#Brexit, American Style

First step's a doozy.

First step's a doozy.

Since we live in a post-apocalyptic swamp ruled by raccoons and madmen, we welcome any other state to join us. Given the "success" of the British exit from the EU, cleverly titled the "Brexit," we decided to come up with some campaign names in case any of these "United" States wish to join "land mass" in isolation.

Alascramba (Alabama)
Alascan't (Alaska)
Arigoneza (Arizona)
Arkansawwwhellnaw (Arkansas)
Coloradon’t (Colorado)
Califorgetya (California)
Connecticuttinout (Connecticut)
Delaweareouttahere (Delaware)
Florigo (Florida)
Habyeii (Hawaii)
I'mago (Idaho)
Ka'intsas (Kansas)
Michican’t (Michigan)
Mississayonara (Mississippi)
Mexit (New Mexico)
Nawbraska (Nebraska)
Gonetana (Montana)
WyGOming (Wyoming)
Ohbyeio (Ohio)
Nopelehoma (Oklahoma)
Oregone (Oregon)
Tennesseeya (Tennessee)
Texit (Texas)
Washingtout (Washington)
Vermonouttahere (Vermont)
Wisgonesin (Wisconsin)


Welcome Back to Land Mass

Welcome to the Hostility State!

Welcome to the Hostility State!

If you're a business currently located in "Mississippi," you're probably deeply embarrassed by the state deciding that there are only three religious beliefs, and all of them are worth defending, constitution, common sense, and decency be damned.

Well, I've got good news for you. We're bringing back an old meme.

Welcome to Land Mass. Specifically, the Land Mass Between New Orleans and Mobile. Why come to Land Mass, you may ask?

Land Mass Features:

Low cost of living!

Free pollen!

The ability to eat your weight in mosquitoes daily! (Bats love it)

Huge corporate tax breaks!

Poorly educated, gullible population!

The ability to discriminate against anyone infringing on one of your three religious beliefs! (Others do not count)


Churches on every corner!

Home base of Pearl River Flow, which employs trillions of bacteria!

A great climate for mildew and transmissible disease!

Separate but "equal" public accommodations. No more wasting taxes on pesky public schools!

A host of great historical vestiges, such as Original Flavor Segregation Academies!

Now, you may be asking yourself "well, that sounds a lot like Mississippi, which is kind of universally reviled at the moment, why would I move my business there?"

It's true. Mississippi is a national pariah, and has been for approximately 500 years, when a native told Hernando DeSoto that the name of the river he was attempting to cross was "Mississippi," which meant "great river," when in fact it meant "one whose stream empties into their own mouth. "

But "Land Mass" occupies the same space-time coordinates as Mississippi, allowing it to take in the hellish climate and mental morass that defines the State-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named. And while many state and local officials have forbidden their employees from officially traveling to Mississippi on business, there's no such injunction against Land Mass.

In fact, despite the fact that "Land Mass" and "Mississippi" share all known laws, tax codes, space-time boundaries, population, and culture, "Random Land Mass" is a far more socially acceptable home for YOUR business or non-profit organization (Prophet-Based organizations should move to Mississippi) - so move today!

In fact, Pearl River Flow is now moving from Jackson, Mississippi, to Jackson, Land Mass. This relocation should impact about 30 trillion employees (all microbiotic employees are paid a daily living wage). This is our firm religious belief, and as Land Mass shares laws with Mississippi, that gives us religious privileges*.

Welcome back to Land Mass, everyone!

*We have been informed that there are only three religious beliefs defined by Mississippi House Bill 1523, which leads us to believe (but not religiously, as that is forbidden by law) that there are only three religious beliefs.





Phil Bryant Interview on Confederate Heritage Month

The Phil Byrant interview chair.

Confederate History Month is the ‘white history month’ that all your racist Facebook friends have always wanted, except instead of Isaac Newton, Louis Pasteur, John Snow, Jim Henson, and Richard Feynman, we celebrate a bunch of racist, warmongering assholes who wanted to be able to own other human beings.

We sat down with Phil Bryant,* who signed "Confederate History Month" as an officially recognized thing, to ask him about signing this piece of shit.

PRF: “So, Philly boy. Can I call you Philly boy?”

PB: “No.”

PRF: “Okay, Chill Bryant. Can I call you Chill Bryant?”

