Edgar Allan Poe Community College

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Monday, October 3, 2016

Proof Men Suffer From Labor Pains, Too.


     I’m a regular guy and mill worker with strong links to my extended family.  Case in point:  one day last year I awoke at 1 a.m. with a very uncomfortable feeling in my stomach, cramps and a feeling of nausea.  Nevertheless, I went to work. But I felt terrible all morning.
     Then I was in for another shock.  At approximately noon, I heard the clear voice of my mother who had passed away five years earlier.  She stated the name of my niece, who was pregnant and due to give birth at any time.  Because of that, I got on my cell phone to check out if my niece was in labor.  There was no answer.  And then the pain I was feeling got even worse.  I was almost incapacitated.
     I decided to phone my sister who lives close to my niece, but before I could punch in her number, the pain that had been tormenting me stopped as abruptly as it had started.  Somehow, deep inside, I knew that the end of my misery meant that my niece had given birth.  When I told my co-workers, they just looked at me with disbelief—which isn’t really surprising since I’m six-feet, two inches, with Elvis-style sideburns, and weigh more than 240 pounds. To show I was right, I called my sister again—and sure enough, my niece had had her baby.  She’d been in labor since about one in the morning, the time my own internal cramps had begun.  And she had given birth at the exact time my pain had ceased. 
     I now have a tremendous appreciation for what women go through.  I once had a three-inch gash across my forehead due to a work-related accident, but this labor pain stuff was even worse.
     Unfortunately, my labor pains have started again on a daily basis.  All week long, sometimes in the morning, sometimes at night, I break out in a cold sweat and feel like screaming in pain.
     Now I’m worried that my new empathy is making me experience the labor pains of local moms-to-be—every one of them!
     At least, those ladies eventually wind up with a beautiful child in their arms.  But, when my sympathetic labor pains ease, I have nothing to show for it.  What am I supposed to do—“man up” and take it?

     Name withheld on request.

Sunday, October 2, 2016

Crop Circles Turn Up On Hairy Guy's Back

     I’m a man with an excess body hair problem that has made me the object of ridicule since puberty. At the age of thirteen, when most of my buddies sported a whisker or two, I grew a full hipster beard to hide my acne. I became successful with girls, I guess, as sort of a whiskery novelty item.
     But things went haywire over the next few years. By sixteen, I had thick tufts of wiry black hair on the top of my shoulders and so much “fur” on my torso and legs that the gym coach made me wear a full-body wet suit during swim class. He said he was worried my loose hairs would clog the filter, but I think he did it just to humiliate me.
     I became an introvert. After graduating from high school, I took a job as a night janitor in an empty office tower so no one could see me. I threw in the towel and gave up on shaving. One Christmas I dyed my beard white and played Santa Claus at a shopping mall. I wound up being so popular with the kids that I quit my janitor gig. Now, I’m already booked solid for the next two holiday seasons. Amazingly, I earn enough as Santa Claus every winter to take the summer months off—when I allow my beard to go back to black.
     This is where my problems with crop circles began. My confidence renewed, I started going out more, even venturing to the beaches of Lake Michigan near where I live. I’m sure I must have been a ridiculous sight to some eyes, what with thick body hair everywhere, but secretly knowing I was the region’s #1 Santa Claus helped their wisecracks roll off my back.
     Then one afternoon, while on my favorite remote part of the beach, I woke up from a pleasant slumber to notice something strange on my back. Parts of it were completely bare. Large clumps of hair were in the sand surrounding my towel. I ran to my car two hundred yards away. Looking in the rear view mirror, I got the surprise of my life: an intricate pattern had been shaved on my back hair.
     I thought I had been the victim of pranksters until three months later when I saw an online photo of a crop circle that had appeared in a farmer’s wheat field. Shockingly, it was the exact same pattern that had been fashioned in my body hair earlier that summer. I immediately emailed the website, but they didn’t want to do a story on me because my hair had grown back. I lacked visual proof.
     That was a crushing disappointment. However, I will swear to this day that the same entities that created the crop circle in the farmer’s wheat field cut the pattern on my back.
     I feel honored that I was chosen as the first human “canvas” for their 
mysterious art.

     I thank Edgar Allan Poe Community College for offering me this forum. However, due to the sicko current trend of shaming hairy men, I choose to remain anonymous.

Thursday, September 29, 2016

Why Zach Galifianakis Should be Dead Already.

