ROCHESTER, NY – Jared Pelkey sits at the bar of the Scotch House Pub and thoughtfully sips the remainder of his fourth Genesee beer. Jared has found himself here before, at this seemingly impossible decision. Two paths lie before him. On the one hand, Jared could order another Genny, his fifth, and continue to nurse his buzz. On the other, he could go start a fight with that guy that bumped into him by the jukebox earlier in the night.
We talked to Jared to see how he was handling the decision.
“It’s tough, ya know? Cuz like, this Genny’s about kicked and I sure do want another one, but that guy over by the jukebox was a total a-hole to me earlier,” Jared grits his teeth as he looks over at the man by the jukebox, a muscular man, large in stature. Even with Jared sitting, it is apparent his would-by foe is has quite an advantage of size. Also notable are they five or six men talking with him also notably larger than Jared. Jared does not seemed phased by the circumstances. “The bartender’s a buddy of mine, and I know he will have my back,” he says. The bartender, a man shorter and less muscular than even Jared hears this and shakes his head
“It’s a matter of principle, ya know? You don’t just bump into a guy like that and not say sorry. It is disrespectful on an unforgivable level,” Jared tips his Genny can fully vertical, taking in the last drops of the watery beer. Jared knows this is the moment of truth. It is now or never.
The man at the jukebox is now walking over to the bar. He comes to a stop, leaning on the counter directly next to Jared. Jared looks down at his empty can and up at the very tall, very physically capable target of his anger. He balls his fists and pushes his bar stool back, standing.
“Hey Paul, can I get another one when you get a second, “ Jared yells to the bartender before sitting back down.
Rochester, NY- It’s 6:30 Am and the room is completely quiet. Lindsey Salinger paves the way for the beginning of yoga class, The sound of silence fills the air, “Namaste, peace be unto you. You are a tree floating in the ocean, completely still and one with the world and one with yourself. “The class is full of the young and old hoping to forget their daily struggles and just connect with the inner zen or whatever shit they believe.” Lindsey says.
Lindsey has been making a living as a yoga instructor for 8 years and she is shocked at how successful its become. “I was just hanging out at Cobbs hill doing some stretches before a run and these ladies approached me and asked me if I was doing yoga and I just said yes! It kind of just went from there, I looked up some YouTube videos and every time I kept going to Cobbs hill, more people kept showing up and following me, especially men!”
“I went from humble beginnings in a park to owning my very own studio!, these people will literally buy anything I say because I’m fit and post pictures on Instagram of me posing in front of some hollowed out birch tree or some shit, while talking about kombucha or something.”
When we asked her if she has any other dreams or ambitions she would like to pursue in the future, she responded with ” I really think I would like to get into mechanical engineering, I mean honestly I feel like I can pretty much do whatever the fuck I want now, I have people paying me a $1,000 per yoga session and now I hear something called Rei Kei is becoming big? You literally just stand over someone and wave your hands over their body and say some Indian shit or whatever. The world is my fucking oyster.”
Lindsey then jumped into her pool full of 100 dollar bills and sank to the bottom, in a sight that can only be described as pure bliss.
So you’re voting for Syracuse Orange mascot doppelganger Donald Trump, good for you! I personally disagree with your very bad decision but let’s talk about why you came to this incredibly awful conclusion.
You have never taken responsibility for anything you’ve done wrong in your entire life! – What could you, protagonist of the universe, have possibly done to cause yourself any problems? Clearly you ended up in multiple failed marriages because food stamp recipients are using their funds on lobster and crack cocaine.
- Your dominant personality trait is being a racist – Whether it be comparing the president to a primate or using the term “towelhead” on a regular basis, you’re always prepared to make a group of people uncomfortable with your strong disdain for anyone who does not share your skin color. Friends know you as “that racist piece of shit who isn’t my friend.”
- You own a small dog – Trump has small hands, his fans love small dogs. Small dogs are often angry for no reason and their high pitched barking is similar to the noises heard at Trump rallies.
- You’re doing it as a joke – Ah it’s you, mister irony! Wouldn’t it be hilarious if we elected the guy capable of turning our country into a third world hell hole? Oh my god what funny satire! Voting for a hateful bigot with no plan and a boner for building walls is Louis CK levels of comedic gold there buddy!
- Someone offered you sex in exchange for a Trump vote – Listen I get it, you were horny and Tinder hasn’t been working out for you. You got weak. You called 1-800-FUCK-4-TRUMP. It’s up to you to make better decisions in 2020, if there is a 2020 after Donald triggers a nuclear apocalypse by calling Putin’s wife a fugly skank.
