We've gone to the effort of assembling below a comprehensive list of things deaf people are sick of hearing.
Bazinga.
Opinion: Elastigirl Creates Unrealistic Body Expectations For Women
After a 12-year wait, the world is currently going crazy for Incredibles 2. The superhero sequel has been praised for its placements of Mrs Incredible, or Elastigirl, at the centre of the film’s expansive action sequences.
However, there has been one influential commentator notably and aggressively absent from the chorus of praise: me.
Elastigirl is not a feminist icon. She’s not even an icon; her body changes too much to earn that stamp of permanency. Elastigirl’s portrayal is certain to perpetuate insecurity amongst women regarding their bodies. The matriarch of the Incredible family has a body that no girl can ever hope to have.
Think about it: at one point. Elastigirl is thin enough to squeeze under a villain’s door. But later, she is able to act as a parachute to save herself and another FEMALE from a fall. Weight fluctuation of this kind is completely unhealthy, yet the film asks us to believe that this disorder can save lives. Keep it, Disney.
It gets worse. Later in the film, Mrs Incredible stretches her torso over what must be 100-freakin’-metres in order to prevent a train crash. Does Brad Bird (a MAN and a BIRD, the most male of the all the reptiles) have ANY idea how many young girls are going to run from the cinema, stand in front of their mirror and wonder why THEIR body can’t contort into countless shapes in order to save the citizens of Metrocity? Imagine how you’d feel, Brad, if feeling is something you’re still capable of doing.
Elastigirl is a terrible role model. At no point in the film does she acknowledge that women without fantastical, stretchy, mutated superbodies are ALSO BEAUTIFUL. Nope, she’s too busy saving the world while her husband looks after the kids to be concerned with questions about the role of the modern woman.
To the women reading this: don’t give up on you. You are beautiful, and not being able to turn yourself into a jetski at a moment’s notice doesn’t change that. It never will.
Student, After Clinging Onto Hope That Leaked Grades Weren't Final, Sighs
"Fuck."
Simon Elliot, a third year student with two first names, followed in the footsteps of his peers minutes before him on Saturday night by checking his grades early byway of the leaked UQ portal.
They were shit.
However, Simon experienced a feeling of hope when UQ sent out their whiney little bitch email minutes later.
The grades, the blushing University sheepishly tried bullshitting to students, were 'not finalised.'
"Oh I'll be sweet," Simon told his mates as he leaned back into a deck chair with a shit eating grin. "These are just the first draft grades, for sure I'll bell curve my way up with this one."
However, when the Simon received his text from UQ this morning, he was met with a figurative up yours.
"Fucking hell," Simon sighed. "Yeah nah they're the same."
Sources close to Simon confirmed that he is 'dumb as shit' and that his decision to spend the weekends on either side of Swotvac trying to buy vodka Red Bulls in the Coop for a girl from his primary school may have resulted in the genuinely abysmal marks.
"I really tried hard this semester," Simon complained.
"Might have to appeal some of these."
Desperately Unfit Twentysomething Not Too Stressed About Chest Pains & Shortness Of Breath
At age 20, Commerce/Law student Ryan Abrahams has the cardiac health of a 48-year-old, and the overall health of a struggling 36-year-old with consistent cholesterol issues.
Countless weeks of drinking to excess, eating rubbish food, and doing genuinely no exercise have taken their toll on Ryan’s body.
These past few weeks, he has experienced sharp, shooting pains on the left side of his chest, and regular episodes of struggling to breathe, often after walking up a flight of stairs.
But according to Ryan, these honestly frightening symptoms has left him in the emotional state of ‘...to be honest, not too stressed about it mate.’
‘I’m a young man, I’ll bounce back from anything. I’ve had four hours sleep this week, and to be honest, I feel great.’
The Obiter’s medical advisors suggest not only is Ryan suffering from aggressive cardiac issues, but also from a condition known in the medical community as ‘being absolutely fucking in denial.’ Such a condition will render otherwise fairly intelligent and capable youth into ignoring every symptom their body is screaming at them, in favour of the unhealthy practices they adore.
With his 21st birthday on the horizon, Ryan’s body continues to age rapidly at the rate of one day per day. Whilst his family are a little concerned about his health, his father, Scott, proudly told us ‘...he’s an Abrahams. He’ll shake it off. The kid’ll be okay.’
We reached Ryan for a second interview, but three sentences in, he began a lethal coughing fit which made us genuinely afraid.
We wish him the best. Lord knows, he will need it.
Game Over, Trump: Ghosts Are Real, Which I Know Because They Live Inside Me And Control My Thoughts
The White House is under siege.
