“BERKLEY, CA – AIDS research scientists have made a new discovery in the origin of AIDS and the HIV virus. After extensive research, scientists have come to the conclusion that AIDS was put into animals by God to punish vegetarians for having mature, adult love for animals; and, of course, for being gay.

This is what one of the random scientists had to say:

“”Its no secret that all vegetarians are gay by default. This means that when a vegetarian makes the conscious decision to stop consuming meat, they are also making the conscious decision to have someone of the same sex stick their penis in their ass and/or stick their penis in the ass of someone else of the same sex. Lesbians don’t count, because lesbians are hot.

“”It gets much worse, however. After a few months of being a vegetarian, a vegetarian decides that they ‘love’ animals, and then someone says, ‘Well, if you love animals so much, why don’t you marry an animal?’ Naturally, the vegetarian has no other choice than to marry the animal that used to be their favorite meat. For instance, if their favorite meat was bacon, they marry a pig. In order to make the marriage legally binding, they must consummate the marriage. So, they fuck the pig or cow or whatever the fuck animal they marry. After a couple of years of fucking cows and pigs and chickens and shit, the vegetarian will become bored with the relationship and start fucking people again, on the side.

’When God found out about this, he got really pissed off and invented AIDS, and put it into every animal’s sexual fluids, so that he could kill ‘pig fucking fags’.

’In short, if you don’t want to get AIDS, don’t become a vegetarian, because if you do, you will start having gay sex and fucking farm animals and God will kill you with AIDS.’

Well, there you have it: finally, a legitimate reason for why AIDS exists and how we can prevent it.

“

In a monthly periodical, you, the readers of LushForLife.com, can submit questions to Danny Albertson, and he will forward a handful of them to Brett Favre in their monthly sit down QandA.

Danny Albertson: I’m sitting down, once again, with possibly the most beloved and adored figure in all professional sports of all-time, ever: Brett Favre. A lot has happened since the last time you and I have had the pleasure of seeing each other’s scabbed faces.

Brett Favre: Sometimes your choice of words really offends me.

DA: I’m surprised, actually. You and I have known each other for a while, now, and have been through some strange shit together, too. It offends me that something so trivial would offend you.

BF: Do we really have to go through with this, then? I have an oversized lawn to mow somewhere.

DA: I say we can both just sit here and be offended by each other, because there are some important questions the people of ‘Merca really need to ask their self-crowned leader of everything that’s important. I mean you?

Besides, its not like you’re actually going to spend anytime learning the new offensive system Mike McCarthy is installing in Green Bay. You’re so awesome, all you have to do is all you’ve ever done – just fling that sucker out there and make a dern play.

BF: Goddam right, dad-blame it. Cockin’ back the ol’ cannon shooter is all this simple, Miss Sipp, gunslingin’ get-ur-done’r has ever been able to do.

DA: Let’s go to the mailbag. This first question comes from D’Artagnan in Yonkers, New York:

I know you’re considering a career in politics after your playing days are over. How do you feel about Charles Barkley annonouncing that he will run for Governor of Alabama in 2010?

BF: Usually, my stance on this issue is that athletes should stay out of politics, unless we’re referring to me. In Charles’ case, being such a bright guy, I think he should go for it.

DA: I always thought he was a complete moron.

BF: That just goes to show you what you city boys know about real life.

DA: Since you guys seem to be on the same page, maybe the two of you should run together for president, on the Republican ticket, no doubt. Those good-ol’-boys would respond to your thick skulls.

BF: As long as there’s a cold Budweiser and a backwoods broad, I’ll go anywhere and do anything. I’m sure that Charles would agree with me.

DA: If you’re a republican, and from the South, those things will surely follow you wherever you go. Our next question comes from Tommy in Milwaukee:

I am planning a hunting trip in Mississippi next month. I really want to gun down some good game, and I figured you could offer me some tips. What kind of guns do you use?

