Category Archives: To the reader

Ren is NOT Real

By, “Ren”

(Contributions from Jane Lane)

There has been a “controversy” rampaging the shit out of various segments of the media.  The wool was pulled over your eyes, people.  We’re talking cover-up you easily fooled sacks.  A sham!  Flim-flam!  Even a semi-syndicated talk show exposed this farce.  I can’t think of any synonyms for sham, flim-flam, and cover-up, so let’s get to the point.

Ren is not real.

santa

Neither is Santa Claus. Fuck your Christmas.

Depend on your personal choice of media outlet, you heard it hear first.  The little blonde Irish elf does not exist.  Sorry, people.  It was bound to be discovered sometime.  FWTC did its level best backstopping a cover story for “Ren” and build a solid base for our house of lies.  But, you were too smart.  The Geraldo Riveras in podcast and Internet land Sherlock Holmes-ed themselves to uncover the truth.  Hats off to everyone who has a degree in criminology.  Degrees from un-accredited schools from Indonesia on a distance learning program.  But, who am I to judge.  Apparently, nobody.  You can’t make judgements when you don’t exist.

What?  This is what nothing looks like.

What? This is what nothing looks like.

No, friends, Ren does not exist.  I…  I mean, “SHE” is just a practical joke.  A combination of industry logos and urban legend.  You’ve all been duped.  I am…..  shit, I mean, “SHE” is a scam.  No one can agree on what kind of scam or who the hell “she” really is.  It could be some sort of Irish pyramid scheme.  Perhaps, some twisted person or persons came up with the idea to josh an entire nation just to create a publicity stunt to sell prophylactics made of bison scrotum.

FWTC Photo Department:  "No.  Just, no!"

FWTC Photo Department: “No. Just, no!”

Just like Roswell and Bigfoot, there are a few leading theories about who I…  fuck!  Who “she” really is.  Here are just a few:

1.  “She’s” a fat guy

mike_home_office

This is, probably, the most obvious I mean, come on!  We all know the vast majority of the “women” on the interwebs are fat, sweaty fucks with a tiny dicks.  Christ, 90% of the “women” on Facebook are guys.  It’s completely conceivable that this “Ren” character is really just some fat slob desperate for attention.  Come on!  This “girl” likes to drink, bang her “husband,” and loves the meat.  Get it?  Loves the meat?

What?  What did you think I meant?

What? What did you think I meant?

There’s NO WAY a “woman” like that in the world.  Check that.  NO FUCKING WAY!  That shit is like turning lead into gold.  It’s all a myth.  Hearsay.  It’s just not possible that a “female” can actually enjoy meat and meat byproducts along with alcohol and and steady stream of fucking the husband.

Let alone fucking him in the restroom of an Sobeys.

Let alone fucking him in the restroom of a Sobeys.

So, yeah.  That’s got to be it.  Unless…

2.  “She’s” a spambot

87spambot

Bots are annoying.  Bots are cunning.  Bots are fucking sneaky.  How many times have you gotten a message from “Eliza Dushku” or “Avril Lavigne” or..  I don’t know…  “God?”  Well, we all sure as hell know it’s really some sweaty programer with more body odor than appeal.

That's it.  Take it all in.

That’s it. Take it all in.

This makes sense.  First, you just scour the Net, and find a random girl on Facebook and second, pirate the fuck out of any pics set to “public.”  Throw in a dash of spyware and a sprinkle of rerouting virus then, fucking viola!  You got yourself insta-Ren!

Sizes may vary.

The main issue with these bots is that many of them are programmed to adjust to new perimeters.  To adapt to new spam filters.  To… evolve.  If this, “Ren” is a spam bot, it’s more than just your basic con to worm its way into your hard drive.  Come on, people!  That’s one more fucking step towards sentience!  Christ, we’re all focused on the wrong issue!

And I think we all know how this is going to end.

Unless….

3. “She’s” a fat chick

FWTC Photo Department:  "We hate you all."

FWTC Photo Department: “We hate you all.”

Dude, just re-read #1 and replace all the “guys” with “chicks.”  You can leave the “tiny dick” part.  Depending on the fat chick.