As journalists continue to report on the rampant corruption that grips Trump’s administration and crowds march through the streets in protest, Robert Mueller’s ongoing investigation into collusion between Donald Trump and the Russian government looks close to issuing an indictment. Embattled and friendless, Trump faces the distinct possibility of impeachment and removal from office before the completion of his term. The President should be very, very worried about his prospects for political survival.
And he should be terrified by the fact that ghosts exist and that I know this because the ghosts live inside me and try to control my thoughts.
The game is up, Donald J. Chump!
Give up the jig, Chumpster!
Being stumped in cricket is bad. Being Trump’d in America is even worse!
Trump faces a determined, energized and organized political opposition that will fight tooth and nail for every seat at the 2018 mid-term elections. He faces a vigorous, powerful independent press corps that will challenge his every move as he seeks to undermine the checks and balances that constrain the Presidency. Trump must confront strong independent institutions and a judiciary that largely remains hostile to his anti-democratic agenda.
He should be fearful for his political future.
But he should be even more scared by the fact that spectral, disembodied presences exist on this physical plane. Cheeto-Hands-In-Chief should be horrified that ghosts exist and want to wreak horror and havoc upon the living.
Drumpfy should be filled with dread by the fact that incorporeal, shadowy phantoms live inside me and seek to control my thoughts, commanding me to murder my wife and infant child.
The Resistance is coming for you, Mr. President!
Trump may lay awake at night, tossing and turning with worry about the Mueller investigation, but he should instead be absolutely horrified by the fact that ghosts exist, that they live under my skin and that they haunt my every waking moment. It looks like his charade is up and he is finally being exposed to his supporters as the snake oil salesman he really is.
Good luck, Mr. President.
You will need it.
The ghosts are coming.
Investigation: Nicknames Aren’t As Good As When Dad Was Young
Nicknames. An integral part of the Australian identity.
Everyone gets one. They can be easy; contracting the last name and adding an –o, a -y or even –azza. Think of Jacko, Smithy, or Shazza.
Some are even ironic. Think of calling a red-headed friend ‘Blue,’ or your token fat mate ‘Slim.’ These are epithets that have endured the test of time, central to the very soul of this country.
However, in a worrying study that involved analysing the yarns spun by fifty-something, mid-life-crisis-ridden Dads across the nation, it appears that the creativity of nicknames has been in a steady decline.
The shocking findings have yielded one simple revelation: your friends nicknames are not as cool as your parents friends were.
Sure, some of the hijinks that they reportedly got up to may be embellished but that doesn’t mean they didn’t sound cool as shit doing it. Move over Davo and Bluey, here come Chips McCoy and Meathook Rafferty. You think Bazza is cool? Sink your teeth into Bobby Buckshot.
These guys could make a stroll to the shops sound like the next instalment of ‘The Expendables.’ Or so we’re told, by men who do nothing but drink beer and talk about events that happened thirty years ago, as if genuinely nothing interesting has happened since then.
So what’s changed? We asked one of your dad’s mates ‘Skull’ (54) his opinion.
‘I reckon it’s the masturbation.’
We reacted with some shock. ‘Sorry, what was that Skull?’
‘Forging a nickname through adventure takes time, and back in the 70’s you could knock, one, maybe two out a day, to a grainy black and white image on the telly, plenty of time left to run around. These days with 4K HD streaming, kids are lucky to leave their rooms, well I would be anyway.’
As Skull continued his diatribe about masturbation, we slowly left the room. At the end of the day, Jacko isn’t that bad, compared to when Chips Rafferty was shot trying to escape from Ol’ Bill’s junkyard.
Tough Four Weeks Coming Up For Overworn Year 12 Senior Hoodie
With university holidays commencing, and the chill winds of winter whipping the faces of Brisbane’s youth, it looks to be a gutsy performance coming up for overworn, small, frayed Year 12 Senior hoodies.
The sunny days and warm glow of Brisbane rarely require the use of these hoodies, but for roughly four weeks every year, they come out of the shadows to take their resting place on your torso.
Emblazoned with a funny nickname such as ‘HMAS Shazza,’ ‘Whipstick,’ or ‘The Machine,’ these hoodies reportedly spend the whole year hibernating for the brief amount of time they will actually be required.
Even then, it gets pretty hot during the day, so the hoodie will probably be taken off between 10.30am and 4pm. But try and stop it outside of those hours. Just try it.
Whilst there are countless more practical solutions to warmth, such as a newer jacket, there’s a certain charm to the thin, grey school hoodie. It harks back to a simpler time, where one of the great victories was getting to sit at the Year 12 tables in the last two weeks of Year 11.