PB: “I’d rather you not.”

PRF: “Well, I’d rather you not stink the place up.”

PB: “It’s a real medical condition that causes me to stink. Most people have a pilonidal groove at the base of the tailbone, but I’ve got a pocket which collects…”

PRF: “Whoa, Shrill Bryant. Let’s move the discussion away from your anus and towards the State of the State. Mississippi is dead last in most metrics. Do you have any plans for handling this?”

PB: “Please don't call me that. With my education bills, we’re going to make sure that we’re first in teenage pregnancy and allowing our teachers to teach just any old bullshit instead of adhering to basic science, history, or social studies curricula.”

PRF: “When you go to the governor’s conferences do they make fun of you for being governor of Mississippi? Do you have to sit at the table with Bobby Jindal and whoever’s in charge of Puerto Rico? Do they call you names like ‘No-thrill Bryant?”

PB: “...yes. Yes they do. Greg Abbot, the Texas guy, he’s so cruel. He calls me ‘Dill Bryant’ and rubs my face in weird smelling food. Ever since they got to be the fattest state he’s had it out for me. Sometimes he makes Bobby Jindal pour hot sauce on my food since he’s the only governor that they let sit with me. My IBS can’t handle it, I had to hide in the bathroom for the entirety of Chris Christie’s speech on bridges last year because of that. They don’t like me at CPAC, either. In 2014 they made a fake speech and scheduled it on the fliers and I got ready and everything but when I showed up they had Gilbert Gottfried doing comedy in the nude instead. They laughed and laughed and then he rubbed his…”

PRF: “Are you… are you crying? Also, are there other names people call you? Does anyone call you Shill Bryant?”
PB: “I’m sorry, I just had some bad memories. I’d rather not talk about all the names they call me.” 

PRF: “Speaking of bad memories, Swill Bryant, you just signed a proclamation declaring April to be ‘Loser Accomodation Month.’ Is this so that kids can get the hang of being insulted their entire lives for growing up in Mississippi?”

PB: “First of all, it’s ‘Confederate Heritage Month, secondly, my name is….”

PRF: “Oh, Anthill Bryant. You say ‘tomato,’ I say ‘loser ketchup fruit.” 

PB: “Don’t… well… we’re studying the full range of Confederate heritage.”

PRF: “So, the fact that slavery was wrong, and that’s why the confederacy rebelled against the United States? Things like the ‘Twenty Slave Act,’ the reconstruction-era terrorism carried out by the losers of this campaign, that’s all gonna be in there? That’s cool, I’m totally not going to break out that ‘Downhill Bryant’ joke, because those epic failures of religion, culture, and politics should be the focus of any look at American history. I’m glad that Mississippi is going to focus on the generals and politicians in the south who lost the Civil War and yet, were allowed to remain in power. Focusing on the reconstruction reign of terror that revealed the racist character of America itself - that’s a brilliant history education, Phil. Think of it - the union could kill to keep the South a part of the nation, but not when it came time to keep whites from murdering blacks. Maybe I should change my opinion of your…”

PB: “It’s not like that. We’re talking about the good stuff, the stuff you can be proud of…”

PRF: “Shut the fuck up, Landfill Bryant! You’ve got to be shitting me! The ‘stuff you can be proud of’ portion of “Human Monster Pride Month” can’t be more than four minutes long when delivered by one of those mushmouthed drawls. Is Paula Deen in charge of the spoken word version of this travesty? Do we spell out each word? The only good part of the Civil War is the part where Lincoln freed the slaves, and you’re telling me that we’re going to act like it was all honorable generals and ‘My Dearest Sherry’ letters read out loud by Shelby fucking Foote while Ken Burns jerks off in the background?!”

PB: “I don’t have to take this sort of treatment! This isn’t the National Republican Governor’s convention where Scott Walker made me sing the theme song to ‘Walker, Texas Ranger”

PRF: “You’re damn right, Philly Cheesesteak. You don’t have to take this kind of treatment because you’re a human being and not an owned piece of property. Que up ‘Ashoken Farewell,’ sound man. We’re just about done here.”

PB: *crying* “You don’t have a sound man.”

PRF: “I’ll give you that, Phil Brony. So, seriously, there’s a chance here. We’ve got to tell people that the Confederacy didn’t lose the Civil War.”

