Blog Archives

Dear Ralphs, Your Box of Raisins Was One Dollar Cheaper On “The Price Is Right”

by Margaret Reed

To Rico Hernandez, Manager of the Ralph’s On Western and Melrose,

Yes, I know that is your name. I asked the nice black security man who the manager was last night and he pointed me at your photo on the wall. I must say, I have never seen you in the store, and I’m there every day from 6:00AM to 6:40AM.

For over twenty years I have been a loyal patron of your store, including the six months it was a Big Lots. That was not a good time; I got terrible indigestion from their off-brand yogurt.

I was recently shocked to watch an episode of The Price is Right and see the listed retail price for a box of Raisinette was one dollar lower than what you charged me this week.

What the fuck.

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Someone Needs to Murder A Kid Soon

by Nancy Grace

Please, God, let some little kid get abducted soon. He could be a little shit, just some brat running around in his front yard, with a mother too busy neglecting him by making dinner in the kitchen. Some pervert scoops him up, leaves no obvious clues, and Nancy survives for another three months.

That kid’s blood is going to pay for my kitchen expansion. Perhaps I’ll name it after him or her (it’s probably going to be a her). Or perhaps I’ll call it Cold Justice, since I have a new refrigerator coming in as well.

I care about these kids. I name each of my house’s expansions after them. Little John Bennett, I loved her. I loved her so much that I rearranged the tiles in my walk-in shower to look like the last living photo of her. No, I wasn’t a TV show journalist at the time; I just cared. Read the rest of this entry


by J. Jonah Jameson

Parker, get in here. I need pictures of Spiderman.

Let me see these.

Parker, these are just scribbles of Spiderman. These are made out of glossy paper and crayon.

[Slightly NSFW. This is going to get a little weird. But you should know that if you’ve read literally any of our monologues.]

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Aquaman Will Rock Your Fucking Balls Off

by Aquaman

Hey everybody. Arthur Curry here, or as some of you hipper cats may know me as, AQUAMAN. Its cool, its cool. I know I’m awesome. Ladies stay back, I still have business to get done here. As we approach a new wave of super hero inspired moves like Thor, X-Men, and Captain America, there is one thing that all these movies lack: Aquaman. I have done my superhero duty, righting this horrific wrong, and given the world the first taste of the Aquaman movie it so justly deserves (provided proper funding and distribution deals). To wet your whistle (and other things), here’s some Concept Art:

And now without further ado, the TRUE story of me.  Aquaman.  Written by me, Aquaman. Read the rest of this entry

Shut Up, Baby

An old college friend of mine got into contact with me, and it was a lot of fun catching up over drinks and stuff. Today’s author comes from a time in my life when I wasn’t exactly a stellar human being, which might explain why it’s been so long since he and I talked.

He did not, and does not, bring out the best in me.

Having said that, a bet’s a bet, so here’s Bryce Coleburn’s first article for Nonstop Karate.

Shut Up, Baby.
by Bryce Coleburn

Listen babies, shut up for a second and let me talk some jive at you.

Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Bryce Coleburn and I’d like to audition for the role of guy who fucks you all the time.

I think my credentials speak for themselves.

*lifts up shirt to reveal six pack with ‘Oxford O.G’ written across them*

Um, what the fuck am I looking at?

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Do. Not. F-ck. Me. On. This.

It appears that nearly everyone in my life is getting married/already married. It inspired me to write this.


by Jeff Larson

Guys, tonight, some stuff’s going to happen.

Weird stuff.

No guff, you’re going to see some shit, and unless you’re a filthy fucking degenerate like Williams over there, it’s going to challenge you. It will shake your spiritual and your entire emotional development to the core.

Gentlemen, this is why we go to Vegas. To challenge ourselves, to grow spiritually, and to remind ourselves what a 19-year-old single mom’s vagina looks like.
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