“And the bad news is this hammer,” I was telling the interns, when somebody suddenly kicked open the door to my office.
“WHERE IS HE?” The intruder screamed. Normally, I would assume DOB was just making another dramatic entrance, but the distinct lack of puns about my name being yelled suggested otherwise.
“TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF!” I replied, noticing that my intruder was both female and shirt-clad.
Thanks, sponsors!
“I SAID WHERE IS HE?!” She yelled again.
“I SAID TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF!” I replied once more, because I am not a quitter.
“Listen, Brockway. I’ll give you one chance at this and one chance only: You will tell me what you did with Ross Wolinsky, or I will be forced to take drastic action.”
“TAKE YOUR SH-“ I began, but was interrupted by her interruption.
“I’m not going to take my fucking shirt off! Just answer the question! I know you know what happened to him! What, you come out of nowhere with your stupid ‘Images That Are Awesome’ bullshit and Wolinsky just coincidentally is never heard from again?! Tell me the goddamn truth!” She was waving a pistol around erratically, the insanity-sweat sexily beading on her crazy-brow.
Nothing like a hot, sweaty, yellow-pajama clad woman, right fellas?
“You have a point,” I said, slowly realizing that Wolinsky’s updates had indeed stopped the second I came on board, “maybe it’s a company policy? We both have intense beards, you see, and I think there might be something in the employee handbook regulating beard output via-“
“NO MORE LIES!” She broke in, “just tell me why he left and nobody has to die tod-“
“INTERRUPTION!” I yelled abruptly, “See how rude that is? Doesn’t feel so good, does it? Now, lady, I didn’t do anything to Ross, but whatever beef you think you have with me, don’t drag the interns into this, okay? Just let them go…” I said selflessly, knowing that tales of my heroic, self-sacrificing nature would significantly increase the moisture levels in the secretary pool – which is already pretty moist, considering that it’s literally a pool full of secretaries.
We call them “secretaries” for tax purposes.
“What interns? There’s nobody here,” she said, craning her neck like an insane, deadly, large-breasted crane “The dolls? Are you talking about the dolls with the smashed in heads on your desk?”
“Oh, uh…” I squinted through the mescaline haze, “No. Nothing, they’re uh…my balls,” I said, trying to cover for my drug-fueled psychosis, “that’s what I call my balls: ‘The Interns.’ So, y’know…let ‘em go.”
A long, awkward silence passed as the confusion swept over her. I took the opportunity to alternately gesture at my crotch, and then shrug like ‘whaddaya gonna do? You gotta let these balls go!’
“Enough stalling,” she said, motioning me towards the door, “we’re going to get some goddamn answers. Where’s Jack’s office?”
“Whoop,” I said, “wop bop boop.” My mouth seemed to want to make Do-wop noises; I considered it only polite to let it do so. Mescaline is a hell of a drug.
Pictured: How I see most editorial meetings.
She sighed with disgust and led my impotent, hallucinating mess of a body from office to office in her fevered search for Ross. She asked Bucholz, but she couldn’t decipher that gibberish language he calls ‘Canadian English.’ She interrogated and beat Swaim half to death before she realized that he liked it. We left him bleeding on the floor, still insisting that he pay her for the “best afternoon of his life.” DOB’s office was empty – well, empty of people, anyway. It was filled to the brim with hastily sketched cartoon pornography and empty bottles of Mad Dog 20/20. We thought we heard a gentle sobbing, and saw a slight shift in one of the debris piles, but I guess she didn’t have the heart to check. Finally, we arrived at Jack’s door.
“Have you ever watched the colors bleed?” I asked her, “Do you…d’you think it hurts?”
“SHUT UP,” She cried, pistol-whipping me in the back of the head, “O’Brien! Open up, if you value the life of your employees!”
“I don’t!” Came the muffled response, “but you sound hot. So I’ll bite.”
The door slid open almost silently, and Jack stood there in all of his royal affluence; his purple and gold robe billowing in the breeze from his platinum wind machine.
“What do you want, lady? You’re interrupting ‘Jack’s Rock Hour,’ and unless you’re down for posing splay-legged on a white corvette, I got no use for you.” He sipped from his golden skull-engraved chalice, and flashed some horns at nothing in particular.
