Failing Memory Fuses Robert Wuhl, Kevin Pollack Into Single Entity

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Christians Most Persecuted Religious Group Worldwide, Report Finds

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A report commissioned by the British government found that Christians represented over 80% of those persecuted for religious beliefs worldwide, stressing their treatment in the Middle East approached near-genocide levels. What do you think? 

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The Sprawling Sci-Fi RPG Shows Real Promise, But I Can’t Give A Full Appraisal After Only 1,500 Hours Of Play Time

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By now, it’s clear that CD Projekt Red’s Cyberpunk 2077 is among this year’s most anticipated games. Developed by the team behind The Witcher, the title touts an ungodly level of customization, a sprawling science-fiction universe, and an unmatched development pedigree. And while the game showed real promise in our preview at the studio’s office, the fact is that I only scratched the surface after my quick 1,500 hours of playtime.

Don’t get me wrong: What I saw in that quick teaser was plenty intriguing. But the verdict is still out on this sci-fi juggernaut until I can sit down with the full build later this year and go beyond the all-too-short eight weeks I spent exploring its futuristic world.

When you get down to it, Cyberpunk 2077 is trying to be the be-all-end-all sandbox game, and nowhere was that more apparent than in the 27 hours that I managed to spend on the character customization screen alone. From minor cosmetic tweaks to your eye color to defining each and every facet of the backstory of your character, the developers gave me more than enough reason to skip an entire day of meals and suffer some hunger pangs in favor of really digging into the robust options on offer.

By the time I entered the Night City—the game’s dystopian metropolis based in the Free State of California—I had already developed some pretty severe bed sores from sitting in a recliner for 125 hours straight. And even though the lack of sleep gave me some minor auditory hallucinations, the five-day playthrough of the tutorial level—and especially the eight hours I spent motionlessly staring at the perfectly rendered sunset behind a futuristic high-rise—gave me some serious faith that Cyberpunk planned to give role-playing fans an unprecedented level of freedom.

Obviously, take all of this with a grain of salt. Listening to a few hundred hours of the game’s branching dialogue trees, walking down every alleyway in the hub area, meeting only a few thousand of the game’s cybernetic and human NPCs, and paging through a couple million digital diary entries isn’t nearly enough of a hands-on experience to render a full judgment. It’s also worth noting that my vision started fading fairly early on from eye strain, so I wasn’t entirely sure what I was playing by the demo’s closing.

It was sometime around when my landlord called me to say that my cat had died because I hadn’t fed it for weeks that I knew this was a game worth keeping my eye on.

Still, it makes sense that Cyberpunk 2077 would have serious potential. After all, this is the studio behind The Witcher 3, a game so immersive that by the time I finished my four-year speed run, my wife had left me and taken custody of our son and my muscles had atrophied to the point that I could no longer move around without a motorized wheelchair.

So I’m definitely hopeful that once I clock some real quality time with the game—even if it’s only 10 or 20,000 more hours—Cyberpunk 2077 will deliver on the hype. Until then, I’m reserving my judgment. But let’s just say that I couldn’t help but smile when I finished my 1,500-hour playthrough, opened up the game’s menu, and saw I had only finished 1% of the core storyline.

That’s the kind of impressive commitment to open-world game making that I like to see.

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History Of The Filibuster

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The filibuster, a practice in which members of Congress can purposely delay a proposal through a lengthy speech or debate, is a source of controversy among both political parties. The Onion takes a look at the history of the filibuster.

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1789:

Philip Schuyler becomes first member of Senate to ramble on a little too long about something no one else cares about.

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1805:

Aaron Burr helps cement the filibuster into Senate law, keeping in mind that any good democracy is built on loopholes.

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1837:

A group of Whig senators stage the first successful filibuster in a stroke of legislative genius that explains why the party is still such a dominant force in politics today.

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1917:

President Woodrow Wilson urges change to the filibuster on the grounds that it’s super annoying when you really want to drive the U.S. into a war but a coequal branch of government won’t let you.

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1939:

Jimmy Stewart’s iconic filibuster in Mr. Smith Goes To Washington inspires countless future politicians to misconstrue own passionate causes as heroic.

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1953:

A tearful Wayne Morse abruptly stops his 22-hour filibuster of the Submerged Lands Act after realizing what he’s really speaking out against is his strained relationship with his father.

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1957:

Strom Thurmond ends 24-hour, 18-minute filibuster against the Civil Rights Act after finally getting word in over the applause.

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2013:

Rand Paul figures this the most effective way for him to grab some easy headlines.

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2021:

Mitch McConnell’s nine-hour filibuster to defeat 19th consecutive Democrat-sponsored bill to fight climate change only underscores importance of always letting both sides have their say

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Dreadlord's New Sidekick

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As the Legion’s pecking order grows increasingly unclear, Dreadlord undermines VP with a “big” idea.

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Queen Elizabeth Disappointed In New Royal Baby Boy’s Lack Of Proper Inbreeding

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Lily Du and Paul Robalino on the 1973 Yankee Marriage Swap

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Lily Du and Paul Robalino join Raph for a story about baseball, sex, and a life-altering switcheroo.

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My Truck Hauls Ass | Points in Case

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My truck hauls ass. It hauls so much ass that sometimes I literally cannot believe how much ass it hauls. Sometimes, while I’m hauling ass, I just take a deep breath and make sure I’m not dreaming. And frankly, I believe that as much ass as it hauls currently, if put to the test, it could haul exponentially more ass.

My truck doesn’t transport ass or tote ass or schlepp ass or cart ass. It hauls ass. Lots of it. It could haul all the ass in the entire world if given the opportunity. It has no maximum capacity of ass it can haul. When I’m talking truck and people talk about their trucks’ maximum payloads and or carrying capacity and then ask me how much ass my truck hauls I say succinctly, “Infinity ass.”

