I've been writing fake editorials lately. Let me know what you think.
"CHEESE" By Kevin Lieber
The other day an old friend approached me with a simple question – “How are you?” I replied, “How am I? Not only am I gouda but I couldn’t possibly be any cheddar!” To most people, this would seem like an odd response to a friendly greeting. But coming from the leader of the Upstate New York Cheese Brigade it’s like a seig heil from the furor himself.
That’s right, my name is Luther White and I’m the proud leader of the 18th national chapter of The Cheese and White Supremacy Coalition. Normally, I wouldn’t get on my high horse and blitzkrieg readers with my opinions on cheese or the phasing out of white culture by minorities but I feel the need to respond to last week’s editorial by Jeremiah Vasher titled, “A Cheese Plate Full of Hate.”
Point #1: False information. The mission statement of The Cheese and White Supremacy Coalition is not to “eradicate all humans outside of the Aryan race while enjoying tasty marble cheddar” as Mr. Vasher would have you believe. Our actual mission statement is “strengthening the bonds of white culture while enjoying tasty sharp cheddar.” Marble cheddar is a mixture of mild and sharp and is one of the few cheeses not enjoyed by the Coalition.
Point #2: Skewed perspective. There are only two members of the Coalition that were charged with hate crimes. And guess what, Mr. Vasher? Neither of them was convicted. God blessed us with due process in these United States and thanks to lady liberty; we’re all innocent until proven guilty. Unfortunately, Mr. Ivory and Mr. Alabaster were wrongfully accused of beating a China man with a thirteen pound wheel of Gorgonzola. As a result, we were a man short in the annual White Supremacy Coalition Bowling Tournament and had to forfeit to the Noble Race Baldies from Kalamazoo. Don’t worry, Baldies; The White Stuff will be back next year in full force.
Point #3: Damage control. Contrary to Mr. Vasher’s claims, I did not legally change my last name from Blackman to White. I was born Luther J. White during a warm August morning on the sun-drenched hills of Milledgevillage, Georgia. My mother’s maiden name was also White but my parent’s family ties are no closer than second cousins or thirdsies. Many of you might wonder what a thirdsy is. It’s in the American Bible, look it up.
Point #4: Absurd claim dispelled. I would like to use this ink to once and for all squash the rumor that I’m allergic to cheese. This is a claim made by Mr. Vasher and many of my opponents and it has more holes in it than a mountain of Swiss. They claim that the cheese-related activities of the Coalition are used as a smoke screen to convert innocent cheese-enthusiasts into white supremacists. Why don’t we ask group member #1873 what she thinks about the group? “My life ain’t as bad now. And Mr. Luther is not allergic to cheese; he eats it all the time!” See? We’re changing lives for the better; one individually-wrapped slice at a time.
In fact, that’s our motto for the new millennium. We realize that the millennium turned several years ago but it takes time for an extra sharp motto to age properly. The Coalition is evolving every day. Recently, we began promoting our children’s album, As Pure as the White American (Cheese). Children of all the same color can enjoy these traditional American folk songs sung by Viking kindergartners.
Regardless of your views on curdled milk or the race-purification chamber I have in my cellar, we can all agree that Mr. Vasher was unfair in his attack against the Cheese and White Supremacy Coalition. It is now painfully obvious that knowledge is power in the struggle against misrepresenting large groups of people. Nevertheless, nothing can surpass the power of cheese.
"TANNING" BY KEVIN LIEBER
According to ancient lore, orange is the color channeled into the vagina to bring about fruitful fertility. So why not cover your body in a healthy orange glow all year round? Am I right? Of course I am!
I’ve been a loyal artificial body tanner as long as I’ve had a period. But recently I had an experience that could only be described as “totally ****ty”. As a result, I’m breaking my contract with the Tropical Tan Superstore and I hope it gets burned to the ground. That’d be ironic for a tanning bed to burn down, right? Is that what irony is? Who cares anyway!?
It was a week ago today that I took my post-lunch tan after totally pigging out on a can of Chili Cheese Pringles that weren’t even mine. Everything was business as usual while I winked to Tad, the sweat-wiper, on my way to the booth. Before I could close the door, however, Stacy Pempleton, the queen of the over-tan, busted in and had a total conniption on me.
She took out her chocolate truffle-flavored lip gloss in a vein attempt to cover up her charred lips and began berating me for always leaving my bag on the chair outside the tanning booth. “Can’t you read the sign or are your retinas damaged from the ultra-hot lamps? Oh, snap!” she said. I was like, “First of all, you can’t ‘oh, snap’ yourself. Secondly, you’re just ****ed because Tad lets me leave my stuff on the chair. And he thinks all you need is green hair and you’re sure to win the Oompa Loompa look alike contest. *****!”
