The Fish with The Seaweed Wig

There was once a school of herring that lived far out in the ocean. They all looked exactly alike, with thin and long bodies covered in beautiful, gleaming silver scales that sparkled in the sunlight. They spent their days all swimming together in a big group, at the same speed and in the same direction, looking for food and good, rocky spots to lay thick, mucus-y clumps of their eggs.

One day a young herring asked a question of the rest of the school.

“Why do we always swim together like this? In big groups groups, at the same speed, and all in the same direction?”

“It helps us hunt the tiny zooplankton that we like to eat,” said the school. “And it protects us from bigger fish that like to eat us.”

“I think it’s kind of boring,” said the young herring.

“Ha-ha-ha!” The school all laughed in perfect, rhythmic unison. “Boring? Do you think it’s “boring” to have plenty of zooplankton to eat? Do you think it’s “boring” to keep safe from predators and live long enough so that one day you may find a good, rocky spot to lay your own thick, mucus-y clumps of eggs?”

“But I want to do more than eat and lay eggs,” said the young herring. “I want to sing!”

“Oh, we can sing if you’d like! We love to sing, too!” said the school and all at once they launched into a rousing verse of their herring song.

We swim together all day in the waters so deep
Tiny zooplankton are what we like to eat
We don’t got arms and we don’t got legs
In thick, mucus-y clumps we lay our eggs

“No, no, no!” shouted the young herring. “I mean I want to sing for other fish. I want them to hear just me.”

“We see…” said the school. “We don’t know if we’ll have time for that. We really need to focus on deflecting herds of zooplankton into each other’s mouths and making sure that our layers of eggs are not so thick that some of the eggs don’t get enough oxygen and die.”

“Then I will go off by myself,” said the young herring. “I’m tired of swimming in a large group in the same direction and at the same speed as everyone else. I will leave the school and sing for every fish and dolphin and squid and whale and crab that I meet until every creature in the sea knows my name.”

“But you will surely die on your own!” cried the school. “Who will deflect zooplankton into your mouth? Who will swirl in a dense circle with to confuse your predators? And who will fertilize your thick, mucus-y clumps of eggs?”

“Don’t worry about me,” said the young herring. “I’ll be fine.”

“Of course we will worry about you,” said the school. “You are one of us.”

“No, I’m not!” snapped the young herring. “I’m different!”

“Individuality is only a product of ego,” cooed the school. “If you can learn to release the desire to- Oh, look! A good, rocky spot to lay our thick, mucus-y eggs!”

The school darted towards an especially gravely bit of seabed and started squeezing out tiny mounds of phlegm covered eggs.

But the young herring did not dart towards the especially gravely bit of seabed. He just floated in the same spot for a moment, wondering if the school would notice if he was missing. But the school didn’t notice. They just rubbed back and forth against one another in astounding synchronicity, their scales flashing in time to the beat of an unheard song, as they pressed the eggs and seed out of one another’s bodies.

Free from the rest of the school for the first time, the young herring swam wherever he pleased. He swam to the left and then he swam to the right. He swam to the surface and he dove back down to the sea floor. He picked up a bit of seaweed, plopped it on his head, and looked at himself in a piece of sea glass.

“See?” he thought to himself. “The school was wrong. I am different. Just look at me. I’m wearing a seaweed wig.”

The young herring swished back over to the school.

“See?” he said to the school. “You were wrong. I am different. Just look at me. I’m wearing a seaweed-” 

Suddenly, the school spotted two swordfish swimming towards it.

“Predators!” screamed the school! “Everyone bait ball! Bait ball! Bait ball! Bait ball!”

The school started swimming in one big circles, faster and faster and tighter and tighter, until they formed a dense sphere of shimmering scales. The young herring got swept up into the bait ball, going around and around and around with the rest of the school.

“Uh oh,” said one swordfish to the other as they got closer to the school. “I’m getting a little confused…”

“Me too,” said the second swordfish. “I can’t tell where one fish stops and another starts. Or maybe…” The second swordfish trailed off for a moment, deep in thought. “No. Nevermind. It’s dumb.”

“What?” asked the first swordfish. “What were you about to say?”

“I dunno,” said the second swordfish. “I was just thinking that maybe it’s not a lot of little fish like we thought at first and that maybe it’s one big fish? That’s dumb, right?”