      While it’s a pain in my arthritic fingers to write about actors with long last names, I’ll make an exception in the case of Zach Galifianakis–you know, the bearded guy in The Hangoversssssssssssssssssssssssssssss.
     Because Zach G. should be dead already.
     A survey of contemporary obese film comedians shows why.
     John Belushi, the template for today’s fat funnymen, had a brief film career (as a named character), from Animal House in 1978 to Neighbors in 1981. That’s three years. He died after injecting a combination cocaine and heroin.
     Fellow overweight SNL alumni Chris Farley first appeared on the silver screen in Coneheads (1993). He last made audiences howl hysterically in Almost Heroes (1998). Five years. He passed on after a night of snorting drugs with a hooker.
     Canadian heavyweight John Candy outlasted them both, from a role in Steven Spielberg’s 1941 (1979) to Michael Moore’s Canadian Bacon in 1995. An amazing 16 years of celluloid chuckles. A heart attack brought him down.
     Which brings us to the talented Zach G. While few paid attention, Zach was in 3 movies in 2001, including the infamous Corky Romano. Audiences fell in love with the bearded laugh-producer in 2009′s The Hangover, a torrid affair that will continue, I'm sure, through this year’s Masterminds. That’s 15 years.
     Let’s crunch the numbers: Belushi 3 years, Farley 5, Candy 16. Average 8.
Zach G.: 15  and counting. Which means he has already outlasted his three predecessors by seven years. Is Zach G. living on borrowed time? Audiences and this pundit hope not.
     However, as one wag from the Other Side warned me, “Ever since Belushi, overweight comics have felt pressured to please demanding fans by indulging their every whim, from binge-eating  to copious drinking, illicit drug use and wild sex romps. More than ever, audiences want fat stars to live large and exhibit a devil-may-care attitude towards their health and well-being.

    “They need their flabby funny guys to enjoy being slobs.  Zach G. has a long track record of hilarious performances. But unless Zach can resist public pressure, he’ll be joining Belushi, Candy and Farley in the Afterlife soon.”
reported by: 
Abraham Tribesky, M.D.
95-Year-Old Psychiatrist to Deceased Hollywood Stars
Adjunct Professor, Afterlife Issues, Edgar Allan Poe Community College

Friday, September 23, 2016

12 Shocking Celebrity Predictions for the Rest of 2016!

   I swear a solemn oath that these bold predictions will be widely praised as accurate before 2016 A.D. comes to a crashing close.

     Yours Truly,

     Precept Tabernacle Perfect
     World’s #1 Nigerian Soothsayer
     137% Accuracy Record
     Adjunct Professor of Prophecy, International Finance and Horror Film Production
     Edgar Allan Poe Community College
     Resident of Las Vegas pending extradition hearings

     This I Predict!!! So It Shall Be!!!

 1. Angelina Jolie will adopt ex-husband Brad Pitt.

 2. Comedian Leslie Jones will spend an unprecedented 60 consecutive minutes not trying to call attention to herself. It will be discovered that she was under sedation having a root canal.

 3. The MacGyver reboot will be cancelled before anyone learns the name of the new blond dude who plays MacGyver. On a positive note, his hair will win an Emmy.

4. Actor George Clooney will be caught pleasuring himself while watching ER reruns on the Washington Metro prior to testifying before Congress about a subject with which he is absolutely unfamiliar.

5. Survivor: U.S. contestants will live on a foreclosed island, scratching out a living on the minimum wage.

6. The entire cast of the next Big Brother will be out-of-work Twilight series stars.

7. McG will direct a re-make of Gone with the Wind, featuring Lady Gaga as Scarlett O’Hara and Dwyane "The Rock" Johnson as Rhett Butler.

8. Two weeks after that, Steven Spielberg will reveal his long-held plan to remake GWTW as a feature-length Claymation cartoon, with four pounds of genuine Georgia clay in the lead roles.

9. Adam Sandler will make a funny movie. Stunned beyond belief, Leonard Maltin will be wheeled from the screening on a gurney, suffering cardiac arrest.

10. Kanye West will be found dead. Twenty-four hours later, Kim Kardashian will wed O.J. Simpson.

11. Michael Strahan will reveal he is suffering from post-concussion syndrome after tackling and spiking George Stephanopoulos before a live audience on the set of Good Morning America.