PB: “I’d like to think we didn’t.” 

PRF: “Don’t make me agree with you, Schlib Bryant. The mistake we make is that we think of the Civil War as a Napoleonic War, like what was going on in Europe at the time, or as some sort of semi-industrialized precursor to the trench warfare and machine guns of World War One, but it really has more in common with a modern guerrilla war. Southern states flat-out lost, handily defeated in open warfare. They withdrew from the field after being defeated by a superior foe.”

PB: “That’s the part we’re celebrating.”

PRF: “Goddamnit, Scrill Bryant. Shut up. So look at Mississippi and the rest of the post-Civil War south as Afghanistan. You’re basically governor of humid Afghanistan, anyway, ok? So these people lose the war, they wait for the occupying army to withdraw, and then they initiate a brutal campaign of racial violence. It would force the occupying army to return, but the nation has lost it’s will to commit more men to a war it can sort of claim to win, and the United States is racist enough that it didn’t really care about what was happening to black Americans and their allies in the South, no more than most of us are willing to send any of our young men to die over who wins in a Shia-Sunni showdown in Iraq. So your holiday really makes the Confederacy seem to be more olde-tyme losers, denying them their rightful place as innovators in the pantheon of racial hatred and terror.”

PB: “I don’t think my new holiday… No! Get off me! HELP! Security!”

PRF: “Fuck you, Krill Bryant!”

We do not anticipate any further interviews with political figures.

*not really. Honestly, if you think that we A: Have chairs and B: Would waste them on Phil Bryant’s ass, you should go read the rest of the site and chill.

Mississippi Legislative Adventures, Pt 1

The State Capitol, shrouded in darkness for what it has done.

The State Capitol, shrouded in darkness for what it has done.

They were brainwashed into it. That's my story that prevents me from exiling the lot. It may come as no surprise that my feelings for the governance of the State of Mississippi are less generous than my feelings toward barnacles. Barnacles, at least, have a useful ecological function, while our elected representatives are mere nuisances infesting our Ship of State. Given that the Ship of Mississippi is rotten, full of holes, and sinking, the barnacles ain't helping.

Yet, what they've been getting up to lately is beyond their usual assholery. I can think of no explanation for their behavior that does not end in them banished to one of those vanishing islands off the coast.

Save this one: They were under mind control. I've seen Jessica Jones, I know how the Purple Man works. That is the only rational explanation.

Therefore, I present, Mississippi Legislative Adventures: Starring Dick Billington!

Dick Billington strode his way across the gold-gilded red carpet of the Mississippi State Capitol the same way he made every footstep he’d ever taken - with the massive confidence of a golden-bronzed God, a pectoral colossus straddling the political globe in tasteful charcoal suit pants specially tailored to hide his shamefully massive bulges from the prying eyes of the curious public.

He hadn’t even been elected, but today’s polls showed him with an uncharacteristically poor 99.9% approval rate - a failure he personally blamed upon the four illiterate “readers” of a schlock website about the sort of food only ‘the poors’ would eat under threat of starvation.

No, Dick Billington had taken it upon himself to finally straighten out the worst body of governance in the United States. He’d personally cock-punched some boot-licking techbro representative and called him a “beta” before taking his office by force because it was headquartered in Madison, Mississippi. Madison was a town that Dick Billington liked because it covered every surface in bricks, and hard, red bricks made Dick Billington require even more spectacular acts of the tailor’s craft in order to keep his dress slacks slack and his shirt-threatening pectorals from sending his real ivory buttons flying across these august halls in a blinding display.

“What’s on the agenda today?” He asked Philip Gunn. The moment Dick Billington said that, Philip Gunn became the second most powerful man in the Mississippi State Legislature, and that position was only so prime because everyone else was jealous that Billington had spoken with him first. Until Dick Billington had walked in the room, Philip Gunn had the most masculine name in the chamber, and the best haircut, which was only because every Representative went to supercuts, while Dick Billington had willed his hair into Superman-esque jet black with the properly grey temples after once seeing Mitt Romney across a room at their favorite underground golf pro shop in the Maldives.

