Like a Phoenix rising or a rodent popping out of a Whack-A-Mole machine, State Og is back this week! Cliff Yablonski preempted us last week, storming State Og headquarters and breaking a jar of preserves over my head to keep me from updating. That's what I get for keeping my desk in the parking lot, I guess. Thanks this week go to Aaron "Elcybergoth" Young (partying hard), Jason "Vengeance Otter" Johnson (hardly partying), and Brett "Nimmo" Hurban (asleep in the bathtub).
Get Your Ass To Mars
Recently we were approached by an international body with a challenge. The task they set out for us would require grit, superior science and giving us retarded amounts of money. We liked the money, and we figured we could fake the other parts.
The mission? Put a man on Mars. The nation? Bulgaria. With our help, Bulgaria will soon be all over Mars like syrup on a bowling ball after an unfortunate tournament incident. With our brains, resources and Bulgaria's willingness to absorb consequences success is inevitable; just like failure, only with success.
Our roadmap to Mars begins with the basics: hookers. All great science goes hand-in-hand with an organized and effective prositution agenda, and this mission is no exception. Post-whoring and pre-Mars we'll be bright-eyed and ready to see Bulgaria into a post-Mars, pre-whoring era. The next step is the potentially risky human trials. If we're ever going to put a man on Mars we need to know the terrible new dangers that await. We're pretty sure they're fucking HILARIOUS. We have a wide variety of tests, tricks, traps and trucks to subject subjects to.
When we're done with that we'll figure out how to get people to the Red Planet. The way we see it, the trick is to shoot something at Mars and make it hit. There's a lot of tricky math involved, and quite frankly we're all botanists, so we'll just fire Bulgarians into space in random directions and hope for the best.
Finally, our Mars landing team will touch down on the fourth rock from the sun, and man will step out into history, suffocate, and then pop.
This mission will take courage, resolve and the planet Mars to succeed, and State Og has the guts to see it through. God bless Bulgaria!
Dinner is about to lose its status as the most boring event in the world! Look out marital sex! That's because the talented State Og team has found ways to improve mealtime, which for copyright reasons we cannot describe as "kicking it up a notch," but will instead describe as "enhancing the flavor profile via discrete taste additions."
GenoSides are our exciting new line of delicious and nutritious pre-packaged side dishes. Just empty into boiling water, avoid the angry spirits, and in five hellish minutes tuck into indescribable food-like joy! As your mutual digestion progresses you'll feel the warm glow of a satisfied tummy and see the kindly face of your chosen deity. When you come to in a few weeks in a dirty hovel littered with brutally murdered mailmen you'll know that you've eaten the meal of a lifetime, and possibly additional lifetimes.
Most people swear to never relive that experience. Fortunately we offer many different varieties of GenoSides so they can experience many more! Look at this spread:
- Poodle Noodles
- Peanut Smear
- Scabs in Oil
- Monkey Essence
- Soapy Towels
- Keyboard Scum
That's good eatin'!
As a bonus we're doing our part in the betterment of humanity, as GenoSides will react with certain inferior genes, eradicating the weaker races with brutal effectiveness. Ethnic cleansing with no muss, no fuss, and clean up's a breeze! That's the State Og advantage!
State Og Celebrity Agent Profiles
While countless celebrities enthusiastically endorse State Og’s fine product line, others find themselves wanting to do more, much more, to aid in our cause. What is our righteous cause? Why, it’s providing you, the consumer, with value. As celebrity agent Burt Reynolds once put it, “We want our customers to absolutely feel smothered by value when they buy a State Og product!” And judging by the CDC’s latest report regarding the rise in deaths from Value-Induced Asphyxiation Syndrome, we’re succeeding.Once again, Alton Brown's magic +5 Gloves of Pummeling are stained red with the blood of a fallen foe who has undoubtedly been force-fed his own liver before dying. Now that's good eats!
The latest public icon to join State Og and our virtuous jihad against the high prices, shoddy merchandise, and children of our competitors is none other than the famous cook (and legendary flamenco dancer) Alton Brown, star of his own cooking show: Good Eats. When asked why he decided to join State Og, Mr. Brown stated, “I’ve always been fond of Og’s products, and after the FCC shot down my plans for a Caligula-themed episode about preparing sausages, I began to feel a bit burned out and depressed. I wanted to do something different. Then one fateful day, as I was watching TV and crushing cloves of garlic for that night's dinner with the butt of my .45 handgun (truly, the kitchen’s greatest multitasker), I saw State Og Representative Dennis Farrell on CNN’s Larry King Live show. I was impressed by his inebriated screaming and the uncoordinated dance he performed, and I found myself strangely curious as to what secret was hidden behind the blur effect imposed on the TV screen just below his waist. I smiled and was enchanted with Farrell’s whimsical nature, in contrast to the shocked looks exchanged between Larry King and the actual guest he was trying to interview before Farrell drunkenly barged into the studio with his pants around his ankles. I knew right then, I must work for this man.”
