History of Ironocle

Ironocle -Humor Magazine

Established in 1910 as a political pamphlet written by Timothy Kim: a Korean immigrant fed up with the government distributing cornmeal as Jasmine rice.

In 1908, Kim, along with fellow enraged countrymen, donned their powdered wigs and frock coats to rally at the Pennsylvania Railroad Station (what they believed to be Independence Hall) to protest the year's misrepresented crop. They demonstrated the difference between rice and corn to lingering passengers while pleading to beleaguered conductors to change their agricultural nomenclature. Tragically, their cries of injustice fell upon deaf ears due to Kim's confusion of transit ticket-takers as government officials. Frustrated by the futility of their efforts, Kim stormed home to his two story shed and wrote his righteous manifesto by candlelight. The next morning, he awoke only to find his charged declaration a written recipe for blanquette de Veau. Kim lifted his eyebrows in shock at the excessive use of mushrooms, and with that, the monocle he had been wearing since the protest, fell to the table. He examined the simple ocular piece with fascination then lightening stuck, literally. Kim ran from his shed in horror and realized what he had to do. Put the fire out of his hair.

Later, in a dive bar frequented by local whalers, hair still sizzling, Kim wrote an incendiary political proclamation centered upon the cyclical nature of politics and the unfair treatment of the lower-class. He titled the pamphlet, Ironocle (which he had mistakenly thought spelled monocle), the inspiration behind the document's structure. Elated, he went on a bender and consequently ended up in a Chattanooga beauty parlor penniless, rank and dripping of eggs.

After two years of selling novelty novels, Kim migrated home. He found his hovel good as garbage and pamphlet securely hidden under his dog's dish bowl, which he published the very next day. The public reaction was unanimous and Ironocle became a household name. Pennsylvanians rolled with laughter at the crude drawings and childlike understanding of governmental principles. Hailed for it's literary comedic genius, the magazine became one of the earliest humor magazines despite Kim's ardent protests. Kim never published again and so retired to a life of cobbling.

A hundred years later, we continue where Timothy Kim left off, with an adolescent humor magazine littered with poor grammar and curious a preoccupation with Jasmine rice. Thank you, Timothy Kim.

The Community

A couple converse while driving to an anniversary party.

Girlfriend: Hurry up! We are going to be late for your grandparent's party.

Boyfriend: Don't worry, I just need to take it slow and make sure I don't go down a wrong road. There are areas around here that can be dangerous for the uninformed.

Girlfriend: Really? Oh look, Tom, that man has a herd of sheep! How quaint.

Boyfriend: Yep, that's Old Tom Glasky, he runs the bank near here.

Girlfriend: You stayed with your grandparents during summer vacations, right?

Boyfriend: Mmhmm.

Girlfriend: How could anything be wrong with this place?

Boyfriend: I have it on good authority -one source being my old pediatrician- that the government houses people convicted of sexually related crimes in this area.

Girlfriend: What? Wow, you'd never know by looking at this place.

Boyfriend: Mmhmm.

Girlfriend: So it's sort of like a rehabilitation neighborhood? I think I've heard about them on the news. It's where convicts can help each other get over their addictions. They create this environment open to sharing stories about their situations and council one another about there sexual problems. You know, like a support group.

Boyfriend: Well… it's more of a place where all the sex deviants can do things to each other.

Girlfriend: Do things?

Boyfriend: They learn different ways of putting object 'a' into orifice 'b'. You know, instead of innocent bystanders. They call it "smut university." Just a pet name of course…

Girlfriend: What? You're kidding me.

Boyfriend: Yeah... no.

Girlfriend: Why would anyone live here if that is what's happening?

Boyfriend: Well, sexually convicted criminals need a place to live, too, honey. We can't just shove a gun between the eyes of everyone who pulls their pants down at a bar mitzvah. Or would you like Principal Janey in a coffin?

Girlfriend: I wasn't saying that at all!

(She looks out the window.)

Girlfriend: Hmm, it's strange, the houses seem small and yards are so big and spread rather far apart.

Boyfriend: The architects built many of the structures reminiscent of the Unabomber's shed -sort of an homage. A place where personal deviances are performed and mastered without the shame you'd have in a regular size house. A private hump refuge, if you will.

Girlfriend: How awful, that cannot be true! Why would anyone want to put sex perverts in a place that isolates them from others and allows them to continue their sexual obsessions?