BF: Mostly I never leave my house without my 12-gauge double barrel elephant rifle. That sucker will blow the head of a twelve point buck clean off his body and leave the remaining corpse bloody and in shards of boney pieces. It’ll cause some serious damage.

DA: Isn’t the point of hunting to mount your kill on the wall, or to eat the animal? If you blow it to pieces, doesn’t that defeat the purpose of hunting the animal in the first place?

BF: The 12-gauge is strong, buddy, but will only cause a limited amount of damage to your kill. I don’t hunt for trophies or food. The Packers pay me $10 million a year, so I don’t need to kill my own food to survive. I also have way too many plaques and awards honoring all of my accomplishments on display in my home to have room for stuffed animal corpses. What I like is to destroy the hell out of a dern deer! The 12-gauge is good, but if you want real demolition, I’ve got a barrel full of hand grenades I take out with my military issue arm cannon that can blow through a 10-foot wide block of solid earth rock. Those are real goddam weapons!

DA: The next time you destroy a deer, will you send me the meat and the corpse so we here at LushForLife.com can at least enjoy it? I think our office could use a bit more character. There’s nothing like a dead animal to bring out the life in something, you know?

BF: I know what you mean, dudebro.

DA: Till next time, Brett?

BF: Sure, I guess. I’m getting a bit sick of doing this, though.

DA: We’ve all been sick of you for years, man. It’s all about learning how to live with one another, and being accepting of a wide array of different sorts of people.

BF: Except for the niggers.

DA: Riiight?

BOSTON – The infamous North American Man/Boy Love Association announced, today, that they will be teaming up with Bad Boy Entertainment CEO P. Diddy in efforts to launch a new MTV reality show. The premise of the show will be to take five Caucasian, sexually confused adolescents and put them through a series of rigorous challenges in order to attain their status as Americas next boy band.

Naturally, there has been lots of controversy surrounding this show. The title of the show, which is also the name of the group, is Men II Boys. This title alone is suggestive enough to raise much speculation and controversy. LushForLife.com was able to get a copy of song lyrics that will be featured in the group’s first single:

I don’t want no sugar mama. I don’t need that kind of drama. I just want a sugar daddy. Plug my asshole in his Caddy.

Clearly, it doesn’t take a pedophile to understand what these lyrics imply.

Although several media officials, politicians, and parents are outraged over the conception and production of this series, MTV, nor its host, P. Diddy, have no qualms about making this show. MTV says that Men II Boys is just the kind of liberal show they need to further expand their ‘free-living-do-what-I-want’ market. When Diddy asked to comment on his participation in the reality series, he had this to say: ‘Yo, if this was five brothas rappin’ ‘bout takin’ some old man’s dick up their ass, I’d be like, ‘No way!’ But since this is five white boys, I ain’t got no beef wit’ it.’

The show is already in preproduction and is scheduled to air in early 2007.

“Dearest Reader,

In the turbulent world that is independent Internet satire, a year is a long, long time. A lot has happened as LushForLife.com looks forward to its first anniversary, next Tuesday.

Children have been born, icons have died, wars have begun, and the great debate of the superior sports star has sparked.

Zombies invaded, sharks attacked, rapists ran rampant.

Companies merged, formed, and one local pedophile opened a daycare center.

There has been love, hate, government standoffs, penises on lawns, and lost spatulas in space.

God has died and the battle for his kingdom endures.

We’ve learned new words, like dudebro, poop soup, brobonics, and sup.

Tom Cruise even made the news. There were real interviews with real people and fake interviews with fake people.

News has been weird, inane, ludicrous, boring, exciting, perplexing, and, most of all, insightfully funny.

We have doubled our staff of contributors, and haven’t even paid any of them a dime.

We have worked very hard to bring this site to you each and every week. We hope you have enjoyed it thus far, and look forward to bringing you the latest and greatest in cutting-edge Internet satire for years to come.

