Charles Entenmann: Drippy Cheesy Slushy Mushy

Charles Edward Entenmann, the baked goods snack-empire magnate who once confessed he “wasn’t a dessert guy,” is now “a dead guy.”

Charles Entenmann was the grandson of William Entenmann, an ambitious German immigrant who started his bakery in 1898 with the preposterous dream of using bundt cakes to invade neighboring countries and conquer the world with his superior frosting.

Under Charles’ leadership, the Entenmann brand became recognizable to grocery shoppers around the country for its signature white and blue boxes filled with the syrupy odor of a dying democracy drowning in a sea of sugar regrets.

To better assist assembly-line production, Charles pioneered the “easy-bake” methodology where cakes were cooked using a flickering 60-watt light bulb in the presence of a frustrated eight year-old girl. 

In 2010 the company introduced their line of Halloween cupcakes, frightening millions of children worldwide at the thought of ever having to eat one.

Today Entenmann’s is famous for its line of over 36 dessert products including donuts, loaf cakes, pies, Danish, muffins and cookies- all of which taste exactly the same. 

Their oldest product, the all-butter loaf cake, is the most popular. Probably because most peoples’ hearts explode before they have a chance to fill out the complaint form. 

As with any enterprise, not every Entenmann’s product was an instant hit with consumers and many had to be discontinued, including: 

Soft Fudge Iced Cupcakes With Sinew

Stringy Chocolate Hair-Clairs

Cheese-Filled Cheesy Cheese Fromage

German “Everyone Butter Run!” Rum Cake

Carrera Marble Chipped Tooth Loaf

New York Cheesecake With Rats

Blackout Drunk Bourbon Cake

Sour Cream Dead Grandma Raspberry Twist Muffins With Crunchy Fingerbits™

Grieving former employees remember Mr. Entenmann as a boss who always treated everyone with consideration and respect. “It didn’t matter if you were a janitor at the bakery or the drunk guy who’d break into the factory every weekend to lick the flat-beater and get a dough-hook stuck up his butt.”

The deceased requested his remains be crammed inside a garish white and blue coffin with a plastic see-through lid in order to entice mourners to sample his treats. 

Donald Rumsfeld: Language Expert, People Magazine’s 2002 “Sexiest Man Alive,” CNN’s “virtual rockstar”

Donald Rumsfeld, who famously claimed killing Saddam Hussein created “a more stable world,” is now decaying into 32 grams of nitrogen and 4 grams of potassium for every kilogram of dry body mass. At the height of his illness, the former defense secretary reportedly became shocked and awed over the known knowns and known unknowns attacking his adult diaper. 

Doctors listed the official cause of death as chronic “enhanced dying.” 

Echoing his earlier explanation for what happened at Abu Ghraib, Rumsfeld blamed his demise on “a small group of white blood cells who ran amok in the absence of adequate supervision by red blood cells.” 

On July 9, 1932, Donald Henry Rumsfeld was born in Evanston, Ill. to George and Jeanette Rumsfeld, who reportedly never had to strip nude at gunpoint and lie on top of other nude people.

Five years later the family moved to nearby Winnetka, where Donald and his sister attended both private and public schools. Teachers remembered them as polite and well-mannered kids who were never suspended nude from their dislocated shoulders, shocked by electrical wires attached to their genitals, or even raped with phosphorescent tubes while horrible music was playing.

An excellent student, Rumsfeld majored in political science and graduated from Princeton in 1954. That year he married his high school sweetheart, Joyce Pierson. Who as far as anyone can tell was never blindfolded and tied up and gagged while someone poured water down her throat.

In 2002, People Magazine included Rumsfeld in their annual “Sexiest Man Alive” issue. When asked why, the magazine said they were under the mistaken impression he’d fulfilled his dream of making everyone else dead.

On his deathbed, the man responsible for running the biggest foreign policy disaster in American history confided his only regret in life was never getting to witness Paul Wolfowitz lick his comb again.