3PM - 4PM. DO NOT DISTURB UNLESS YOU ARE PREPARED TO ROCK.
“I want to know what you motherfuckers did with Wolinsky! There was nothing! No explanation! No goodbye! Just this jabbering dickhead and his retarded Cracked fan fiction!” She screamed, shaking me.
The wound on the back of my head throbbed with every syllable. The pain felt like…what? Like a C-sharp. That was it! Pain was definitely a C-sharp. So what does that make the feeling of my fingers touching each other? That feels like an E-minor, I thought, and I set about intently listening to the song of my physical body. Then I realized that 10 minutes had passed, and something was in the middle of happening. The girl sat on the edge of Jack’s desk - glaring seductively at me with all of her sexy hate - while Jack screamed into the intercom.
“Penny, any word from Wolinsky? We’ve an interested party up here that has brought up something quite…interesting. That was poor word choice, I know, but tell me: Has Wolinsky been in his office at all in the last few months?”
Penny is our secretary downstairs. She’s always had a thing for me, I recalled. General disgust is a thing, right?
“No sir, not since December. We sent an intern, Ted, to check up there, but when the elevator came back down there was only a doll that bore a strange resemblance to Ted lying on the floor. I felt compelled to take it home, and put it in my kid’s bedroom. Every night since she dreams of a young man crying in a vast white void, she says that…”
“Penny, goddamn it! If I wanted your life story, I’d watch the Lifetime Network Movie of the Week about it, where you’d probably be undervalued by your children, and an abusive husband would beat you. I will be that husband Penny, do you understand?! So keep your damn answers to the point. Nobody’s seen Wolinsky, correct?” I thought that Jack was making a move towards the girl’s gun while she was distracted by my sudden, inexplicable gyrating, but he was just refilling his skull chalice with that special mix of bourbon and Kool-Aid that he calls ‘Jack Juice.’
Jack Juice: Like this, but it makes you yell at children and sometimes you go blind.
“Correct, sir,” Penny replied, “ever since Wolinsky read aloud from that old book he found in the company cemetery, he hasn’t possessed a physical body to speak of. It’s been awful hard to keep track of him since then.”
“Has he left a message? A note somewhere? Has there been any suspicious activity?” I could tell Jack was getting worried now, but I was far too busy dancing to the orchestra of my feelings to empathize with him. Perhaps I could work ‘empathy’ into the next movement…
“No, sir,” Penny replied, “he had a package delivered to him on the winter solstice, and then nothing.”
“A package? On the winter solstice?” Jack sighed in exasperation and pinched the bridge of his nose. I finally worked ‘empathy’ into my Nerve Sonata, which my body physically interpreted as repeatedly thrusting my crotch in his direction.
“Penny,” he continued, “was there anything odd about the deliverymen? Anything…unusual?”
“Not really, sir. They had red, flowing uniforms. Kind of young and real innocent looking. Oh, and they were hovering.”
“That would be considered unusual, Penny. Did you not stop to consider that these ‘deliverymen’ may have been the Teen Triumvirate - the rag tag group of young sorcerers who FUCKING EXORCISE ROSS WOLINSKY TO THE NEGA-DIMENSION EVERY WINTER SOLSTICE?!”
“No sir, their I.D. tags clearly said they were from Triumvirate Delivery Services and…ohhh,” you could hear the realization sweep over her like Johnny swept the leg in The Karate Kid.
This is my simile. It may suck, yes, but I chose it and I will stick with it to the bitter end.
“God…damn it…PENNY! Now we have to do the Moon Sacrifice again to break the Ice Seal of Norgoth! Do you have any idea - any fucking idea whatsoever - how hard it is to get a hold of a Norwegian virgin with hair the color of driven snow, who has never contemplated lust or eaten of flesh?! This expedition is coming out of your paycheck, Penny.”
“Sir, please,” she began to protest, but Jack had already hung up the phone, whirled it about in the air like a lasso, then smashed it through the floor-to-ceiling windows. My God, he was mighty! I worked ‘respect’ into my Expression Symphony, which was signified by doing the worm across his floor, apparently. I idly wondered if the mescaline was kicking in yet.