Even though Alton Brown has only been with State Og a mere week, his work here and valued input have already increased productivity. His teammates agree: “Yeah, the addition of Mr. Brown to our happy team has made a world of difference,” stated fellow agent Michael “Slash and Burn” Hollenbeck. “I was trying to persuade a prisoner to talk, as they say, using my charm and articulate electric cattle prod skills, but this tough guy just wouldn’t talk. A real badass, that one was. Then Alton suggested I could increase the prisoner’s conductivity by submersing him overnight in a homemade brine. Well, I did that and wouldn’t you know it, the prisoner isn’t so resilient to Mr. Cattle Prod anymore. I got him to confess to where the pirate’s treasure was buried, the location of the secret rebel base and to practicing witchcraft. Thanks, Alton! Oh yeah, using Kosher salt made all the difference in my brine. I’m never going back to that regular table salt crap when making torture brine, that's for sure.”
Well, the future certainly looks bright for our newest celebrity agent. Welcome aboard, Alton Brown.
Agent Nimmo: Philanthropist
As none of you may know I, agent Nimmo, volunteer for several local community services when I’m not busy doing whatever it is that my job is at State Og; Sometimes I even show up for these volunteer outings. One of the events that I regularly show up for is tutoring children with learning disabilities. I tend to show up when I am scheduled for this program because I am usually the only adult there, and I like to use the situation to recruit the vacant minded children to work in our tech support office. It is also remarkably easy to turn the other kids against their peers should any of them decide to challenge my authority. They tend to believe anything.
I was assigned the task of helping these kids catch up on their history classes last weekend; so I went to the massive, hippy encrusted book store near the chop shop that I run as a hobby to look for reference materials. I decided that Batman: Knightfall would be the most relevant to the topic since it is a very pivotal point in the history of Batman, and it had pictures which is really helpful when you are trying to explain something to a group of special kids.
As I was looking for this historical document I heard some of the saddest people whom I have ever had the displeasure of being exposed to. The bookstore was having their weekly poetry meeting. It was hilarious. Every burger flipper in the county was there. Each one of them trying to act classy and artsy, and each one fatter than the last. Their poems were about nothing. They can’t pay their rent and they couldn’t wait to tell a large group of applauding of their shortcomings, they were confused about their sexuality and they announced it to the world hoping to find an equally confused life partner, they even thought that they were being witty when they wrote a poem explaining that “Santa” was only two letters away from being “Satan”.
It did not take much time for me to decide that I wanted in on the action. It isn’t everyday that you find a group of people applauding you for losing your girlfriend to a splooge mopper.* At first I tried to think of ways to make money off of these cretins, but they I realized that they don’t have any so I would just have to settle for harassing them for entertainment only. The goal was to create a poem that they would not applaud: A poem that they could not hide their revulsion from. My half retarded kids would be perfect for this.
The children set out to write poems that would rival a Larry King interview in stupidity, and they failed miserably. These poems were not stupid. They
were just mean. One of the children even used the word “Cunt”, and I have no idea how the little shit came by such a vile word. Could it have been that my tutelage had actually made them smarter while making them more evil? Probably, but a mean poem would not get me the applause that I needed. That would just cause them to yell at me and kick me out of the bookstore. That happens almost everyday, and would not be out of the ordinary or exciting to me. Then it dawned on me that I still had children in my class that could barely read. If the completely retarded students would read the poems written by the half retarded students then I would get my desired result.
The task was given to a young boy whom we know only as “Knobby” (although the kids call him Ka-nobby since they are too stupid to understand silent
letters). Knobby stutters, is always sweating, and has a broken collarbone. I knew that he would not be heckled. He could easily stand in front of a crowd and proclaim them all to be cunts and nobody would have the balls to say anything about it.
So the day finally came. Knobby was all set to go deliver his message of hatred to the city’s most enlightened, yet most impoverished residents, but I had a last minute change of heart. In the end I decided that this project would’ve been too much work without enough payout so I decided to scrap it. Instead I just dropped Knobby off at the door with two hair spray cans, lighter torches, and a large squirt gun filled with bleach. Then I explained to him that the only way the girl he had a crush on would ever like someone like him was if he proved himself to be king of the badasses. I don’t know what happened after that since I don’t pay attention to things that don’t hurt me, but I like to think that Knobby got the girl, won the lottery and moved to Hawaii. But in reality he was probably shot by police.
* My next project will be to create a spell check dictionary, which contains the word “splooge”.- State Og Representative
The singer dove off the stage and crowd surfed in a sort of reverse funeral procession where the person being carried is the only one truly alive. Touching him I felt religious ecstasy and started speaking in tongues and requesting songs that didn't exist.
There's no easy way to put this, so I'll tell it like it is. Bouillon is died. He went missing before the weekend and yesterday I found his skeletonized remains at the bottom of the #3 soup vat during one of my swims. I thought the cream of mushroom soup had an especially nourishing taste, and a lot more clumps of fur and skin than usual.
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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!