Gargoyle Humor Magazine

First Gargoyle of the Year!

2010-09-08T17:11:32Z

Rejoice, gentle readers! For the latest and greatest installation of the Gargoyle has been printed and posted for your delight!

Find it by the Michigan Daily racks!

In a bit of a

2010-08-25T01:54:24Z

Like you, I always wondered what to do with the delectable green brine left lonely in a

pickle-less jar. As usual, the internet has all the answers. Take a look!

Pickle Soup Pickle Martini Pickle Mystic

(Un)fortunate.

2010-08-20T00:11:05Z

The screams of the women - they haunted him. Dozens, even baker's dozens, of those from his past who just... couldn't... take it. He couldn't take it. He couldn't take the echoing shouts, wails and screeches reverberating inside his scull. These screams, these vivid spectres of the past, they were not screams of pain, or sorrow. They were screams of pleasure. Moans, cries and howls of pleasure. For it was his gift, and yet his most unfortunate talent, that every time he made physical contact with someone, they would orgasm. Hard.

High fives lead to disaster. Handshakes required an immediate cold shower, and handshakes - forget about it. Even his moment of birth had been so physically rewarding to his mother, that she actually tried putting him back in.

His first kiss, his first hand-hold, his first sly brush on the shoulder - all these women had been instantly and embarassingly incapacitated the moment he laid hands. This, of course, meant that he could never make meaningful contact with them, or anyone. To prolong contact meant only to prolong the climax - too much for many to bare. And so he was alone in the world. Alone with the greatest gift, and the most unfortunate talent.

Punday Monday - August 16, 2010

2010-08-16T21:53:39Z

This is a very special Punday Monday. Firstly, because I'm actually updating on Monday. Secondly, it's a bunch of illustrated Tom Swifties. Ch-check it out!

Austin Hensel Destroys a Coat

2010-08-13T22:04:24Z

What follows may have actually happened, or it may have been a response to a writing exercise. Believe what you will....

As I stepped out of the corner store, my eyes caught it. Double breasted, broad lapels, horn buttons, slit cuffs. None of that mattered. I pressed myself back into the entranceway, steadying myself. Looking at it made my stomach churn. It was an impossibility, too thick. I remembered the thickest wool I'd seen, a 32 oz. felted winter blanket. I looked again. This was maybe eight times thicker, or maybe eighty. Tension, then pain. The thought couldn't fit in my head. Distorting with every loop, a mic too close to the amp. My mind was being overdriven.

Yes, too thick. They don't make needles that big. You can't wear something that can't be made. Was it even being worn? It smudged my thoughts. Surely everyone else on the street had missed it, or they'd have done something. Right? I'd been watching for half a minute now. I couldn't believe it'd gotten away with it for this long. Any second I expected a shopkeeper to hurdle through their display window and throw it to the ground and stomp it into nothing. They'd be a hero. Like someone diving on a grenade. I watched as its woolen dissonance started to catch on the brick storefronts, tearing off in wads, dampening all reason. It was getting harder to hear myself talk. I'd be the hero. I was right. And I knew it.]]>
As I slipped my hand into the pocket, it watched me. I felt ashamed. Rust was creeping down my throat. Why was I doing this? I didn't want to hurt it. Safety was off as always. My bones were filling with static. Exhausted, I had to look away. It was easier to taste anyway. I steadied my arm.

A wave of calm--the familiar glow of nylon--washed over me. It all made sense. A wool blend. Tricked by an obscure ratio. It wasn't my fault. I wasn't to blame and everyone knew it. Because they all knew what I know. We know you can't truly understand something until you've watched it burn.

Cannons, Firing things out of

2010-08-10T18:10:33Z

Rather inexplicably, I've become quite taken with firing things out of cannons in recent weeks. I can't really explain it; it's just become my go-to when confronted with a problem, situation, or someone I've never met before. Toaster not working? Fire that thing out of a cannon! Computer working slowly? Make it airborne! One of your friends borrowed your car without asking? Now they're a circus act with no net. Cannons have pretty much endless utility.