“Dan,” Jack said to the closet, “come out, Dan. We’ve got a problem here.”
There was no response, just complete and utter silence. The girl twirled her gun about her finger. Jack waited impatiently. The only sounds came from the muffled impacts of my body hitting the floor, and then the rustling fabric as I wormed my way across it.
“Dan, this is no time for games. I need to you get down to the supply room and requisition me some vegetarian Nordic virgins. There should be three still on hold under ‘Wolinsky’s Reimbursable Expenses.’”
“JACKBOOK AIR!” Dan said, exploding out of the closet - all of Jack’s coats glued around his body as a sort of crude closet camouflage.
DOB: All the skills of a ninja, all the motives of a sex offender.
“You had me at hot virgins!” DOB said, his face peaking out from between Jack’s hot pink mink and his deep blue blazer.
“I didn’t say ‘hot virgins,’ Dan. You just get down there and fill out the ‘Blonde Virgin’ form, and make sure to check the ‘Vegetarian’ box this time. Last time you forgot, and that bitch ate a hot dog at the Calling Circle. They’re still scraping Swedes off the walls for a hundred miles in each direction.”
“Gotcha, Jack-a-Mole. One hot vegan; blonde on top, intact on the bottom. Comin’ right up,” DOB hustled out the door, his hangars clanking with every step.
“AND KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS,” Jack yelled at the disappearing figure.
“NO PROBLEM,” DOB replied a bit too quickly.
“AND BY THAT I DO NOT MEAN THAT SHE CAN WEAR YOUR PANTS WHILE YOU PUT IT INTO HER,” Jack clarified.
“Awww…” DOB said, rustling away. You could really hear the disappointment in his voice, which I attempted to channel into my Body Orchestra, only to find that I was no longer dancing. I was huddled in the corner, inexplicably wet from head to toe. I must’ve done something when I wasn’t paying attention to myself, but I wasn’t there at the time, so I couldn’t tell you exactly what.
“Brockway, pull yourself together.” Said Jack, picking his glue-covered rhinestone cardigan from the floor.
“Crazy bitch with gun,” Jack said, pointing to the obviously overwhelmed young woman, “I’m done pretending to be scared of you. I could take that thing away and feed it to you with a nice carbonara sauce and a side of mixed greens before you could say ‘take me, He-Man,’ which I assure you, you will. Now get out of my goddamn office. We have work to do.”
Pictured: A man who absolutely does not have time for your shit.
As she swooned to the floor, overcome by Jack’s infamous ‘Fuck You’ charisma, I staggered through the door after my boss, and up to the helipad. There was a long road ahead of us: We had a virgin to kill, an Ice Seal to break and a motherfucking blogger to bring back. His name is Ross Wolinsky, and come Hell or high water, he is coming back…
Epilogue:
Never mind. DOB screwed the virgin. Apparently, he thought it wouldn’t count if they both got into his pants at the same time.
This entry was posted on Wednesday, March 11th, 2009 at 3:00 am and is filed under Libel, Ross is the Zodiac Killer, writers. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
How Not to Deal With The Red Ring of Death
My Field Trip to the Large Hadron Collider
The Cracked.com Open Bar: An Incomplete Recollection
The 8 Manliest Images on the Internet
Why Fox News Shouldn’t Be Allowed To Talk About Sex (or I Really Truly Hate The Other Four Cracked Columnists)
6 Things I Hate About The New Miley Cyrus Song (Or Screw You Dan O’Brien — A Tribute To Dan O’Brien)
CNN Wants You To Hate Boobs (or My Cracked Family Is Just Tops In My Book)
3 Ridiculous Reasons Cracked Has Rejected My Articles
6 Reasons Shakespeare Would’ve Written For Cracked.com
Copyright © 2005 - 2009 Cracked Entertainment, Inc. All rights reserved. CRACKED, CRACKED.COM and the "CRACKED" logo are trademarks owned by Cracked Entertainment, Inc. All rights reserved.
