Such was the mangled rallying cry of Rhonda Berks, President of the recently established Van Gogh Society for Amputation and Art, just minutes after partially severing her own tongue. The Society—named for the famously ear-gifting Post-Impressionist—is founded on the principle that creative genius requires the willful, violent removal of one’s appendages.

“I USED TO BE TERRIBLE AT PAINTING BUT NOW I AM LIKE PICASSO OR ONE OF THE ONES NAMED FOR NINJA TURTLES,” yelled inductee Theodore Donaldson, 27. Donaldson was unable to answer my questions due to his recent double-ear-amputation, but did show me his newest work, “Kitten in Repose,” a crudely rendered crayon depiction of what appeared to be Garfield.

While prior training is not a prerequisite for admission to the Society, severing at least a minor phalange is:

“Yes, we have novice members who have only cut off, say, a toe, or a non-dominant finger,” explained Vice President George Banks, “But true passion demands true sacrifice: there’s a clear correlation between the quality of a member’s art and the amount of limbs he or she has chopped off.”

Banks then indicated a human torso leaning against a canvas.

“Kenneth here is definitely our most promising talent.”

Curiously, Banks himself is ostensibly intact. I asked him about this, but he refused to elaborate (shrilly insisting that he had “done his part”) and changed the subject to his most recent work: a full-scale paper-mache replica of actor James Franco.

I interviewed each of the Van Gogh Society’s artists, although some (including Kenneth) were unwilling to respond. Surprisingly, none of the members seemed to know anything at all about art technique or history, including the work of their namesake.

“All I know about him is the ear thing,” confessed Banks, “Wait, didn’t he do that swirly one of the Home Alone kid?”

About the Author

Davis Alianiello studies English at Muhlenberg College in Allentown, Pennsylvania. His play The Moustache is published through Playscripts and has been performed at high schools and colleges across the country. He writes short to medium sentences on Twitter.
 
 
 

“With all due respect to the original, this is not a remake,” Bub said. “From the title on down, this is a totally new concept, a little less mundane.”

Bub’s single, titled “Send Me an Angle,” tells the story of a very popular triangle who loses everything in a freak dinner bell accident. Reduced to being simply a right angle, the triangle is forced to lie in disrepair and ruminate on the true meaning of his geometric relevance.

“What if a right angle was wrong?” Bub asked. “That was the creative genesis to the piece. It’s a lot like The Wall. Only shorter.”

Bub was kind enough to share the first verse with us:

Bub honing his craft as an infant

Do you believe in isosceles? Do you believe scalene? Pythagoras lied, two of my vertices died, I have no hypotenuse. Send me an angle, send me an angle right now.

Asked if he had any qualms about remaking someone else’s work, Bub said:

“Does UNESCO have any qualms about reconstructing world heritage sites? Real Life essentially provided the cream filling, but I always felt they lacked the yellow spongecake goodness to make the song a true Twinkie.”

We asked Bub’s father, Daddy, what he thought of his son’s most recent endeavor.

“I think it’s like painting over a Michelangelo or re-writing a Stine book,” he said. “You can’t just mess with art like that.”

You mean Steinbeck?

“R.L. Stine, yo,” he said. “What the fuck is a Steinbeck?”

Real Life had no comment on the remake, but were sure to mention that they are available to fulfill any birthday, wedding or bar mitzvah needs you might have.

About the Writer

MVB once rocked the Casbah for over two hours until it fell asleep. He knows exactly who let the dogs out, but plays coy when asked. He’s single-handedly trying to re-introduce the verb beget into the everyday lexicon. A self-described “man of extremes,” he peaked in 1987, before turning his back on popularity, a decision that begat skateboarding and petty theft. He’s never been arrested, but he keeps hope alive. He likes gummy bears and long shadows and being right. He traveled to Easter Island on Christmas out of sheer irony. He excises a hefty syntax, and shamelessly promotes the color orange. His beautiful wife wins all the bread—he merely butters it. They begat a small child who he makes fun of mercilessly at http://manversusbaby.blogspot.com/.

Phalange continues: “First, you have a classic 80′s film that women from Generation X have committed to memory. Then you add the curiosity factor. Teenage girls want to know what is so great about the film that their mothers still watch on lonely Saturday nights, gorging themselves on cookie dough ice cream and Cheetos.  All you need for the key 16-35 male demographic is putting the movie in 3-D.  It doesn’t matter what the movie is about.  If it’s in 3-D, adolescent males will go see it. It’s box office gold.”