Eat your heart out, competitors; we’re here to stay!

Love,

Egbert Souse

“

“TAMPA – While the networks scream “”World War Three”" (or Four), the LushForLife.com International Think Tank quietly produced the solution to ending all human military conflict.

L4L ITT‘s research has shown that there is an almost perfect correlation (+0.98) between ownership of :

1) a push lawnmower,

2) a refrigerator connected to a reliable electrical power supply, with plastic ice trays, and

3) a free-standing rotisserie chicken cooker, and a strong disinclination to shoot rockets and other dangerous missiles into neighboring communities without provocation.

New L4L studies are underway to gather information about how much time, energy and creativity are required to clean and maintain refrigerators and freestanding rotisserie chicken cookers. This result will be added to the energy required to complete other tasks associated with inviting extended family and/or friends to visit, and to share a rotisserie chicken dinner.

L4L’s groundbreaking hypothesis suggests that these tasks siphon off energy otherwise available for making Molotov cocktails, or negotiating with crazy people to buy or build missiles of any kind.

Our surveys also show that refrigerator owners are not in favor of bombs or missiles because electricity cuts cause mold and crud to build up on their appliances, and frozen food tends to thaw. In one survey, respondents showed medium-to-strong anxiety that their frozen chickens (intended for their next rotisserie chicken dinner) might be spoiled during a power-cut.

L4L’s lawnmower subcommittee is investigating the relationship between lawns and peacefulness. Statistical analysis shows that a major issue here is ownership of a lawn. The size of the patch of lawn does not seem to be of major significance in the calculation, unless the lawn exceeds a critical size (over Ω acre). Push lawnmowers appear to be superior peacekeeping tools, compared with all other methods of manicuring lawns.

Those who own very large lawns, and who have no involvement in the mowing of their lawns are, sadly, not protected from the tendency to attack or destroy other communities. It is, therefore, highly recommended that all politicians and lawmakers own a lawn smaller than Ω acre. They should mow it weekly, in person, with a push-mower, to ensure that they are not tempted to make unprovoked war upon anyone.

LushForLife.com regrets that we cannot answer queries at the moment. We are all currently researching our share portfolios, based on push lawnmower manufacturers and refrigerator producers. Oh, and registering patents for new rotisserie chicken cookers?

“

“BEIRUT – The sky over Beirut exploded in a dazzling display of pyrotechnic brilliance sponsored by the Israeli Government, Thursday. The fireworks included a beautiful Lance Missile, reminiscent of a Roman candle, and fantastic Jericho 1s, similar to giant bottle rockets. The display was in celebration of the kidnapping of two Israeli soldiers who no one really liked. Ehud Goldwasser, 31, from Nahariya, and Eldad Regev, 26, from Kiryat Motzkin, where taken on the 12^th of July by Hezbollah, just inside the Israeli border. The two were, reportedly, pranksters whom nobody in their unit really liked.

“”Ehud once put a burning bag of camel shit outside of our barracks’ door,”" said Sergeant Uri Avotaynu, of the Israeli 22^nd. “”Second Lieutenant Jacob Cohn got crap all over his boots when he tried to stomp out the fire. What an asshole!”"

Motzkin was also not liked by his fellow servicemen, apparently. “”Let me tell you something about that schmuck,”" Captain A.B. Segal told LushForLife.com reporter Arthur Rocks in a telephone interview Wednesday morning. “”That dipshit once ordered fourteen ham and pineapple pizzas to the Captain’s dinner about three months ago. HAM! Where’d he even find a delivery place that had pork?! I’m glad that putz is gone.”"

But the fireworks in celebration of the troublemakers’ departure have sparked much international debate. It seems that of the fireworks went astray and unfortunately crash-landed on a few Hezbollah controlled buildings, setting them on fire, damaging their paintjobs, and leveling them to the ground. Hezbollah, a much-loved international civil rights group renowned for their petting zoos and line of children’s novels, has made a formal protest to the United Nations’ Children’s Literary Organization to try and stop Israel’s festival of lights. UN Secretary General Kofi Annan said, Monday, ‘These displays are a complete overreaction. From what I have heard, the soldiers weren’t that bad.’