Dick snatched the agenda off the podium and glared at the press, forcing them to retreat from the chamber, up against the wall like Dick Billington wanted them, come the Revolution. He was a one man revolution, he knew, and they knew it, and they all wanted to die by his hand. The Clarion Ledger capitol beat reporter was wishing for the sweet embrace of oblivion so hard that Dick almost struck her down with his eyes, so cold and so blue that he’d never needed to use ice cubes, he just stared at his drink the way that he stared at the cowering members of the legislature and press. The scribe from WLBT threw himself onto a pen, and in his death, he knew happiness for the first time, relief from the weight of his lifetime of lies, transcendent bliss under the gaze of Dick Billington, a gaze harder than steel, a beam that could have withstood all the jet fuel in the world without melting.

“Education? Medicare? State Park funding? Prisons? Police? Roads? What is this shit?” Dick wasn’t shouting but everyone in the building knew they had to listen. Every last one of them was a toadying creature trained from birth to love the whip of fascism. Each and every empty skull was putty in the broad bronzed hand of Dick Billington. Putty he could shape. Mold. An amorphous gunk waiting to be turned into something beautiful, something more than the assembled biomass of slime mold and racism that had infested that glorious dome since time immemorial.

“This is all bullshit.” Dick Billington said, and every representative was ashamed that they had even considered this business. They flailed, gnashing teeth and sweating as each tried to outdo the other in eating their waiting bills, tearing lobbyist-written stacks of tax breaks and school rules into sweaty, bloody shreds, their flabby fingers working for the first times in their lives, the tiny reptilian basal ganglia all that could function in their atrophied brains, disused for decades. “Do you all know what the real problem is?”

Dan Eubanks, who, because of his exposure to superstardom in his blockbuster YouTube videos, had managed to maintain a modicum of awareness in the Dick Billington onslaught, screamed out the first thing that came to mind.


Dick Billington froze. With his improbable musculature, the effect of coming to such a full-body stop caused the air around him to heat up several degrees. The delegation began to mutter, to wonder, and as the steam wafted from Dick Billington, half of them were outraged that Eubanks had dared speak and half were bowing down in stunned religious fervor at anyone brave enough to assemble words in the presence of that awesome personage.

“Who are you?” Dick Billington asked. The words were like a tornado in a trailer park. Mississippi Representatives threw themselves on top of one another to try and answer, those who had been outraged were now genuflecting Eubanks, those who had bowed to him were now scrambling to be seen by Billington. Cries of ''witness me!” accompanied their petty acts of violence and cruelty, though Dick had eyes for none save Eubanks, a lone pillar of humanity in the writhing sea of genteel racists. It was like a Roman orgy rendered in salt pork, devoid of sex or pleasure. 

"Just a humble servant of the Lord who has selflessly taken it upon himself to represent the people of Mississippi.” Eubanks said, pleading on his knees as Representative Bubba Carpenter (R-Burnsville) shrieked racist epithets at the crowd to try and raise his voice above the clammy clamor.

Dick Billington silenced the mewling with a glare that froze sweet tea into sugary syrup and one word so perfectly pronounced that every Representative shed a single tear, which was shattered by the perfect enunciation issuing from those unchappable lips. They all wished they had never inserted the state-issued buttery cornmeal plug that every Mississippi politician is required to keep in their mouth at all times.

“Mediocre.” Dick said, and they fell to the floor in horror.

Then. “Cocks?” Dick asked, pointing his sculpted finger at Dan Eubanks (R-Nesbit) “What have you done about cocks?” 

“Meeee meee meee!” Philip Gunn (R-Clinton) sang like a schoolgirl, for he too had cock-related legislation that he would never have dared put forth had Dick Billington not disrupted the status quo so thoroughly.

“I didn’t ask YOU. I asked the man who yelled ‘cocks’ earlier.” Dick Billinton said. He felt as though the squabbling Representatives were becoming disorderly. He briefly considered making one of them stand in the corner for a punishment, though he knew the others would then become bloodthirsty, like Lord of the Flies on an island of piggies.

"I have a bill that would police people's genitals at the restroom door." Eubanks said. The others were agape at the pointless audacity of the proposal.

"And why didn't you bring it to the floor already?" Dick asked.

"I thought it was intrusive, offensive, and frankly, a bit absurd." Eubanks said. The others nodded mindlessly, and for a brief moment Dick Billington saw his spell fading, saw something approaching humanity enter the cold, dead eyes of the assembly.