3-D makes it better

Of course, the conversion of the classic film to the 3-D format required a few minor additions. Dancers’ body parts have been (ahem) enhanced to pop on the screen, resulting in 50% larger breasts and 60% larger crotch bulges in each dance number.  Filmmakers also used motion capture technology to enhance Baby and Johnny’s super-sized “dance space” and “spaghetti arms” at key points in the movie.  ”Each lift and kick flies off the screen into the audience. Each bump and grind thrusts itself into the moviegoer’s lap.  It’s like an interactive experience,” says Jean Claude van Damme, director of the enhanced remake.  ”There are those who say you shouldn’t mess with a classic,” van Damme continues. “But we just knew that with these minor enhancements plus a few added fight scenes and an homage to The Matrix, we would have a film that would update the movie for a new generation.”

Jennifer Grey was last seen in the Witness Protection Program and could not be reached for comment. Patrick Swayze was last seen doing the pachanga in his grave.

Damaging photos of suspect in custody support baby's allegations.

Chicago, IL – A baby “blindsided” by a hardwood floor in his apartment publicly vowed to avenge the unprovoked act of aggression. “It just came out of nowhere,” the baby, known as Bub, said. “Hit me right in the back of the head like a two by four.”

Actually, it was a two by four. As is the norm in many Chicago apartments, the floors of his abode are finished hardwood, a result of the Great Carpet Shortage of the 1930s. Police had no problems tracking down the suspect, who was still nailed to the floor of the apartment.

“Hiding in plain sight, seen it a million times,” Officer Davis noted. “Backfired big time in this case.”

Police questioned the suspect for about an hour at the scene.

“Didn’t give us much,” Davis said. “Nothing, actually. What can you do? Fucking Miranda rights.”
Police do, however, suspect he may have had accomplices.

“Are you kidding me?” Davis said. “You ever seen a two by four work alone? Nope, always in splinter cells. Tougher to nail down that way.” The boy’s father, Daddy, was the only witness to the alleged crime, though he is regarded as being highly unreliable in general. He has also agreed to testify for the defense.

“The kid just fell over!” he said. “He was sitting there, got a little too exuberant with his rattle, and fell backwards. Cried like a little baby, too, I might add.”

Well, he is a baby, and an angry baby after hearing Daddy’s version of the events.

“Yeah, hey, sure, that’s a likely story,” Bub responded. “By the way, there’s this really cool new invention called carpet, cheap-ass.”

Police released the suspect after Bub failed to pick him out of a lineup of other two by fours.

“He hit me from behind!” Bub screamed.

In the end, all charges were dropped, though Bub has threatened vigilante justice.

“This isn’t over,” he said. “I know where you live. I’m going to make a bow and arrow out of you, and then shoot you with yourself!”

The suspect had no comment, as it is still just a piece of wood.

Photo Credit

About the Writer

MVB once rocked the Casbah for over two hours until it fell asleep. He knows exactly who let the dogs out, but plays coy when asked. He’s single-handedly trying to re-introduce the verb beget into the everyday lexicon. A self-described “man of extremes,” he peaked in 1987, before turning his back on popularity, a decision that begat skateboarding and petty theft. He’s never been arrested, but he keeps hope alive. He likes gummy bears and long shadows and being right. He traveled to Easter Island on Christmas out of sheer irony. He excises a hefty syntax, and shamelessly promotes the color orange. His beautiful wife wins all the bread—he merely butters it. They begat a small child who he makes fun of mercilessly at http://manversusbaby.blogspot.com/.

Brody Wu, 28, planned to surprise his girlfriend, Brittany Bender, as she dined at Wok N’ Roll with friends. Through Craigslist he amassed 50 local strangers who agreed to show up and perform a short dance routine to one of Ms. Bender’s favorite songs. As the flash mob dispersed, Mr. Wu was going to get down on bended knee and present her with a discount coupon to Kay Jewelers, where they would then go and pick out a ring.

But all that changed when three unidentified men, startled by the display, opened fire into the crowd, injuring at least seven people, including Mr. Wu, before fleeing via escalator.

The song, “Hit Me With Your Best Shot,” took on a tragic new meaning.

The wounded were taken to a nearby hospital and are all in stable condition. Mr. Wu, who was lip-syncing the words at the center of the mob at the time of the attack, escaped serious injury thanks to an over sized stuffed koala he happened to be holding at the time. “Mei Mei really took one for the team,” he said jovially when reached in his recovery room.

Police are unsure as to what provoked the shooting, but suspect that the three assailants were members of the Benzini family, a local organized crime syndicate, who assumed that the performance was a distraction perpetrated by rivals in order to make a hit.

“The song choice just did not help in this situation,” said Detective John Hunt. “I have never seen a Pat Benatar-related crime in my 35 years on the force.”

