Greetings ladies and gentlemen! It's about that time of year to clean out our closets and attics of all the unnecessary clutter which is just gathering dust. No, I'm not talking about the dead prostitutes (although they are starting to get ripe), I'm talking about selling off our unwanted items in a event as old as civilization itself: the yard sale! The brain trust here at SA have been scrambling to try to come up with a temporary solution to our horrendous money problems due to the cost of Lowtax's elaborate southern plantations, solid gold machine gun collection, and the throngs of young nubile servant boys to collect the never ending beads of sweat from his body in pure crystal vials to be stored in a massive storage freezer, preserving it for future generations to enjoy and cherish. We decided that a yard sale would be the wisest course of action, and we really didn't feel like "brainstorming" a better one. So each contributor at SA was asked to donate items they wished to get rid of, making them open to the public market. We hope that this will not only line our pockets with riches, but also clear the piles of crap filling the hallways of the Something Awful Ultra-Super Secret HQ located in a hollowed-out volcano somewhere in the Pacific. The HQ may sound cool, but it's only a tiny 2,400 square foot cave with cubicals, because carving out a volcano turned out to be really hard, forcing us to give up after a few weeks and sit around eating coconuts instead.
So are you ready for some crazy bargains at low, low prices? These prices are so low that they're legally insane in 40 states! When I told my grandpa about these low prices, he called me a dirty Communist and fell down the stairs, breaking his hip in 3 places! Everything must go!
Item # 334
I'll kick things off by offering one of my own items for sale. This hand crafted monkey toy was extremely popular in the early 1950's, rivaling such fads as the hula-hoop and the atomic bomb. This is clearly an upper class toy that was probably owned by a lad of great influence and wealth. In the mid-70's, ownership of the monkey was transferred to Rodger Earl, drummer of the legendary band, Foghat. While driving down a lonely desert road on a coke binge, Earl slammed into an old Indian woman that happened to be crossing the street. She was killed instantly, and her soul was transferred to the little toy monkey, who was riding shotgun at the time. Since then, this toy has been cursed by the tormented soul of the old woman. Rodger Earl kept it because it was "far out", and a great centerpiece at parties, often locking it in closets with frightened, drugged up bimbos to everyone's chagrin. Since I acquired this evil toy after meeting Earl backstage in a '92 concert, it has made my life a living hell. I got bad grades, girls wouldn't talk to me, and I had terrible skin problems. There can be no explanation for it, except the cursed toy, I'm sure of it. But don't let that scare you out of buying this fantastic cursed monkey, as the old lady might of got bored of my incessant ramblings about Battlestar Gallactica and fled to the spirit world. At the price of $34.00, this rare item is an absolute steal.
Ever wonder what a world famous Webmaster and playboy extraordinaire wears to the beach? Me too - that's why I like to disguise myself as a corn dog vendor so I can spy on Richard "Lowtax" Kyanka frolicking in the surf amongst the happy crabs and seahorses. During these "erotic investigations", I've noticed the multitude of colorful thongs Lowtax would don whilst romping through sandy dunes, his curly mane blowing in the wind like a untamed stallion. We happened to be lucky enough to get our hands on one of his favorite thongs, and offer it to the public for the extremely low price of 28 American dollars. This my friends, is a great deal. A….sexy deal.
We all know sweet Ben Platt is follicularly challenged, and we all support him in fighting the terrible disease of baldness. He told me that when he was first diagnosed, he kept it from everybody, afraid that his friends and family would heap scorn upon him, forcing him to live in a cave like some kind of freak. He wore a wig to hide his secret, refusing to dive into swimming pools or go out on windy days. This took its toll of course, so one day Ben, who was fed up with this charade, threw the wig out the window of a moving bus and then stood up and shouted "I am bald, I am Ben, I am here!" Nobody on the bus really cared. When he returned to his dorm room, he was shocked to see it waiting for him on his pillow. It is well known that wigs can grow emotionally attached to a host, and can find their way back home. Despite this, Ben wants to forget his stormy past and get on with his life. This quality wig (named "Thaddeus") is going for a fetching price of $15.00, and comes with a free cup of nightcrawlers.