“But cocks.” Dick said, and their attention was on him like a room full of dogs being shown a ball. All he had to do was throw it to Eubanks.

“Cocks.” Eubanks replied. “I want to make sure that if you’re using a restroom, only all natural 100% organic cocks are in that room with you, cocks that have been nurtured since birth. Cocks that understand the full joy of unchallenged manhood throughout their development, a cock that is a cock every day that it is behind God-given pants, a cock that rests, hopefully, nestled in comfortable, all cotton briefs, or, God forbid, boxers.”

“I understand.” Dick Billington said. His words bestowed a peace transcendent, and in that moment the Mississippi State House of Representatives knew truth, experienced justice, and was brought face-to-face with an unyielding avatar of the American Way. A thousand Captain Americas were born and died in the pause between “I” and “understand,” sacrificing their soul-eagles to the eternal fire of the Brotherhood of Men.

“I, Dick Billington, know but one pain.” Tears were wept in the open, and in a distant radio booth the state technicians struggled to unplug the microphones from SuperTalk Mississippi as both JT and Dave began masturbating to Dick’s words.

“And that pain is having some intersexed person come into the restroom with me while my penis is exposed. It’s dangerous. Any uterus in the room with me while my regal phallus is exposed to naked air will, without warning or delay, become pregnant.”

Tears were drawn down cheeks that had not felt them in decades. Every woman in the room became pregnant. A Clarion-Ledger reporter threw himself from the balcony as penance for his crimes.

“And what shall the punishment be for the misallocation of genitalia, Representative Eubanks?”

“I hadn’t thought to punish them, dare I? It seems so petty, so ruinous.” Eubanks said, quivering.

“Dare.” Dick demanded.

“One. No, two, no… three…” His eyes gleamed, this was the moment that he had been waiting for. The YouTube videos, the campaigns, the promises and hands on bibles, the handshakes and babies, the sacrifices on altars in the darkest woods, the endless hours on the pews of the church, when the only worship he now desired was that of Dick Billington….”

“FIVE YEARS!” He shouted. “HALLELUJAH!” 

“AMEN!” Came the cries of the flagellants. “AMEN! HOSANNA IN THE HIGHEST! They surely deserve the penitentiary for such flagrant destruction of life!”

“PARCHMAN FARM!” Cried Bubba Carpenter, hoping for one whit of attention from the Adorned One.

“Representative Eubanks, for your service to cocks, I will let you attach your name to this bill.” Dick said. “Now, let’s see, what else is on the ledger… schools? PAH! Crime lab, medicare, bridges? What kind of godless communist wants ‘clean water’ as a priority? If lead is good enough for bullets it’s good enough for our water systems.”

The crowd was frothing, ecstatic, like all southern men their fathers had never approved of their lives, and there was only one thing better than that approval. Dick. Billington. “Who else brings service to Dick?” Billington demanded from the whimpering crowd. The Mississippi State House of Representatives had proven easy enough to fix. He knew that Mississippi would be 40th in a few things before long.

Maybe even higher.

“I have something, I have something, I have something! Witness me! Witness ME!” Representative Gunn shrieked. He sounded like a wounded pig, he proudly wore his spittle like a bib of slime.

“GUNN.” Dick pronounced, and spontaneous ejaculations wracked the crowd as their new God said their favorite word. Randy P. Boyd (R-Itawamba) fell prostrate before the bronze form of Dick.

Show him our dick bill, Gunn! Show him our dick bill!” Randy pleaded, face buried in the red and gold carpet.

“Silence!” Gunn hissed, but in that moment of assertion he knew the entire crowd had turned on him, for daring to steal one whit of attention from the Almighty. He withered. The baleful eye of Dick was upon him. Speaker Gunn wished for death, but knew he did not have permission to die. Not yet. Not until Dick gave it to him.

“What do you have, Gunn?” Dick asked. He drew himself up to full height, adding half a foot to his already towering frame. Ivory buttons flew from his chest in cruel trajectories, ivory disks that ricocheted from the marble walls. William “Dick” Tracy Arnold (R-Prentiss) lost one eye as the others scrambled around his blood-soaked feet to grab the rarefied pieces of dead elephant.

“I need legal protections for the pathetic shreds of my sex life. I want sex outside of marriage to be illegal. I want to make sure nobody’s hiding a penis from me. I want to make sure nobody’s getting… getting…” The assembly hung their heads as one, the floor becoming even more interesting than Dick Billington for the briefest of moments.