12. It will dawn on even die-hard Bjork fans that she hasn't written a sing-along melody in her entire career.

Monday, September 19, 2016

What it means to dream of Keystone Light.

  Dreaming of Keystone Light beer indicates you're on the slippery slope of downward mobility. Your life is over, finished, whether you are 20 or 35. You have huge student loans, an education of limited monetary value and small hope of remaining a member of the middle class into which you were born.
     Silver lining: If you awakened from your dream with your face in the gutter, your mouth a receptacle for diluted urine and cigarette butts, you have nearly hit bottom.

Dream On!

Dawnlee Hope, Jr.
Undergraduate Student
Dream Interpretation Curriculum

Thursday, August 11, 2016

Weekly Presidential Ghost Tracking Poll #1

     Press release
     To: All media

     Why ghosts support Trump 3 to 1 over Clinton.

     The inaugural Weekly Presidential Ghost Tracking Poll (see below) has found that malevolent ghosts favor Donald Trump over Hillary Clinton by an overwhelming 3 to 1 margin.
     Says Dr. Abraham Tribesky,  95-year-old psychiatrist to deceased Hollywood stars and Adjunct Professor of Afterlife Studies at Edgar Allan Poe Community College, "I conducted a seance with the assistance of 5 undergraduate students. Our group held hands around an antique oak table in a candlelit classroom. We asked the ghosts and spirits we contacted to tell us whether they supported Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton for president in 2016.
     "Seconds later, the table began to shake. The classroom turned ice-cold. And the answers came pouring in from the Other Side.
     "We tabulated the results and found that malevolent spirits--known for causing doors to shut unexpectedly and crockery to fall off shelves without reason--preferred Donald Trump by a 3 to 1 margin."
     Added Dr. Tribesky, whose clients include Marilyn Monroe and Sam Kinison, "It should be noted that such ghosts are not a hate group. They are merely unsettled spirits acting out their own angst in an Afterlife vastly different than they believed it would be.
     "That being the case, Hillary Clinton should be deeply concerned. These unhappy spirits can influence how the living vote by whispering in their ears at night or by sending subliminal messages via the astral plane. And they currently favor Donald Trump by an arguably statistically significant 3 to 1 margin.
     "Because of the great respect Americans have for their ancestors, their deceased relatives may be the most influential demographic in the upcoming election.
     "The Clinton camp needs to reach out to the dead. Or risk losing on November 8, 2016."

     *About The Weekly Presidential Ghost Tracking Poll:

     Every Monday, Edgar Allan Poe Community College conducts a seance during which ghosts and spirits from across the political spectrum are asked to state whether they support Donald Trump or Hillary Clinton in 2016.
     Some may think this a frivolous endeavor. But deceased spirits can influence how the living vote by whispering in their ears at night or by sending subliminal messages via the astral plane. 
     Because of the great respect Americans have for their ancestors, their dead relatives may be the most influential demographic in the upcoming election. 
     America's future lies in their cold, dead hands.



Monday, May 9, 2016

DJ Decapitates Heckler with Flying Vinyl.