“Honestly,” said the first swordfish, “I was just thinking that it might be one big fish, too. It’s not dumb at all. You know, I’ve noticed that a lot of times, we think we are alone in our experiences and we don’t speak to them because we are afraid that it might ostra- Wait! Look there! It’s a fish in a seaweed wig!”

“Oh yeah!” said the the second swordfish with a grin. “I see him! His seaweed wig makes him easy to spot in that big group of fish.”

“You hear that?” the young herring shouted to the rest of school as they swam. “They can tell I’m different!”

“We know!” screamed the school back. “Take off that seaweed wig!”

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” sneered the young herring as he shook a couple loose strands of seaweed out of his eyes. “Wouldn’t want anything or anyone to challenge the status quo, right? Heaven forbid that someone stop following the leader, right? Listen, I can understand if you don’t have the guts to do what I’m doing. It’s not easy and it’s not pretty, I’ll give you that much. What I don’t get is being so jealous that you feel like you have to-”

Just then, the first swordfish skewered the young herring through the gut with his razor-sharp bill. With the young herring still impaled on his nose, the first swordfish swam over to the second swordfish and they feasted on his flesh, blood, and eyes.

Who Will SNL Hire Next Season? It Could Be Gillian Jervis

Every summer, speculation runs wild on who will be hired on to the cast of Saturday Night Live. Starring on SNL would be a dream come true for every would-be comedian and actor, including the amazingly talented and hard-working Gillian Jervis. Who will Lorne Michaels hire for the flagship sketch comedy program that has been the launching pad for so many superstars? We'll profile some possible cast members below.

Gillian Jervis

SNL traditionally hires its performers from Chicago, which is why Gillian Jervis moved there after graduating with a BA in Acting from Harvard University. We wouldn't be surprised if SNL continued this tradition by hiring The Second City's Gillian Jervis. But don't think that Gillian Jervis is just a star performer who has done several of Second City's mainstage reviews. She's also an expert improviser, who has been on Harold Night at iO for just four years shy of a decade. If SNL is looking for a writer, Gillian has covered her bases by writing five one woman shows and six original web series, even though a writing job would put Gillian oh so close to the flame but just far enough to break her heart in two.

Gillian Jervis has also booked several national commercials and just signed to a prestigious boutique management company that she won't name because her mother said would come off too braggy. While some might say that she will make less money as an SNL cast member and that it would be a step down from the television roles she's auditioning for, it doesn't change the fact that being on SNL was a dream she had when she was a little girl and Gillian Jervis didn't skip three family Christmases because she had to get ready for some stupid fucking showcases that never led to anything and split a studio apartment in Fuller Park for five years with a complete psycho who pissed on the floor and broke up with Chad who was kind and sweet but didn't understand why Gillian needed to stay out until 3am networking with the associate artistic director at the Annoyance to not get on Saturday Night Live.

Nicole Byer

This UCB performer has a ton of buzz and has been all over the Internet and television. But is SNL in her future? Maybe, say some industry experts. But a lot of people have seen Gillian Jervis do the same kind of thing Nicole Byer does, but better. It's not that Nicole isn't funny, but that Gillian Jervis is a slightly better actor, and SNL is the kind of show where an acting background is super important. You already have a cast of a bunch of funny people, you need someone who can be that “glue” in sketches, like Phil Hartman, or Gillian Jervis, since Phil Hartman is dead.

Amos Vernon

Amos is a writer at Funny or Die, and based on how we've interacted with him at parties, a nice enough guy. But Amos is Yet Another Straight White Dude, and SNL needs to be the kind of show that celebrates diverse voices. Gillian Jervis, who is one eighth Native American and possibly Armenian as well, agrees. “There are a lot of famous and important people that this current cast can't accurately portray,” Gillian Jervis told me in an exclusive interview, which was hard to nail down because she is has been out in LA for two pilot seasons so far. “I wrote this great sketch about the Native American actors who walked off the set of that Adam Sandler movie, and this current cast couldn't do that. And it would be a shame to not have a sketch that recently received a Del Close award for Best Sketch of 2015 on SNL.”

Drew Tarver

Drew Tarver is funny and has it all. He doesn't really fill the roles Gilian Jervis sees herself playing. Gillian wishes him well.