Having felt like I won the battle of wits with Stacy, I put on the protective eye goggles and got ready for another awesome fifteen minutes under the UV lights. That’s when Tad came over and dropped the ultimate bombshell. It was totally like Hiroshima all over again, I swear to God. He tossed his sweat-rag on the ground, put his arm around the witch and said, “Stacy and I are in love.”
In love? I didn’t know gutter sluts and sweat-mopping Neanderthals had feelings let alone the capacity for love. Tad is just getting with her because he found out she was on the pill. And everyone knows Tad is always saying, “I don’t wrap it, I just tap it.”
What kind of name is Tad anyway? A stupid, moron, craphead name. Am I right? Of course I am!
So grabbed my Louis Vatone bag that I bought off a street urchin during my senior trip to New York City and I stormed out of that **** hole. I was so ****ed on my way back to work because I missed my tan session. A cold shiver raced down my spine as I could literally feel my skin getting paler. It’s a feeling I would never wish upon any suburban diva.
These days I frequent the Sunny Days Tanning Bed located in the Humphrey Strip mall on the scummy side of town. The décor is kind of bland and the early 90’s muzak can definitely get on your nerves. Nevertheless, it’s the place to be if you want to maintain your citrus epidermal shine and avoid skin-burned tramps and sweat-moppers with VD.
Oh my god, it’s almost time for my five o’clock tan. Well, I hope Stacy reads this and realizes what a useless whore she is and slits her wrists in a warm bath or whatever. As always, I’ll keep rocking my orange glow. For all you aspiring tan goddesses out there always remember to keep your head up. You want to make sure you get your chin and neck as equally tanned as the rest of your face. Peace!
"STEALING DOGS" By Kevin Lieber as Max Manning
Several years ago there was a group of Jamaican fellows wondering who let all of the dogs loose. Honestly, I’ve never conversed with a Jamaican fellow because they don’t live Passumdakeag, Maine. However, their bubblegum-techno smash hit song is an eerily accurate description of my latest cause to aid the unfortunate. Not only do I let the dogs out but I literally steal them.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “’Oscar The Grouch: The Greyhound’ didn’t run away - you hopped my white picket fence and stole him from my backyard!” Hang on there, kiddo. Max Manning doesn’t steal the furry, ‘bow wow’ kinds of dog. You’d have to be a sick Steve to pocket a pooch!
No, the organization I represent specializes in swiping hot dogs and giving them to blind people. It’s a little known fact that the mixture of meats inside a wiener actually helps stimulate the dead neuron receptors inside blind eyeballs.
Juicy, foot-long tidbits of information like that are what I like to call “Manning Facts”. These are facts that I invent and convince other people to believe despite alarming evidence to the contrary.
Just a few years ago, I headed the Rubber bands for Retards program. Using “Manning Facts”, I was able to convince a group of impressionable old ladies that six hours of rubber band stretching a day can reverse the abnormal effects of having an extra chromosome. Here are some examples of “Manning Facts” that have worked with varying degrees of success over the past eight years.
Manning Fact #302: There are no lesbians; only women willing to embrace that breasts are the most mesmerizing objects in human existence. This fact arose after spending a few nights in various lesbian bars such as Lumberjack Squats, Touchdown Tina’s, and the Hairy Lip. They’re Good girls. They work hard and they play hard.
Manning Fact #779: Estelle Getty was not only the youngest Golden Girl but also the only woman in the cast. Since the dawn of television, man has questioned the testicular fortitude of Bea Arthur. However, the infatuation with Arthur’s privates has only overshadowed the glaring truth about Rue Macclanahan and Betty White. They, too, have twig and berries. It’s a “Manning Fact”!
Manning Fact #002: Spreading profuse amounts of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter on an amputee’s stub will cause it to grow into a fully functioning limb again. I once watched a television program about twins conjoined at the face. Neither of them was missing any portion of their limbs but I was eating fake-buttered toast at the time. This was only the second “Manning Fact” I created so, admittedly I just made **** up based on little research or experience at the time.
Manning Fact #9,214: A lost race of anthropomorphic, suicidal potatoes slaughtered the dinosaurs and built the pyramids before fulfilling their suicide pact with the underwater-people of Atlantis. There’s no explanation necessary for this fact. It makes too much sense on its own.
Now that you have an idea of the profound effect that “Manning Facts” can have on your life, I assure you that stealing hot dogs for the blind is a noble and worthy cause. Perhaps if Ray Charles had some more miscellaneous pork parts filling his blind belly he would’ve lived to see his own Oscar-winning movie.
This is Max Manning reminding you to listen to everything I say. If you don’t listen to me, how are you going to know how to live your life or what to believe? Family? Religion? Hah! That’s not info-tainment! That’s just boring. And that's "Manning Fact #112,398".
