Category Archives: Humor

Straight Line Logic’s New Cryptocurrency! by Robert Gore

Money for Nothing!

Get In On the Next Big Thing In Cryptocurrencies! Straight Line Logic Announces the Bobcoin! Order Today!

It’s never too late to join the most stupendous trend of a generation, still in its infancy. Straight Line Logic announces the issuance of the Bobcoin, a Cryptocurrency that will use Blockchain Technology! Yes, that’s right, a Cryptocurrency that will use Blockchain Technology!

Here’s a chance for you to exchange all your legacy moneys, currencies, and debt instruments—precious metals, credit cards, debit cards, money orders, checks, traveler’s checks, cashiers’ checks, second mortgages, euros, pounds, yen, yuan, rubles or good old fashioned Federal Reserve notes—for the exciting, innovative, liberating Cryptocurrency of the future, the Bobcoin. Count on it, the Bobcoin will be the next Cryptocurrency they’re talking about at cocktail parties and bongathons.

Space on the Straight Line Logic server is limited. We’ll only be able to issue 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 Bobcoins before we run out. The pace of issuance is controlled by an algorithm written by a group of bright eighth graders in Mrs. Mendies’ math class at Baltimore’s Ivar Kreuger Middle School. Act now! The initial price of $1000 per Bobcoin can only be held open for a short time. Our astrologers project that once these treasures are free to trade in the Cryptocurrency market, they’ll rocket to $100,000, a 9,900 % return. Not bad for the first half-hour!

And don’t forget, Bobcoins are a Cryptocurrency that uses Blockchain Technology!

Yes, I want to get fabulously wealthy by owning a computer entry!


Home address:

Email Addres:

Asylum address:

Credit card number (Straight Line Logic encrypts nothing and has no security policy):


Act today and we’ll discount your first Bobcoin to $999!


Thank You, Mr. President, by Bill Bonner

Bill Bonner explains why he’s grateful to President Trump. From Bonner at

BALTIMORE – We owe Donald Trump a hearty and sincere “thank you.”

Not only did he save us a lot of money (see below)… but he also helped us better understand how government actually works.

What “The Donald” understood better than the professional politicians was that democratic politics is basically a form of entertainment.

It’s a sordid part of show biz – all hocus pocus… suspension of disbelief… and performance art – closer to nude mud wrestling than The Crown.

Big Dog

The press still doesn’t get it.

In an article that appeared in The Washington Post on Tuesday, reporters had tallied 1,950 “false or misleading claims” the president made last year.

We were surprised; we thought he had made more than that. And why not?

No one expects a standup comic to tell the truth. No one checks Beyoncé’s lyrics for factual errors. And who worries about accuracy while watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer?

Another article tells us that Trump is “mocked on social media for bragging” about his nuclear button.

Of course, that’s not what President Eisenhower would have done. But these are not Ike voters. And this is not Ike’s Old Republic.

Today’s voters have lost faith in the system, with its solemn deceit and its counterfeit dignity. And they’re happy to hear someone speaking in a language they understand – the lowbrow media patois of Howard Stern, the Kardashians, and “The Big Dog” himself, WWE champ Roman Reigns.

Trump, a lifelong celebrity, sensed that the role of president has little to do with geopolitical facts, mastery of the federal budget, or knowledge of history.

It’s more like a reality TV show or a WWE wrestling match – with put downs… posturing… and fake fights.

In other words, it was right up his alley.

To continue reading; Thank You, Mr. President

They Said That? 12/24/17 MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

From Calvin, Hobbes, and Bill Waterson:

This whole Santa Claus thing just doesn’t make sense. Why all the secrecy? Why all the mystery?
If the guy exists why doesn’t he ever show himself and prove it?
And if he doesn’t exist what’s the meaning of all this?
I dunno. Isn’t this a religious holiday?
Yeah, but actually, I’ve got the same questions about God.

And if you don’t know who Calvin, Hobbes, and Bill Waterson are, you’ve led a joyless life and somebody should get you the full compilation for Christmas.