He paused. “Unless you count her haircut.”

“We wanted to explore the other end of the spectrum,” said Ms. Baker. “We’ve obviously already shown what happens when you get pregnant really young, so now we’re looking at what happens when you wait until your eggs start dying.” Show creator Emily Barthok, 24, explained that “ ’16 & Pregnant’ is like a train wreck you can’t look away from,” while ’36 & Pregnant’ will be “like a ride in Amtrak’s quiet car with, like, your grandma. Except–surprise!–she’s pregnant.”

Fans of the teen franchise should expect a few changes. For starters, the new cast all have their own homes and, in most cases, jobs and husbands. Meddling, alcoholic grandparents have less of a presence, as most of them are either dead or happily ensconced in retirement communities. Perhaps the biggest change, though, is that these moms failed to get pregnant after one-night stands in the beds of pickup trucks. “The women have been trying for awhile to conceive, so they really want their babies,” said Ms. Barthok. “There’s a lot less neglect. Which is disappointing from a ratings standpoint, but can be really heart-warming.”

“If this takes off,” said Ms. Baker, “We’re going to do a spin-off, just like we did with ‘Teen Mom’”.

“We’re thinking of calling it ‘Menopause Mom,’ ” said Ms. Barthok, adding with a grin, “We already have interest from Bethenny Frankel.”

There was initially some confusion as to the circumstances of the arrest, and now there is significantly more.

The couple, Charlie Coldwater and Delores Hahn-Buntz of Arcata, first claimed to be the owners of the shop when police arrived on the scene at 3:40 a.m.  Later, Hahn-Buntz, 44, admitted that, although they were regular customers, they had entered the store illegally, “taken a few bong rips,” and were trying to exit the store when they realized they were locked in.

Coldwater, 47, engaged the police at the scene in a circuitous explanation of how, since they were members of the collective, they were entitled to dividends, and as such, should be allowed to make withdrawals against future dividends they would earn through their continued patronage.  He also argued that the transom window that had been left ajar above the front door was tantamount to an “Open for Business” sign.

“I was with him for a while,” said Sheriff’s Deputy Steve Harlan, one of the two officers who responded to the call.  “I mean, if the dispensary claims to be a collective, shouldn’t the members be able to come and go as they please? But then he started talking about how no one really could own something that grew in the earth and he lost me.”

Once the officers were able to extricate themselves from the grip of of Coldwater’s seductive bullshit, they questioned an obviously distraught Hahn-Buntz, who had apparently called 911 in the midst of a panic attack.

“Ms. Hahn-Buntz was losing her shit,” Harlan said.  “When she realized she couldn’t get the door open once they were inside, she called 911, screaming that the ‘smoke was too potent’ and her heart was going to explode.  The dispatcher heard the words ‘smoke’ and ‘explode,’ and he sent us out instead of the ambulance.”

The real owner, if such an entity can be said to exist, is not sure whether he will press charges.

Photo Credit

That’s what Wayne Kesock (not his real name) replied when asked how his diagnosis with a serious life-threatening illness has changed his outlook.

“Being sick fuckin’ sucks donkey ass. I’m not going to lie to make anyone feel better. I’m going to die. Fuckin’ fuck.”

Four months ago, Kesock was diagnosed with an aggressive form of a disease he refuses to name.  “I’m not giving them  jerks who run the prevention campaign any publicity.  Where was my prevention? Dicks.”

A doctor at Kesock’s clinic – who asked not to be named after Kesock threatened to castrate him with a mallet –  has confirmed that Kesock does indeed have the disease and that his life expectancy is estimated between three to five years .

When questioned about Kesock’s psychological state, the doctor reported, “Normally people go through the stages of grief but then rally support and make the most of what’s left of their life – reconnect with family and friends, search out solace in religious faith or secular philosophy.”

And Kesock?

“Well…I hate to say it, but he’s really an obnoxious jerk. At the clinic, we wonder if  it would be better for everyone if he were involved in a head-on collision with a boulder. Or was crushed to death by a vending machine this week. Something.”

Other aid givers seem to agree.

In the weeks since his diagnosis, Kesock has threatened to sue a writer who offered to help memorialize his life.  In another incident, a Girl Scout troop that arrived with frozen meals was chased off Kesock’s doorstep when he opened fire with a paintball gun soon after a local priest who attempted to offer spiritual ministry was so shaken by his meeting with Kesock that the priest has since left the clergy to move to Nevada with a waitress.

When presented with his less-than-inspirational behavior, Kesock was blunt:

“My bucket list now includes armed robbery and starving a puppy. Bite me.”

Photo Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jupiter_jazz/10887560/