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STOP BEING POOR
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Diner
Courtland Smock
EXT. DINER - NIGHT
There’s a dimly lit diner with neon signs and one patron visible through the glass. He’s drinking a coffee and staring off into the abyss.
INT. DINER - NIGHT
The patron, let’s call him CHARLES, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes as the waitress comes to the table to refill his coffee.
CHARLES
Can I smoke in here?
WAITRESS
Honey, you can do whatever you want to do. As long as my tip looks good at the end.
CHARLES
Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure it does.
The waitress grabs an ashtray from the host stand and sets it on the table. She flashes Charles a quick smile as he lights his cigarette and a cloud of smoke wafts over the table. He checks his phone and the bell hanging from the entrance door rings. He looks up to see a man in a tan duster jacket and a top hat walk in and promptly take a seat at the bar. Charles notices that he’s looking around suspiciously but doesn’t pay too much mind to him, after all it is late at night and the diner is in a pretty rural area of the town. The waitress comes back to Charles’ table and drops off his meal.
WAITRESS
Here you go sweetheart, does everything look okay?
CHARLES
It looks great, thank you.
WAITRESS
Well you just let me know if you need anything.
The Waitress walks back into the kitchen and Charles picks up his fork and is about to dig in when he hears a voice coming from behind him.
VOICE
Looks pretty tasty there.
Charles jumps, obviously startled, and turns around to see the man in the duster behind him with a giant grin across his face.
DUSTER MAN
Sorry… I didn’t mean to spook you.
CHARLES
Fucking Christ man, you scared the shit out of me.
Duster Man takes out a small mirror from his pocket, the kind that you see a woman use to fix her makeup, and checks himself out in the mirror before putting it back in his pocket and sliding into the booth across from Charles.
DUSTER MAN
You mind if I take a seat here, Buddy Boy?
Charles is apprehensive but he doesn’t really care enough to say no.
CHARLES
Yeah that’s fine just, you know, be cool.
DUSTER MAN
Oh I’m cooler than ice in a snowstorm Buddy Boy.
CHARLES
Okay.
DUSTER MAN
You know, those cigarettes will kill ya.
CHARLES
You don’t say?
DUSTER MAN
But isn’t that what we all really crave? The ability to control our own destiny whether to our own glorious ascension or our own painful demise?
Charles has absolutely no idea whether this man is going to start doing magic tricks or pull out a gun and kill everybody in the diner so he anxiously continues eating his food. Duster Man gets up from the booth and walk around the edge of the bar where only the servers and cooks are allowed. He picks up a pot of coffee and drinks directly out of the pot, spilling some of it on his shirt and jacket and letting out the slightest whimper.
DUSTER MAN (CONT’D)
Nothing like a good cup of joe to get you going, huh Buddy Boy?
Duster Man works his way back to the table and once again takes a seat next to Charles.
CHARLES
Look bro, I don’t know what your game is here bu-
DUSTER MAN
Wouldn’t you love to know the game I play?
CHARLES
I… I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.
DUSTER MAN
Oh but I think you do know what I’m talking about.
Duster Man gets up and moves to the same side of the booth as Charles, his mouth just inches away from Charle’s ear.
DUSTER MAN
Because I heard you like to fuck. Isn’t that right, TOM?
Charles’ attitude completely switches from one of terror and anxiety to one of confusion and bewilderment.
CHARLES
Tom?
Duster Man continues to grin at Charles like a cheshire cat.
CHARLES (CONT’D)
Yeah man, I’m not Tom?
The smile evaporates from Duster Man’s face.
DUSTER MAN
You’re not?
CHARLES
No bro, look.
Charles pulls out his wallet and shows Duster Man his ID, Duster Man grabs it and looks up at Charles then back down at the ID before handing it back to Charles.
DUSTER MAN
Oh, shit.
The two sit there in silence for a few seconds avoiding eye contact before Duster Man hops up out of the booth and sprints full speed out the door. He jumps through the window of a Subaru Hatchback before speeding out of the parking lot. The Waitress comes out of the kitchen and starts to walk up to Charles’ table.
CHARLES
Can I get my bill please?
FIN.
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The Real Question Behind the “Joker” Movie
Courtney Smith
Ever since the release of the new “Joker” movie there have been countless tweets, op-eds, and coffee shop conversations wondering whether or not this movie was going to be detrimental to our society. Whether portraying the Joker as a protagonist in this film was going to radicalize the incels of our current society. Providing a hero to the swarms of unfuckable men throughout our great country and incentivize them to commits acts of violence against women and the general populous. However, when I left the theater after seeing the film only one question was plaguing my mind: “Would I fuck the Joker?” Now I know what you’re thinking, “Courtney, the Joker is an anorexic, severely mentally disturbed, and unhygienic man who has killed multiple people including women who don’t want to sleep with him.” I understand all of that, but does he lay pipe? All women know the stereotypes of the men who fuck the best: They’re unemployed, don’t have a car, and usually have a couple felonies on their record. When it comes to the Joker he’s checking all the boxes, plus he murdered his own mother with his bare hands. Talk about a bad boy! I know it may come off as superficial and airheaded, but at this point in my life you have to find things that really rustle up your jimmies and the Joker has me absolutely soaked. Can’t wait to talk to the girls at Book Club about this, I would recommend you all do the same!