4.  “She’s” is really  a government conspiracy

area51main

It’s not unusual to suspect the government, any government (except Canada, I guess) in a shit ton of covert operations and secret programs that inject nanobots into unsuspecting children’s flu shots to build a perfect combination of man and machine.

And, again, I think we all know how this ends...

And, again, I think we all know how this ends…

5.  “She’s” a celestial or atmospheric phenomenon

Aurora_Borealis

The less plausible theory being proposed by the most plausible stalkers (and their sad sad lives).  This “Ren” is closer to the aurora borealis or some sort of Helix Nebula… The Eye of God, if you will.

Or of Sauron...

Or of Sauron…

It has been proven or, at the very least, conceptually kicked around that celestial physics can theoretically influence a person’s consciousness.  Don’t believe me?  Fine.  Don’t.  I don’t fucking care.  See it for yourself.  Pony up the dough to attend the “Toward the Science of Consciousness “at the University of Arizona‘s Center for Consciousness.  Take the kids and come on down to God’s misshapen ash can.  Takes pictures of an honest-to-god astrophysicist!  But what’s fun without  some learning?  It’s bullshit… that’s what it is.  Included in this dream package you will have your choice of murderously boring  lectures.  Oooooooo  will it be the on discussing quantum influences on the brain.  No wait!  The lecture about electromagnetic flares hurdling to Earth like New Jersey Governor Chris Christie warp speeding to the Buffet King. We’re onto you, “science.”

And you too, Governor.

And you too, Governor.

6.  “She’s” a incorporeal essence within us all

240px-Bartolomé_Esteban_Perez_Murillo_003

How do we know God exists?  How about Allah, Buddha, or whatever the fuck the Vikings worshiped?

I have no idea, but I'm thinking of converting.

I have no idea, but I’m thinking of converting.

When annoying push comes to asinine shove, you don’t.  As a “modern” society, we tend to incredulously cast looks toward our ancestors and remark on how “quaint” their beliefs were.

Awwww, how cute!  It's a guy with a puppy dog head!

Awwww, how cute! It’s a guy with a puppy dog head!

Every society does that to the society that came before theirs.  We’re not running around worshiping the sun or offering our children to Yahweh on a funeral pyre.  Not often these days, anyway.  However, we cling on to our “enlightened” (enough with the fucking quotations, already) religious philosophies.  Jews KNOW God exists.  Muslims KNOW Allah is watching over them.  Christians KNOW Jesus was the Son of God.  Throw the Dali Lama in there while we’re at it.  His followers KNOW he is the reincarnation of the reincarnation of the reincarnation of the first…  um…  Lama?

Don't judge me.  I barely remember when to kneel during Mass.

Don’t judge me. I barely remember when to kneel during Mass.

OK, so what’s the fucking point?  Each and every follower of every religion can’t produce concrete proof that their god(s) exist.  Shiva isn’t in the directory and Thor doesn’t have a Facebook page.

Oh.  Heh. He does.  A shitload of them, too.

Oh. Heh. He does. A shitload of them, too.

Even atheists believe that there is no higher power to the point where that disbelief turns into their beliefs.  So, is it possible that this fictitious “Ren” actually exists in the hearts of man?  Does “she” exist in our actions?  Our thoughts?  Our dreams?  Is it possible that there is a little bit of “Ren” in all of us?  How the fuck should I know?  I don’t exist.  Ask someone who isn’t a figment of your imagination.

XiJinping-Snuffleupagus-Photo-20121214

________________________________________

*When not writing for the Fuse Was Too Cold, “Ren” exists only in the world of imagination. 

*When not contributing, Jane Lane exists to make you miserable to the point of embracing the sweet release of death..

Top 5 Reasons FWTC Has Been In Hiding

You may or may not have noticed that FWTC has been “off the air” for most of the year.  Why?  Why in God’s name would be deprive the world of US?  I  mean, this site is comedic gold!  What could possibly explain WHY such a tragic thing would happen.  Your reader mail has gone unanswered, there has been absolutely no East Coast earthquake coverage, and NO REN!

Hold onto your swords. Don't commit seppuku just yet.

To satisfy your curiosity (real or imagined by us) here is a list of five potential reasons we’ve been incognito.  Which ones are true?  Beats the hell out of me.