He leaves behind three children, seven grandchildren, and three great-grandchildren. Who, according to sources, were never threatened by attack dogs or forced to eat food from a toilet.

Friends and loved ones say they’re consoled by the thought that the former Metamucil CEO is now making thousands of worms regular. 

The deceased requested his remains be shrink-wrapped into bundles and stuffed inside a duffle bag containing Dick Cheney’s first heart and given to Halliburton contractors in Iraq. 

Jonathan Bush: Failed Dancer, Worse Banker

Jonathan Bush, the only member of the Bush clan Democrats didn’t fully embrace because they couldn’t connect him to enough war crimes, is dead after spending a lifetime getting humiliated by his brother’s “David Cop-A-Feel” gag.  

His grief-stricken grandson, Billy Bush, announced the sad news after taking time off from immersing a palette full of Access Hollywood tapes into a large vat of Barbara Bush’s stomach acid.  

According to a spokesman for the Barbara Bush Foundation- not “foundation” as in “organization” or “group,” but “foundation” as in “three inches of makeup,” Bush died at his Florida estate of a congested wallet while trying to grope a sea manatee.

Following family tradition, Jonathan spent his formative years in Connecticut, graduating from Yale after flunking every class.

After serving two years in the Army believing everything he was told, Bush spent the next four and a half years as a singer and dancer, appearing in five versions of “Oklahoma!” All of them “Bad!”

Even though he never ran for political office, Bush helped raise a lot of money for the Republican Party -mostly by promising never to sing or dance again. 

True to his family name, Jonathan was no slacker when it came to helping drive the country into the toilet. And to do his part he spent most of his career as a fund manager.

The deceased requested his body be buried just out of reach of his older brother’s dead fingers. 

George H. W. Bush: Yale Cheerleader, Disappointed Father, Spook

“I will never apologize for the United States — I don’t care what the facts are.”

George H. W. Bush, a man so dishonest and racist he even offended Roger Stone, is now spending the afterlife in a Bosch painting performing a ventriloquist act with Augusto Pinochet’s crow-emitting anus. 

The attending physician pronounced Mr. Bush dead after examining his body for a thousand points of rigor mortis.

Those at the scene recalled the former president’s final words as, ”Read my lips: no CPR.”

Totally bereft, son Jeb refused to accept the physician’s decision until he forced a feeding tube down his father’s throat.

Bush’s term as president was defined by his quick response to Saddam Hussein’s 1990 invasion of Kuwait when he assembled an impressive international coalition of 35 soldiers, two trucks and a rake.

In tribute to their father’s legacy, the Bush family requested Americans not remember any of the last 50 years.

To honor the deceased, President Trump called for a national day of mourning and closed Wall Street, a fitting tribute to the man whose son shut down the economy for 10 years.

Trump also decreed government agencies fly Old Glory at half-staff- as soon as he received a new shipment of flags from China. 

The 94 year-old Bush, who lived longer than any previous U.S. war criminal, is survived by his immediate loved-ones: a son named Marvin nobody talks about, MSNBC and CNN, FOX News, Oliver North, the Saudi royal family, and Ellen’s glass coffee table.

Bush requested his remains be grabbed by the ass after someone asks his corpse who his favorite magician is.

Oh, and Dan Quayle.

BUY THE DISGUSTING BOOK AND HELP KEEP ME ALIVE. If you don’t want evil Amazon getting a ridiculous cut of the profits, email me at Jim@JimEarl.Com and I’ll send you an autographed copy! Oooooh boy!

He Never Met a War He Didn’t Like

McCain PalinJohn McCain, the man who came close to giving Sarah Palin the presidency with one defective beat of his freeze-dried heart, just left a big, steaming bag of dog crap on America’s doorstep in the form of Donald Trump and the Tea Party.

A family spokesman said the deceased died surrounded by loved ones, 8 to 11 houses, and over 228 million Americans who can’t afford a $1,000 emergency.