August 18th, 2009 at 6:22 pm
mike…
Your topic Ireland re-visited | Seat24 Reseblogg was interesting when I found it on Tuesday searching for south beach vegetarian…
July 28th, 2009 at 10:51 pm
Holy shit, this article was literally perfect. I was laughing at regular intervals, but the “whaddaya gonna do? You gotta let these balls go!” gesturing was pure hilarity. This is the best article on all of Cracked. I love you, Brockway.
July 19th, 2009 at 12:33 pm
penis.
that is all
March 25th, 2009 at 8:43 pm
If Ross Wolinsky is not here, and by “here” I mean at cracked.com, where exactly CAN I find him? Has he meandered to a different area of the world wide web? Is he on Twitter somewhere? He must be found and returned! (I realize, I’m not staying in theme with the article, but I want answers goddammit!)
March 25th, 2009 at 10:39 am
oh but johnny did sweep the leg….remember this little conversation…..
“sweep the leg….”
“but sen-si(spelling?) i’ll be disqualified….”
“you got a problem with that mr. lawrence…”
“no sen-si”
and then he goes and sweeps the leg….and then instantly feels terrible…..
johnny screams ‘i’m sorry daniel…im sorry….”
daniel writhes on the floor in pain
March 19th, 2009 at 9:58 am
Johnny didn’t sweep the leg. I believe Bobby was ordered to do so.
March 15th, 2009 at 5:59 pm
I’m down to suck everyone’s ego cock under the following conditions:
Swaim is in attendance, dressed as an English gentleman,
I get to see another picture of Jack where he isn’t in a fucking canyon,
and DOB has to watch from inside of a closet.
March 15th, 2009 at 5:22 pm
hey, um, would you happen to have any of that mescaline left?
March 14th, 2009 at 7:26 pm
Silly ross…
March 13th, 2009 at 7:04 pm
dammit DOB! Your like the perfect ninja, except you screw everything up! So, I guess your not the perfect ninja…huh.
Get Ross back.
March 13th, 2009 at 5:36 pm
i want you sir
March 13th, 2009 at 9:40 am
btw… what did happen to Ross?…
March 13th, 2009 at 7:23 am
Wow, you have a gift! The show in my head was HILARIOUS!
March 13th, 2009 at 6:05 am
[...] Girl (CollegeHumor) Real men throw molten iron at each other (IHeartChaos) What Happened To Ross? (Cracked) Sexy Model Covers (Asylum) Doutzen Kroes On Miami Beach (TotallyCrap) Drunk British Guy Knocked [...]
March 13th, 2009 at 2:19 am
hilarious, one of the best articles ive read in a while
congratulation mr brockway you now have my attention
March 12th, 2009 at 9:52 pm
“There was no response, just complete and utter silence. The girl twirled her gun about her finger. Jack waited impatiently. The only sounds came from the muffled impacts of my body hitting the floor, and then the rustling fabric as I wormed my way across it.”
lol.
March 12th, 2009 at 3:50 pm
Gold….Solid Gold my friend.
March 12th, 2009 at 12:24 pm
i do love your retarded Cracked fan fiction, Mr. Brockway.
… and your beard. *for the record*
March 12th, 2009 at 11:39 am
I haven’t laughed this hard since y2k
March 12th, 2009 at 5:54 am
Recently, I discovered a hot place
http://www.seekingtall.com where many hot tall singles and models who like talking about fashion and love there. I’m an open minded girl from US, I also like playing with tall guys on it.
March 12th, 2009 at 4:18 am
tl;dr
March 12th, 2009 at 3:12 am
I love the “cracked fanfiction” comment. SHE BROKE THE FORTH WALL.
March 12th, 2009 at 3:08 am
Only one thing to say……Brilliant.
March 12th, 2009 at 2:05 am
You are HIGH, mister!!!
March 12th, 2009 at 1:13 am
DOB, that did not make a whit of sense, but I’ll take your word for it…
And I also like all of the Cracked Writers, sometimes they have off days, but most of the time I enjoy all of their stuff…
March 12th, 2009 at 1:12 am
Good stuff!!
****** Seek Rich. –c om ******where you can hook up the wealthy singles,sexy beauties. Find your sexy partner easier and more effective! What are you waiting for? Just sign up and hook up the sexy singles now! (18+ please)
March 12th, 2009 at 12:46 am
So when do we get to read a book of yours?
