700 people claim to be at least one-sixteenth sexy MF-er

Considering that, in 2007, Prince helped 140 million television viewers conceive in a single half hour performance, it's no stretch that 700 people were related to him.
Considering that, in 2007, Prince helped 140 million television viewers conceive in a single half hour performance, it’s no stretch that 700 people may have been related to him.

Morse Genealogical Services, the Florida-based firm in charge of identifying heirs to Prince’s estate, has reportedly received “between 600 and 700 calls” from people claiming to be related to him. Unfortunately, most of the applicants don’t have prerequisite paperwork establishing a familial link — birth, marriage, death, divorce certificates, census records, etc. — so, they won’t have the chance to take a DNA test.

It was worth a shot, though. Considering how much DNA that the human being formerly known as Prince spread around — prior to finding Jesus — you never know who in the world is or isn’t at least a little sexay motherf*cka.

In fact, the odds are so good of so many relations, that they might have to distribute Prince’s earthly wealth like this through the streets of Minneapolis:

Reading your spam folder could make cocaine dangerous!

"Dear lord, if I am to die, please let someone clear my browser history before my mom and Forensics go through my stuff. Just not for the usual reason."
“Dear lord, if I am to die, please let someone clear my browser history before my mom and Forensics go through my stuff. Just not for the usual reason.”

Professional basketball player and Kardashian-by-association, Lamar Odom was reportedly found collapsed in a Nevada brothel, allegedly with cocaine and “herbal Viagra” in his system. So, now we know why there are so many of those “b1gger member5 w(n)ow” emails from h0rny Go@t 2de in our spam email folder: because they worked on Lamar Odom.

That is to say that the emails worked. Whether the pills work is a question that the media is desperately trying to answer. It is critical to find out right now if off-brand Viagra from Canadian pharmacies will kill us.

After all, it would be a tragedy if all of the positive health effects of f*cking cocaine were somehow nullified.

Swollen Brains: Knut’s saga ends

Our favorite Knut moment: April 13, 2009 when he turned on his fans.
Our favorite Knut moment: April 13, 2009 when he turned on his fans.

We’ve followed the saga of Knut, the polar bear cub born in captivity in Berlin that Germany — a country prone to unhealthy mass hysteria — fell a little too in love with for years. And now, with his autopsy report, we can officially end this coverage with a final pronouncement. That Knut died the way he lived: by thinking that he was people. Or, at least through a condition that, until now, had only been associated with people.

Knut’s story ends with anti-NMDA receptor encephalitis, which caused his brain to swell, after which he fell into his pool and drowned. Assuming polar bears crap in ice flows, which are mostly water, we can say that he, therefore, died like another 300-pound white superstar on his toilet: Elvis.

Farewell, Knut. In the War on Animals, you were our favorite bear in a cage to rattle.

They’ll live on inside of you forever

"What's taking so long in there?" "I'm lamenting!"
“What’s taking so long in there?”
“I’m lamenting!”

Feelings are tricky. When first experienced, they overwhelm to the point that you’ll honestly believe that you will never feel differently again, especially when it comes to loss and grieving. And then, poof, one day, you don’t feel as bad. And finally, after enough time, you feel a little silly explaining that memorial tattoo of your first cat to any new employers. It’s enough to make anyone feel a little guilty, like maybe our love wasn’t all strong that strong to begin with.

Well, if you can’t maintain the intensity of raw emotion for your lost loved ones, you can at least re-stimulate it for 3 to 15 minutes at a time, depending on your stamina and time between meetings at work. It’s all thanks to Mark Sturkenboom, who is the only man with the exact right name to create a dildo with people’s cremated ashes inside.

So, your loved ones aren’t really gone, not so long as they’re still inside of you.

‘I came here to drink orange juice and shoot butts …’

A dad in Baton Rouge, La., walked into his kitchen on Sunday morning to drink orange juice and shoot butts, only to discover that he was all out of orange juice. After an argument with his 18-year-old son led to a broken vase, police report that he chased his son outside and allegedly fired a handgun three times, hitting him in the buttocks.

Police video forensics have assembled the following reenactment of the altercation that led to the shooting:

The victim should be recovering as his wounds were reported as non-life-threatening. He’s — at the very least — doing as well as anyone with four butt holes can.

Sun’s out, guns out

Going goth may just save your life.
Going goth may just save your life.

If you’ve ever wondered why repeated listenings to Johnny Nash’s “I Can See Clearly Now” have driven you to suicidal thoughts (Just me? OK.), statistics may now know why.

