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Man, What the Hell?

Man, What The Hell? Good Grief Edition

Plus condoms, candy, and cow manure.

Imagine Charlie Brown and the football, only instead of a Wilson official, it’s just my head, and instead of Lucy pulling away at the last moment, Chaz actually makes contact and sends my soft noggin flying. Or something.

Where was I going with this? Oh, right. That I’m a gullible sap.

Every time I think things can’t get worse, and that we’re definitely on some sort of an upswing from all [T H I S], the universe conspires to remind me that, no, actually, shit will continue to suck for the foreseeable future. Ha ha, joke’s on me. In the time since our last MWTH together, a Supreme Court justice has died, the president threatened to throw a big tantrum right in the middle of the Oval Office if the election doesn’t go his way, and the powers that be took time out of their busy days to remind the rest of us they care more about drywall and plaster than human life. Oh, and if you’d like, you can now shell out a couple hundred bucks for your own personal flying panopticon.

And here I thought I could go just a few days without impending dread wrapping its icy fingers around my heart (which, incidentally, is doing much better. Many thanks to all of you who’ve asked).

And yet, there’s still plenty to look forward to, as well. If you hadn’t already heard, Discourse Blog is taking the leap and launching its own website soon, but not before we all get together, join hands like the cast of Toy Story 3 as they descend into an inferno, and livestream the first presidential debate of the 2020 election. See? Fun stuff!

You’ve gotta find joy where you can, folks. Because sometimes you miss the football, sometimes you are the football, and sometimes you mangle a metaphor so bad you end up looking like a total ass in front of everyone.

What was my point again? Who knows?

Let’s just get to it.

Weird flex, but okay

Here is a video of Bryant Johnson, Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s longtime personal trainer, honoring her the best way he knows how: by rackin’ those gains, buddy!

Look, I’m not here to criticize how people mourn and process grief. Everyone is different. What I am here to do, however, is ask you, my physically fitness inclined readers, to critique this man’s form. Should the elbows be out? The fingers splayed? Why stop at three? I’m sorry for this man’s loss, but if it had been me, I would simply have shown my devotion to a fallen friend/client by doing as many pushups as I physically could in one extended set.

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle, Retch

I’m all for saving the planet, and smart sexual health decisions. At least, until you put them in a Venn diagram, and consider what that middle segment might actually look like. Something horrifying. Something like the more than 250,000 used condoms confiscated by Vietnamese police, which had allegedly been cleaned, dried, reshaped on a wooden dildo, and resold to aspiring fornicators as brand new rubbers for their unsuspecting jimmies.

The owner of the warehouse in which the condoms had been found told the Vietnamese press they’d received a “monthly input of used condoms from an unknown person,” which should give the police a pretty good idea of who they’re looking for: The most exhausted man in all of Vietnam.

Glcock 45 9mm


An Oregon man is on the mend after police say he accidentally shot himself in the groin while flaunting a concealed handgun at a Lincoln City supermarket.


Ellingford mistakenly pulled the trigger as he stuffed the piece back into his pants, police said. A bullet tore through the gunslinger’s groin and exited his thigh, just barely missing the man’s femoral artery.

Cleanup in aisle D.


The New England Journal of Medicine published a study this week confirming that a 55-year-old man Massachusetts man who fainted in a fast food joint, and died in the hospital the next day, was likely killed by “a poor diet, consisting primarily of several packages of candy daily.” In fact, three weeks prior to his death, the man had reportedly switched from chewy fruit candy to black licorice, a prime source of heart-rate-fucking glycyrrhizic acid.

I’m calling bullshit on this one

If I suspected someone had left a sizable amount of literal cow dookie on my front steps, I would simply not bring it indoors for further analysis. But hey, I’m not one of the super crime brains working in the Asheville police department.

🎶 He’s a radical rat! 🎶

Please join me in congratulating Magawa, a five year old giant pouched rat who this week won the prestigious PDSA Gold Medal for his years of work sniffing out landmines in Cambodia.

Magawa can allegedly “search the area of a tennis court in 30 minutes” as opposed to a stupid human, who would take around four days to cover the same ground using a metal detector.

Unlike pizza rat, or combat rat, Magawa is actually making the world a better place, which is more than I can say for most human beings. Just don’t let Bill de Blasio anywhere near him.

Start spreading the poos

It is my unfortunate duty to inform you that New York City’s MTA voted this week to officially, formally, and unequivocally ban the public from taking huge dumps while riding the city’s trains and busses. Please remember to include this heartbreaking development in the next round of inevitable “why I’m leaving New York” personal essays.

Livin’ the “Dreams”

I have nothing more to add beyond the fact that this man is absolutely doing everything right. A true icon.

I don’t know why Substack won’t let me embed Tiktok videos, but go give Mr. 420doggface208 a follow.

And finally

Congrats to all of us for making it through one more…

Did anything make you say “Man, what the hell?” this week? Perhaps out loud to a roommate, loved one, or disinterested household pet/plant? Misery loves company, so share your personal what the hells in the comments below! And don’t forget to submit your Man, What The Hell? suggestions for next week to our dedicated inbox of horrors:

(pic via Warner Home Video – waaa wa wa whaaaaa)