March 11th, 2009 at 11:56 pm
If Hunter S Thompson and the Lizard King collided with George Carlin and just so happened to have a tendency towards Norwegian sacrifice rituals.
You have a gift, as Robert De Niro would say.
Amazing, you’re legit in the Crackosphere now.
March 11th, 2009 at 11:29 pm
No, I think there’s a misunderstanding, the thing was, we were both in my pants. And it doesn’t count if we’re both in my pants, right? Like, you’re not technically having sex if you masturbate, so if you have sex with someone and you’re both in the same pair of pants, that doesn’t count, right? Because, biologically speaking, you’re closer genetically to being one giant person than you are to being two separate people, right? Sex comes down to pants and genetics, people. It’s all in the genes. And jeans.
March 11th, 2009 at 11:20 pm
When Robert Brockway smokes Salvia Divinorum…
March 11th, 2009 at 10:19 pm
I’m going to try some mescaline. Thanks for that.
March 11th, 2009 at 9:52 pm
That was fucking amazing. Seriously one of the best articles I’ve read here in a long time. That was DOB caliber, which is hard to achieve. Congrats sir, and welcome aboard. I’m saving your blog RSS feed right now…(My only other one is DOB’s).
March 11th, 2009 at 9:42 pm
Brilliant. These stories about the Cracked bloggers are always great, no matter which of you writes them.
March 11th, 2009 at 9:24 pm
Mr. Brockway, I FUCKING LOVE YOU.
You’re a fine addition to the Cracked bloggers, and fucking hope you write for a lotta more.
Guys like you make me come back here.
Ohh and please!!! DO A FUCKING AWESOME TEAM-UP WITH DOB!!!!!!!
My head almost fucking explodes just thinking about such a thing.
Well done sir, well done…
March 11th, 2009 at 9:06 pm
Stuff like this is infinitely better than the list-based articles. Keep it up.
March 11th, 2009 at 8:48 pm
I always love your tales of the office keep them coming, it actually makes me belive there is an office over there in america that is full of you guys drinking jagermister and trying to think up inventive ways to get rid of whores bodies. when in acuallity you are all brothers and you live in the basement of uncle Ron’s house. but seriously nice one keep it up.
lol
March 11th, 2009 at 8:06 pm
Dude, that was great “Cracked Fan-Fiction”. I think that was my favourite article by you so far…
March 11th, 2009 at 6:19 pm
Strong work. Not to take anything away from your talent, but I swear you were channeling the ghost of Douglas Adams there for bit. I can’t offer a better compliment.
March 11th, 2009 at 6:19 pm
tl dr
March 11th, 2009 at 6:14 pm
Commence Operation Ego-cocks
March 11th, 2009 at 6:04 pm
The biggest flaw I see in this article is that a woman was concerned about a lack of Wolinsky. Generally when the zodiac killers goes missing women rejoice and agree to go out on car based dates with their boyfriend again.
March 11th, 2009 at 5:49 pm
Reading this article while blazed out me mofuggin’ skull has been one of the high points of my life (pun unintended), and that’s saying something.
Thank you, Brockway.
March 11th, 2009 at 4:56 pm
That was one of the funniest fucking things I’ve read in a long time.
March 11th, 2009 at 4:00 pm
This was utterly fantastic. You, Robert Brockway, totally and 100% deserve your job writing for Cracked, and should in no way feel insecure.
The seeds of doubt are now sown, but you can’t blame me!
In all honesty though, I loved every second of it, apart from that fantasy explanation about winter solstices and crap. That was awful. The rest of it was the best Cracked article I’ve read all month, and I can’t wait till another of your colleagues vanishes, so you can write another mescaline-fuelled magnum opus.
March 11th, 2009 at 3:03 pm
@ BostonPatriot - Nothin’ bites like a Mad Dog. You just can’t beat blue raspberry wine in the morning.
March 11th, 2009 at 2:31 pm
emotional symphony…brilliant artcile, laugh myself silly
rock on
March 11th, 2009 at 2:21 pm
“I idly wondered if the mescaline was kicking in yet”
Just… wow! Hilarious. Loved your exploration into SWAIM’s sexual fantasies, too. Great article.
