State of the Onion Transcript

Onion

Mr. Speaker, Mr. Vice Speaker, My Fellow Americans.

We are fifteen years past the year 2000, the arbitrary year which is a result of a) deciding to start counting year zero at a random moment in time which some portion of the world believes to have some significance and b) using a decimal system that happens to result in zeroes when we count multiples of 10.

Yet, although we have advanced greatly in many aspects of life, science, medicine and technology, we continue to have a significant part of Americans stuck to beliefs that date to thousands of years back.

There is, for example, the belief that the long term impact of mankind on the environment which is heading to a possible annihilation of our entire species is less significant than the amount of money that goes into the pockets of a handful of overweight, overfed, overindulged individuals.

There is also the belief that the 1791 right of Americans to own a one-shot front-loading musket somehow carries over to a 2015 right to own automatic weapons capable of killing an entire school of children by a single deranged retard.

There also seems to be the belief that women do not deserve to have any right to make decisions about their own bodies, or that they deserve to be raped just because they dared to go to college, or that they should be paid less for performing the same job as a man.

There seems to be a belief that some people have the right to decide who others should love and marry, while they, themselves, would continue to have the chance to love and marry whoever they want (even though most of them are incapable of love, having never experienced it).

But these are all minor things, as they do not in any way impact those who make these decisions.

What matters, is that the Onion continues to add flavor to our salads, and it continues to make those who try to peel it the wrong way shed tears.

My fellow Americans, I am happy to inform you that our Onion remains strong!

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News Sense News is a satirical blog that aims to criticize and ridicule ignorance and narrow-mindedness.

It is not in any way connected to the Onion to which this article pays tribute because the author has deep appreciation of the excellent work this finest news source is doing in educating Americans of the issues that really matter.

Why does the New Year Start on January 1st

Roman_Feast_Table

Disclaimer: The following post, while factually justified by actual historic events (with artistic license for entertainment purposes), may be offensive to folks who take the story of Christianity literally. If you hold religious beliefs, or mind some relatively graphic language, you may consider not reading this post further.

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“I miss Caesar, man,” said Festus, senior senator in the Roman Senate as he picked up a large piece of slow-roasted bull collarbone leftover from the previous night’s feast. “He was the coolest. It’s been, what? 44 years since that asshole Brutus gutted him?”

“Who?” asked his friend and fellow Senator Zaro, who had been fiddling with an abacus which he had discovered to his great surprise standing unnaturally on the heavy wooden table among numerous dishes, piles of fruit, and decanters of wine, arranged to look as if they were flowing out of a large Cornucopia centerpiece.

“Caesar. Julius Caesar. Remember him?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Zaro distractedly. “Pity, that thing.”

“Well, it’s been 44 years,” said Festus.

“44 is kind of a funny number,” mused Zaro, flipping some of the abacus beads back and forth.

“How so?” asked Festus. He had taken a few bites from the collarbone, but seemed to have gotten bored with it, because he put it down and picked up a plate of chicken livers instead.

“First, it nice and symmetric,” said Zaro. “If you use the Arabic numbers, that is. Four-Four. Same two numbers. It’s pretty cool. I know we don’t use the Arabic numbers, but if you ask me personally, I think they are catching on. They’d probably be a thing a few dozen years from now.”

“Hmm,” said Festus, whose mouth was full of chicken liver. He was looking for a clean mug so he can pour himself some wine.

“In our number system, it’s XLIV, which I think also reads pretty cool,” continued musing Zaro, playing with the abacus absentmindedly. “X,L,I,V. Extra Large Intra-Venous something. Or, whatever you want to make out of it.”

“And third?” asked Festus.

“Third what?”

“You said first and second,” challenged him Festus. “Is there a third?”

“Well, yeah. Third, it’s the average age of a typical Roman male nowadays. We’ve got wars, overindulgence, venereal diseases…”

Festus had found a mug which looked reasonably clean. He poured himself some wine.

“OK, I’m convinced,” he said. “It’s an important anniversary.”

He took a large sip from the wine, and squinted into the distance. “Remember what his favorite thing to do was?”

“Whose?”

“Caesar, dude, our gutted friend we’ve been talking about!”

“Oh, yeah. No. What was it?”

“What was what?”

“His favorite thing.”

“His Calendar,” said Festus. He seemed pleased with himself. “Remember he invented that, and then he was so proud, and he was like, guys, let’s use this calendar, we just have to find a good place where it should start.”

“I don’t remember,” said Zaro.

“Doesn’t matter,” said Festus. “I remember. He said that.”

There was silence. Festus was contemplating his mug, while Zaro had turned the abacus sideways and was flicking the beads up and letting them drop down.

“I say we do something about this,” said Festus decisively.

“Like what?” asked Zaro.

“I say, we make him a saint, and then start his calendar. As a tribute.” Festus refilled his mug and raised it as a toast.

Zaro looked at a large hour glass standing next to the table in which the sand had completely ran out. “How long will that take?” he asked.