“Tell me.” Dick said, beckoning Gunn over with a single curling finger. The man practically skipped into the circle of invisible light, and began whispering into Dick’s broad bronzed ear, but not before becoming hypnotised by each whorl of cartilage, wondering at what secrets those ears had heard, what they had…

“They’re doing what?” Dick was taken aback, blue angel eyes soaring in rage.

“With their penises. And sometimes the penises go in unsanctioned, unreserved… places…” Gunn blushed a crimson hue, what was whispering to Dick Billington was something that he had seen himself, something that he once had wished only to tolerate, but now, he knew, in the presence of that golden god, he must betray.

“...sometimes without penises. Entirely.”

Dick Billington shook with anger. He, an unelected servant of the Greater Good, here in this shameful chamber, would right this wrong - true, it was a wrong only he felt, a wrong that nobody with a modicum of decency would be affronted by, and yes, their “dick bill” would create untold legal issues.

“No!” Dan Eubanks said, crying. “Not that!” The others knew what he spoke of, in darkened rooms they had seen “The Dick Bill” and they knew they could never pass it, that no one would dare vote for it. For, even without reading it - none of them read the laws that they passed - they knew that it was a horrible legislative nightmare, shackling lifetimes of misery to accidents of birth, denying entire swathes of the population rights, enshrining in tortured legalese the minor conveniences of a nonexistent population.

Such things they had only glimpsed in their darkest fevered imaginings. Now, thanks to Dick Billington’s growing influence, it could become the law of the land. But for Dick they would burn the constitution they claimed to hold sacred, they would ignore the Holy Teachings they once had meditated on in pristine temples, before their elections, the rites of which had stolen their souls.

“Make it so.” Dick Billington said. “But as much as I despise people who labor under the assumption that our government doesn’t enforce the beliefs of the Christian religion…”

The assembly laughed. It was an honest laugh, they all knew the truth.

“..still, I can’t stand the hypocritical language in the title. ‘Protecting Christians from Government Discrimination’ - gentlemen, you know as well as I do that there is nothing at all Christian about this bill. Not one bit. Sure, those viewpoints are the only ones it protects, but… let’s think, what do none of you have?”

“Souls!” Eubanks shouted, weeping.

“Religion!” Carpenter added.

“Consciences!” Boyd shouted.

“Freedom!” Shouted Gunn.

“Then it’s settled.” Dick Billington said. “Protecting Freedom of Conscience from Government Discrimination.” 

They wept at the meaningless majesty of the title.

“Well, gentlemen, I must be off. This has been informative, but I’ve decided I don’t like working in government.” 

Dick Billington walked out, leaving a wake of desperate men, aghast at what they had done, what they had voted for. But it was too late.

Too late.

While we have been informed that the preceding sequence of events is "unlikely," we at Pearl River Flow will take the following silence from our lawmakers as tacit acknowledgement that it is an accurate summation of what occurred. Should any of them deny that this was the case, the staff of Pearl River Flow will gladly apologize for our assumption and prepare the boats for exiling our legislators.

More Laws for State of Mississippi

Can you build a worse state government? Perhaps. But not with this advice.

Can you build a worse state government? Perhaps. But not with this advice.

Given what Mississippi state lawmakers generally get up to, one cannot help but wonder if they don't have any good ideas for laws. Certainly, Mississippi seems to be doing poorly by most metrics. Perhaps, if they weren't ruining people's lives by passing laws such as these....

More Laws For the State of Mississippi

The Pearl River Flow Abolition Act: Would outlaw "Netflix and Phil” 'jokes about Phil Bryant.

The Ross Barnett's Ghost Act: Would require WLBT Facebook comments to be more racist.

The Beth Israel DJ Protection Act: Declares Pearl Jam to be kosher.

The Mustache Wax Tax Act: Sets fees and taxes on mustache waxes.

The Comment Section Champion Motion: A motion to rename the Ross Barnett reservoir after a more racist Mississippian, once that person can be found.

X-Files Reinvestment Act: Declares that the X Files officially ends after Season 7 and all other seasons are struck from the canon.

Springsteen Act: Outlaws playing “Born in the USA” in favor of “Sweet Home Alabama.”