March 11th, 2009 at 2:05 pm
Matt K. I don’t agree. Anyone can write a bunch of crazy shit but not everyone can write a hilarious bunch of crazy shit. Therein lies the difference.
And I’m with Brockway; ALL the Cracked writers are hilarious. (I guess that makes me an ego cock sucker, but hell, bring on the Terminators.)
March 11th, 2009 at 2:05 pm
<– agrees with Potatopaste. Right on, babe.
March 11th, 2009 at 2:02 pm
The Nerve Dance stuff was totally priceless. Thanks!
March 11th, 2009 at 1:55 pm
I appreciate the nice sentiment guys, (those of you who had nice sentiments) but man, can’t you all just like somebody without bashing somebody else? The Cracked writers are pretty much all fans of each other, and if you have one you prefer over another, that’s great - that’s the point, different styles will appeal to different demographics - but you can still give what little, shriveled love you have leftover to the others. I don’t mind the DOB comparisons so much, I love the guy’s stuff. We have different voices, but similar styles. And as he pointed out to me once, Jay Pinkerton was the inspiration for both of our comedic styles. We’re drawing from the same source, just at different points.
Cool?
So, basically, let’s all just suck other’s ego-cocks until our vanity becomes so out of control that it becomes self-aware, and we inadvertently bring about the Arrogance Terminators.
March 11th, 2009 at 1:38 pm
I love these stories. Keep them coming!
March 11th, 2009 at 1:29 pm
Dude, your like… so amazing. I might come to your office and steal bad news right from your very grasp…yes that would be nice, clearly ironic when you find out and i would have a hammer with which to forge a sword which you may carry at your side. Lead on great king, lead on my fair Brockway.
March 11th, 2009 at 1:25 pm
I’m not cool with people comparing Brockway to DOB. The difference is a lack of blue collar drunken Irish thick-skullery. Brockway has a more well rounded pool of comical resources in which to f[l]ap his little Jolly Rogered Dinghy. I mean, he’s still a “bearded” hipster, but at least he’s not a leprechaun.
What I’m trying to say is, Brockway’s work is standard issue awesome.
March 11th, 2009 at 1:15 pm
Hilarious! Made me laugh more than any article on here has done in a long time
The hard-to-come-by non-cannibalistic Norwegian virgin thing was spot on. You have to go to Sweden for that…
March 11th, 2009 at 1:11 pm
“And, Scrovak, her name is Alice and she attends Auburn University.”
Hell yeah!!!! WAR FUCKING EAGLE!!!!!!!!
Oh, Yeah, pretty funny article too!
March 11th, 2009 at 1:09 pm
This was not a good article…
March 11th, 2009 at 1:07 pm
really? This article was imaginative, but not funny. anyone can write a bunch of crazy shit happening.
March 11th, 2009 at 1:07 pm
The Cracked staff might as well move thier office to Mt. Olympus, for they are gods among men. *bow*
March 11th, 2009 at 1:07 pm
Awesome stuff!
March 11th, 2009 at 1:05 pm
I love these stories alot. Keep up the good work or ILL come down there.
March 11th, 2009 at 12:52 pm
I love these stories.
These could be a TV show, or a cartoon. I would watch the insane weekly adventures of the Cracked staff as they battle the supernatural, go on perilous adventures, act disrespectful towards women, with JUST enough time to spare at the end of the day to write a list of “Top 10 Things That Look Like Penises.”
March 11th, 2009 at 12:39 pm
I Love This So Much!!! I agree, it should be a series. Indiana Brockway….D.O.B can be your Shia-esque sidekick
March 11th, 2009 at 12:30 pm
Wow, that was funny.
March 11th, 2009 at 12:30 pm
Brockway. My God, is he mighty!
March 11th, 2009 at 12:19 pm
I liked the parts with the words. And also the picture portions were good.
March 11th, 2009 at 12:00 pm
YOU BASTARD!!
you made my ribs hurt from laughing to much
March 11th, 2009 at 11:41 am
I thought it was pretty good.