"CHEESE" By Kevin Lieber
The other day an old friend approached me with a simple question – “How are you?” I replied, “How am I? Not only am I gouda but I couldn’t possibly be any cheddar!” To most people, this would seem like an odd response to a friendly greeting. But coming from the leader of the Upstate New York Cheese Brigade it’s like a seig heil from the furor himself.
That’s right, my name is Luther White and I’m the proud leader of the 18th national chapter of The Cheese and White Supremacy Coalition. Normally, I wouldn’t get on my high horse and blitzkrieg readers with my opinions on cheese or the phasing out of white culture by minorities but I feel the need to respond to last week’s editorial by Jeremiah Vasher titled, “A Cheese Plate Full of Hate.”
Point #1: False information. The mission statement of The Cheese and White Supremacy Coalition is not to “eradicate all humans outside of the Aryan race while enjoying tasty marble cheddar” as Mr. Vasher would have you believe. Our actual mission statement is “strengthening the bonds of white culture while enjoying tasty sharp cheddar.” Marble cheddar is a mixture of mild and sharp and is one of the few cheeses not enjoyed by the Coalition.
Point #2: Skewed perspective. There are only two members of the Coalition that were charged with hate crimes. And guess what, Mr. Vasher? Neither of them was convicted. God blessed us with due process in these United States and thanks to lady liberty; we’re all innocent until proven guilty. Unfortunately, Mr. Ivory and Mr. Alabaster were wrongfully accused of beating a China man with a thirteen pound wheel of Gorgonzola. As a result, we were a man short in the annual White Supremacy Coalition Bowling Tournament and had to forfeit to the Noble Race Baldies from Kalamazoo. Don’t worry, Baldies; The White Stuff will be back next year in full force.
Point #3: Damage control. Contrary to Mr. Vasher’s claims, I did not legally change my last name from Blackman to White. I was born Luther J. White during a warm August morning on the sun-drenched hills of Milledgevillage, Georgia. My mother’s maiden name was also White but my parent’s family ties are no closer than second cousins or thirdsies. Many of you might wonder what a thirdsy is. It’s in the American Bible, look it up.
Point #4: Absurd claim dispelled. I would like to use this ink to once and for all squash the rumor that I’m allergic to cheese. This is a claim made by Mr. Vasher and many of my opponents and it has more holes in it than a mountain of Swiss. They claim that the cheese-related activities of the Coalition are used as a smoke screen to convert innocent cheese-enthusiasts into white supremacists. Why don’t we ask group member #1873 what she thinks about the group? “My life ain’t as bad now. And Mr. Luther is not allergic to cheese; he eats it all the time!” See? We’re changing lives for the better; one individually-wrapped slice at a time.
In fact, that’s our motto for the new millennium. We realize that the millennium turned several years ago but it takes time for an extra sharp motto to age properly. The Coalition is evolving every day. Recently, we began promoting our children’s album, As Pure as the White American (Cheese). Children of all the same color can enjoy these traditional American folk songs sung by Viking kindergartners.
Regardless of your views on curdled milk or the race-purification chamber I have in my cellar, we can all agree that Mr. Vasher was unfair in his attack against the Cheese and White Supremacy Coalition. It is now painfully obvious that knowledge is power in the struggle against misrepresenting large groups of people. Nevertheless, nothing can surpass the power of cheese.
"TANNING" BY KEVIN LIEBER
According to ancient lore, orange is the color channeled into the vagina to bring about fruitful fertility. So why not cover your body in a healthy orange glow all year round? Am I right? Of course I am!
I’ve been a loyal artificial body tanner as long as I’ve had a period. But recently I had an experience that could only be described as “totally ****ty”. As a result, I’m breaking my contract with the Tropical Tan Superstore and I hope it gets burned to the ground. That’d be ironic for a tanning bed to burn down, right? Is that what irony is? Who cares anyway!?
It was a week ago today that I took my post-lunch tan after totally pigging out on a can of Chili Cheese Pringles that weren’t even mine. Everything was business as usual while I winked to Tad, the sweat-wiper, on my way to the booth. Before I could close the door, however, Stacy Pempleton, the queen of the over-tan, busted in and had a total conniption on me.
She took out her chocolate truffle-flavored lip gloss in a vein attempt to cover up her charred lips and began berating me for always leaving my bag on the chair outside the tanning booth. “Can’t you read the sign or are your retinas damaged from the ultra-hot lamps? Oh, snap!” she said. I was like, “First of all, you can’t ‘oh, snap’ yourself. Secondly, you’re just ****ed because Tad lets me leave my stuff on the chair. And he thinks all you need is green hair and you’re sure to win the Oompa Loompa look alike contest. *****!”