Jesus of Wiggins Act: Public displays of Jesus’s sayings now must end in “unless they’s gay.”

Eubanks Bill: All Mississippi lawmakers are now required to post ignorant, racist YouTube ads during each election cycle.

We at Pearl River Flow do not condone any of these laws aside from the X-Files Reinvestment Act, which we do endorse.

The Forsaken Inauguration Speech of Phil Bryant

Pictured: The tunnels through which Phil Bryant emerged from the woods to go and give his speech.

Pictured: The tunnels through which Phil Bryant emerged from the woods to go and give his speech.

Yesterday notwithstanding, we rarely are able to cover "topical" events in the Newsflow. That's because we rely on the flow of garbage to come our way before we can cover it. Today is different. We've found the unused and discarded first page of Phil Bryant's inauguration speech. We hope it can shed some light on the subject.

Note: The prayers are gonna be really long. Don't drink anything all day, until the first prayer is over. You don't want dry mouth, Phil!

Also, don't do the "WACKY JOE BIDEN" voice.

Other notes: Only dog whistle racism. Try to appear human. Don't mention your skin condition. Don't mention that one tooth that's hollow that allows me to drain the cerebrospinal fluid from my victims.

My fellow Mississippians, as I today take this stage, I am reminded that I am the color and consistency of the skin atop a pot of cooling velveeta brand white cheese. I won't deign to call it by the Spanish name.
NOTE: Don't say "Queso blanco"

I am reminded of why you voted for me. Perhaps you felt you had no alternative, that you didn't want to vote for the alter ego of Jack Burton - the guy from Big Trouble in Little China? You all saw Big Trouble in Little China, didn't you? It's great. Some of the best one-liners in Hollywood. They're remaking that movie, with The Rock. Dwayne Johnson, I mean. Dwayne Johnson is "The Rock." I was more of a Stone Cold Steve Austin man, myself.


But enough about one of the greatest movies of all time - and I don't mean Omega Man, because we're going to come back to Omega Man before my inaugural speech is over. Anyway, I was reminded of why you WERE voting for me, not why you weren't voting for "that democrat."


It's simple. It's heritage. People say it's not hate, it's heritage, and they ain't talkin' about Heritage, Mississippi, brother. (NOTE: Too 'urban?") But I say - hate IS our heritage. Hate got me elected here today. I wouldn't have my job or my church, I would not have written any of my books, without hate. You may see the fourth and fifth volumes of 21st Century Government – Digital Promise, Digital Reality and Leadership Secrets of Government Financial Officials, not that you can get them on Amazon or anything - and think "Phil must really LOVE government," but you'd be wrong. It's my love of hate that keeps me alive. That, the movie The Omega Man, where Charlton Heston is all oiled up and rolling around... oh, and my love of freshly drained... cerebro... uh, mayonnaise.


My fellow Mississippians, I love mayonnaise! Oh, mayo, that sweet oily condiment, my one true love. May the state of Mississippi and my duties as governor never come between me and the freshly curled top of a jar of mayonnaise. I love mayonnaise, is what I'm saying. If Paula Deen made a butterball turkey out of pure mayonnaise in her restaurant, which has a great theme that I love, I'd carve quivering slabs of that creamy, slithering mass and spoon them into my withered, pale lips, smacking away at each oily dab as it melted across my cratered tongue. I could lovingly refrigerate it, allowing the mass to congeal to the proper density, slipping thick silver knives through the homogenized texture, a consistency like the finest pudding. If only I could subsist on nothing but mayonnaise, as Paula Deen promised. Then, there would be no need for teeth - inefficient teeth, pointless bones in your mouth, all save the one tooth. The special tooth. The killer. The drinker.

Now, on to Jesus.


Alternative TED Event Which I Will Totally Be Putting On

After the thrilling TED talk I'm told I gave last year, the City of Jackson was understandably eager to bring the event back.  We're glad, as there are very few outlets for white people to have their views heard these days.

Unfortunately, my application, which I submitted via the usual route of taping it to a racoon and letting that racoon loose in the TEDx Jackson office, was lost this year, and I won't be able to speak to the crowd.

Tickets to TEDx Jackson are 100 dollars. If you'd like a more economical intellectual adventure, Pearl River Flow has you covered.