- You’ve been transferred here from an alternate reality where Donald Trump is a well spoken philanthropist whose fundraisers have raised millions to find cures for all major diseases – It must be very confusing to see the man you so revered being such an asshole. How can the guy who saved 1000 abused animals from being euthanized be such a monster? I don’t know, I would invest more time in finding a way back with Doc Brown.
- You’re Donald Trump – Why are you running? Ha ha okay you win we’re a bunch of dumbasses and we let the joke go too far. Please stop, we’re scared and we just want to be let out of the haunted house that is this election season. Please. Leave America alon
“I knew I’d be be getting with tons of chicks in college, but I didn’t know it would be this good!”Said Brad Brunswick, smiling from ear to ear as he sat at his desk organizing all of his Rohypnol into a neat pile. “Atleast 3 of them were semi conscious.”
Brad has become a legend amongst his fraternity brothers at Phi Kappa Phi Phi Phi Kappa and a terrible memory that will never fade for over 30 female students, a new record for the fraternity.
“I swear that dude forcefully drags home a different girl every night, I’m so jealous!” Said one of his “brothers” who refused to be named for legal reason
Brunswick offered some advice for any college student out there who hasn’t had as much success as him.
“All it takes, is a good attitude, a little bit of charm, and a sociopathic disregard for the effect your actions have on others.”
It’s true, the cold cold embrace of our yearly lake effect winter is drawing to it’s seasonal end, and with it many look forward to the end of Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), which can cause severe depression in many.
However, the grey malaise that generally, generously, and genuinely blankets the Rochester sky was an other worldly blue today, with a terrible bright circle at it’s zenith. Many locals were awe struck by this tiny ball that made everything colorful but also hurt to look at, with many experts pointing to it and screaming the “Fuck” word as they ran through the streets.
“It’s not a single shade of murky grey today!” one man yelled at a dog, scratching furiously at his own eyes until they fell from their sockets, “GOD IS DEAD AND THE SKY HAS OPENED”
Meteorologists have stated that this terrible light ball that frowns at our decadence and makes the world more colorful is just a “Sun” and that the warm feeling that you get when its awful bright touches you is “Sunlight”. Since this proclamation was decreed, the mayor ordered every meteorologist rounded up and put into the Manhattan Square Park Pyre as a sacrifice to this new and awful god that has deemed us sinful.
With any luck, the grey, murky, swamp sky that we all know and love will return to us, so as to rid our airspace of this moving circle of light and anger.
So you’ve matched with someone you kinda sorta find mildly attractive in a weird way on Tinder, awesome!
But wait…where do you go? You’ve already been to every bar on Park Ave, Monroe Ave, and even that one time you thought Murphy’s Law might be okay (it wasn’t). So where do you take this woman you will surely never see again except on another date at one of those bars? The answer is the following 5 places, where you’ll never have to worry about running into a previous date:
Wintonaire – Okay so this place is pretty divey, but it’s on the outskirts of the city and there’s barely anyone there ever because it’s terrible and the parking sucks. It’s pretty much an awful bar with no redeeming qualities but the same could be said about you mister serial dater, so just accept your fate and take your hopeless dates to somewhere that really reflects the true sadness that is meeting people online.
Wintonaire (again) – Wait What? Wintonaire again? Yes. Just take the next date to Wintonaire too. Who gives a shit? It’s not going to go well, you’re still thinking about why your ex left (it was probably the self hatred) and you don’t even know this chick’s name.
Wintonaire – Listen man, this is your 3rd date in 3 days. This chick openly told you her family denies the holocaust. You don’t have to even try to get her to come back to your place. But you wanna get drunk and the drinks aren’t expensive here. Also you’re not even going to try to sleep with her because you just wanna go home and get high. Why’d you do this?
Wintonaire – Fuck it. 4 dates in 4 days. You have checked out completely. There’s no reason to even date anymore. Pretty sure this one is actually a drag queen. The Wintonaire bartenders now know you as “that guy who keeps coming in with different sadder women.” You go home after and don’t even have the energy to masturbate.
Wintonaire – Tell your friends goodbye. Tell them you started online dating as a joke and somewhere along the line you became the punchline and now you’re on your 5th date in 5 days and you can’t even remember what liking someone feels like. You just want to feel anything. You just told this woman how exciting it would have been to die in 9/11. Order the pizza logs, eat them in front of your date while openly crying. Ask for a second date at the Wintonaire.