Still, we're certainly the guys to talk to if you're looking for advice. No one knows better than we do how to bounce back from a magazine crash. Though it's highly unlikely that you'll ever enjoy the same kind of internet success that we enjoy--our site boasts an award-winning journalist as well as that guy who did Internet Party--you do have the potential to be a real comedy force in today's world, just like Cracked! Though, again, and I know it must sound like I'm harping on this point, but we are not at all in the same boat. Our boat is substantially larger, a great deal faster and, if I may, considerably more sexually proficient. Your boat is a quarterly boat which, nautically speaking, is the worst kind of boat to be. Come to think of it, we might not even be in the same ocean as your (rapidly sinking) boat. Or maybe we're like some sort of sexy helicopter hovering above your boat, hurling garbage at you.
Yeah. That sounds more like us. But, hey, this is about you guys, am I right? You know what might help you bounce back? Make a humor website that... Oh, I see you've already got a website, so let me just check it out here. ... Huh. I gotta say, and I mean this with all due respect, but that is honestly one of the worst websites I've ever seen in my life. And it's not like you weren't warned. Several months ago, Cracked's most dangerous columnist, Chris Bucholz, pointed out how your little website was suspiciously devoid of any piece of actual new content, but you still didn't update it. Really? Really? Look, I know you still love magazines and the Internet probably seems like a big and scary place to you, but wake up. Every website on the Internet has more content than your site. For shit's sake, I have more fun going to Pepsi's website and pretending I'm in a shitty dance club than I do going to your site, and you're supposed to be entertaining. Pepsi sells soft drinks, but their website still tries to make it worth my time to stick around, because
Hey, do you guys need some money, or something? I feel awful, because I just have so much money and you guys... Seriously, do you want, like gas money, or a hot meal or something? Jesus. I wanted to cheer you up and instead I reminded you what a pale imitation of your former self you are. Gosh, I feel like such a horse's ass. (Oh, Horse, that reminds me: I'm buying horses for all the interns. Because that's where we're at. Cracked has horse money.) I really should just stop talking before I make this worse. Oh, but one more real quick thing. As different as we are--in terms of success, our adaptability with regards to the shifting trends in media, our superior sexual behavior--we do have one similarity. According to legend, longtime MAD editor, William Gaines, reportedly kept a voodoo doll in his office, in which he would stick pins, all labeled as various MAD "imitators" (Cracked, Sick, The New York Times), and he would remove a pin whenever one of these imitators would stop publishing or disappear. At the time of Gaines' death, there was only one pin left, and it was labeled "Cracked." See, here at the office, we have a couple of dolls, too. One doll, "Crackey," represents CRACKED. The other, "Wifey," represents the collective wives and girlfriends of members on the MAD Staff. Guess what the Crackey Doll is doing right up the Wifey Doll's butt? Come on, guess. Come on.
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