According to a new study published in JAMA Psychiatry and data collected by the CDC, there is “a positive association between the number of suicides on a particular day and the hours of sunshine,” meaning more people kill themselves on sunny days.

We’re also more likely to do it in the spring, while December has the fewest suicides of all months. So, take that Holiday Seasonal Affective Disorder and shove it to Easter. Which, when you think about it, is the more depressing holiday season between Mardi Gras STIs, Lent, crucifixions and rabbits that lay eggs.

Researchers aren’t sure why the sun drives us to offing ourselves, but one factor may be light itself. Increased light improves our drive to do things and decreases our serotonin transferrals, making us even more impulsive. So, if you’re depressed, stay indoors!

… Oh, you’re already walled up inside of your home with the windows taped shut? Good.

Tonight we opine in hell!

"Chevys! What is your profession!?" "AH-OOOOOGA! AH-OOOOOGA! AH-OOOOOGA!"
“Chevys! What is your profession!?” “AH-OOOOOGA! AH-OOOOOGA! AH-OOOOOGA!”

Before you finish that chest workout and go see 300: Rise of an Empire, The Guys would like to warn you not to debate it afterwards. You just can’t handle the arguments that this big, dumb movie full of big, dumb men will dredge up.

Even Texans — renowned for their toughness and debate skills — couldn’t discuss the “history” as interpreted by curmudgeon Frank Miller and Zack Snyder’s slow motion cameras in the unasked-for sequel to 300. And now a man is dead, killed with a truck by two men whom he argued with in the parking lot afterwards.

But, even though he lost, when one man stands up to F150, then that in itself is kind of a victory. But not really because he’s dead.

Online banking: the new immortality

♪ ♬ Heeeere we are! Born to be Kings, we're the princes of the uuuniveeeerse! ♫ ♬
♪ ♬ Heeeere we are! Born to be kings, we’re the princes of the uuuniveeeerse! ♫ ♬

Ever wonder why so many banks have “first” or “one” in their names? It’s possibly because they’re creating a race of immortals who move silently down through the centuries, living many secret lives, struggling to reach the time of the Gathering: when the few who remain will battle to the last.

Well, prototype immortals, anyway, as evidenced by a woman found dead after six years because her bills were paid automatically through online banking.

The woman in question is believed to have died sometime in 2008, but because her bank account was well-stocked, her bills, mortgage and landscaping payments continued going out as scheduled until March 2013. It wasn’t until her bank foreclosed her home that anyone found her, mummified in her car in the garage.

Hopefully, she hadn’t planned on taking her money with her.

Take it from Snee: The elderly are revolting

"Mabel! Ethyl! Run! They told you it was one-hand touch, not two!"
“Mabel! Ethyl! Run! They told you it was one-hand touch, not two!”

As home to some of our nation’s greatest threats, sometimes we wonder if Andrew Jackson stole Florida from the Spanish and American Indians solely because swamp monsters gave him boners. While the state has always been to alligators and the giant magnet that attracts hurricanes, later residents would import out of control pythons, hotheaded stand-your-grounders and elderly people with alarmingly rising rates of STDs.

And what happens when a new ecosystem is established from outside forces? Segments of that population combine into hybrids perfectly suited to it. And now we’re facing our greatest threat: elderly people who have had enough of our s**t and are armed.  Continue reading Take it from Snee: The elderly are revolting

Take it from Snee: For his last trick, Nelson Mandela politely let us be dicks

Pictured here already tired of the media's s$%t before his funeral.
Nelson Mandela was already sick of the media’s s$%t before his funeral.

In another decade, the death of who may be this living generation’s greatest example of humanity might have been regarded as a solemn occasion: a time to reflect on his achievements and appraise our own life’s work in comparison.

Fortunately, Nelson Mandela was South African, so that let Americans off the hook.

Instead, we took it as an opportunity to decide who was and wasn’t grieving appropriately and, more importantly, “How is this Obama’s Teapot Dome?” (Having already used Watergate, Katrina, Iraq, and even “Mission Accomplished Moment” to describe the president’s failures, we’re now re-appropriating scandals from the Harding administration.) Oh, and to determine whether the recently ex-living embodiment of dismantling systemic racism was “just another socialist like Stalin, Hitler, and FDR.”

So, on behalf of all my fellow assho Americans, I’d like to thank Mr. Mandela for politely letting us carry on like a pack of baboons for the past several days. A lesser corpse would have rolled through to China by this afternoon after enduring these “stories,” proving just how swell of a guy Madiba was …

Continue reading Take it from Snee: For his last trick, Nelson Mandela politely let us be dicks