  1. Ren finally got her Playboy shoot and ran away from us.
  2. Roode finally snapped and went on a killing spree.
  3. Adel realized that she’s has two Ph.Ds and was too good for this bullshit chuckle factory.
  4. Tresckow went into hiding for reasons unknown.
  5. Ren.  That’s it.  Just Ren.

Actually, it was a combination of things ranging from site glitches, author availability, family issues, career issues, clinical depression, and all sorts of other lame ass stuff.  Here’s what we can promise:

  1. We’re going to ease back into regular publication.
  2. We’re going to “re-release” some of the “vintage” articles to help pass the time.
  3. We’ve got an assload of articles waiting in the queue.
  4. We wish most of 2011 never happened.
  5. We’ll keep listing shit for the sake of listing shit.
  6. Ren will be in your nightmares.

That’s it.

2010: The Year of the Ren

By, Ren-

That’s right.  Read that title over again.  Again.  One more time.  Got it, now?  I fucking rule.  Of course, this is no surprise to you readers.  How many other little blonde Micks can mock international law, escape molestation by a clown on Saint Patrick’s Day, and manage to rub elbows (among other body parts) at a Playboy Mansion Halloween extravaganza?  None.  You know none.  Don’t even try to pretend you do.  You’re just embarrassing us all.

You know who you are.

2010 will be known for a lot of things:  um, something about whales, maybe?  There was a lot of bullshit surrounding the IPhone.  Then, again, 2010 was the year when people, the world over, were smacked in the taint by the roughest recession since the years of Warner Brothers cartoons in movie theaters and cars were built to last.  Come to think of it, 2010 sucked a major amount of yak ass.  Companies downsized, business went broke, government lost its mind, and that Justin Bieber fucker was everywhere.  2010 was such a shitshake, even my own Da pined for the “good old days” of the Cold War.

Say what you want about it. The world was a lot more stable, food and fuel a shit ton cheaper, and if worse came to worse, mankind would go out in a fiery vengeance of style.

There is one shining part of 2010 that must be remembered and recorded for the sake of future history.  We don’t want our future history only talking about gun fights at Florida school board meetings or devoting an entire chapter in a text book to the cluster fuck that is BP.  There was one brightly burning light that 2010 emitted during its waning hours filled with party goers blowing chow then trying to get into the pants of someone who just might end up being a distant cousin.  What was this shining beacon of hope?  Where was it?  What did it mean?  Calm the fuck down.  I’ll tell you.

It was ME.  That’s right world, ME.  I joined FWTC in 2009.  I did what I had to do to get on the ground floor of something that will never make a dime or win any journalism awards.  That kind of shit is gold!  After the arguing, death threats, and constant hazing I clawed my way to the top!  I made it to “COLUMNIST.  There’s no pay, no perks, and little in the way of publicity.  But, Momma was determined to break the racial barrier and shoe horn a nutty little blonde Irish chick into the ranks of FWTC.  Roode and Tresckow bitched and moaned about it.  Roode didn’t want more chick shit on the site, being that Adel had that covered.  Tresckow was convinced I would use the site as a soapbox to spread my anti-loyalist beliefs to the masses. (if hating Loyalists in Northern Ireland is wrong, I don’t want to be right).  The point I heard time and time again was, “You’re not a writer.  There’s a difference between doing funny things and WRITING about them.”  Fuckers didn’t believe I could translate my drunken comedy of errors into an article.  What BULLSHIT!

After a bit of whining and the occasional exercise I like to call, “Total War” (steel Roode’s tires, sign Tresckow up for a fuck ton of large and lovely women catalogs to be sent to his home, and harassing Adel every day by rearranging her furniture in innovative and surprising ways) they finally threw me a “guest writer” gig.  It got a good amount of hits and FWTC decided to keep me on.  Like I was some sort of lost fucking puppy.  Like adding The REN would have done anything but make this piece of  shit, dime-a-dozen blog rocket to the stars!

That's right. That's me, the brightest motherfucking star in the galaxy.

I had a bit of a handicap going for me; the other writers having a year head start and all.  Adel, Roode, and Tresckow already found their niches and some “loyal” readers.  That didn’t deter me.  I jumped right in to hammer out some flaming awesomeness in 2009.  Then, I decided that 2010 was going to be Momma’s year!