March 11th, 2009 at 11:10 am
epic
March 11th, 2009 at 11:04 am
Brockway, you clever shrew! You always know how to make me laugh. Although you must tell us how you can channel D.O.B.’s insanity for these articles.
March 11th, 2009 at 10:49 am
Yeah that reference to the intern article made me literally laugh crazily XD
And “Jack Juice: Like this, but it makes you yell at children and sometimes you go blind.” HeeHee…
March 11th, 2009 at 10:45 am
Well, I’m not going to pay you for the best afternoon of my life as Swaim did with his temporary and unexpected dominatrix, but it was a worthwile and funny read.
March 11th, 2009 at 10:43 am
Goddammit I was so looking forward to a whole series of these, where Brockway takes a different drug for each ‘episode’, like acid for the one where must go to South America for some reason, and herion when you go to Afghanistan to steal The Magic Ball Of Something Or Other
March 11th, 2009 at 10:37 am
well, there is always gladiator style coliseum housed battle royals among bloggers.
i heard they did that among all the applicants when CRACKED was first starting out…
March 11th, 2009 at 10:37 am
You lost me somewhere right after the snorg ad pic…
March 11th, 2009 at 10:34 am
Starting off with a reference to the intern article had me laughing immediately.
March 11th, 2009 at 10:30 am
Very funny but confusing.
I’ll read again tomorrow when the mescaline has cooled of.
March 11th, 2009 at 10:29 am
Sounds a lot like Hunter S. Thompson, extremely funny. Stay on the drugs!
March 11th, 2009 at 10:20 am
gonddamnit DOB…. goddamnit
March 11th, 2009 at 10:09 am
I heard he’s on maternity leave.
March 11th, 2009 at 10:00 am
Also, I miss Ross. I’ve had to make Mr. Greengoddess grow a beard and read Ross’s past blogs to me.
March 11th, 2009 at 9:57 am
“Then I realized that 10 minutes had passed, and something was in the middle of happening.” This line is just so funny to me…
March 11th, 2009 at 9:48 am
Those Snorgtee models get me through the week.
March 11th, 2009 at 9:44 am
That was fabulous.
March 11th, 2009 at 9:34 am
I homosexually love you, Brockway.
March 11th, 2009 at 9:26 am
Hey, maybe that RichFriends.org site has a few Norwegian vegan virgins up for grabs. Good stuff…uh…good stuff.
March 11th, 2009 at 9:21 am
Suddently I no longer hate this guy. This is some masterclass absurd work. With the the right amount of “batshit insane”
March 11th, 2009 at 9:16 am
Way to go DOB! That’ll teach thumb-Jack not to get your hopes up
March 11th, 2009 at 9:15 am
Oh god I was trying so hard to not hysterically laugh out loud…being (unproductive) at work and all.
Fucking hilarious writing Brockaway, I loved it. Made my goddamn day.
March 11th, 2009 at 9:14 am
good shit
March 11th, 2009 at 8:38 am
I heterosexually love you, Brockway.
March 11th, 2009 at 8:16 am
OMG~ CAN NOT BELIEVE IT!!
___ RichFriends.org _____where you can hook up the wealthy singles,sexy beauties. Find your sexy partner easier and more effective! What are you waiting for? Just sign up and hook up the sexy singles now! (18+ please)
March 11th, 2009 at 8:11 am
I can’t believe I read half of it
March 11th, 2009 at 8:01 am
MD 20/20 mmmmmmmmm delicious
March 11th, 2009 at 7:56 am
This was funny like cancer is funny.
March 11th, 2009 at 7:54 am
Awesome. Purely awesome.
March 11th, 2009 at 7:49 am
Confidence and a Marlboro 100. I like it.
March 11th, 2009 at 7:21 am
I don’t know what everyone is complaining about I thought this shit was funny as all fuck. The part that got me was the DOB thing. “DOB: All the skills of a ninja, all the motives of a sex offender” that shit killed it fucking laughed my ass off
March 11th, 2009 at 7:15 am
Didn’t read the article. To busy staring at the chick at the top of the article with the “Streaking” shirt on and just praying that she would take it off…
March 11th, 2009 at 7:13 am
JESUS CRYST that was the most awesome piece of literature i have ever sat my eyes on
Brockway Rock away you are totaly fucking METAL
March 11th, 2009 at 6:58 am
Dear Mr. Brockway,
You used to write funny articles. What happened?