The verdict is in. Ryan "OMGWTFBBQ" Adams is guilty in the first degree of being a fabulous cook! Whenever the SA crew is down on their luck, or loses a baseball game to team Fark, Ryan whips up one of his culinary masterpieces, much to everyone's delight. It's only natural that he would offer his specialty for the yard sale, homemade meatloaf. Garnished with fresh vegetables and a side of mashed potatoes, this loaf of pure C grade meat is the talk of the town. Purchase the whole loaf for only $10, and feed a family of four! (Warning: Ryan's loafs have been known to give indigestion, cramping, intestinal bleeding, and heart failure. Please check the loaf for random nails, razor blades, hypodermic needles, and/or rat heads. It's a good idea to induce vomiting after consuming the loaf, otherwise you can be at risk of catching scabies or HIV. If you try to take the loaf on an airplane, you will be detained as a enemy combatant). Enjoy!
We all know that Zack is a great lover of World War II history, but we had no idea to what extent until this yard sale. It seems that he's also really big into S&M, and hardcore bondage. I guess it's only natural to combine two hobbies. Zack's item is a genuine Nazi cocksock used by the infamous SS Commander Heinrich Himmler. It is rumored that this cocksock was worn under his uniform during all his famous speeches to the SS, and once to a dinner party thrown by the Fuehrer himself. When I asked Mr. Parsons if he'd ever worn it himself, he just laughed and chained me to a toilet, violating me horribly over the course of two weeks with Rudolph Hess's studded dildo. I'll take that as a tentative yes. Priced at healthy $164.00.
Josh is a tad queer. That being said, he thinks it's a great idea to finally cash in on his penny collection. He also thinks he can get one million dollars for it. When I told him this was a bad idea, and that nobody in their right mind would pay one million dollars for a jar of pennies probably only worth 5 bucks all together, he silently agreed with me and retired to his bed. When I woke up, I was covered in warm blood, the head of my favorite hog resting beside me in bed. I get the message Josh, and your item has been accepted into the yard sale. Now that I have met your terms, can you kindly give me the password to disable this bomb strapped to my chest? Thanks.
I have a feeling that this one is going to put us over the top for the funds we need to raise. White babies are hard to come by these days. Some parents have to wait years to adopt a child, and are willing to pay good money to cut through all the red tape and take home the baby the same day they pick it out. We're not going to question Dennis on where he's getting this endless supply of fresh white babies, but we assume it has nothing to do with the rash of baby snatchings that are plaguing the nation. This baby has been branded with a Something Awful grenade logo so you, the customer, know it's top quality. Once the money transaction is made, our lawyer, Leonard J. Crabs, has prepared a legal document that he crafted out of popsicle sticks and pinecones to make the deal totally legit. (25% off for Scientologists).
There you have it folks! Some great deals, as you can plainly see. If you wish to purchase one of these items, please use a flashlight, and a cardboard cutout of my face to illuminate the sky with my persona, thus alerting me of a sale. Please use morse code with the flashlight to inform me of the number of the items you wish to buy. Shipping may take 2-3 years because we are on a remote volcano island in the Pacific and I must give the package to a team of monkeys that in turn give it to a trusty dolphin that swims to the nearest UPS port. Items may get wet or destroyed by monkeys during shipping. Thank you for helping Something Awful through this tough period. Happy shopping!
State Og: Wrath of the Unnecessarily Long Title
Howdy folks, this is your State Og representative Dennis "Corin Tucker's Stalker" Farrell, here to fill your meaningless lives with even more meaninglessness when I'm not selling babies. White babies at premium prices which you'd be insane to pass up, by the way. Some things are so profound that they need no introduction, their contribution to life as we know it is just that incredible. Unfortunately, State Og is not that profound. I'd really like it to be though, because I've got nothing to introduce this week's update with. What I do have is this tasty selection spotlighting one of our proposed company events:
Bring Your Random Person Off the Street Day - While we have a soft spot for bums at State Og, we'll really take anyone you run into. Police officers, businessmen, your coworker's slutty daughter, they're all welcome. We don't care how you get them into the office, and to be honest we'd prefer there to at least be a little bloodshed. Or maybe an elaborate ruse involving pyrotechnics and people in Bigfoot costumes. Now that I think about it, a raise will be given to the employee who brings in a real Bigfoot. The raise will be larger if he is able to shoot fire out of his hands, or fly. Bigfoot would be cool and all, but if he could fly it'd REALLY freak people out.
You know what would freak me out more than a flying Bigfoot? If you didn't click this link and check out State Og after reading that preview.
Your lair. Maybe you lure victims to it, maybe you hide in it between killings, or maybe you haunt it 24/7 because you’re tragically confined by a curse. Whatever the situation, for most of us monsters, a living/un-living space is an important part of our identities. In this column, Monstergeddon award winners share their lair tips and techniques!
Works great on my child, who hasn't barked at all for as long as she's worn the apparatus. When she turns three, we will remove it for a trial period.
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