Interesting thing is that after I was two or three articles in, the site’s readership went up.  On our Facebook Page it seemed that my articles were getting passed around a lot more than the others.  What could that mean?  Am I eons funnier than the other writers?  Is it because I am witty and urbane?  Perhaps it’s because I have been elevated to FWTC‘s sex symbol?  Yes.  Yes, to all of these.  I’m fucking fantastic.  The readers know it.  Our sponsors know it.  Future history knows it.

I fucking rule!

Perhaps, the best indicator that tells us 2010 was the year of the Ren are the readership stats.  The boring side of any blog is, without a doubt, the admin side.  That’s where our geeks look at all the statistics to see which article was the most popular in any given week or month; which author was the most popular, etc.  Tresckow and Adel are the number crunchers; plowing through it to get the quarterly stats and come up with a game plan for the site’s sponsorships and whatnot.  Well, as most sites are want to do at the end of the year, we wanted to connect all the dots and see just who among us was the most “popular.”  Which one of us had the most read articles, who stayed on top the longest, blah blah blah.  I have no interest in calculations.  I’d rather drink the better part of a bottle of Shanahans and wake up with a stripper (a HOT stripper, please).  I’m the sort of girl who just wants to hear the end result.

For the love of God, Tresckow! Just tell me what the fuck all the math means!

I tuned out just about everything Tresckow’s said about growing our sponsorship base, advertising, topic and writer expansion…  JUST GET TO THE FUCKING END!  Flipping to the next slide, a table was shown listing all our articles, writers, and topics in order of popularity and readership.  I looked up, expecting Roode to start tap dancing; fucker always thinks he’s the one who puts butts in the seats.  All I heard was, “Are you fucking kidding me?” bellowing from Roode’s mouth like the words were on fire.  The top author of EVERY quarter of 2010 AND the number 1 author for the entire year was

ME MOTHERFUCKERS!

I’m shocked! Speechless! I didn’t prepare any remarks.

I wasn’t ahead by a small amount either.  No, baby, Momma holds a 60% lead over everyone else.  ME!  Fuck you, Roode!  I’m putting butts in the seats now!  Always bet on the tiny Irish dark horse.  ALWAYS!  She’ll ruin your shit every time.  EVERY TIME!

So, what will 2011 bring for the NUMBER 1 writer on FWTC?  I’m not sure.  Maybe a series of video blogs instructing the viewer on the proper ways of peeling a potato.  Or a pod cast where I can dispense my worldly wisdom of the most efficient and orgasm-tastic sexual positions.  Oh, yeah.  Bacon.  Bacon must be a steady theme throughout 2011.  Shit, maybe I’ll contract with cable and launch my own reality show.  Well, “surreality” show”

 

Momma ROCKS so hard it whips a bull's ass!

 

Typical Time Line of a FWTC Article

By, Tresckow

Some of you have asked a few questions as to the behind the scenes workings of FWTC.  I can’t answer every question.  Wait, that was wrong; I won’t answer any questions.  Sorry, dude, some people are great teachers, others just want people to shut the hell up.

Don't make him tell you again.

But, one question has popped up over and over.  “How does an article get published?”  Most of our columnists don’t know (or care).  If any of us had the talent, we would explain it “School House Rock” style.  But, everyone here is generally a talentless, bitter human being (mostly Roode).

If you're too young to know what the hell this is, we hate you.

Step 1:  Conception

The theory:

This is when we all contribute our ideas and creativity to construct the best subject matter possible.  We painstakingly sift through content and current events in order to be witty, irreverent, and timely.

How it really works:

We send condescending emails to each other, bitching and moaning about how there’s nothing to write about.  Eventually, someone adds a subject draft to the queue and it sits there for months like a piece of chewed gum underneath a classroom desk.  There may or may not be the random “borrowing” of someone else’s subject conception.  In other words, if you’re drawing a blank, steal something one of the other columnists already thought of.

Step 2:  Creation

The theory:

This is the ever important step where the rubber really meets the road.  Each columnist is free to take their work to unimaginable heights!  Every topic is researched thoroughly to ensure the utmost in accuracy.