Pictured: Problem solving

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Many people, for example, discount the effectiveness of cannon-based travel to and from the workplace. I, for one, enjoy the speed and efficiency of being aimed in the general area of my employment, then propelled to tremendous velocity by a controlled explosion.

"Oh, you drive a Benz? I only travel via cannon."

And all of this is to say nothing of the psychological advantages generated by cannon-based travel: you will feel incredible. Every day that you survive that morning commute becomes so much more valuable to you, problems seem so much smaller. You have a report due by noon? Nothing can terrify you more than the few seconds before and during take-off. You forgot your lunch? No problem; missing lunch can't be much worse than hitting that goose at the speed of sound on your way into work!

Dos and Don'ts of buying bananas in Ann Arbor

2010-08-02T21:06:01Z

Don't: Buy from that guy outside of BTB at 3am. "This shit is b-a-n-a-n-a-s, man. I'm practically giving it away at $20 a banana, yo!" All this man is giving away is that he's a dumbass. You're better off scraping your peel for banana-resin and buying $20 worth of burritos instead (which is still a stupid idea).

Do: buy that cheap quarter from the guy who just came back from his hometown in Podunkville, MI. It won't be any discernible strain, but a penny saved is a penny earned, right? Your parents would be so proud of you.

Don't: pay in advance. You trust your friend, your friend trusts his friend, and he trusts his dealer's mother's new hookup, but somewhere along the line, someone's too full to give a fuck. Someone will flake out, and you'll be shit out of both luck and bananas.

]]> Do: make friends with people in co-ops. They're all living together to help each other out and shit, right? It's like we're all one consciousness, floating in a sea of bullshit where - hey man, you wanna peel this banana?

Don't: buy from that guy who showed up at the party with a fohawk and a bag of brown bananas that doesn't even ziplock. Isn't it past his bedtime anyway?

Do: shop around. People sell at $60 per bunch because people at UofM have too much money, not because it's worth that much. You won't find coupons for Cali plantains in the flashes, but if you're not too full already, you can find a better deal elsewhere.

Hey look, arts!

2010-07-29T02:18:28Z

Hip? No, Tick!

2010-07-22T02:50:16Z

Are you in a comfortable position? Good, good. First, lean back and settle into your chair. Breathe deeply and as you exhale, close your eyes and begin to feel yourself relaxing. That's it, you're doing fine. Let your thoughts flow outward from within, until your mind is clear. Good, good. Clear your thoughts, let them flow.

Picture yourself in a large white room with plaid and aquamarine polka-dotted paisley floor. Feel the floor breathing, morphing, flowing. Good, good, you're doing fine. Now you watch as the walls are slowly dissolving. Dissolving like a sugar cube in a cup of soup - grain by grain, floating into the space around you. You walk. You walk, and on all sides are daffodills. 8-foot-tall, fanged daffodills. Oh very good, you're doing fine. The daffodills are softly singing to you, words which you hear but can't quite understand, words which lead you to walk forward, upward. You walk upward until you reach the edge, the edge of the end of the world. Good, good, very good.You now look out over the sea of nothingness, the void of existence, the emptiness of --

You've got a boner now, right?

Sweet.

(Lady-boners count too).

Punday Tuesday - July 20, 2010

2010-07-20T22:20:38Z

Q: Why are whole numbers sneakier than real numbers?

A: Whole numbers are discrete!

A: What do you call someone who's trapped at the top of a castle?

Q: In-spired!

A New Gargreel!

2010-07-18T23:06:06Z

Infinitely better than an M. Night Shyamalan Film. Also, Jacob Rosen makes his Gargreel debut!

