Cracked Archive - Extras
Stag Magazines were outlets for the frustrated masculinity of men returning from wartime only to find that their new foes were squeaky hinges and their most thrilling conquest was crabgrass. They needed excitement so badly that they didn't care if it was vicarious or insane. And thus entered the Stag mags: Their modus operandi was to commission an
- By Robert Brockway
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- December 07, 2011
Running, jogging, exercising or indeed, physical movement in general were all things that I had absolutely no interest in. The only way I was running anywhere was if there was a lion behind me and an ice cream truck in front of me.
- By Robert Brockway
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- November 30, 2011
Highlighters are not magic grocery store checkout scanners that automatically transport information into your brain.
- By Luke McKinney
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- November 17, 2011
I figured that in LA, I'd be annoyed by the enthusiastic cokeheads, phonies and traffic. And I am, but I wasn't at all prepared for stuff much more terrifying.
- By Robert Brockway
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- November 02, 2011
You promised yourself that this time would be different. You promised that you'd rein it in: Just have a few drinks, make some small talk, and then call it a night. This here is a modest Halloween party, homey, not some twisted Revelations themed boxing-orgy. That was last night.
- By Robert Brockway
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- October 26, 2011
Most funeral services are morbid, somber, serene affairs that are directly at odds with most human beings, who are ridiculous, flailing jesters, pratfalling their way through life. I say it's time to put the 'fun' back in 'funeral' and the 'felony' back in 'the cemetery.'
- By Robert Brockway
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- September 14, 2011
Pop culture showed me only three stages to love: Desperately trying to stumble into it, eventually securing it with marriage, and then spending the rest of your life regretting it.
- By Robert Brockway
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- September 07, 2011
'I'm pretty sure Mexicans enjoy things more than me,' I admitted to the man, picking at a cowlick of fine white thread jutting from the seam of his black leather pseudo-sofa. You know the things I mean - those stretched out chair/couches, like the limousine version of a recliner?
- By Robert Brockway
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- July 20, 2011
I had to admit I didn't have a more satisfying response. I simply didn't know why there were there so many Jews in comedy. My Hebrew school certainly didn't offer credits in stand-up, although I have to admit my Bar Mitzvah speech totally killed.
- By Gladstone
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- July 06, 2011
There are a lot of questions and answers for new authors out there on the internet, but they always seem to dance around the subject in the name of preserving some sort of artistic mystique. As is the case with all nice things, I would like to ruin that tradition. I'll talk to you about the publishing process honestly and unflinchingly, even when i
- By Robert Brockway
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- June 22, 2011
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