How it really works:

One of us randomly types shit.  The extent of any article research is typing a term into an internet search engine.  Even then, we’re likely to just pick one of the results without actually reading the web page.  Who has time to research?  More importantly, who has the attention span?  If Wikipedia didn’t exist we would be in deep shit.  Research is really just fancy talk for pointing a finger at someone else when your “facts” end up being complete bullshit.

As far as taking our work to “unimaginable heights,” we set the bar pretty low.  Essentially, if something is funny enough to one of us, it gets printed.  Why shoot for the stars when you can rest comfortably in the blanket of adequacy?  We’re not writing Pulitzer Prize stuff, here.  If an article idea is only a step or two worse than something you would find on Cracked then we struck gold!

More often than not, many of the articles sit in the queue until the owner gets off their ass and starts to type.  This usually involves frequent phone calls and mean Facebook posts with the goal of taunting the article owner and attempting to shame them into adding content.  This really only works 25% of the time.  It almost never works on Ren.

Step 3:  Photo research

The theory:

Ah, the visual aspect of the article.  Nothing quite gets the point across than a good picture.  Tireless efforts by the photo research department provide the reader with the best illustrations, ever!

How it really works:

Well, we sure as hell don’t have a “photo research” department.  We don’t have departments.  Basically, whoever is writing the article looks for the most inappropriate and/or disturbing pic available.  It doesn’t matter, really.  I end up going into everybody’s articles and rearrange the piss out of it until it meets my standards.  Then, eventually, Adel, Roode, or Ren notices after…  oh, lets say…   a month.  By that time who gives a shit?  The damn thing has been in circulation already.  Take your creativity and cram it.  You know, Adel does that sneaking editing shit too.  Oh, I guess it’s different, because everyone is afraid of her.  Well, whoopty-friggin-do.

Step 4:  Editing

The theory:

After each article is complete, it is sent to the chief editor or the head writer to edit for clarity, style, and mistakes.  The editor and the author work in a harmonious fashion to ensure that the needed changes are made without hurting the integrity of the article’s message.

How it really works:

Firstly, none of our articles have integrity, let alone any message.  I suppose “I hate you.” is the closest to a uniform theme we have.  “I hate you.” and “I am one step away from being a full blown John Bonham alcoholic.”

Secondly, our editing sucks.  I do the majority of the copy editing with reluctant support from Adel.  There is no editor-author cooperation.  It’s mother loving Thunderdome.  One of us will go into another’s article, edit it, and in turn, the author will put things right where they had them after some derogatory comments about editor’s mother/family tree/coke addiction.  Harsh words are fired back and forth, until someone caves in or ends up in the fetal position.  You know what?  It doesn’t matter.  Even after the battle, one of us goes back into the article after it’s been published and fucks with it, anyway.  There are articles from LAST WINTER that are still being fought over and edited behind each other’s back.  I’m not sure how none of us has ended up dead yet.  Especially at the hands of Adel.  That chick is crazy.

Step 5:  Publishing

The theory:

After the article has been crafted on the level of a fine whiskey, it is released to our adoring readership.  The publisher pushes all the right buttons and inputs all the right codes to bring you, the reader, pure comic gold!

How it really works:

One of us pushes a button.  The article isn’t so much crafted like a fine whiskey as much as it has been filtered through panty hose into a still the night before.  Usually, we’re all waiting for the other to hit the button of truth and shunt the latest article through the interwebs.  At some point I hit “enter” or “OK” or whatever the hell the button says and toss the article out.  We’ve tried to put all the responsibility of the article’s circulation on the author.  It works half the time.  The other half, not so much.  The author is either too busy with the real world, drunk, or busily drunk in the real world.  I can’t stress the alcoholism of our writing staff enough.

This is typically how one of us ends up after a staff meeting.

Step 6:  Gauging the readers’ reactions

The theory:

After publication, reader opinion and reaction are carefully researched to enable us to fine tune our articles to their tastes.  Whenever a reader posts a comment or, otherwise, contacts us, we diligently follow-up and accurately record his comments.

How it really works:

FWTC creed since 2009

 

Mailbag: Roode Pretends to Care About Reader Mail

By Roode

Damn it! Why the fuck do we have to acknowledge that there are people reading this shit? When I was brought on board, it was explicitly promised that no one was reading this wblog (no, that’s not a typo). Tresckow is calling FWTC a “wblog“. You know; website + blog = bullshit buzz word.

