SOMEBODY DID SOMETHING ABOUT THE WEATHER!

Earlier this week, in an effort to improve weather moral, The National Weather Service announced plans to change the naming systems for all tropical storms and hurricanes. Officials at the monolith of geeks decided to make the move to avoid being a daily scapegoat like they were last year. NWS Spokesman Tom Krog articulated the NWS's stance, "Frankly we were all tired of the lack of respect we get from both the general public and the weather itself. It’s a shit job, and I went to college for four years. I promise you this, a Meteorology Major is way harder than Dentistry School. We decided it was time to show the weather who’s boss." The new system is aimed with increasing the public’s excitement with weather. Krog went on to explained the NWS's choices for the names, "The idea is to change storms names from their current state to objects associated with the current culture's nostalgia. No one wants to get hit by Hurricane Beta--it sounds like an STD". While the nation will still be bombared by massive storms in unprecedented numbers, The NWS hopes that the new naming system will give each powerful storm and “American Idol” like popularity. Below are some examples of the new naming system.




Hurricane Christmas is Coming


Hurricane Tracy Chapman


Tropical Depression Rollerblades

What I Learned One Semester in College

But does he like the "tradition" of kissing shirtless boys???

America Forced to do 230 Birthday Shots by Asshole Friend

America awoke late this afternoon with dark circles under its eyes. The previous night's July 4th bash had taken its toll.

This is not a common feeling for America, a nation known not only for apple pie, baseball, and assassinating people with missles from hundreds of miles away, but for holding its liquor (or so it tells chicks). However, late last night America's asshole friend Judd Mueller forced the proudest of nations to do 230 birthday shots, then shoved it into its own pool, permanently fucking up its cell phone.

This was only after Mueller, along with an entourage of America's loose acquaintances who had not been invited to America's very nicely catered party, shot roman candles at each other in America's garage. America, almost fully incapacitated by alchohol and busy chatting up an equally drunk Mexico, was unable to get it together and throw Mr. Mueller out before it was too late.

The scene was ugly as America, flailing in the pool and unaware of its phone's condition, swam to the shallow end and celebrated by shouting a rendition of Black Sabbath's "Iron Man."

Has America learned its lesson? Only time will tell. One thing, however, remains certain: if Judd Mueller does not buy America a new phone within 24 hours he will be shot from long range by a missile. How's that for insurance?