“Ten, fifteen lines of that hourglass. No more than that,” said Festus knowingly. He drained his cup of wine all at once.

Zaro sighed. “Whatever, let’s do it,” he said.

“OK!” Festus tried to get up, but lost his balance and sat back down. “Wow, dude. That’s some serious wine,” he said. “Ok, ok, so, here we go. Let’s figure out what the first day of the new year should be.”

“How?” Zaro was shaking the abacus and listening to the crackle it made.

“Let’s pick something that happened, something weird, so people remember,” suggested Festus.

“For example?” inquired Zaro, trying to spin the abacus on his finger.

“I don’t know. How about you leave that thing alone and fucking contribute an idea?” snapped Festus.

Zaro put the abacus away. “OK. Let me think,” he said. He furrowed his brows.

“Here is one,” he said after a few moments of reflection. “A kid was born in Bethlehem a few weeks ago. Mother was a virgin. That weird enough?”

“Tell me more,” said Festus. He was popping grapes into his mouth.

“That’s it. That’s all I’ve got,” Zaro spread his hands.

“Was the mother really a virgin, or did her dude have a really tiny…”

“Dikus!” shouted Zaro at a disoriented young man with a tilted helmet who poked his head in the room.

“Fuck you,” said the visitor, “I was just looking for the loo.” Zaro stared in his direction even though he had already disappeared.

“So, anyway, back to that kid,” said Festus. “Did the husband just jizz over his lady’s hoo-hoo and somehow his swimmers got in?”

“Jesus, are you full of creative explanations!” exclaimed Zaro. “How the fuck should I know? That’s their own personal business. And who the fuck cares? Let’s just say it was a miracle, and the gal never got any, poor thing, and still got knocked up anyway. Bottom line is, a kid was born to a virgin mother. That’s as weird as I can come up with.”

“OK, I can work with that,” Festus raised his hand in a conciliatory gesture. “So, do we start Caesar’s calendar on the kid’s birthday?”

“No, man, you don’t start the calendar on his birthday. You start it 8 days later, when he gets his pee-pee serviced.”

“Serviced?!” Festus looked perplexed.

“Circumcised. Snipped,” clarified Zaro. “They do that, you know.”

“Oh, right. The pee-pee snip day. That makes a lot more sense,” agreed Festus. He held his stomach and winced. “Yuck. The chicken livers were spoiled, I think.” He pointed at the empty plate. “Anyway, I think that works. We’ll declare Caesar a saint, and we’ll start his calendar on the day that kid’s dick shed blood. And everyone will celebrate this day going forward as the New Year.”

He sat back with a smile.

“That’s so totally arbitrary,” said Zaro.

“I know,” said Festus. “But it’s as good as anything.”

There was another silence.

“So, you happy now?” asked Zaro carefully.

“I think so,” said Festus.

“Good,” said Zaro, leaned forward and picked up the abacus again.

“Oh, one more question,” interjected Festus. “Did the kid have a normal dick?”

Zaro shrugged. “How the fuck should I know? Probably. If he didn’t, someone would have said something. It was probably normal.”

“Good,” said Festus. “Good, good. It’s all coming up nicely.” He raised his mug. “Happy New Year, man!”

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News Sense News is a satirical blog that aims to educate, criticize, expose human follies and, well, make fun of things.

Broken Elevator Ruins New Year Resolutions

Weight-Lifting-Workout

Several dozen members of the Thighs of Steel Gym in Brooklyn, NY, started their new year with disappointment after a broken elevator at their gym prevented them from starting the new year with a workout.

“Disappointment doesn’t even begin to describe it,” complained an animated Dina Cliff, a loyal member of the gym since the late 1990s. “I had been looking forward to this day for more than two years. I promised myself back at the end of 2012 that 2015 will be a year of active, regular exercise. And today, I found out that the elevator to my gym is broken. What am I supposed to do? Take the stairs?”

The popular gym occupies the spacious third floor of a large sports complex. The ground floor houses a swimming pool, and the floor above it houses basketball courts.

“I joined this gym because it has a large and convenient parking lot,” said New York resident Charlie Guttendobber. Most other gyms close by don’t have parking lots, and you need to park a quarter mile away to get to them. Who is going to walk a quarter mile just so they can exercise?”

Thighs of Steel has other amenities too. It features convenient moving walkways allowing patrons to commute between different gym equipment without the inconvenience of walking. There are also bellhops that help patrons carry their gym bags from their cars to the locker rooms.

There is, however, a single elevator. And when on January 1, 2015, it broke down, dozens of gym patrons got stranded in the lobby, unable to get to their planned exercise.

The gym is looking to urgently hire emergency personnel who can help carry patrons on their backs up and down the stairs while the elevator is being fixed. They are also investing in an infrastructural improvement of the building that would allow installation of escalators which can be used as an alternative if the only elevator fails again.

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News Sense News is a satirical blog that aims to, well, make fun of things.