Ohhhhh hold on! Here comes another FRESH wblog!! With pieces of grass?

 

Ren, Adel, and I went in circles to see who was going to address this round of reader mail. Tresckow is out of the running, since he put on his big boy undies last year and waged war with your email. So, I guess this is the point when ‘ol Roode gets all behind the scenes and answers each one of your letters to show you the inner workings of FWTC. That shit isn’t going to happen. I’ve avoided this for the better part of a week. Adel provided me with print outs of your mail. I promptly threw them into the toilet. Here’s a little known fact: large amounts of printer paper WILL kill a crapper. The fix it dude had to make the trek to our place so he could fish out half of the emails that were stuck in the plumbing. It wasn’t pretty. 

“Man, what kind of asshole would jam printer paper in a toilet, then flush over and over, THEN hit it with a hammer?”

From: SillyJilly11
Do you really think any of this is funny? It’s childish and sad.” 

Fuck you.

From: Gillybit
I’ve noticed a lot fewer hate letters to FOX. Did Roode give up?”

The short answer is that I just don’t give a shit anymore. Terminator and Dollhouse were canceled, regardless of ratings. TSCC had a shit pile more ratings than Dollhouse, but the colon suckers at FOX went with the cheaper product, then fucking canceled it within two months. It’s exhausting to chastise a major network as much as I do. As long as Sons of Anarchy live, I’ll delay my murderous rampage for another television season.

Try me, FX. I fucking dare you.

From: Dillhef.pog
Are we going to be treated to another Saint Patrick’s day rant?” 

What is that, sarcasm? I can’t tell. Just in case it is sarcasm, eat shit then punch yourself in the nuts. If it isn’t, then punch someone else in the nuts. Either way, I have no idea. I’m guessing Ren, our resident Mick, will handle that. It’s a day of fist fights, alcohol poisoning, and rekindling a decades long hatred of the British. That’s all up Ren’s alley. She’s a fucking alcoholic. And that means something coming from someone who drank a combination of sour mash and Listerine.

Mmmmm. Minty with the slight taste of blindness.

From: Tyrell
How can I send in a story to you?” 

Well, Tyrell, we usually frown on random submissions, but I’ll give you the inside dirt.

  1. Print out your submission and seal it in a brown envelop. It has to be brown.
  2. Go to your nearest Home Depot and slip the envelop under one of the display toilets in the plumbing section. Do NOT substitute a Lowe’s. Repeat: Do NOT substitute a Lowe’s!
  3. Before you leave mark the drop toilet by writing “I.P. Freely” on the lid in permanent marker.
  4. Go outside and ask a random elderly woman if she would like to take it in the pooper while gyrating your hips.
  5. Send us an email from jail and let us know how it all turned out.

From: Nos
What’s wrong with your site? The pics in some of the articles are gone.

Shit happens. Don’t care.

From: Taquilfd
“Is any of what Ren wrote about her Canadian thing true?”

Canadian thing? The ill advised trip of whiskey fueled chicanery to Alberta? Or are you referring to one of her lady parts being Canadian? I know nothing about the latter. But, the whole article was true. She even left some of the more unbelievable stuff out. Maybe someday Ren will tell you about how she got out of being charged with lewd behavior with even lewder behavior. Here’s a hint, it involves lap dancing and a riding crop.

Ren still gets emails from that guard.

From: Calweego
This is just a shitty rip off of Cracked.

That’s not a fucking question fucktard. This is what we call a declarative statement. “Is this a shitty rip off of Cracked” is a question. Just like, “Would you like it if I found you and stuffed your ass with hot coals?” Or, “Did you know your girlfriend was boned by the entire roster of the San Diego Chargers?” Here’s a particular favorite of mine, “Do you know what being castrated with a spoon feels like?” Now, those are questions!

And, yeah, we’re pretty much a shitty Cracked rip off. We’re just a shit load poorer and have less exposure.

From: Tatargus
Why are you guys so hard on Michael Jackson? He was the world’s best performer!

Dude, it’s not the fact we’re hard on MJ. It’s the fact that we’re pretty sure MJ was hard on kids. In the biblical sense.