The Corporate Socialist, from The Burning Platform

The Year of the Headless Liberal Chicken, by CJ Hopkins

Since the first tall tales of Russian intrigue, Trump’s enemies have been making idiots of themselves. From CJ Hopkins at

Photo by frank drewett | CC BY 2.0

According to the Chinese zodiac, 2017 has been the Year of the Rooster. Myself, I’ve decided to designate it the Year of the Headless Liberal Chicken. I don’t mean that to be insulting … or, all right, I guess I do, a little. But my heart goes out to liberals, seriously. At this point, the amount of utterly baseless, contradictory propaganda, mass hysteria, and just flat out insanity the ruling classes have demanded they swallow is more than any human mind, no matter how medicated, could possibly handle. Is it any wonder so many of them of lost it and started seeing Nazis and Russians coming out of the woodwork? Just consider what the average liberal has been forced to try to cognitively reconcile since the tragic events of last November …

First came the overwhelming shock of Hillary Clinton’s loss to Trump, a repulsive, word salad-babbling buffoon with absolutely no political experience who the media had been portraying to liberals as the Second Coming of Adolf Hitler. This was a candidate, let’s recall, who jabbered about building a “beautiful wall” to protect us from the hordes of “Mexican rapists” and other “bad hombres” who were invading America, and who had boasted about grabbing women “by the pussy” like a prepubescent 6th grade boy. While he had served as a perfect foil for Clinton, and had provided hours of entertainment in a comic book villain kind of way, the prospect of a Donald Trump presidency was inconceivable in the minds of liberals. So, when it happened, it was like the Martians had invaded.

Mass hysteria gripped the nation. There was beaucoup wailing and gnashing of teeth. Liberals began exhibiting irrational and, in some cases, rather disturbing behaviors. Many degenerated into dissociative states and just sat there with their phones for hours obsessively reloading the popular vote count, which Clinton had won, on FiveThirtyEight. Others festooned themselves with safety pins and went out looking for defenseless minorities who they could “demonstrate solidarity” with. Owen Jones flew in from London to join his colleague Steven Thrasher, who was organizing a guerilla force to resist “the normalization of Trump” and the global race war he was about to launch, which “not all of us were going to get out of alive.”

To continue reading: The Year of the Headless Liberal Chicken


Firing the Pre-Pubertal Arquebus: A Sociological Treatise, by Fred Reed

Fred Reed remembers a time when kids were pretty left alone…and they survived and even grew up. From Reed at

Today we will ponder America, a country, even a civilization, that existed long ago where the United States is today, but bore little resemblance to it. It will be like studying cave drawings, or Sargon of Akkad. Pay attention. The is original source material of historical importance.

I was there, in America: Athens, Alabama, at age twelve.

Athens was small and Southern, drowsy in summer, kind of comfortable feeling, not much concerned with the outside world. It left the world alone and the world left it alone. In those days, people in a lot of places figured this was pretty workable.

Kids went barefoot. So help me. After about two weeks in spring your feet got tough and you could walk on anything, except maybe gravelly black asphalt that got hotter than the hinges. Parents let you do it. Today I guess it would be a hate crime, and you’d get an ambulance, three squad cars and Child Protective Services all honking and blowing and being important. We didn’t know we  needed protecting. Maybe we didn’t.

It wasn’t like today. When your dog wanted to go out, she did, and went where she thought was a good idea, and nobody cared, and she came back when she thought that was a good idea, and everybody was content. She probably slept on your bed, too.  Today it would  be a health crisis with the ambulance and squad cars. We just didn’t know any better. I don’t remember anybody dying of dog poisoning.

Now, BB guns. We all had one, every kid that was eleven years old. Boy kids, anyway. Mostly they were Red Ryder, for four dollars, but I had a Daisy Eagle, that had a plastic telescopic sight, and was no end uptown. I was always aristocratic. Anyway, you could go into any little corner store and get a pack of BBs for a nickel.

To continue reading: Firing the Pre-Pubertal Arquebus: A Sociological Treatise


The Best Film Synopsis Ever, from The Burning Platform