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Special Reader Appreciation Centennial-Article Edition
Local Housewife Lays Down Ultimatum: It’s Either Me Or The Cream Of Wheat
Warren, Mich.— Last week when a box of Cream of Wheat nudged his wife to the tipping point, a local husband was forced to make the choice he had hoped he’d never have to make.
Timothy Schwartz grew up eating Cream of Wheat. A hearty meal of the warm breakfast food was a quick, nutritious way for his mother to feed her four boys in a pinch, and before long the Cream of Wheat meals at the Schwartz home became legendary around their church and school. Schwartz recalls fondly the smell of Cream of Wheat and the steam filling his glasses when he was a boy.
“Timmy often requested that his Cream of Wheat have lumps in it,” Said Denise Schwartz. “They didn’t seem to mind having [Cream of Wheat] for dinner—in fact, I could cook up a huge meal with meat and vegetables, and they would still all have bowls of cereal after dinner anyway. I figured if they want cereal for dinner, I will give it to them.”
Timothy explained the return of Cream of Wheat to his life thus: “My wife asked me to stop at the store for some milk and a few other things after school when I happened to see Cream of Wheat. I hadn’t had any in years—probably since I was a kid, and it sounded kind of good, so I got a box. I brought it home and cooked some up that night and realized it was pretty easy to make, and I still liked the way it tastes, lumps and all.”
Timothy’s wife Donna, however, did not have the benefit of nostalgia sweetening the new food. “Tim gets on these kicks,” said Donna, “like the Vernors or the Better Made potato chips. For a few weeks or months he will have to have them in the house. It’s an unspeakable tragedy if I allow his supply to even run low. Then suddenly with about a three week supply of whatever his latest kick is still in the pantry, he will inform me that he is over it and I will have tons of it left over with nobody to eat it. His latest [kick] is the Cream of Wheat, and he has been making it almost every night after dinner, but he leaves the powder all over the counter after pouring it, and of course he’s not going to clean up after himself, so every morning I have a counter full of this gritty Cream of Wheat powder, and it is nearly impossible to get it all. Plus he burns the milk onto the bottom of the pan and I have to scrub it off with steel wool, and he won’t put water in his bowl when he’s done, causing the remnants to harden and crust over making it nearly impossible to get off without scrubbing. I hate Cream of Wheat. I hate its taste, its smell, and the effect it is having on our marriage. I finally got sick of it, and while he was watching TV and I was scrubbing the pan, I yelled, ‘Tim, I hate this stuff!’ and he just snickered, so I said, ‘It’s me or the Cream of Wheat!’ and then he started laughing obnoxiously. I was kind of joking, but not really.”
Schwartz said of his wife’s statement, “Hey, she was the one who told me to go to the store that day, so it’s pretty much her own fault.”
There is no word yet on which option Schwartz has chosen or whether his wife will indeed stick to her guns and force him to make this unpleasant choice. Schwartz, however, maintains that he has no intention of giving of Cream of Wheat.
-The Editors
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Local Man Makes Sickening Discovery About Christmas Commercials
Caldwell, MO— In all the holiday hubbub, one Christmas enthusiast became disillusioned to the whole spirit of the season after making a disconcerting discovery.
Charlie Whitley has hung his stockings with care and decorated his house to celebrate Christmas for the past thirteen years he has been a homeowner. Whitley has always listed Christmas as his favorite holiday beating out such holidays as Thanksgiving, New Year’s Day, Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, and Martin Luther King, Jr. Eve, but that was all to change when Whitley came to the horrifying realization last week that Christmas has been hijacked by society and is being used unabashedly as a commercialized marketing strategy by the corporations of the world to capitalize on the sentiments of the season for monetary profit.
“I guess I should have realized,” said a morose and cheerless Whitley, “when they started playing Christmas music on the radio in October and running Christmas ads in September, but I guess I just thought a lot of people get really excited about [Christmas] like I do.”