From: Kourtican
What’s the obsession with Billy Mays?

Seriously? You’re kidding, right? No! You’re serious! Billy Mays was and always shall be a credit to the species. The world died a little when he was called to that big direct shopping infomercial in the sky. To this day I wander around stores not sure what will clean my windshield or how I can talk on my cell while I drive recklessly at speeds not easily attainable by a Plymouth Duster. Simply put, Billy Mays IS ALL THAT IS MAN!

And we like his beard.

From: Pizoo kola
I am offended by your constant use of the word ‘retard.'” It’s insensitive and downright rude.

How can I put this?

Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard Retard.


From
: Dalton
Is Ren cute? She sounds like she would be cute.

Cute? I don’t know. She’s just something we came up with to scare children like pop quizzes and Jack the Ripper.

From
: BVlnk
So what, is everyone there related or something?

So, no. Does it matter? Who gives a shit? Out of the four of us, three are related in some way or another. I, Roode, maintain my own company; like a cowboy. On a steel horse I ride. Because, I’m wanted. Dead or Ali.. FUCK! I knew that bullshit generic rock station I listened to this morning was going to come back to haunt me!

Fuck you, Bon Jovi.

From: AmberlyThrower
網路交友18禁地航海王影片ㄇ美女圖片情慾免費情色電影台灣美女寫真貼圖區色情聊天室性愛情666avcom免費下載18禁小說一夜聊天室人之初貼圖後宮電影院入口成人情色歐美素圖qqav性愛姿勢a片直播a圖a片美女桌布

Yes? No? What is the capital of Nebraska? What about this site has ever lead you to believe ANY of the columnists speak anything but broken English?

From: Barlow
Roode seems to hate spending time with his family. What’s his deal?

What’s my deal? Probably seething hatred. I kid. I don’t hate my family. Not all of them, any way. I dislike the idea of liking them. Go to hell!

From: Kotterly
Did anyone get arrested at Adel’s wedding?

No, although I’m pretty sure there were a few deportations.

From: Pasquall
Is it OK to stuff a Thanksgiving turkey with bread crumbs before I put it in the oven?

According to this site :

Most turkeys are too large for the internal temperature of the bird to reach sufficient temperatures quickly enough to kill bacteria present in stuffing which has been refrigerated. For this reason, you should plan to prepare the stuffing separately. 

For more information about preparing food safely, visit the USDA’s safe food handling website.

*Author’s note: Why the fuck would anyone send us a question about preparing a Thanksgiving turkey?

Sincerely,
Roode


Tresckow Answers Your Mail In His Own Special Way

By Tresckow

Greetings all! I am happy to announce that The FWTC seems to have developed a devoted, yet scary following. Nothing could please me more. Well, nothing except for leering at Eliza Dushku up close.

Come on. You absolutely knew I was going to bring her up in some way again.

Come on. You absolutely knew I was going to bring her up in some way again.



Now that’s out of the way, I figure I would answer some reader mail. Why? I’m bored. More specifically, Adel keeps bitching to me that someone should answer some reader questions. Since I don the title of “Head writer” the ball is unceremoniously thrown in my court. Besides, Roode hates you all and Adel is too “happening” to address your deepest, darkest questions.

From: Harpman34
Where do you guys get your ideas from? Do you all collaborate or just randomly type articles?

  • Well, “Harpman34” it’s a combination of things. We normally listen to each other brainstorm, tell the other that their idea is the worst we ever heard, then steal it for ourselves. Or so some writers allege. Truthfully, it all sort of happens. We’re making this shit up as we go along. Give us a break.

From: Emmygirl
Roode seems pretty tightly wound. Is it an act or is he really that way in real life?

  • Wow, right for the jugular. Roode was raised by a pack of wolves, then abandoned as a teenager for being too aggressive. He was then adopted by the Montana state government and raised as their own. During the process, he developed this hatred for all things purple. Does this answer your question? Probably not. But, then again, I don’t care.

From: Collieresses129
Adel is the only chick, right? How does that work?”

  • Um, well, I suppose it works due to her having a vagina.

From: Espritseer
You guys seem to be rough on Adel. Why don’t you lighten up?