Which is good because there is so much ass to haul. I’ve learned there are a few things upon which you can always rely: food spillage when you’re wearing white; good hair days happening when you least expect them; your kids vomiting when you don’t have a towel; and there always being ass that needs to get hauled somewhere.

Some trucks haul logs and some trucks haul thingamabobs and some trucks, because they are equipped with refrigerating equipment, haul frozen foods or cans of beer or crates of Ben & Jerry’s. Some trucks even haul other trucks. You know how that cabbage you just bought at the grocery store got in the produce section? A cabbage hauling truck. You know what my truck hauls? Ass.

I am the only one in my sphere of influence who has a truck that hauls ass. As such, my friends frequently call me and ask me to haul some ass for them. I’m always eager to help them haul ass. I’ll ask them, “This really is of no consequence because my truck can haul so much ass, but how much ass do you have to haul?” Sometimes they say, “I just have an armoire.” Or “I need to take my parents’ old dryer to the dump.” And I have to say politely, “Sorry, I thought I made this clear before, but by my truck hauls ass and only ass.” But other times they’ll say, “I have five tons of ass that needs hauling. Do you think your truck can handle it?”

In such cases, I just chuckle and say, “Yeah. My truck hauls ass. All the ass.” Then, no matter where they are—a flea market, state penitentiary, donkey farm, Key West night club, wildlife preserve in Africa—I drive my truck there and we haul some ass.

My truck hauls only ass, but it hauls all kinds of ass. Reptile ass, amphibian ass, human ass, cat ass, hamster ass, insect ass, donkey ass (that’s double ass), and one time it even hauled dinosaur ass. That was unexpected, but you never know what you’re going to get in the ass hauling business.

My truck also hauls ass anywhere and everywhere. I’ve hauled ass on major highways and on country roads. I’ve hauled ass in the Target parking lot and at my kids’ school’s drop-off lane. Sure, the Target moms and school teachers complain sometimes, but I’m like, “Sorry folks. There’s ass in this world that needs hauling and my truck is the truck that hauls it.”

Everywhere I go my truck is hauling ass. I’ve hauled ass over the Golden Gate bridge and I’ve hauled ass on the Blue Ridge Parkway and I’ve hauled ass on Route 66 and I have even hauled ass on Broadway on my way to see Hamilton. Once I was at the toll plaza on the Garden State Parkway and the toll booth collector looked at my truck and said, “Your truck hauls ass,” and give me a thumbs up. I said, “Thanks for noticing. Yes, my truck contains copious amounts of ass and it is hauling it.”

Everyone who rides in my truck agrees it hauls ass. We will be hauling ass down the road or the highway or outside of Ikea, and I’ll turn down the radio and subtly say, “This truck really hauls ass doesn’t it?” and never—not ever—has anyone disagreed with that assessment. They’re always like, “Yeah, it sure does. But isn’t it a bit weird to haul ass and nothing else?” And I’m like, “Do people ever complain about egg beaters only beating eggs? Or horse whisperers only whispering horses?

Once I was hauling ass and came down a hill with a full load of ass and rounded a curve doing somewhere close to 60 miles per hour. That might not sound fast, but it is when you’re hauling ass. Dead ahead, about 100 yards in front of me was a narrow bridge and sitting in the middle of the bridge were several people in lawn chairs with coolers scattered around and fishing lines tossed over the side. I laid on the horn and hit the brakes and stopped about 15 feet from the lawn chairs. The people had already shit their pants and were standing next to the bridge railing, terrified. But, know what they said after that near-death experience?

You guessed it. “Your truck hauls ass.”

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Take comedy writing classes at The Second City – 10% off with code PIC.

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R.L. Stine Admits Every Book He’s Written Directly Dictated To Him By God

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COLUMBUS, OH—Revealing at long last the creative process behind a successful career during which he has written over 300 books, best-selling children’s author R.L. Stine disclosed during an interview Monday that all of his writing is dictated to him directly by God. “One morning, I was walking in the woods behind my house when lo! I suddenly heard the voice of the Lord ring out, commanding me to transcribe His message. I fell to my knees and received His divine command to publish His truths, verbatim, in a series of 120-page horror fiction books for kids to purchase at Scholastic book fairs across the country,” said Stine, insisting he could never take full credit for classics such as Say Cheese And Die or Phantom Of The Auditorium, as he had merely served as a conduit for the teachings of the divine Creator. “It could have been anyone on Earth, but He chose me to act as a herald of His voice and a vessel for His words, and I feel truly humbled. There were times when I cursed the tremendous burden of channeling The Supreme Being, and I often asked myself, ‘Why me? Why must I be the one to write Under The Magician’s Spell?’ But I knew there was a higher purpose for me, much like that revealed in the divine text of Stay Out Of The Basement.” Stine noted that like many readers, he, too, still wrestles with accepting that Slappy the Dummy is actually the next Messiah.

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Grandma Wants To Know If You’re Still Drawing

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‘You Were So Good!’

PRESCOTT, AZ—Saying that it’s been ages since you made her one of your special pictures with your art set, Grandma, 86, inquired Monday as to whether or not you are still drawing. “Remember the pictures of my house you drew for me when you were only in second grade? I still have them. You were so good!” said Grandma, who went on to note that you had a real knack for making drawings like the one you did of your dog, Sandy or Sally or Andy, nearly 20 years ago, but expressing disappointment at your lack of creative output since then. “Your parents spent all that money on art supplies when you were growing up, but I haven’t seen anything you’ve made in so long. If you ever do any watercolors or other paintings, I’d love to see them.” At press time, Grandma then fixed you a grilled American cheese sandwich, cut diagonally into fancy triangles, just how you like it.

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