Whitley alleges that as he was watching TV, he saw another version of a commercial for TJ Maxx and Marshalls in which people parodied a familiar Christmas tune with lyrics encouraging shoppers to come spend money at their stores and skip out on the mall. It was at this point that Whitley claims he was unable to avoid facing the facts. “There is no way anyone could have had any true Christmas spirit in mind when orchestrating that ad,” Whitley said, barely whispering in dejection. “I realized that all these people cared about was making money, and they have taken over the greatest holiday ever celebrated to do so. Has no one any shame anymore? Gone,” alleged Whitley, “is the spirit of innocent wonder at the crisp weather and the holiday joy that animates everyone around Christmas. Gone are hours of happy anticipation in a countdown to the day that used to stand for joy, peace, giving, and celebrating the blessing of the first Christmas. Instead we have bombardments of ads from groups shamelessly using the Christmas songs and decorations to sell us things we neither need nor can afford. I will never be able to look at Christmas the same again.”
The practice of exploiting Christmas is nothing new, and most have come to peace with it as a necessary evil accompanying the holiday season. Whitley, however, claims that he will “never be able to enjoy [Christmas] again.”
-The Editors
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Hollywood, Cal.— Discerning female movie enthusiasts of the world who have traditionally endured the insult of the same repackaged rot are rejoicing at the latest romance-themed movie to hit the big screen.
In a shift from the expected substance of sappy cinematic romances, this latest movie has created a world in which the main female character, a smart, beautiful, and fun-loving girl in a big city is looking for love in all the wrong places. The heroine at one point in the movie confides in a female friend that she wonders if she will ever find love after most of the guys she dates turn out to be losers or to be hiding the fact that they already have a family or two. She works with a man who is smart and a good friend to her. He is dependable and likeable, but lacks an aura of brooding mystery and romance that she longs for.
Then one day as she is walking home from work in the rain, a tall, handsome man runs to her aid when wild dogs attack her in the park. He is sulky, hulky, misunderstood artist who begins to fill her life with intrigue and romance as she never knows what to expect from him. His spontaneity, however, eventually begins to lose its luster in her eyes as she wonders if this man-child will ever be able to commit to a family and a stable life.
Soon she realizes that what she thought she wanted was right in front of her the whole time and she accepts a dinner invitation from the man she works with who has a steady job, a home, and everything else a girl realizes she actually wants after her time of chasing the dark brooding hunk type who has nothing but narcissistic emotion to offer.
After many scenes of vacillation between the two beaus, after all the major misunderstandings are cleared up, and after the surprise revelation is made, the heroine makes her unexpected choice.
Said one female movie-goer after viewing the film for the third time, “I am so glad that they didn’t insult my intelligence again by rewrapping the same old romantic comedy plot. This one was new and fresh, and I cried each time I watched it.”
So keep on putting out your aseptic and stodgy claptrap, Hollywood, and we will continue to greedily lap it up like a bunch of enervated puppies. Charge us any price and we will gladly pay it. Don’t bother thinking up new ideas that will challenge us to think and become better people, stick to the script and preach the same old mantra, and we will shower you with praise, worship, and wealth.
-The Editors
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Congratulations, Loser: You Are Reading TSR’s 100th Article
Online— If you can read this, you are already a lotus-eating malingerer.
Of all the lolling, laggard, good-for-nothing, ne’er-do-well, creepy slugabeds, you rate with the very crème de la crème. Those readers who have faithfully read every article from the first drivel about Sheen to the last banality about school lunches have proved that they embody the true American spirit of laziness, loafing, and sedentary time wasting.
Only in this nation of lazy, mindless, estivating slobs would the type of criminally insipid and uninspired blatherskite found in these pages be read and encouraged. Why are you still reading this? Have you really nothing more productive to do with your time? Shouldn’t you be on Facebook wasting your life away and then tweeting about it? You deserve a good horsewhipping if you are still reading this, but receiving one would doubtlessly be unsuccessful in prying your bulging eyes from the screen. Go live your life! Scram! Scootch! Vamoose! Abscond! Decamp! Scat! Mizzle! Flee! Scamper!
Of course you are still here. You always are, you loser, and the editors of TSR would like to offer you their sincerest thanks and appreciation for your faithful devotedness to this rag.