  • Epsritseer, I can understand why you would get that impression. It’s because we love her. We love her so much. It’s for her own good that we teach her life is hard. You hurt the ones you love. Well… we REALLY love her. The only way to express that is to subject her to emotional abuse. We’re classy like that.

From: Carltonwasright
Are Tresckow and Adel married? They bicker like a married couple.

  • No, Carltonwasright (that better not be Fresh Prince of Bel Air reference). We are not married. We’ve known each other for a very long time. Knowing each other for so long has exposed just what awful, rotten human beings we are. Who the hell wants to be married to that?

From: Perrywinkle won
Roode mentioned he was married. Is he serious? Who in their right mind would marry him?

  • Perrywindkly won. You’ve made my day. Actually, Roode had to order a bride from abroad. But, being cheap, he didn’t shell out the money for a Russian bride. He had to go for a lesser product from Mongolia. His wife doesn’t speak English, but communicates through a series of grunts and hand signals.

From: Jarjar sucksass34
Do you all work together? If not, how do you know each other?

  • Wow. Jarjar sucksass34. Way to keep your handle fresh with current Hollywood trends. Roode, Adel, and I have a long and storied past. I met Adel at a traveling rug salesman convention. She, at the time, was a rug groupie. She would get weak in the knees for a rug salesman. I, on the other hand, needed a cheap oriental rug for my shitty apartment. We met, our eyes locked, and promptly made sweet love. Well, that’s not quite how it happened. But, it’s more interesting than the truth. I have no idea who Roode is. I think he’s an amalgamation of company logos and participants of an anger management class.

From: Boboteabaggins
I’m confused. Where is The Fuse Was Too Cold headquarters? I see a lot of references to the Northwest, but I also pick up on some Eastern vibes.

  • Does it really matter? It’s the Internet, baby. We could be in different hemispheres and still provide you with this shit…. I mean entertainment. But, if you must know, I am on the East coast, Adel and Roode are in Montana. Yeah, Montana. I didn’t even know that place really existed until recently.

Your handle rocks hard, by the way.

From: MackingD
“Is Adel English? Or does she just like using English slang. Also, is she available? Or was she serious about having a boyfriend?”

  • Adel is certainly English/British. But, it was a abnormality she was born with. We try to accept her the way she is. It’s hard sometimes. It’s sort of like interacting with Rocky Dennis, except she uses an abundance of “Us” in words like “Colour” and “Humour.”
  • She is in a relationship. At the moment, anyway. It’s only a matter of time before some sort of police action is involved. You an only slap around your boyfriend in public so many times before you end up on an episode of “Cops.”

From: MuchLoveCliff
“What, exactly, is the meaning behind the title “The Fuse Was Too Cold?”

  • We can’t tell you. That has to me a mystery.

From: Bughattiefarms
What’s the deal with Tresckow’s fixation with Eliza Dushku?

  • Are you friggin serious? You’re gay, right? It’s OK if you are. But, dude, you have to be gay or a corpse to not be fixated with Eliza Dushku. Shit, did you see the picture at the top of this article? Everything in life leads back to Eliza. And if, by some chance, something doesn’t, I’ll fucking make it!

That’s it. That question pissed me off. I’m done. “What’s the deal with Tresckow’s fixation with Elize Dushku?” Retard.

The shortest post ever

By Tresckow

I’ve got nothing. Stop bugging me.

Begin the begeen

By Tresckow

So this is just another in a long line of “humor” groups, sites, clubs on the internet. Or is it? Yes. Yes, it is.

It is important for everyone to have an outlet of some sort. Some vent by setting fire to dumpsters outside their college dorms. Others by dressing up in spandex and leather chaps. Others, still, put their worthless opinions and observations on the interweb. I am the latter. I don’t own spandex or leather chaps. Also, I don’t set fires. Boy Scouts taught me better than that.

So, what can you expect from this blog? Nothing. Set your expectations for low. This is therapy. It can be therapy for you. But, when it comes down to it, this is for my enjoyment. Hopefully, it will be for yours too.

Sit back and buckle up. Who knows what horrors will be unleashed. Maybe, just maybe we can make a difference in this kooky world. But, if that can’t happen, maybe we can bring down some of the world with us.