(He shrugs)

Boyfriend: That's the government for you.

Girlfriend: I'm going to try to find a route around this place.

(She tries using phone)

Boyfriend: I wouldn't bother. This place is a dead zone. The FEMA officials thought it best that they didn't have the capability to contact the outside world. Don't want 'em tainting the regular people or as they call they lovingly call us, "meat-holes".

Girlfriend: But then what if someone was in trouble? How could they contact hel-

Boyfriend: Plus don't feel too sorry for them, the city planner designed the houses with large interconnecting basements. So you know, they have a place to put all their stuff and hang out.

Girlfriend: Hmph, I don't imagine very many foosball tables down there.

Boyfriend: Who knows? I think of this place sort of like a mysterious sex iceberg except instead of the basement having a bunch of storage space and laundry rooms, there's probably gag chambers, stacks of soiled beds, filming studios, stables-

Girlfriend: Stables!

Boyfriend: Oh yeah, they are the farming community's most loyal customers. I can't even tell you how many chickens and ferrets my Uncle Tim has sold since "Spank town" was built. Thats what he calls it, not me.

Girlfriend: Oh my goodness, that banker... People are supporting this madness?

Boyfriend: Well you wouldn't believe how much it's helped the Jones' Grocery store. Whipped cream sales have increased 800% and the anti-chaffing powder just flies off the shelves. They've opened two more Photo Palaces. The chain and hand-cuff industry in Meshawana County is thriving now. The only problem is the elementary school-

Girlfriend: They don't allow children there!

Boyfriend: Oh no no, the school is very far away from what Pastor Carl calls "Fuckopolis" and thats the problem.

(She stares in shock.)

Boyfriend: There was a group in the community called "Kid Lovers" who were exceedingly philanthropic when it came to the elemßentary school's cookie drive, but it's hard to deliver the cookies nowadays. The barbed wire fence surrounding the "Cock-n-Sock Compound" is hard to get around. It's a real heartbreaker because the middle school won't be able to take a trip to Amsterdam like last year.

Girlfriend: That's enough. I don't think kids should be anywhere around here, nor should we. Let's just hurry up and get to Grandma Maggie's house.

Boyfriend: Really? I got the impression that you liked this place.

Girlfriend: Are you serious?

Boyfriend: Well, you did say-

Girlfriend: Okay, at first it looked like a nice, pleasant place to raise a family but after hearing about the sex dungeons…ugh.

Boyfriend: Well there is this house on the market near here, and I was thinking of taking a look.

Girlfriend: Are you kidding me?

Boyfriend: You said we need somewhere away from the city. It has a really big backyard.

Girlfriend: No.

Boyfriend: Solid mahogany floors, an Italian foyer, and fully stocked pond…a wrap around porch. Plus a neighborhood watch.

Girlfriend: You don't say…

Boyfriend: Look how can we judge a community's lifestyle? My parents raised me just a town over, and I am a perfectly normal person.

Girlfriend: Yes, thats true. I didn't mean to be judgmental...

Boyfriend: Oh no, the present is vibrating again. We better put in extra batteries. If the bunny doesn't wiggle, sensation goes down 50% and you know how important that is for Grandpa.

Girlfriend: I'll put some extra ones in with the 50th anniversary card. Now you were saying about the house?

Optimism

Something to print out and pin up for a glum individual or despondent coworker. Ironocle prides on always looking forward to the bright shining future. It may also be why our vision hasn't been the most keen. You really shouldn't look at the sun and especially not for the duration of making a microwavable burrito. Look what happened to, Bush.

Okay, here we go, I guess.

Salutations!

Welcome to your one stop, double click paradise for the valuable how to's of eating hamburgers. And by hamburgers, we mean short semi comedic stories that at their worst make you vomit with laughter and at their best make you smile with mild amusement.

All we ask is that you be dreadfully critical and vociferous to other blogs before reading this. We want all that anger pointed at those scummy craft sites and have you lulled with fatigue before reading anything in Ironocle.

Thank you for your remote support!

Obligingly,

Ironocle Staff

P.S. We apologize for the lax grammar skills. Most of the writing staff went to public schools here in the great state of America and were taught in what can loosely be described as inebriated hell holes. So if we make a few or more likely an ass load of grammatical errors, don't take it out on us poor dullards. Write to your local congressmen and tell them to stop cutting education budget first. Then you might get some of that Shakespeare word stuff from time to time.