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M(D)MA: The Drug Infused Future of Mixed Martial Arts
Ron Southers
I have been going to the same boxing gym for the past few years, I roll jiu-jistu from time to time, and I wrestled in High School. All of these aspects of my life have lead me to follow MMA, specifically the UFC, for almost 20 years now. However, I’ve noticed that the interest in the sport from casual fans appears to have stagnated in recent years. I have one true revolutionary idea that could double, triple, or possibly even quadruple the viewing base for new UFC events: you give the fighters some pure fucking MDMA before the fights. I know what you’re thinking, “Ron, isn’t MDMA illegal in the United States?”, listen up you fucking retard: MAKE VEGAS LEGALIZE IT. Do you really think Las Vegas is going to stand by and let all the UFC events of the future be hosted in Amsterdam? Tough fucking bet chief. Now for the product itself, it would be phenomenal. Not only would you have fighters swinging at each other’s jaws with newly perceived invincibility due to the false confidence of the MDMA, but they also might start fucking each other. Can you even imagine the ratings if in the middle of beating the shit out of each other Conor McGregor and Khabib started sucking each other off? Just straight up 69-ing in the middle of the octagon while the crowd goes insane? 20 million pay-per-view sales EASILY. This is the one idea that can save this sport that I’ve fallen so deeply in love with, it’s time to make it happen.
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My Guilty Pleasure: ASM(Hard)R
Ron Southers
For the better part of the last decade millions of people all across our beautiful Nation have found solace and sleep from the soft whispers and tapping from strangers on the Internet. This phenomenon became known as ASMR, and quickly became a lucrative subset of YouTube’s ad based revenue model. Some top creators, or ASMR-tists, have been said to garner six figures a year. On the surface it seems wholesome and overall a positive part of many people’s lives. So why is this a guilty pleasure of mine? The only thing that really rustles my jimmies, the thing that gets my rocks off, the thing that absolutely irons my jeans: People softly blasting N’s. Hard R. I can’t explain it. It happened when I was in a downtown bar and my racist friend quietly whispered it to me. I felt a lightning bolt of energy and tingles go from the crown of my head down to the tip of my penis. That satisfaction level is somewhere between an actual orgasm and when you order a cocktail at dinner and didn’t realize it was half off until the bill came. Fucking nice, eh? ASMR technically stands for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response but as far as I’m concerned it should stand for Always Say Mulatto Reticently going forward.
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Going Sicko Mode
Courtland Smock
EXT – HIGHWAY – EVENING
A family is driving down the highway with bags filling up a mini van. It’s the FATHER driving, the MOTHER in the passenger seat, and three kids in the back seat. There is a toddler boy, a nine-year-old boy, and a 13-year-old girl (known as CHILD 1, CHILD 2, and CHILD 3 respectively).
MOTHER
Oh, honey there’s a little café about 20 miles up the road! We should stop there for lunch.
FATHER
That sounds like a wonderful idea sweetheart.
The father notices some commotion in the back of the car in the rear view mirror and interjects himself into it.
FATHER (CONT’D)
Hey kiddos, what’s going on back there?
CHILD 3
He keeps stealing my goldfish Dad!
CHILD 2
Nuh uh! I’m just eating some because I’m hungry!
FATHER
Now, honey you have to share with your brother. It’s important that you guys learn to stick together in this world. You never know when you’re going to need your siblings have your back.
CHILD 3 lowers her head realizing she might have been in the wrong and offers CHILD 2 some of her goldfish.
FATHER
That’s my girl.
The family continues zooming down the street and some fun family style pop tunes play in the background. As they happily cruise on the highway a semi truck can be seen in the distance. It’s gradually getting closer and closer to them as they move forward.
MOTHER
Hey honey, is that truck driving kind of erratically or is it just me?
FATHER
It is driving kind of crazy. I think I just saw it swerve outside of the margins a second ago.
Regardless, they continue on their way as the truck continues to swerve in and out of lanes. It gradually drives crazier and crazier before it’s finally out of control and quickly approaching the family’s van. The kids are all crying hysterically and the mother is gripping onto the husbands arm.
MOTHER
Swerve out of the way!!!
FATHER
I’m trying!
The father sees that there is no way to avoid a crash at this point.
FATHER (CONT’D)
Everybody hold on!!
The van gets completely slammed by the semi and goes into a barrel roll off of the side of the highway into a field. Pieces of glass shatter all over the field and van lands back on its tires with smoke pouring out of the front.