     To: All Students
     From: Doc Paranormal
     Subject: Here's a touching letter I received. Caution: It may bring tears to your eyes as it did to mine:
    Dear Doc Paranormal:
    Seven years ago, my boyfriend, an aspiring DJ who I’ll call DJ Bus Stop, was returning from a 50 Cent concert when his brother, who was driving, ran the car off the road and into a concrete bench at–you guessed it–a bus stop. My boyfriend, who was standing up at the time heckling pedestrians through the moon roof, was catapulted forward onto the sidewalk.
     To make a long story short, my boyfriend was paralyzed from the neck down, tragically causing him to be unable to spin records anymore. So there was bad blood between us for the next several years when I got tired of rushing into the bedroom to put another twelve-inch record on the turntable or even do some “scratching” under DJ Bus Stop’s exacting directions.
  But then one night I heard thundering beats coming from the bedroom before I had even put some vinyl on. This is when the hairs on my neck stood on end…
     On the evening that I heard the mysterious music, which was Biggie Smalls doing ‘10 Crack Commandments,’ I rushed into my boyfriend’s bedroom screaming with happiness, figuring my beloved DJ Bus Stop had stopped being quadriplegic–and had put the record on the turntable himself! Instead, I was crestfallen to see that the turntable was empty and that my boyfriend’s face was contorted like he was ill.
     “What’s wrong, honey? Don’t you feel well?” I asked him.
     He opened his eyes and started crying. “Just listening to Biggie, darling,” he said.
     “How could that be?”
     “Sugar, I got so tired of asking you to DJ for me that I just started playing my set list in my head.”
     “You mean like now? Like you’re playing Slick Rick?
     DJ Bus Stop looked startled. “How’d you know I just put that dude into the mix?”
     “I don’t know. But I can hear him rapping clear as a bell.” Then I got an idea. I asked my boyfriend to start playing another song in his head–and rushed out of his bedroom, slamming the door behind me. At first I heard nothing but street sounds coming from outside. But shortly, low at first, then loud enough to hurt my eardrums, I was assaulted by the familiar sounds of ‘Can’t Touch This.’”
     I rushed back into the bedroom and shouted to my boyfriend, “That’s MC Hammer, isn’t it?”
     “Yes,” he replied, “I was playing that old-school legend in my head.”
       I was astounded. My boyfriend and I had entered an eerie new territory in our relationship. Every Friday, he began to entertain me with massive 4-hour DJ sets sent to my welcoming ears entirely via ESP.
     As he got crisper and better with his scratching, cross-fades and such, I just knew there was money in his talent. Yes, DJ Bus Stop was going to rise again. That’s when I used my considerable powers of persuasion to book his first show. If only I hadn’t, because of the shocking events that followed…
     I regret to this day that I booked my quadriplegic boyfriend to ’spin’ his ESP hip-hop to a crowded room at a local club. Now I have to admit, most legitimate clubs laughed in my face when I told them that DJ Bus Stop could play entire sets using only his mind–and that people could hear every track. The only place I was able to convince was this unsavory after-hours joint with a crowd made up of gangsters, pimps and adventurous college students.
     DJ Bus Stop was initially a smash. The crowd could hear him and the sound was crisp and clear because it was coming from his mind and not a muddy P.A. system. The whole place was jumping.
     But wouldn’t you know it, after he was about 45 minutes into his playlist a skinny little heckler began to annoy my boyfriend about playing only "old school" stuff. Now this tiny dude was an obviously wanna-be gangster who probably thought he could earn brownie points by making fun of the cripple. Well, DJ Bus Stop still has a monumental temper even though he can’t punch anybody out, and I could see it building by the second.
     But before I could intervene, something horrible happened. There was still a 12-inch vinyl record resting on another turntable from the previous DJ. Well, suddenly it lifted up and flew like a blur towards the heckler, striking him in the neck and severing his head from his body.
     Actually, it wasn’t a clean cut. The head only flopped over at first, with blood and gore spewing out, but when his body hit the ground, his head ripped off completely and rolled about three feet away from his torso. It all happened so fast, the baby gangster didn’t even have a look of surprise on his face. He still carried the smirk he’d been wearing all night.
     Everybody started screaming and one woman ran towards the exit throwing up. I was worried that a riot would break out and the angry crowd would attack DJ Bus Stop. But I was surprised when the owner of the club came out, grabbed a mic and reassured everybody that it was “all in the show.”
     The crowd quieted down and the club owner politely asked DJ Bus Stop to continue his set. Next he ordered his minions to mop up the mess. Fortunately, it turned out that the club owner was an old pal of the Notorious B.I.G. And both of them had hated the thumb-sucking baby gangster that my boyfriend had decapitated with a 12-inch version of Biggie’s “Me & My Bitch.” DJ Bus Stop had actually done the legend a favor! Was Biggie’s ghost involved? We’ll never know. Although to this day, no one can explain how “Me & My Bitch” got on that extra turntable—because the prior DJ had been spinning nothing but modern sexy soul.
     After the floor was cleaned up, the gangster’s body was cut up in a back room and thrown into a plastic pool where the club owner kept his pet crocodile collection. After a feeding frenzy, there was no evidence left.
     At the end of the night, the club owner handed DJ Bus Stop a fat check and told him he was welcome back anytime. My boyfriend was thrilled, but as far as I was concerned, his public DJ’ing career was over. I would never go through another night like that even if we were paid double.
     These days DJ Bus Stop’s only gig is playing for me in our living room. Every Friday night, I relax from a hard week’s work listening to sweet, sweet rap music sent to me via the extrasensory abilities of my quadriplegic boyfriend.
     Thanks for listening!