We've recieved numerous e-mails about the Michael Jackson situation, and I think it's time to clear the air and release our official answer to the question on everyone's mind: we think "Beat It" was a superior video to "Thriller". Thanks this week go to Dennis "Corin Tucker's Stalker" Farrell (discovered the cure for the common cold) and Jason "Vengeance Otter" Johnson (said he discovered the Cure just to impress a really hot goth chick).
A Very Special Award
From time to time, we like to award employees who have exceeded expectations by going above and beyond the call of duty in certain areas. In a company filled with talented workers, these individuals are so incredible that we honestly wish all other employees were dead. More often than not, we follow through with those wishes, but that's a matter that my legal team has advised me not to delve into.
Enough with the introduction, let's get to the award! This isn't some meaningless honor like Hardest Worker or Always On Time, it's something much more prestigious. I'm speaking, of course, about the Most Like Elliott Anderson Award. In a surprising turn of events, Elliott Anderson won this year, reclaiming the title after he was beaten out by CEO Lucas Thon for three consecutive years.
We'd like to congratulate Elliott on his Elliottness, and wish Lucas luck in his new position as a mailroom worker in the Anthrax detection room.
Those of us who are in charge of State Og were what you might have considered "nerds" in high school, and as a result we've overlooked the possibility of making products aimed at a key demographic: binge-drinking preppies and jocks. With our newest peoduct, I think we've more than made up for our oversight.
Enter: Og Beer Byproduct. It's like beer gave birth, and you're drinking the liquified placenta! Our beer-ish product tastes so great that it's practically fit for consumption! Did someone say "awesome"? Or are you just hearing things? Are you even sure you're really awake?
The answer to these questions and more can be found in the comforting embrace of an Og Beer Byproduct six-pack. The more you drink, the more you'll come to understand that your parents and local highway patrolman don't understand or love you, but we do.
Farewell to a Legend
Dear State Og,
It is with great sadness that I inform you that my father, State Og board member Phineas G. Cage, died yesterday after a long twenty-year battle against cancer of the pubic hair; which to everyone's surprise isn't what killed him. He will surely be missed not just for his contributions to Og, but as a benevolent and caring man loved for the wisdom he shared freely with anyone who would listen, especially anyone who was required by law to listen, like me, his child.
The pearls of his wisdom are many. In particular, I fondly remember long ago in my youth when I asked my father about the best way to ask out a girl that I liked. He looked me in the eye and said, "Well son, I don't know about that, but what I do know is that a man with a catapult has to be really brave if he wants to make love to an airborne owl." In response to what must have been my perplexed expression, he winked at me, and then he placed his hand on my thigh and winked again. I ran out of the room screaming. He had never called me "son" before, so I thought he said "sun," which made me become overwhelmed with fear, since I assumed he wasn't talking to me but Ra, Egyptian god of the sun and I didn't know what such a powerful sun god would be doing in our bathtub with my dad and me. I know this all seems crazy now, but keep in mind that I was just a naïve kid, no older than thirty-eight, at the time. It took me a while, but now I'm a bit wiser and I can honestly say I fully understand my father's words, and that I'm also more comfortable with the idea of deities watching me bathe.
As a State Og board member, my father helped build the company company from its begining during the formative years of the 1930's, unhampered by the fact that the company was founded in the 1807. The first few products he developed were not commercially successeful, but he did earn Og a large sum after suing Germany for stealing his formula for a product he called Zyklon A. Unfortunately, this litigation soured relations between State Og and the Fatherland, resulting in Og only giving partial support to Germany during the following war.
Yes, my father lived a rich, meaningful life, up until the point my mother and I found him naked and stuck up in large pine tree, near the trebuchet he was building, being pecked to death by a swarm of owls. His final words were, "Son, toss up my watch, so I can show these birds who's boss!" On the ground, near the base of the tree, I saw what looked like a watch, but where minute and hour hands should have been there was a big red button labeled "Doomsday Device." I made several attempts to throw it to my father, but eventually it was too late. Why, God?! Why?! Why do I have to throw like a girl?!
Star Wars fan speculation has been swirling about the source of female ejaculation. The answers might finally be coming with the Last Jedi.
Lean in close to your screen. Inhale deeply. Does this guide give off a cloyingly sour odor? Then it is likely the genuine article.
State Og... what is it? Who knows! Where do they operate? No clue! All we know is they're fairly evil, and nobody dares question the might of State Og!