FADE TO BLACK
CUT TO:
The father is in a hospital bed with cuts and bandages all over his face and head. He has a cast on his leg, which is propped up, and an IV coming out of his arm. He awakens and with a glazed look observes all of the injuries he’s sustained. He sees a buzzer next to him on a bedside table and presses it. A nurse immediately bolts into the room.
NURSE
Oh my god he’s awake. Doctor! Doctor he’s awake!
The doctor bursts into the room as well and almost looses his footing he was running so quickly.
DOCTOR
Dear God. It’s a fucking miracle.
The father realizes something terrible has happened and snaps back into full consciousness from his dazed state.
FATHER
Doc, what happened to me?
The nurse and doctor exchange nervous glances as the doctor approaches the father and takes a seat next to him.
DOCTOR
Sir, you were in a terrible car crash. Your car was almost completely destroyed and you barely survived.
A look of complete terror comes over the father and tears begin to well up in his eyes.
FATHER
Where are they?
The doctor lowers his head in shame.
DOCTOR
We did everything we could sir.
FATHER
Doc, where the fuck are they?
DOCTOR
I’m so sorry.
The father begins to cry hysterically and grabs the doctor by his scrubs and pulls him closer, now screaming.
FATHER
Just tell me the fucking truth!
DOCTOR
(now also screaming)
They’re gone! They’re gone and they’re never coming back!
They both become completely consumed by emotion and share a hearty cry together. As they embrace, the father’s family walks in the room to see him completely losing it with the doctor consoling him. The camera pans down to reveal that the father now has a complete Mangina.
FATHER
(through tears)
My cock! My beautiful cock and balls are gone!
FADE TO BLACK.
FIN
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Yes, Justin Trudeau did Blackface. But who amongst us hasn’t?
Courtney Smith
There has been a whirlwind of controversy over Justin Trudeau’s recent leaked pictures showing him wearing blackface. People are calling him racist and asking for his resignation. I’m a white woman, so I feel like my perspective on this is definitely needed. I’m just going to say it: who HASN’T done blackface? Growing up I had many black role models. Oprah, Aretha Franklin, OJ Simpson (On the football field. What a hunk! Yow!), and many others. What else was I supposed to when I wanted to dress up as them for Halloween? NOT paint my entire face and arms black? I’m pretending to be a black person! Not only have I done blackface on Halloween several times, but in my hometown we used to have themed parties and Blackface Night was one of the biggest hits amongst us when we were teens. I’m not racist, I voted for Obama twice and I have a black friend so maybe the times have changed, but I’m not sure what the big deal on this one is. I don’t think Trudeau should resign and I don’t think he should even have to apologize. Plus have you seen this guy? Talk about a daddy. Even if somebody could convince me that him doing blackface was wrong, nobody could convince me that I don’t want to have sex with him!
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I Can’t Stop Naming My Children After Video Game Consoles
Courtney Smith
I’m a good mom. I pay taxes, I recycle, I vote, and I have 6 beautiful children that I care for everyday (when I’m not drinking wine! LOL). But I can’t help but feel guilty about one of my husband and I’s quirks. We can’t stop naming our children after video game consoles. It started off innocently enough. I became pregnant with a boy about a year after we got married in 1991. The second I saw his stunning blue eyes and beautiful cheeks one word came out of my mouth: “Genesis.” In that moment I was thinking about getting home and playing my Sega Genesis with my husband now that I wasn’t pregnant anymore, we didn’t know how video games affected pregnancy back then so I avoided them for 9 months. However, my husband thought I was naming our sweet boy after the book in the Bible and agreed. Now many people have judged me throughout the years for this in our Church and school community, but I don’t understand. I have always gotten Dreamcast to soccer practice on time, made sure that Playstation 4 has the newest clothes for her fashionable tastes, and we are even on the next round of braces with our twins Atari and Wii. I do what I can to make everybody happy, but ever since the tragic passing of Nintendo 64 I can’t help but think that people will never fully accept my children fully because of my obsession. I will never let them get to me though, I will NEVER stop.
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Yeah, I’m a Republican and I’m gay. So what?
Ron Southers
Everywhere I go people make assumptions about my political views based on my lifestyle. I can’t go to my local Starbucks or my local bathhouse without somebody telling me how much they hate Mike Pence or how Donald Trump is an existential threat to the LGBTQ community. I get it, it makes sense why people would think I share these viewpoints, but they’re wrong. So what if Mike Pence used to shock gay kids with 40,000 volts to make them stop daydreaming about cock? I need him and President Trump to keep our borders secure more than I need to get married. If these illegals keep stealing all of our jobs and raping countless innocent citizens, how am I supposed to focus on my next gangbang organized on Grindr? People assume that all gay people have to be Democrats, and that seems pretty discriminatory to me. Just because I have some guy named Julio blow out my back on Thursday doesn’t mean I don’t want to drone strike brown people in Iran on Friday. Us Gay Republicans need to stick together in solidarity with our President and VP and reject the DemoCRAP Party taking us for granted.
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