-The Editors
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Accounting Firm Partner Challenges Subordinate To Arm Wrestle In Effort To Impress Female Employee
Champaign, Ill.— In an awkward attempt to display his strength and machismo one Monday, Daniel Maslonovic, the minority partner of the small accounting firm Heppner, Stein, Kramer, Clam, & Co., challenged a young subordinate to an arm wrestling match.
Recent college grad Timothy Schwartz was working for his uncle’s accounting firm until he could find a teaching job. His uncle, Michael Taylonette, is the majority partner at the firm and put Schwartz to work shredding old documents, filing things, and doing other menial tasks around the office.
Last April, Schwartz alleged, he walked into Laura Braun’s office looking for Maslonovic since Maslonovic could, more often than not, be found there talking to the vivacious blond about his college days and his ambiguous sports and recreation prowess of days gone by.
Maslonovic, a middle-aged married man and new father with thinning hair, was indeed in the office and immediately, Schwartz alleged, engaged Schwartz in conversation. “Somehow,” said Schwartz, “the topic of arm wrestling came up—I think I was talking about embarrassing moments in school and I told him about the time a girl beat me in seventh grade—and as soon as I mentioned the words ‘arm wrestle,’ he jumped to his knees and placed his elbow on the corner of the desk and said, ‘Let’s arm wrestle.’ I looked at him to see if he was serious because I am about a foot taller than he is and, not to be mean, but he is a rather slight man. I didn’t want to embarrass him in front of [Braun], but he was insistent, so I obliged him and took him down immediately.”
After the alleged take down, Schwartz claimed, Maslonovic immediately began regaling them with stories of his days on the college wrestling team and avouched that had they been Greco-Roman wrestling, he would have easily defeated Schwartz. “I seriously doubted that he could defeat me in any wrestling,” said Schwartz, “considering my height and weight advantages and the fact that I have taken down many people larger than myself in college, but I didn’t say anything because I know he was probably trying to save face in front of Laura. I guess he really believed he was going to beat me, because he goes to the gym or something. I would almost feel sorry for him except that he takes himself so seriously all the time and has so little self awareness.”
Schwartz alleged that he shared the story with his uncle who had a good laugh about it and insisted they (Schwartz and Taylonette) arm wrestle at the after tax season party the following week in an absurd pasquinade of the incident. Taylonette, an affable and able manager and boss, arranged for the two to arm wrestle in front of everyone on some contrived pretense. During the match, the arrangement was that Taylonette would beat Schwartz so soundly that Schwartz would fly across the table because of the force of Taylonette’s arm strength.
“I asked [Taylonette] if Dan would get offended,” said Schwartz, “and he said ‘Probably.’ So I was like, OK, and so after the prizes were awarded at the party, we had our arm wrestling match. I don’t think many people other than those that knew about it got it, but it was pretty funny. I get the feeling Uncle Mike is not the biggest fan of [Maslonovic].”
Maslonovic, who has since parted ways with the firm to start up his own, could not be reached for comment.
-The Editors
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Study Finds Majority Of Students Look Forward To Pizza Day Each Week
Canton, Mich.— Students at Canton High School overwhelmingly anticipate getting fresh, hot pizza each Thursday.
Each week, boosters for the Canton High football team allow students to place orders for piping hot, fresh pizza to be served on Thursday. On Monday in homeroom, students order the number of slices they believe they would like to receive on Thursday and then begin the long, arduous struggle through the week until their square golden dough dreams are realized.
Said junior Stacey Bagnalli, “Sometimes by the time Thursday rolls around the only thing that gets me up in the morning is knowing it’s pizza day.”
Senior Stephen Barlomay, the school’s all-conference quarterback, stated, “Every week after all that anticipation, it always feels like it’s over too soon and you have to wait a whole ‘nother week till you get [pizza] again.” Barlomay regularly orders four of the large square slices.
The school orders large party trays from Mr. D’s convenience store to slake the ravenous sauce-and-cheese-lust of the students. Mr. D’s is a popular hangout for high school students who often stop at the convenience store after school for mortal amounts of dangerous energy drinks and slices of pizza when Thursday just seems too far away.
-The Editors
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