Meeting Minutes For "The Society For The Mildly Incompetent"

2010-07-16T20:22:54Z

6:00pm Meeting is supposed to begin

6:11pm Everyone finally shows up a little late

6:13pm Meeting is sidetracked by Gary's ketchup stain on his breast pocket

6:16pm Gary really doesn't know where the stain came from

6:18pm Consensus drawn: yes, it is probably ketchup

6:20pm Previous meeting notes would have been read if they hadn't been rendered illegible after being sent through the wash in Linda's pants

6:23pm Projector setup attempted
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6:40pm Alfonzo has a brilliant idea, but forgets it. All attempts to recall it are fruitless

6:45pm Mandy serves cookies that are a little strange, because she used baking soda instead of baking powder

6:55pm Gary falls out of his chair after leaning too far back

6:55pm Gary get's a weird cramp in his shoulder, and a motion is passed to adjourn the meeting. Director vetoes.

6:56pm Linda calls for a Re-vote to adjourn the meeting

6:58pm The vote is 5-4 against adjourning, not enough to pass.

7:00pm Meeting is scheduled to adjourn, does so.

Pastiche

2010-07-14T22:36:29Z

Hey Jake Sully/John Smith! Wanna go hang out under the Hometree/Grandmother Willow? You know, just to forget about Colonel Quaritch/Governor Ratcliffe and Tsu-tey/Kocoum for a while...

This may, or may not, go with the article posted 2 weeks ago.

Clothes that keep men from having sex

2010-07-10T01:55:53Z

I was driving to my cousin's Grad party today, when the service plaza in northern Ohio gave me the perfect idea for a blog post. Turns out no one cares what they look like on the side of the highway in the Buckeye state.

Baggy, Short Jean Shorts: While acceptable in certain occasions, they should never cut off before the knee and be as loose as parachute pants.

Hawaiian Shirts: I'll admit it, I was wearing one of these guys today. But that in no way condones it. It's either a sign that you didn't prepare for leaving your house that morning, or that you shouldn't have been allowed to show your face to the outside world in the first place.

Long Sleeved T-shirt: They make everybody look like an Orangutang. Never wear a long sleeved t-shirt.

These Shoes:

Yeah yeah, I get it. They're comfortable, they're easy to put on, and they're durable. Unfortunately, they will make you look like president of the RV club. So unless you don't have enough time to tie your shoelaces before going to UMix, do yourself a favor and wear real God damn shoes,

Shell Necklaces: Don't. Just don't.*

*Fucking Don't

The Gargoyle Reccomends: Websites Part 2

2010-07-09T18:29:28Z

Trawling the internet for amusing websites is a pastime that The Gargoyle has transmuted into a kind of vocational study. While others may devote hours the mastery of an instrument or sport, we prefer the kind of hobby that occasionally results in the "accidental" discovery of naked people (our lawyers have forbidden us from prying open bathroom stall doors, which was how we spent our off time before the invention of the internet).

1. Vuvuzela Time!

Anyone following the World Cup, or within 200 miles of South Africa, is familiar with the soothing lilt of the Vuvuzela. This website provides the soccer fan-on-a-budget the opportunity to experience the Vuvuzela in the comfort and privacy of their web browser. Suddenly, any website of your choosing is as exciting as a world cup match! Well, almost any website.
]]> 2. Hyperbole and a Half

This is one of the best humor blogs around (although not as funny as ours, naturally). Allie Brosh's posts are deviously clever r-tellings of some of her more unusual exploits and, as one would imagine, delightfully hyperbolic. Her drawings, reminiscent of The Oatmeal and xkcd, are nonetheless inspired and unique. Though the internet consciousness is awash in bears and sharks, Allie approaches both without appearing as a hangers-on, but rather, the pilot of her own bandwagon.

3. The Fucking Weather

Best described as "Weather for Grown-Ups," this is a weather site for people with more intense feelings about the climate. Childish or not, it's hard not to smile when you walk in from the blistering heat and ask "what the fuck is the temperature?" and the site informs you: "96 degrees It's fucking hot!"

4. Clients From Hell

When the history of Graphic Design is hewn into silicate, that the children of the future may know the struggles of our time, Clients From Hell is the sacred corpus that will inform the text. This blog offers an ever-increasing collection of the best worst stories from graphic designers, web designers, and free-lance artists; all of which, are really damned funny. Alternatively, think of it as textsfromlastnight for Artists.