Overacting expert and Operating Thetan Level 7 John Travolta told LushForLife.com earlier today that he didn’t think it was really an overreaction. ‘I’ve been over acting for years,’ said the Battlefield Earth star, ‘and I would have to say that this wasn’t even close to an overreaction. What you would really need to get this to the level of Face/Off would be to actually bomb the country back into the Stone Age. I mean, they’ve just started getting back on their feet after that civil war thing and their economy is finally getting its act together, so I would write a script where their roads, hospitals, schools, factories, and milk production plants were all wiped out. That would sell a butt-load of popcorn!’

The general assembly of the UN is still undecided as whether or not to attempt to sell the movie rights to the growing conflict, but American Super President, George ‘Dubya’ Bush said earlier today that he would watch anything staring John Travolta – another sure sign that the man is a complete idiot.

“

The following NSA transcript was leaked to the offices of LushForLife.com by a reliable source inside the White House.

Dad?

Hi George.

Dad?

George, I can’t hear you. Turn the phone around.

Dad. It’s George.

Yeah, I know.

It’s terrible, Daddy.

Did Barney escape again?

Nope, got him right here. But almost as bad. Kenny’s dead.

Kenny Lay? How?

Lynched.

George, do you know what lynched means?

Hold on… wait, maybe not that. I thought that’s what Karl said.

Yeah, he probably did.

Wait, here it is. The doctors say it was the heart that did it.

Ah.

Yup, the poor little thing must have just stopped beating. I don’t blame it: Kenny’s big boat was taken away.

It’s always the best that go first. That sonuvabitch was like Jesus.

Dad, I think you’re wrong. I know what Jesus looked like.

No, son. Inside. He was like the Big J inside, George

Like his guts and stuff?

No, boy. He was a humanitarian.

Hold on… wait, how’d you spell that?

H… U… N… He did good things for people, is what I mean. Gave them money and all.

Yeah, Pa. He gave us a lot of that.

Will you be going to the funeral, George?

Nah. I wanted to, but Karl forbade it. I don’t look good in black anyway.

Don’t worry, Georgie. Ma and I will go with the gang. He was a good man.

Yeah, Dad. A good Hungarian.

That’s right, George. A good Hungarian.

“BEIRUT – As bombs drop and artillery explode Nandiashti, the lesser known, Hindu wing of Hezbollah, has rolled up its yoga mats and thrown its Bhagavad-Gita in the furnace as murmurs of dissent are heard throughout their temples. “”We will no longer tolerate the brazen disruption of our sleep or the interruption of distribution of our valuable universal beverage base for our non-fat-half-caf-one-pump-vanilla-no-whip-soy-Chai-frappicinos. This is a declaration of war!”" Dhairya Nibodh, Leader of Nandiashti said last Thursday.

Unfortunately, the information was not released until yesterday. It could not be deciphered, as it was delivered via Beta cassette tape thrown from the window of a speeding Volkswagen van. It seems that there is only one Beta cassette player left in existence. Frank and Shirley Lamkey, of Van Nuys, California, bought the player in 1996 after their previous player broke. “”We hadn’t seen Purple Rain since 1987,”" said Mr. Lamkey.

“”Man, dude, it’s not the plastics factory those crazy Jews bombed on Monday or the pharmaceutical plant they bombed yesterday; it’s the dairy farm they bombed on Tuesday that has us really kind of pissed off, now. You see, we’re Hindu and we sort of worship cows. It’s not the 258 civilian dead or the 582 injured that bothers us; it’s the fact that they killed 27 innocent beautiful cows, you know, Brostradamus?”" said Nibodh in an exclusive satellite phone interview with Arthur Rocks.

