Dear Editor, I am the one they call the PC Police. The PC is a pastime to me; it is a sport. I, the one who engages in the PC, have personally engaged in more of the PC than you suckers have your entire miserable non-PC lives. Try to get onto my level of the PC. I have the PC bumper stickers, the PC welcome mats, the PC mugs, the PC marijuana apparatuses, and I’ve even got a the PC tattoo. I am the ultimate PC consumer. I am the infinite span of the PC and all of its tenets. You will never have more of the PC than I have, as I have begun to write all my instances of the PC down onto a large chalkboard which I
Dear Editor,
I write this email because I have nowhere else to turn. I have been sitting on my thumbs waiting for my next breath, but I can no longer sit idly by. This is my last and only chance. For many years, I have been providing politically incorrect content to the questionably-humorous Nonsense Humor Magazine™, and your gracious editors have published said content with zest. I have used this money to provide for my seventeen (17) children, all of which are named some variation of Bjørg. You see, I am a Scandinavian radish farmer, and farming Scandinavian radishes is simply not enough to put radishes on the table, if you understand. How did a simple radish farmer find out about Nonsense Humor Magazine™, you might be asking yourselves? Shouldn’t he be farming his radishes? That, frankly, is none of your fucking business. See? That is just an example of how far my insensitive, politically indecorous humor can go. You, of course, already know this. I am randier than a man named Randy… who is gay AND likes weird sex stuff— because there is nothing inherently funny about being gay. Ah, there I go again! Watch in horror world, as I kinkshame without fear! I jest. I began writing to Nonsense Humor Magazine™ many many years ago, as a result of my undying passion for all things politically and morally
sold all of my possessions to buy. I walk the streets at night, hunting, searching for prey with which to illuminate with the glorious Technicolor of my the PC lantern, which I made out of earthworms and LED lights, things that I also sold all of my possessions to buy. “Hey there, non-the-PC citizen! Allow me to show you the way.” I say, shining the light of my worm-lantern in their non-the-PC face. “I do not like the PC,” they say. “It burns. Jared Leto was really great in Dallas Buyer’s Club and I don’t see what the big deal was.” “I WILL AVENGE THE PC!!” I screech, flapping my arms. “I WILL SEND YOU unfounded and rude. I remember it was not so long ago that I stood as a boy in the radish fields, my grand-grand-uncle Bjørgio on one knee to discuss with me the beauty in the offensive. He told me fanciful stories: of catcalling (my sides are still with the hurting, when he mentions the time that he told a woman that she did not yet have the light to cross), of only calling it ‘the LBGT community’ instead of ‘LGBTQIA+,’ and of posting pictures of nosebleeds without tagging any trigger warnings. That inspired me to search across many lands, far and wide, for something that could handle humor as detrimental and horrendous as mine. I once wrote a short story where the two romantic leads have sexual intercourse—where the consent is only heavily implied! You can see why it was a challenge to find a home for a writer such as I—he the most wild. And yet, horrendous I found. Like an oasis in a desert of social justice, I stumbled across Nonsense Humor Magazine™, written by those I felt shared the same love for ‘the discourse’ as I did. I began my publications to your magazine in 1994, and I have not missed a single issue. But with every sunrise comes the storm. With the recent announcement of your “PC Issue,” as you so call it, I have received several emails about my usual sending of hilarious content being met with rejection. My livelihood
STRAIGHT TO THE HECK!” “No, the please! The please!” “Wiggle wiggle wiggle,” I say, mimicking the earthworms. “Wiggle wiggle wiggle, in the ground, IN THE GROUND! GO NOW, GO TO THE HECK!!!!!” And then I send them to the heck. This is why I am the best at the PC, because I know when to send them to the heck, and when not to send them to the heck. Fear me, fear the PC. Respect the PC. Love the PC. Thank you kindly. Sincerely,
The PC Police
depends solely on the publishing of the compositions that I send you, and regardless of the political correct or incorrectness of these submissions, I feel as if the content I have sent you has been pushed to the wayside like my fourth child, Bjørgina. That being said, consider this a last ditch attempt. I’m super fuckin’ raunchy, and think my most recent work, “Why Scandinavian Radish Farmers Didn’t (and Don’t) Have a Problem with Pol Pot,” should be placed on the front cover of your newest issue. That’s just my comedic style; I’m super fucked-up like that. And I think that would be fun. I think you would like doing me and my family of Scandinavian radish farmers a great service. After all, my opinion is completely correct, and Pol Pot is definitely political, wouldn’t you say? I’ve got plenty of examples of rude comedy, but I just like to push the boundaries. Here’s a great example: I need this money to feed my fucking children, and you SJW cucks are denying them basic needs like food by not putting my shit in your magazine. Fuck you. See? Damn, I’m good. Regards,
Olof Georg
Albriechtingnenienarigo
Scandinavian Radish Farmer