Responding to the news with the predictable, gushy, effusive, sap-laden horse shit, both sides of the aisle praised the 35 years of public-service McCain spent courageously receiving the kind of medical care he fought so hard to deprive millions of desperate Americans.

When reached for comment, a bug-eyed Steve Schmidt was still breathing through his mouth and dropping his “T”s while Rachel Maddow teared up, bit her bottom lip, and tapped her pen for schmaltzy emphasis.

Sources say family members are consoling themselves with the thought that “John is now up in heaven where he can comfortably watch American troops spend an eternity in Iraq.”

A warrior to the end, McCain recently found the strength to thrust a final dagger into the dying Democratic party by telling Joe Biden to “stay in politics.”

Never one to shy away from criticizing his own party when it could make him look good, the straight talker had this to say about the Trump presidency: “I’m concerned about the state of the country.” You’d really think a war vet who unleashed Sarah Palin on the world might be more adept at anticipating danger.

A maverick himself, President Trump decided to cancel the tradition of flying the White House flag at half-staff after someone told him it wasn’t a tribute to the dead possum on his head.

Throughout his career, many critics labelled McCain a racist for backing white supremacist George Wallace Jr, supporting flying the Confederate flag, voting six times against divesting from South Africa’s apartheid regime, and pushing to rescind Martin Luther King Day. But at least he had enough respect for Asians to capitalize the word “gook.”

In a final nod to his celebrated Naval career, McCain requested he be allowed to crash his funeral five times.

McCain’s love for the Navy was so intense, he even reenlisted during his 2008 presidential campaign to serve on the USS Swift Boat.

Reflecting from his deathbed, the senator confessed his biggest regret in life was never weighing in on why DJ Khaled refuses to eat pussy.

After voting for the president’s agenda 83 percent of the time, the deceased ordered in characteristic mavericky manner that President Trump not be allowed to attend his funeral. To which a weary country sighed, “Like the Bush family’s better?”

Memorial services for the deceased will be announced once the undertaker can build the danged coffin! 

At McCain’s request, the service will include a rendition of ’Danny Boy’ sung by opera singer Renee Fleming. This is to be followed by a short set from the remaining members of  “The Keating 5 Combo” with Sheldon Adelson taking Al Cranston’s place on drums, Hank Kissinger filling in for John Glenn on vibes, and Oleh Tyahnybok taking McCain’s place on percussion, hand claps and swastika. 

McCain’s remains will lie in state in the Arizona Capitol before flip-flopping to the U.S. Capitol Rotunda and triangulating into a hole at the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis.

Plans for Sarah Palin to deliver the eulogy had to be canceled after a nationwide search failed to find a translator.

Partial List of Mavericky Pallbearers:
National Right to Life Committee
JPMorgan Chase & Co
Sheldon Adelson
Christian Coalition
Lockheed Martin
Goldman Sachs
General Electric
Bank of America
FedEx Corp
High-yield junk bonds


Barbara Bush: A Nation Mourns And Eats Its Lunch

BUSHMy fellow Americans: Major combat operations in Barbara Bush have ended.
In the Battle of Life, time and a beef-heavy diet have prevailed.

And now our coalition of Earth’s natural elements is engaged in securing and deconstructing her cell structure. The tyrant has fallen. And Kennebunkport, Maine, is now free from her brooding presence at Mabel’s Clam Shack.

As Jesus once said: “No one can escape the relentless grab-ass of death.” And so, Barbara (Pierce) Bush, a First Lady whose main claim to fame was allowing two war criminals in and out of her bat-filled sniz, is now playing host to more beneficial parasites.

Known for bravely facing her many illnesses, Mrs. Bush once remarked, ”I have no fear of death because I know there is a great god,” -a motto later adopted by ISIS.

Close friends eulogized her as a “national treasure whose glaring frown could really light up the room.”

