow cynically stated exactly how the Bills would screw it up, “Three minutes huh… quick score by the Broncos, onside kick, field goal to tie at the buzzer, Bills lose in overtime.”

But that’s not how the game would play out. The Bills got another defensive stop and then took a knee to end the game.

Confused, everyone looked at each other trying to process what had just happened.

“Wow, they actually won,” said Winslow with a blank face.

“A win against a good team, what am I supposed to do with that?” Cyndi Winslow added looking into the distance.

“Yeah,” said Uncle Peter, like a Stockholm victim,  “I think we’re supposed to be happy, but for some reason I feel empty and let down.”

Standing among the group perplexed faces Winslow came up with the obvious answer, “Next week is the Falcons in Atlanta. They’re going to get crushed.”

A collective sigh of relief filled the air and a few people muttered “Bills suck.”

And, all was well again.   

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