THE JMAC TIMES

Just a day after his NFL record 297 consecutive start streak came to an end, Brett Favre was involved in a fatal car accident while on his way to the Verizon store, authorities say. Allegedly, Favre was not paying attention to the road because he was in the middle of taking a picture on his phone’s camera and texting it to an unknown recipient. After running a red light, Favre’s car smashed into a parked van, killing Favre and severely injuring the 56 year old driver of the van.

“They say they’re going to have to amputate my legs,” commented Tom Davidson, the victim of Favre’s negligence. “But in all honesty, the pain and agony I feel right now is nothing compared to what that asshole [Favre] put us through every off-season. It’s about time that guy retired or died.”

While his fans mourn his death and his critics celebrate the end of all his bullshit, ESPN has been scrambling to figure out what’s going to comprise the majority of their off-season football programming, and who’s dick Ron Jaworski will suck next time he announces a Viking’s game.

I don’t want to sound like a Grinch or anything, but are you kids serious with this whole Santa thing? All you little people actually believe in this guy? Imbeciles!

What do you think those shaped block games are for? The round block doesn’t fit in the square hole, does it? Nope, doesn’t fit. Well a simple analysis of Santa’s obese figure and the shape of your chimney will allow you to deduct the following conclusion: the dude doesn’t fit! Wake up!

Additionally, your enlightenment about the Santa situation will be further progressed after an examination of the population of the earth in comparison to the size of his sleigh and the number of presents necessary to fulfill the wishes of all the children out there. They won’t fucking fit! It’s impossible!

Furthermore, the extreme absence of retail activity that would account for all of the gifts Santa makes/buys would bludgeon the economy around the Holidays, alerting major financial analysts to examine the source of this gap, which in turn would lead to some hefty tax evasion charges being brought on old St. Nick. He’s a thief! A dirty, rotten thief!

And while discussing the legal shortcomings of this mythical fat man, it’s important to note that trademark law violations would plague Santa’s workshop like the midgets that already infest it in the fantasy world in which it exists. Oh, you asked Santa for an iPod? Do you think Steve Jobs would allow an outside party to manufacture his products and give them out for free across the world? Apple products are price-fixed and the shareholders wouldn’t stand for that fall in revenue! It’s simple accounting!

Seriously, you little kids really need to get your acts together. Ridiculous. Just ridiculous.

So there’s a new website in the JMac Times network, which is pretty incredible considering I don’t really have a network. Can two websites be considered a network? I don’t know, whatever.

Anyway, I’m proud to introduce GladHesNotMyDad.com! It’s a site dedicated to bringing you pictures and videos of dads who you can be glad aren’t your own. It’s pretty funny, if I do say so myself. Which I literally just did. So that means it’s funny.

Mosey on over and have a laugh at some dads, and be damn glad that these dudes aren’t the ones who raised you.

Infamous Wikileaks founder Julian Assange, who was being held in a London prison on sex offense charges, was found dead in his cell this morning after reportedly being assaulted by a fellow inmate who claims Assange leaked documents about him and his boys to the public.

“Mother fucker was a straight snitch, na mean,” commented Thurgood Thompson, a gang member who is serving 15 years for the robbery of a Harold’s Chicken. “Can’t have no snitches up in here, dropping dimes on niggas.”

Assange, who was under heavy pressure from the US government after he leaked thousands of sensitive documents to the public, was apparently forced to cut off his own hair, after which Thompson commanded him to eat it. The hair became lodged in Assange’s throat, and he choked to death.

“I didn’t like that nigga’s hair, na mean. All long and white and shit. Shit looked gay if you ask me.”

Because of his fatal crime against Assange, Thompson’s 15 year sentence will now be lifted and he will be free to move into the mansion that’s been purchased for him.

If you’re under the age of 30, chances are you haven’t forgotten what it’s like yet. Some of you may have, and I assume that’s due to a stressful job or a crippling relationship, or maybe you just never knew what it was like to begin with.

You ever get asked by a significantly older person how school is going? Or how work is going? Or how whatever endeavor you’re on at that point is going? Your answer to that older person is going to be really fucking different than it would be if you were talking to someone your age.

“School’s going well. I really like my classes, my professor’s are cool. Been having a great semester so far.”

as opposed to

“School fucking sucks, dude, but I’ve been getting really wasted lately. Oh, and I’m fucking this wicked hot sophomore chick.”

Now imagine you switched those answers up when talking to those two groups of people. If you tell your mom’s friend that you puked in a crowded bar, she’s going to look at you like you just ninja kicked a puppy. And if you’re talking to one of your friends and gave them the straight, polite answer, they’d probably look at you the same way.

It’s like when certain older people look down on you for screwing up real bad, whether it be academically, socially or with the law, they act like they have no idea what it’s like to be that age. You got drunk on a Tuesday!? You don’t have any money!? You skipped classes!?

Um, yes. What’s the big fucking deal?

I think if faculty, teachers, parents, advisers, etc., just tried to remember what it’s like instead of looking at it through the lens of an experienced adult, communication might get a little easier.