Sincerely,
The Internet.
March 11th, 2009 at 6:41 am
@DoctorChaos
Your fail is fail, and has therefore failed at failing.
March 11th, 2009 at 6:29 am
I thought it was fucking hilarious. Just the idea of some frazzled writer with far to much beard for this decade yelling at dolls in his office while tripping on mescaline had me rolling on the floor.
March 11th, 2009 at 6:27 am
Badass man.
“AND BY THAT I DO NOT MEAN THAT SHE CAN WEAR YOUR PANTS WHILE YOU PUT IT INTO HER,”
I wanna try that.
March 11th, 2009 at 5:54 am
FAIL
Go read Bucholz’ Ken article and take notes.
THAT”S funny.
This is a Selley’s post, cos its just a boring space filler.
March 11th, 2009 at 5:42 am
Hopefully Ross and his indefinite hiatus (which damned well better be Cracked code for “he’ll be back next week”) is proud of such a glorious depiction of the heroics that have been displayed in an attempt to save him.
March 11th, 2009 at 5:37 am
“I began, but was interrupted by her interruption.” I hate it when redundant redundancies occur. As well i was inspired to find my own body orchestra soon after reading. My one comment to that, is practice before doing any type of “moves from the hips” movement while in the middle of work. Apparently the gyrations of a amateur and little practice only provokes distilled hatred and oddball looks in your direction.
March 11th, 2009 at 5:36 am
I’m not that into it, but I would SO pay to watch that interpretive dance! And how much extra for the ‘missing’ minutes that ended with you sweating up a storm?
March 11th, 2009 at 5:10 am
Terrific stuff.
March 11th, 2009 at 5:05 am
I liked this one
I miss posts like this, they seem rarer this year than the last.
March 11th, 2009 at 5:04 am
So… what the hell DID happen to Ross? This still leaves questions!
DAMN YOU, BROCKWAY!
March 11th, 2009 at 4:44 am
i stopped reading as soon as i saw the snorg tee girl. i can’t stand her. And, Scrovak, her name is Alice and she attends Auburn University.
March 11th, 2009 at 4:36 am
Originally, I doubted your value as a blogger, Brockway. I figured you were just here to write your Cracked fanfiction, as I though to myself. Then you used the exact same phrase, and made it all forgivable. Don’t know why noting a potential flaw excuses it, but there you go.
March 11th, 2009 at 3:58 am
This was, perhaps, the greatest explanation of anything in the history of ever. When Ross does pop up again, we may have to kill him just to get you to describe it.
March 11th, 2009 at 3:53 am
Seriously, does anyone have a name for that Snorg Tees chick?
March 11th, 2009 at 3:33 am
Make a film about this, now. I want to see it. Hell, I think I did, in glorious Hunter S. mode, inside my head. It’s time Cracked got out of this cesspool called the internet and started doing film. I mean mainstream release, but no real actors. Just you lot. Can you do it on $7.50? I guarantee I’ll go and see it, and then you’ve covered your costs…then I’ll throw in your profit margin. Popcorn.
March 11th, 2009 at 3:32 am
Ok…that was hilarious. You’d say the pool of Jackonyms would be empty by now (guess not)! I would’ve expected that this was the start of a trilogy to bring back ross…
Anyway, before anyone starts bitching about Ross, go read the comments in the cracked liveblog of the oscars.
There they clarified that Ross is on an “indefinite Hiatus”.
March 11th, 2009 at 3:32 am
“DOB: All the skills of a ninja, all the motives of a sex offender.”
And this is why I read Cracked; great work.
March 11th, 2009 at 3:24 am
ha now that was funny you just gotta love these “around the office” stories they never fail to disappoint.
March 11th, 2009 at 3:24 am
Good One!
Keep up the rofltastic work
Also
Rofltastic is a word.
In my head.
March 11th, 2009 at 3:23 am
Fucking hilarious, laughed so hard. lucky im alone or I would of got some powerful funny looks