’We didn’t realize there were any Hindus in Lebanon, and we certainly didn’t realize that Hezbollah had a Hindu wing. We bombed the dairy farm to keep those towel-head babies from developing strong bones after we kill all of their mothers. We have no beef with Hinduism or its practitioners, excuse the pun (God, I’m fucking witty),’ said Ira Kleinsteinwitz, representative of the Israeli Government.

’I don’t get it, Dudestoyevski,’ said Nibodh, ‘Everyone keeps focusing on Iran’s links with Hezbollah. Yet your prestigious, well-renowned, genius news source is the only site covering our story. I don’t know much, Broseph, but it seems that people should be more concerned with the fact that we have ties to India. They’ve agreed to supply us with whatever means we need to protect the sacred cows.’ He conducted the whole interview in the lotus position.

NRDC estimates that India has 30-35 nuclear warheads and enough weapons grade plutonium to create 50-90 more.

“

“The following article was received from Danny Albertson via satellite at LushForLife.com headquarters in Tampa, Florida from the coast of Beirut shortly after Israeli bombing of Lebanon began to take place. We believe Albertson’s trained chimp may have wired the story – so any factual inaccuracies are simply beyond control.

“”It’s approaching five o’clock in the morning, floating onboard Duncan Idaho’s yacht, the Scullender, several miles off the turbulent shores of Beirut, Lebanon, as the bottom of the amyl nitrate bottle finally unveils itself to my debauched and swollen eyes. My crew of Lebanese vigilantes has abandoned our escape; the only remaining member is Miguel, one of the last trained chimps who survived the shooting at LushForLife.com headquarters last month, who I decided to bring along on this assignment, partially for his inane wit, but mainly for his grizzled drinking habit. Our lone boat emits the only sign of life and flashes of light for miles, aside from the flickers of blasts from the Lebanese shoreline, visible from this luxurious boat that Duncan so warmheartedly provided.

I was sent to Beirut to supervise a transaction between LushForLife.com executive Duncan Idaho and group of Lebanese tradesman, as well as a lead I picked up from one of my ‘psychedelic consultants,’ who told me his colleague in Beirut was the last person on earth to obtain an extremely rare hallucinogen derived from Cypripedium acaule. The deal with the Lebanese traders was already set in stone; the price of the aluminum tubing we were buying was agreed upon in writing, Duncan’s third party buyer was making the purchase, and all I had to do was make sure Duncan wasn’t getting duped – the only thing Miguel and I required was to get the bugger done.

The morning of July 13, before heading to the Lebanese market to complete the transaction, I took Miguel with me to a brothel located on the outskirts of downtown Beirut where I was instructed to meet my source’s client, where I could acquire some of this obscure drug. We each shared a round of amyl nitrate as we passed by the various movers and shakers trying to push twelve year-old African hookers into our paths. Though my intoxicated chimp wanted to take the Lebanese pimps on their offers, I forcefully reminded him, as I passed the amyls, of the purpose of this quest.

We reached the entrance to our client’s brothel; it was more of a deserted, inhospitable hut than a place to find sensual delight – occupied only by a pair of run-down whores and our man, Naim El Saikali, sheathed in a hooded garment, obscuring his appearance.

’I never do business before enjoying a drink,’ he muttered in a surprisingly coherent English accent.

’Do you mind sharing a table with a chimp?’ I asked him, ‘I never drink without him, and he’s very well mannered.’

He force fed us round after round of a home-distilled grain alcohol; a primitive spirit with a hasty bite and a strong kick that made my chimp’s stomach grumble with delight.

I sat across from him, attempting to keep my words short and my thoughts clear, struggling to keep my brain wrapped around the task at hand.

’I’ll tell you where to find the mystical acaule,’ he said, writing down something on a napkin, ‘Go to this place. You will find good luck there.’