For only 50 dollars, you can enjoy the Pearl River Learning Overflow. It may cost half as much, but - it lasts four hours longer! Plus, breakfast and dinner are included! You'll have to buy your own lunch.

Here then, is the SCHEDULE:

6:00 - Arrival and breakfast. We will disembark from Jackson and head toward the first destination. FPJerome will give a short speech on pork belly commodity pricing, the bacon trend, and the orange juice industry while you eat.

6:30 to 7:30 - Soil Types Alongside Highway 51. During our travel toward the Farm Education Experience, FPJerome will discuss the various soil types along the highway. A short geological history of the soils and their impact on the life of the communities along the highway will also be included.

7:30 to 8:00 - Coffee, Farm Surprise. "What happens when a group of people coming over for coffee surprise my parents?" With more and more millennials moving back home to live with their parents, this important sociological question will be more timely than ever!

8:30 to 9:30 - Various Farm Implements. We'll take a guided tour of various farm implements. With all the advances in prosthetics taking place, it's important for you to see all the pinch points and hydraulic hinges that are removing so many of those limbs!

10 to 11:30 - The Biological Implications of Roadkill. Roadkill! This local, sustainable meatsource isn't often used by humans, but entire colonies of insects rise and fall based on this nutrient source. Crows, vultures, and all kinds of small mammals rely on this wonderous source of protein. As we drive through the countryside, examples of roadkill will be found, investigated, and dissected with the use of sticks specially crafted for that purpose. Poking stick provided.

11:30 to 12 - LUNCH BREAK IN CAMDEN, MISSISSIPPI. After the lunch break, a designated driver will be picked via our Interactive Choice Promotion. The drinks that are carried with the group will then be allotted to FPJerome for the next part of the Pearl River Learning Overflow Experience.

12 to 2:00 - The Reservoir. Do you know who hates the Ross Barnett Reservoir? FPJerome! It's named after a terrible racist, it's destructive to the Pearl River, and... well, if you want to hear more, including the histories of drowned towns, the plight of threatened species, and ranting tours of horrifying suburban nightmares, then you'll have to sign up!

2:00 to 4:30 - The Artist's Workshop. A tour of the grounds on which the Pearl River Flow takes all of it's inspiration and finds all of it's glorious trash and news. We'll explore various creeks, discuss gar, and find hobo hideouts! Never search a hobo hideout.

5 Until: Dinner and Discussion. We'll talk about microbiomes, fermentation, and whatever else I drunkenly decide to spew out while you're totally welcome to look that shit up on wikipedia or YouTube as the drinks continue to flow. Drinks for participants are not included. 

Reserve your spot in the Pearl River Learning Overflow Experience today!

Mississippi 2015 Election Results

The Mississippi State Capitol, seen here being remodeled into a final, more destructive, shittiest form.

Here at Pearl River Flow we rarely talk about political nonsense, and if we do, it's on the Downstream. Yet the 2015 election, and the dismal choices Mississippians reinforced during the contest, were so bad, that I felt as though they needed to be reported without embellishment.

Election Results

Hearts 89%, Stars 9%

Trek 75% Wars 20%

Netflix 64% Chill 32%

Cake 77% Pie 21%

Death 55% Dishonor 44%

Kirk 62% Picard 24%

Prequels 51% Original Trilogy 48%

McDonalds 72% Whataburger 22%

Waffle House 92% Huddle House 5%

KFC 53% Popeyes 35%

LEET 45% 1337: 37%

Law 48% Order 48%

Jango 55% Boba 45%

Prisons 60% Schools 37%

Enthusiasm 80% Math 30%

ALL CAPS 44% Proper English 25% Illegible 30%

Monarchs 76% Democracy 20%

Hate 82% Heritage 11%

Archer 67% Janeway 30%

Nagasaki 55% Hiroshima 44%

Family Guy 66% The Simpsons 33%

Dracula 52% Frankenstein 47%

Wolf 61% Man 35%

Werewolves 90% Wolfweres 7%

Greedo 59% Han 41%

Clearly, Mississippi is the worst state. The staff of Pearl River Flow regrets to report this news at all.  We disagree with all of these decisions, save the votes for Waffle House and Wolves. Our editorial stance from this point on is that Democracy is a hoax of the ruling elite, and the blood soaked machines that keep it running should be dismantled.