We managed to secure an interview with a ‘Class of 2014’ hoodie from St. Alanborough’s Grammar, a prestigious Brisbane school located in Kangaroo Point.
The hoodie expressed concerns about its potential performance over the coming weeks, but stressed it will ‘...do whatever I can to keep my head down, and put in the hours.’
‘I’ll get it done, mate. By God, I’ll get it done.’
Report: Europe is Pretty Lame, Anyway, I Don’t Even Care
Disgruntled scientists stuck at home this winter over at the Bruniveristy of Quisbane have released a damming report of going to Europe to enjoy the Northern Hemisphere's summer, officially describing and classifying the whole continent as 'yeah nah not for me'.
Around the month of July to that first couple of weeks of August that you could probably take off if you really wanted to, seemingly thousands of students and people who can take holidays, like teachers, are flocking to Europe to enjoy all that France, Switzerland, and the other Game of Thrones castle-country has to offer.
With extended days stretching into the evening, a sun that won't immediately burn a melanoma onto your skin and actually some culture, Europe is a sure-fire hit for those wanting to taste something that's different but also easy enough to get around because everyone speaks English.
However, for those left at home this cold, wet winter, scientists have taken the edge off by reporting that Europe, despite all of the above, is really lame and hey, I took a gap year there anyway so I've seen enough like who cares its just a really nice place and so clean and no bogans and so many Australians and like, hostels are shit so what that parties are always fun and every photo you take is a masterpeice and oh screw it is anyone giving some cheap flights over there, maybe I could enter a contest, even just a week would be great please please please I want to go GET ME OUT OF BRISBANE.
Anyway, at least those at home get to work some more anyway.
None to come I hate this.
CSIRO Releases Study Into Virginity. Get Tagging.
Today, the CSIRO released a scientific study into virginity amongst young men above the age of 30, with certain cultural attitudes and economic indicators. Or something like that.
We weren’t really listening, if we’re being honest.
We were too busy getting ready to tag our mates, in an act that is nothing short of pure comedy gold.
If you’ve read this far into the article, and you’re not tagging dozens of your friends, claiming ‘Mate, looks like the CSIRO is studying you,’ or ‘Fella, was this inspired by your effort on Saturday night,’ then we don’t know what’s wrong with you.
Do we need to say it again?
A study into virginity was released. VIRGINITY. AKA, the funniest thing known to humankind.
Could there be anything funnier than accusing your friends of not having had sexual relations in the public cauldron of Facebook? If there is, let us know, because we try to write funny articles all day and still nothing comes close to the genuinely orgasmic act of tagging three friends in an article about virginity.
Yeah, sure, an article about someone being too close to their pet is a bit funny to tag someone in.
And okay, we’ll agree that clips from reality shows about awkward dates can be good tagging fodder.
But at the end of the day, if you’re not making public accusations of celibacy, are you really human?
Lest we say it again.
The CSIRO released a study into virginity. Get tagging. Or die trying.
“He Gave Me Pneumonia, Sir!” Portugese Player Takes A World-First ‘Medical Dive’
The 2018 FIFA World Cup continues to surprise at every turn, with skilled play, breathtaking upsets, and VAR controversy dominating headlines. As with every World Cup, the practice of diving remains a controversy.
But in an astounding first, Portugese player Raphael Carlvarinho-Ledesma has taken a ‘medical dive’ - the act of claiming an opposition player has given you an infectious disease, ailment, or virus of some variety.
Long believed to be impossible, the medical dive arose at the 88th minute in last night’s match between Portugal and Uruguay. With scores locked at 0-0 (electrifying!), Uruguayan defender Guillermo von Lichtenstein breathed a little heavily near Raphael.
With a gasp, Raphael plunged to the ground, and began breaking out in sweating, and a fever, all the while screaming ‘Pneumonia! Pneumonia, sir!’ to ensure the match officials would be in no doubt whatsoever which illness he was given.
Like a child (let’s call him Andy) staying home from school because today is the day where everyone has agreed to ‘run away from Andy at lunch,’ the Portugese midfielder desperately appealed to the referee, pointing to his fluid-filled air sacs and difficulty in breathing.
Yet the referee refused to issue a card.
Raphael was left sweating on the ground, facing the very real likelihood he would have to stand up and play on the game, all the while continuing to exhibit pneumonia symptoms. Coughing up blood, anyone?
But then the VAR called a halt to the game.
With ultra-sharp camera technology, they were able to isolate the bacterial particles travelling from the Uruguayan defender, and determine there was a strong chance of the pneumonia virus, and thus, entitle the referee to award a red card.
We urge all players not to take a ‘medical dive.’ And at the end of the day, did you ever really enjoy faking sick, and lying to your parents? I didn’t think so.