The time was almost 10am, judging from my watch, which I could barely see clearly enough to distinguish the angle of the directional arms. We didn’t have time to explore the acaule just yet; it was time to get the dirty business done. Meeting up with these businessmen will surely be a formidable task, but one that I was sent here to do. One thing I know about dealing with Duncan – and his temper – is to not leave any stone unturned, or reap the consequence of having your entire liquor cabinet evaporate and your stash vanish without a trace. Otherwise, I would just send Miguel on this awful task. He’s a capable primate, sometimes more than I am?

Upon returning to the marketplace and finding my associates, I was shocked to find our third party buyer tied up in chicken wire and gagged in a shipping box, next to two other Israeli captives and guarded by a half dozen armed Lebanese soldiers who looked more bug-eyed and tweaked than Miguel when he and I engage in all night meth-binges. These fuckers were definitely either in their element, or really out of it – ready to gun down anything that moved? in my case, a drunken, glassy-eyed Gringo with an equally soused chimpanzee at his feet.

’I’d like half a pound of jumbo Mediterranean sea shrimp, a barrel of your finest swill, and a shard of gristle for the monkey to chew on,’ I said in a slurred voice, with my eyes slightly closed.

They mumbled something in Lebanese [sic] and pointed at me to leave, so I took them up on the offer. ‘I guess the fishmonger is on down. My mistake. Good day, gentlemen? ‘

I had to make the quick decision of abandoning our search for the mystical acaule until a later time. The moment had come to make a prompt getaway, with amyls in pocket and chimp in hand. Real pros know when the time is right?

Our boat sailed off shore while a fleet of Israeli bombers coasted towards the Lebanon skyline, causing havoc and demolition. We’ve been anchored several miles off shore for three days, just within international waters, waiting for one of Gale Force’s hijacked steamboats that we sent transmissions to three days ago to come and rescue us.

We’ll see the calming shores of Tampa Bay soon, I hope. If not, Miguel and I have plenty of El Saikali’s grain alcohol and the remaining drips of amyl nitrate to keep us company.

Reporting from the Mediterranean, this is Danny Albertson.’

“

“CAPE CANAVERAL, FL – Panic stuck mission control, Wednesday afternoon, when an experimental spatula was lost on a dangerous space walk. The spatula was developed in Hong Kong by a team of Chinese aeronautics researchers and flown to the Kennedy Space Center in late 2006. Designed for space walk repair jobs, the spatula was made of molded plastic, specially formed for maximum spread. It was intended to smear a peanut butter-like substance on the outer shell of the shuttle in the event of an astral jelly storm, a more-common-than-you-would-think occurrence here in the Milky Way.

Tear-stricken, Discovery astronaut Piers Sellers apologized while floating in a kneeling position on the main deck of the shuttle’s cargo bay. “”I know how much this mission means to everyone,”" said the embarrassed French butterfingers. ‘I will work as hard as humanly possible to make up for this inexcusable error,”" continued the fumbling frog, “”and I will replace the spatula from my own pay!”"

Piers, who makes approximately $39,000 a year on the government’s G-11 pay scale, will need about 22 years to pay off the $850,000 spatula, unless he gets a raise, which he won’t. ‘We simply can’t have irresponsible spacewalkers,’ said Michael D. Griffin, the current NASA administrator. ‘Off the record? We’re going to have to let him go when he gets back.’

A senate committee has been formed to investigate the disappearance of the spatula and other highly published losses of space-grade kitchen utensils. Already, this mission has misplaced a $2.1 million space whisk, a $300,000 eggbeater, and blown up a $25,000 blender. NASA’s clear disregard for taxpayer’s dollars when it comes to cooking tools has obviously spiraled out of control. Just yesterday, astronaut and Texas A&M graduate Michael Fossum dropped an $8,800 butter knife behind the space stove, and didn’t even try to retrieve it.

The spatula will be replaced by an identical design found at the Super Target at 50 Crockett Blvd, Merritt Island, FL.

“