Crisis! Janeway sits sidesaddle in her captain’s chair as Voyager is snared by a Borg tractor beam. Cutting lasers begin to slice through the hull of the ship Janeway, her hair a disaster, orders a complete evacuation of the ship! Luckily nanobots from Seven of Nine’s boobies are beamed into the Borg Cube. They disable the lasers. Crisis resolved!
Crisis! Janice Dickenson is out of blood for her daily sacrifice to T’Leetulukakamonashar, the demon queen of eternal youth. Oh no! Janice and her retarded son (She shoulda put the pipe down during her preggers. Tsk Tsk) head out to a mall for another “casting call”. Height, weight and virginity are all subjects of discussion. Three virgins are promptly sliced open and before you can say “botox party” the world’s first supermodel is doing the backstroke in a bathtub of blood. Crisis resolved!
Crisis! Jack Twist is being chased by Injuns intent on scalping him of his L.A. Looks shellacked tresses. He rides with no saddle on a thundering mustang. The brutal bucking bruises his delicate thighs and buttocks. He can’t last much longer! Is this the end of gay cowboy jokes? Never! Over the horizon rides Ennis del Mar and that cowboy from the Village People. They shoot them Injuns dead real good and then enjoy an ethnic meal of maize and grilled buffalo followed by a threesome. Crisis Resolved!
Crisis! The world is melting because of our indulgent, air conditioned lives. In only ten years Manhattan will be submerged under twenty feet of water. Al Gore showed me the PowerPoint presentation to prove it! The world’s mightiest army (ours) is locked in a quagmire “war” in a nation-state surrounded by nuclear missiles, terrorists and fields of flammable oil. George Bush is our president! Americans pray. Crisis resolved!
Crisis! Gayest Neil sits quietly and stares at a blank page of paper… He is frustrated lately. He cries into his pillow and consumes waffles and fried chicken in bed, under the covers. He gets tubbier; the greasy chicken gives his face a sheen similar to that of the aforementioned Iraqi oil field. Still that blank page stares him down. In the mornings Neil makes funny voices in the shower. Not a sign of insanity, rather an indicator that Neil craves more waffles and chicken and a creative outlet, preferably one on a stage where he can perform funny voices for an audience instead of his bathroom mirror. He plugs a microphone into his computer… He assembles a box of sound effects devices… Crisis resolution pending…
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