 Todd’s editorial sucks big time My editorial is where it’s at by Jake Wilburn, Managing Editor
Upon reading the above pile of garbage, a reader is promptly confronted with the following question: “Did a retarded dog write this?” The answer is unfortunately “no.” Had a retarded dog written this, we might have been at least mildly entertained by its cute retarded-animal quirk, instead of being bored to illness by Todd’s shit heap of polysyllabic buzzwords and unwarranted condescension. I understand that this publication of ours is renowned from the alps of Riverside Lane to the balmy moorlands of the Freebirds on 41st for its sardonic irreverence and half-assed charm; but what is featured above is simply inexcusable. Luckily, however, a great deity has sent me to make up for what stains the top portion of this page by providing you with an insightful and delightful editorial that is nothing short of The Bomb.
Todd and I have a prescribed relationship, it’s true. In the spirit of Great Teamwork, we work hard as a team to produce some of the best work a great team can produce. But, frankly, my shoulders are getting a little tired from carrying all the weight of a big leaguer while my “superior” is still wiffing like the suckiest kid on the tee-ball team. What I’m trying to say is this: Editor-in-Chief? Good grief. Now whether you realize it or not, folks, that was an exceptional diss—and a well-deserved one, at that.
Todd’s editorial lacks a certain everything. While nauseating you with copious amounts of horse shit, he establishes no flow in his pretentious blathering. You will notice, however, that my editorial reads with the same rhythm and captivating aesthetic quality as the cool, pacific sea lapping against the sodden, sandy shore. Which reminds me, Todd can’t swim.
Moving on, “Todd Nienkerk” is not a particularly cool name. It’s hard to spell and easy to hate. Granted, the “i” is before “e” and the “N” is not the exceptional “c,” but does this not prove our cardinal editor to be a total conformo, unfit to quarterback a daffy humor magazine based at a university that is clinging desperately to its liberal spirit and Chuck Taylors in order to remain almost as cool as Berkley? Yes, it does prove that stuff. And it certainly proves that Todd has no right to criticize my totally avant-garde, radically unconventional and free-thunk contribution. But, sadly, on the eighth day, God created dipshits.
In relation to what I have mentioned thus far, I would also like to allude to the subject of Todd’s glasses, which are so stupid. If I may direct your attention to the top left corner of this page, you will notice that Todd is a total four-eyes. Though he pretends to be comfortable with it, bless his heart, he fails to see himself as the uncomely geek that he is. I assume this has something to do with that magical mirror he looks compulsively into, also known as an overblown ego. Now, do yourself a favor and pan down a few inches… Uh oh, who’s that guy? Not half bad, eh? No Toddy McGeekgoggles, that’s for sure. We’re talking 20/20 vision and editorial-writing talent that would make Jesus cry. But somehow Todd finds within him the intestinal fortitude to belittle me in his pompous, top-of-the-page way.
Unfortunately, I am limited by a word number quota set by an unattractive Nazi; therefore, I am unable to fully contrast the greatness of my editorial with the shittiness of the one preceding it. But I would like to conclude with an apology, on behalf of the Texas Travesty and all my fellow Travestites, for the above abomination. Also, I would like to put forth an advanced “you’re welcome” in regard to this wonderfully written gift of recompense. And I hope, in all sincerity, that I have not unfairly shaped your opinion of my colleague Todd Ross Nienkerk…the date rapist. |