Afterward: What does it say about my maturity level that I’m still drawing lines in the sand like this? Or for that matter, what does it say about my disdain for authority? It could also be my secret dream of moving to Never Never Land and becoming a Lost Boy, but that’s a whole different kind of delusion.

Facing another eight days of Hanukkah celebration was apparently too much for the now infamous actor this year, as he was found in his hot tub early this morning, dead from several self-inflicted gunshot wounds to the dick. Gibson, who always seemed to be getting tortured in his movies, in fact had a real life affinity towards pain, and therefore chose to blast away at his dick for a while instead of just shooting himself in the head.

The actor was best known for his movies Braveheart, the Lethal Weapon Series, and that one about that guy who can hear what bitches are thinking. Known anti-semite and raging alcoholic, Gibson tarnished what credibility and dignity he had with several drunken tirades against the Jews, finally reaching his pinnacle of insanity with a number of vitriolic and hate-laden messages to his former wife, that foreign chick.

As per Gibson’s wishes, he will be buried in the authentic SS uniform he purchased in a German historical auction last year. Just as his films will not be soon forgotten, neither will the irony that the sadistic and certifiably insane actor made his fortune in a business dominated by the very people he loathed.

Short answer: yes.

Hey, here’s an idea. The day after Thanksgiving lets start playing Christmas music on our radio station 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Forget the fact that we’re a classic rock station. From Thanksgiving until New Years Eve, we’re going to play nothing but Jingle Bells and Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer and that Bruce Springstein cover of Santa Claus is Coming To Town which may very well be the most overrated and overplayed rendition of any major American song in the short history of this country.

Thanks a lot, radio stations. You’ve successfully jaded me and every other sane person within broadcasting range to the should-be-joyful, but now torturous and aneurism-inducing garbage that passes as “quality” music. Seriously, if you can listen to Christmas music every day for a month, then you are nuts. Certifiably insane.

Everybody knows there’s only one good Christmas song, and that’s James Earl Jones’ rendition of The Grinch song. Fact. The rest of it might as well be U2: untalented, boring, lyrically and instrumentally insufficient, and for some reason loved by the masses.

I’ll never figure you people out.

Only 15 hours after the world finished celebrating World AIDS day, Earvin “Magic” Johnson, legendary basketball player and ESPN analyst, has died of AIDS. Strangely, the HIV virus, which was untraceable in Johnson’s system up until yesterday, woke up when it heard the entire world talking about it, transformed into full blown AIDS, and sent the one-time womanizer to the eternal locker room.

“It’s really sad news,” commented ESPN analyst Stuart Scott, “but to be honest, I was always a little uncomfortable shaking his hand.”

ESPN has not yet announced who they plan to hire as Johnson’s replacement, but it will almost certainly be another bald black man, or possibly an extremely ugly and bald white man, like Jeff Van Gundy.

“I feel bad for his family and everything, but that guy just won me a ton of money,” exclaimed Tony Kornheiser, host of “Pardon the Interruption” who happened to have Magic Johnson in his 2010 death pool. “Everybody loves a sleeper!”

Cryptomnesia occurs when you believe that an idea is genuine and new, but in reality it’s an old memory that you just don’t realize as such. A person will falsely recall generating an idea when really they’ve seen, heard or read the idea in the past. In essence, it’s unknowingly plagiarizing something.

The other day I had the greatest idea in the world: an iPhone app that tells you where the best public bathrooms are in whatever city you’re in. Gold, I thought to myself. Fucking gold!

Because how many times have you been in desperate need of a toilet out in public and not known where to go? You probably went into a Legal Seafoods or something, acted like you were waiting for the rest of your party, peeked at the specials, then casually strolled into the bathroom and ruined the place. Afterwards, there’s a good chance you pretended to be talking on your cell phone when you walked by the host to try and ease the awkwardness. It’s a scenario that’s been playing out since time immemorial.

Well what if you knew that there was a luxury bathroom in the lobby of the office building next door, just waiting to be destroyed? That’s what my iPhone app would tell you. It would solve all of the awkward public shitting problems that plague us every day of our lives.

But then I watched the Seinfeld reunion episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm again and realized that I stole it from George Costanza.

The iToilet. The fucking iToilet.

So this begs the question: how many other ideas have I stole? How many ideas have you stole? Chances are you’re a disgusting, low-life thief, but I guess if you never realize it, it doesn’t matter, right?

Either way, I don’t have time to think about it in any more depth right now. I have to go back to developing this online, social network I created.

Just days before he was due to check into a Pennsylvania prison on charges of tax evasion, Wesley Snipes was found dead by Kris Kristofferson in the underground, vampire hunting lair that the two men shared. At approximately 9:38 am today, Kristofferson returned with groceries and parts for a new vampire death ray he was planning to build, when he told investigators that he smelled a strange stench coming from Snipes’ room. Upon entering the room, Kristofferson discovered that the stench was coming from the dead carcass of Snipes’ career. Snipes’ body was later discovered in the living room.

Snipes will be missed by everyone except the IRS.