Having felt like I won the battle of wits with Stacy, I put on the protective eye goggles and got ready for another awesome fifteen minutes under the UV lights. That’s when Tad came over and dropped the ultimate bombshell. It was totally like Hiroshima all over again, I swear to God. He tossed his sweat-rag on the ground, put his arm around the witch and said, “Stacy and I are in love.”
In love? I didn’t know gutter sluts and sweat-mopping Neanderthals had feelings let alone the capacity for love. Tad is just getting with her because he found out she was on the pill. And everyone knows Tad is always saying, “I don’t wrap it, I just tap it.”
What kind of name is Tad anyway? A stupid, moron, craphead name. Am I right? Of course I am!
So grabbed my Louis Vatone bag that I bought off a street urchin during my senior trip to New York City and I stormed out of that **** hole. I was so ****ed on my way back to work because I missed my tan session. A cold shiver raced down my spine as I could literally feel my skin getting paler. It’s a feeling I would never wish upon any suburban diva.
These days I frequent the Sunny Days Tanning Bed located in the Humphrey Strip mall on the scummy side of town. The décor is kind of bland and the early 90’s muzak can definitely get on your nerves. Nevertheless, it’s the place to be if you want to maintain your citrus epidermal shine and avoid skin-burned tramps and sweat-moppers with VD.
Oh my god, it’s almost time for my five o’clock tan. Well, I hope Stacy reads this and realizes what a useless whore she is and slits her wrists in a warm bath or whatever. As always, I’ll keep rocking my orange glow. For all you aspiring tan goddesses out there always remember to keep your head up. You want to make sure you get your chin and neck as equally tanned as the rest of your face. Peace!
"STEALING DOGS" By Kevin Lieber as Max Manning
Several years ago there was a group of Jamaican fellows wondering who let all of the dogs loose. Honestly, I’ve never conversed with a Jamaican fellow because they don’t live Passumdakeag, Maine. However, their bubblegum-techno smash hit song is an eerily accurate description of my latest cause to aid the unfortunate. Not only do I let the dogs out but I literally steal them.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “’Oscar The Grouch: The Greyhound’ didn’t run away - you hopped my white picket fence and stole him from my backyard!” Hang on there, kiddo. Max Manning doesn’t steal the furry, ‘bow wow’ kinds of dog. You’d have to be a sick Steve to pocket a pooch!
No, the organization I represent specializes in swiping hot dogs and giving them to blind people. It’s a little known fact that the mixture of meats inside a wiener actually helps stimulate the dead neuron receptors inside blind eyeballs.
Juicy, foot-long tidbits of information like that are what I like to call “Manning Facts”. These are facts that I invent and convince other people to believe despite alarming evidence to the contrary.
Just a few years ago, I headed the Rubber bands for Retards program. Using “Manning Facts”, I was able to convince a group of impressionable old ladies that six hours of rubber band stretching a day can reverse the abnormal effects of having an extra chromosome. Here are some examples of “Manning Facts” that have worked with varying degrees of success over the past eight years.
Manning Fact #302: There are no lesbians; only women willing to embrace that breasts are the most mesmerizing objects in human existence. This fact arose after spending a few nights in various lesbian bars such as Lumberjack Squats, Touchdown Tina’s, and the Hairy Lip. They’re Good girls. They work hard and they play hard.
Manning Fact #779: Estelle Getty was not only the youngest Golden Girl but also the only woman in the cast. Since the dawn of television, man has questioned the testicular fortitude of Bea Arthur. However, the infatuation with Arthur’s privates has only overshadowed the glaring truth about Rue Macclanahan and Betty White. They, too, have twig and berries. It’s a “Manning Fact”!
Manning Fact #002: Spreading profuse amounts of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter on an amputee’s stub will cause it to grow into a fully functioning limb again. I once watched a television program about twins conjoined at the face. Neither of them was missing any portion of their limbs but I was eating fake-buttered toast at the time. This was only the second “Manning Fact” I created so, admittedly I just made **** up based on little research or experience at the time.
Manning Fact #9,214: A lost race of anthropomorphic, suicidal potatoes slaughtered the dinosaurs and built the pyramids before fulfilling their suicide pact with the underwater-people of Atlantis. There’s no explanation necessary for this fact. It makes too much sense on its own.
Now that you have an idea of the profound effect that “Manning Facts” can have on your life, I assure you that stealing hot dogs for the blind is a noble and worthy cause. Perhaps if Ray Charles had some more miscellaneous pork parts filling his blind belly he would’ve lived to see his own Oscar-winning movie.
This is Max Manning reminding you to listen to everything I say. If you don’t listen to me, how are you going to know how to live your life or what to believe? Family? Religion? Hah! That’s not info-tainment! That’s just boring. And that's "Manning Fact #112,398".
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