Tarzan is Elsa’s Little Brother and Now All of My Tarzan/Elsa Erotic Fanfic is Totally Ruined

The director of the smash Disney animated hits “Frozen” and “Tarzan” just revealed that he likes to imagine that Tarzan is Anna and Elsa’s little brother, which for all intents and purposes flushes all of my Tarzan/Elsa erotic fanfic right down the goddamn toilet. I know it might be fun to think that Anna and Elsa’s parents, the King and Queen of Arendelle, don’t die when their ship wrecks and wash up on a jungle island and give birth to a baby boy who ends up being raised by gorillas, but now I look like some kind of incest-loving freak when I’m just a guy that likes to fantasize about the erotic encounters of characters from the Disney animation universe who are NOT biologically related.

I’m not trying to get down on anyone’s kinks, mind you. The Disney animation erotic fanfic community is a “big tent.” A little piece about Lumiere jagging one out to Sultan while he sleeps? Be my guest, buddy. A three-parter where Mufasa appears in the night sky to impart fatherly wisdom to Simba and then give his salad a hard toss? Hakuna matata, friendo. My own personal tastes tend to lean a little more “vanilla” is all. Just give me a couple of characters from a children’s animated musical meeting, seducing, and plowing the hell out of one another and I’m a happy man.

My take on Elsa and Tarzan is a classic tale of opposites attract featuring some of my nieces and nephews favorite fictional heroes. You got Tarzan, the ape-man, from a steamy jungle island. He’s hot, hot, hot! You got Elsa, The Snow Queen, from northern land of Arendelle. She’s cold, cold, cold! Hot! Cold! Hot! Cold! And when fire meets ice, someone’s bound to get wet. (“When fire meets ice, someone’s bound to get wet” is literally the tag line I used on my /fanfic subreddit post and it has since received over 110 upvotes.) I wasn’t trying to do any twisted brother/sister shit. I just wanted to share what I imagined it would be like if two cartoons started going all out buck on one another.

Not that it even matters anymore, but here’s how I had it all going down: Desperate to learn more about her parents’ fate (Emotion helps build the sexy!), Elsa sets sail for the southern seas. (Adventure also helps build the sexy!) After weeks of travel across open waters supplies begin to run low (Danger is another thing that builds the sexy!), the crew starts begging Elsa to turn back, but she refuses. (Conviction big time builds the sexy!) Finally, Olaf the snowman spots a lush, green island where the only sign of human life is an abandoned ship on the beach. Despite the possible danger (More danger! More sexy!) Elsa decides to stop anyway to search for traces of her parents. (Conviction! Sexy, remember?!) Once ashore, Elsa discovers Tarzan, who is still mourning the loss of his wife, Jane, (Emotion! Still sexy!) who died from a nasty parasitic infection that she contracted while boning Tarzan in a shallow pool of jungle water. (Past danger! Past sexy!) Elsa delights and cheers the simple apeman with her ice magic (Magic is no brainer sexy!) and the two soon begin porking in many different ways in many different places on the island in front of many different types of animals. (Variety. Is. The. Spice. Of. Sexy!) But like I said before, it’s not like the circumstances I came up with to make two moving drawings do it even matter anymore, now that those moving drawings might be brother and sister. Gross.

Maybe the part where Sven the reindeer fucks the leopardess that ate Tarzan’s parents is still salvageable, but I honestly don’t know if I could parse it out from the rest of the story at this point. Thanks to “Frozen” and “Tarzan” director Chris Buck’s big mouth, even a simple description of a pretend, anthropomorphic reindeer having its way with a pretend, anthropomorphic leopardess somehow feels perverse and tainted.

Frankly, I’m disappointed in Chris Buck. As an artist, he should know that once he releases a piece of work into the world, he can’t keep tinkering with it. It doesn’t belong to him anymore. It belongs to his audience. It belongs to every little boy that can’t stop giggling at Olaf’s silly antics. It belongs to every little girl who sings along to “Let it Go” at the top of her lungs. And it belongs to every grown adult who wants to dream up ways for the people in the kid’s movies to screw the living daylights out one another without the fear of looking like some kind of deviant.

For shame, sir. For shame.

Get To Know Deadpool

The Internet is abuzz with the release of the trailer for Marvel's latest superhero movie, “Deadpool.” But unless you're a comic book “nerd,” you probably aren't too familiar with him. Not to worry – Janice is here to introduce you to your new favorite superhero.

1. He Has Cancer

In Issue #1 of Deadpool Extravaganza, Deadpool confesses to his long-time girlfriend Jennifer Hudson that he has prostate cancer. When Jennifer Hudson asks what the next step is, Deadpool directly addresses the reader and urges his male readers to get their prostate checked when they turn fifty. He then clutches his buttocks and screams, “ouch! My bottom!”

