Today’s Topic: New Jersey

Point: New Jersey is a Hellhole
by Lee Ranieri

Fuck New Jersey. It really is a stinkhole. Maybe it's the narrow, crumbling streets. Or the

depressing Levittown-style shacks lined up within arms' reach of each other, across the entire state. And the fact that these miserable little piss-holes that aren't fit for civilized persons' tapeworms, cost $380,000. Or the booze stores all closing at 9PM. Or the swarm of fucked up midget Italians, many of whom are even smaller and hairier than myself, but dumber, and more violent. Or the glimmering nightlife of Atlantic City, which is what happens when you set out to make a tasteless version of Las Vegas.

Maybe it's the state song: "She Works Hard for the [Money]" - not even the original, but the shitty Linda Ronstadt Spanish version ["Yo quiero mas dinero el diablo"]. Maybe it's the state motto, "Semper Cinemax." Maybe it's just the 1:1 ratio of citizens to tile stores.
My friends, it is all these things and more. But mostly the Morlok hordes that live there. Not content with being simply "New Yorkers, but poor and ugly," they have metastasized into a more virulent strain of European peasant degenerate, a perpetual cultural and genetic underclass of man-swine, whose ignorance of their squalor would be funny, were it not so offensive.

Mr. Ranieri served as Director of the New Jersey Council of Tourism under former governor James McGreevey.

Counterpoint: New Jersey is Ballrot
by Annie Classic

My esteemed colleague here at supermasterpiece has asked us all to “Fuck New Jersey.” And I must gently disagree. The punishment must fit the crime that is the Garden State, and fucking is much too feeble—he might as well asked us all to “Make Love to New Jersey.” I think we need to pull down every New Jersey resident’s shiny, nylon sweatpants and rape them in their proscuitto-stuffed asses and throw their bloated, cum-stained bodies off the Turnpike to rot in their own special hell. If I could, I’d return New Jersey to the Native Americans, but I hear they’re not interested—I guess they’re just too drunk to care.

Mr. Ranieri protests that New Jersey’s “shacks [are] lined up within arms’ reach of each other,” but clearly he is too dim to understand the benefits. Think about it, you asshat. The density of these so-called “communities” allows complete annihilation when we firebomb that savagely boner-biting state. I mean, you know it’s bad when fucking midget Delaware wants to smoke New Jersey’s ass.

And what about the “glimmering nightlife” of Atlantic City? “Tasteless” doesn’t begin to describe this diet, low-carb version of Vegas. New Jersey can’t even do gambling right. Sure there are casinos in Atlantic City, but are there hot sluts willing to work your nuts? Are there mint drugs being sold for under market price? No. Because people in New Jersey don’t seem to get it. They are dumber than a bag of hair—hair shaved off from their Italian nutsacs.

And, Jesus Christ, Mr. Ranieri, you nutsucking queerbait, who cares about the state song? Nothing good has come out of the fucking Garden State—not Bruce Springsteen and certainly not Bon Jovi. It’s as if New Jersey’s main export is faggots. I mean even their fucking governor is gay. Seriously, New Jersey knows how to piss in our mouths.

In conclusion, I find Mr. Ranieri’s so-called “rant” against New Jersey highly offensive. His retaliation against the third state comes off weak and vaginal, just like the state itself. It’s as if he’s never set foot there—never been to the Newark airport or IKEA to get his Klippan sofa with the tangerine slipcover.

Ms. Classic is the acting Director of the New Jersey Council of Tourism.