Upon hearing the news, Barack Obama declared her ankles “Too Big to Fail” in between giving speeches to hedge fund managers. Then he remembered he wasn’t president anymore.

Miss Barbara Pierce first met George Herbert Walker Bush in college and soon after they married. She later said George was the first man she ever kissed without reading his lips about no new taxes.

In 1946 their union brought forth a healthy baby boy, George Jr., inspiring her immortal words: “Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.”

But it wasn’t until she became First Lady that she took the world by storm with her Bess Truman charm and relentless grudge keeping.

Indeed, Mrs. Bush’s casual, down-to-earth manner soon earned her the label of “America’s grandmother” from those in the Bush administration. It’s not clear who they considered “America’s grandfather,” but I’m thinking maybe Joseph Goebbels.

Bereaved family members are consoling themselves with the thought that the deceased is now up in heaven getting confused for the Quaker Oats guy.

The deceased requested her remains be interred in the family fetus jar.


(Please note: the freakin' book contains HUNDREDS of obits,
but obviously not some of the most recent ones published 
in this blog.)

Robert Hulseman, Inventor of the Red Solo Cup


(animation by Martha Previte)

Robert Hulseman, Inventor of the now ubiquitous red beverage holder, is dead after drinking a 16-once cup of trucker urine he thought was last night’s beer. He is survived by daughters Patricia and Margaret, who both happen to be D-cups.

Hulseman was born in 1932 in Chicago and as a teenager contracted polio. The experience affected him so profoundly he made a pledge that if he ever recovered, he’d create a red plastic cup.

Introduced in the mid-1970s, the Solo Cup quickly became the receptacle of choice for growing pot seedlings and getting teenagers drunk enough to put their penises inside apples pies, something the devout Christian was probably thrilled about.

Over the the years, the inventor was known for his generosity and devotion to the Catholic church. Translation: he gave them a bunch of fucking cups.

In 2005, the New York Museum of Modern Art added a Solo Cup Traveler’s Lid to its permanent collection, mostly out of concern that modern art didn’t already have a bad enough reputation.

And in 2011 his red cup was immortalized in a Toby Keith song. Which I have no jokes about because I refuse to listen to it.

Hulseman was preceded in death by his devoted wife Sheila, whose coffin lid was designed to accommodate extra foam and reduce dribbling at the rim.

The deceased requested his ashes be left on top of his neighbor’s cinderblock fence in an easily stackable container shared with laundry change and Margot Kidder’s toenail clippings.


(Please note: the freakin' book contains HUNDREDS of obits,
but obviously not some of the most recent ones published 
in this blog.)

Robert Ettinger, “the father of cryonics”

ettingerRobert Ettinger, the cryonics pioneer who advocated freezing the dead with the hope that medical technology would someday enable them to pay taxes again, is dead at the age of 92 after attempting to defrost an erection he had back in the ’60s.

Ettinger first came up with the idea for cryonics in World War II during the Battle of the Bulge when he saw a bunch of frozen bodies and thought, “I can make money off of that, sure.”


(Please note: the freakin' book contains HUNDREDS of obits,
but obviously not some of the most recent ones published 
in this blog.)

Ettinger founded his Cryonics Institute back in 1976 during the height of disco, a time when anyone would have been justified freezing half the music industry just to make them shut the fuck up.

For its services, the Cryonics Institute charges customers $28,000. But if you bring your own tin foil, “5 bucks.”

The first person Ettinger deposited at the Institute was his mother, Rhea. This was followed by ten years of Ettinger depositing her Social Security checks.

He also froze the bodies of his two wives, Mae and Elaine. They’re stored next to a sign reading, “WARNING – Do Not Open.”

Ettinger’s last wishes were to someday be brought back to life as a 92 year-old man with a lot of really serious health problems.


(Please note: the freakin' book contains HUNDREDS of obits,
but obviously not some of the most recent ones published 
in this blog.)