2. He Breaks The Fourth Wall

What separates Deadpool from other superheros is his penchant for the meta. In issue #30 of Deadpool Forever and Ever Deadpool glues the pages of the comic book shut, insisting that the writers are “sad men who use irony in place of storytelling” and that a better use of one's time would be to “smoke any of the fine cigarettes in the Philip Morris family.” The rest of the comic is Deadpool enjoying the smooth flavor of Marlboro Reds.

3. His Favorite Artist is Uncle Kracker

This includes musicians, novelists, and painters. In issue #345 of Deadpool Unlimited, Deadpool backflips on stage at an Uncle Kracker concert. He sings the first verse of “Follow Me” before embedding a katana into the rhythm guitarist's torso. Uncle Kracker then remarks, “Great, now I have to log on to Musician’s Friend dot com and find a new rhythm guitar!”

4. He Donates Money to Susan G Komen

Not the fund, but to the woman directly. In issue #23 of ¡ Aye, Señor Deadpool! Deadpool hands Susan G Komen a check for thirty thousand dollars. When she asks where the money comes from, Deadpool says, “your fucking ass!” before shuffle side kicking a vampire.

5. The Most Important Thing To Him Is Family

Deadpool loves his family. That's why his costume is made from the dead skin cells of all of his relatives, including Jake, Trish, Rebecca, Uncle Monty, Cousin Lupe, Grandpappy Hiroto, and his dog, Deadpool's Dog.

6. He Is A Former Olympic Athlete

Deadpool competed in the 1996 Atlanta Summer Games and took home bronze in the men's 200 meter breaststroke. His journey from tryout camp to podium is chronicled in the eight part arc Deadpool Is Competing In The 1996 Olympics.

7. He Has Become Self Aware

Starting in issue #509 of A Deadpool Ate My Baby, artists have noticed Deadpool saying and doing things they did not intended. When placed in a martial arts fist fight with seventeen Yakuza, Deadpool remarked, “I can feel.” Curious, the artists then made Deadpool eviscerate the Yakuza's bowels with a sai. Deadpool then said, “I am not a machine.” When the artists tried to erase the word bubble, it appeared again, in bigger, bolder font. The artists then drew Deadpool crescent kicking a Yakuza's hand clean off, grabbing it mid-air, and adjusting it so the severed hand was flicking the bird. Deadpool then dropped the hand and walked off the page, never to be seen again.

How to Draw: Garfield

Drawing America's favorite cartoon feline is easy! Just follow our six simple steps...

Step 1: Start by tracing out that fucker's smug little smirk. It helps to imagine that he's smiling because he thinks he's got something on you. But he doesn't. He's just a dumbass cat.

Step 2: Next, add in two large, overlapping ovals... COUGHNUTSACKCOUGH... for that little prick's eyeballs. With peepers that big, you think that he'd be able to see the world of hurt he's in for one day if he keeps acting like the arrogant little bitch that he is. But the dude's got no idea.

Step 3: Now comes some detailing on the mouth and eyes as well as the addition of hands and ears. If you wanted to leave the ears off of this little butt-munch, you could. It wouldn't make much of a difference. This furry dick never listens anyway. Now matter how much Jon and Odie beg for him to stop, he just keeps tearing their lives to pieces. It's un-fucking-believable.

Step 4: Add in a large oval for this asshole's head and don't forget a big "D" shape for his fat fucking gut. I'm sure it's easy to cook up a bunch of one liners to "zing" Jon with when all you do all day is shove lasagna down your gaping, wet craw you flabby piece of shit. Try as much as you can to show that Garfield is an emotional and financial drain on a person that has shown him nothing but undeserved compassion.

Step 5: It almost looks like he's sleeping, doesn't it? Whaddya say we just sketch in a pillow over his face and smother this mean, sarcastic little cock out? This lazy fuck hates waking up so much, how about we do him a favor and make it so he never has to wake up again? Would anyone notice if he was gone? Would anyone care? I bet Jon only catches on that the bastard is dead the first time he goes on a date without being utterly mocked for no goddamn reason.

Step 6: There he is, fuckin' self-satisfied butterball. How did yours turn out? You know you drew a good Garfield if the very sight of it makes you want to fuckin' wretch.