(And they all lived happily ever after in their comfortable little Christian allegory. That is, until a door to Narnia opened in a barn in Zimbabwe…)

For those of you who don’t dig on evolution, it’s cool, we’ve only been shown science putting the gifts under the tree at the pace of science, so you probably have a few years of petulant non-belief left. In the meantime, this story will go a ways in convincing you. Seems a lamb was c-section still-born in a village in Turkey with — get this — a Human face. Rock. And. Roll. Veterinarians are saying that the whole thing is a misunderstanding, the result of an “improper mutation” due to an abundance of vitamin A in the mother. Sure, that’s reasonable, probably “scientifically accurate” but my theory on what we have here is some – -

The governor of the province where the ugly goat was born [in a similar case in Zimbabwe] said that the little goat was the fruit of unnatural relationship between the female goat and a man… “This is evident (sic) that an adult human being was responsible. Evil powers caused this person to lose self control. We often hear cases of human beings who commit bestiality but this is the first time for such an act to produce a product with human features…”

Wow. That guy beat me to it. I… guess I don’t have a joke for this one. I can’t tell if it raises or lowers the comedy level when the governor of the province the abomination is born in immediately assumes that his people are banging livestock left and right, and the inevitable finally happened. Put in non-hoodoo language, this means evolution kicked in on all the barnyard rapin’ in that part of the world, said, “Fuck it, you’re going to

What's up, nuckas?

insist on dumping your spunk in these things so much, they might as well adapt to use it,” and the first Human/animal affront to nature was born.

It also means that some of the more sticky ethical questions we’ve been avoiding for the last century will inevitably have to be visited. For instance, if we’re going to continue fucking sheep after this new revelation, we should probably start using protection. And if we do, is it unethical to use a lambskin condom? For all you know, that’s your little boy you’re wrapping your pecker up with there. That’s all not to mention the feelings of the female who is apparently capable of bearing your child, and might not take kindly to a plowing with a Buchenwald phallus. Have you rubbed her hooves lately? She’s had a hard day.

The mutant baby born with a human-like head stayed alive for several hours until the frightened village residents killed him… and biologists had no chance to study the rare mutation.

No! I was going to name him Mr. Tumnus! You mean the thing could have lived, for biologists to study, or better yet, touring the world with a bearded lady and the world’s smallest man? At least let the thing live and see what it does! Try to toilet train it, or serve it curried goat. Or better yet, mate it to a Zebra and see what pops out. Who is letting these short-sighted, murderous villagers in, anyway? You know how easy it is to spook those guys. They have the Ghostbusters on speed dial in case one of those demon-possessed horseless carriages passes by on Safari. When something like this happens, shouldn’t your first call be to Dial-a-Bouncer? “Yes, you can come see the freak of nature. Cameras are allowed [joke, they don't have cameras], but you’ll have to leave your pitchforks and torches outside.” Next time Darwin decides to play a little joke from beyond the grave, he should do it in a civilized place like America, where we’ll preserve it as a visitation by Jesus, or at least Rocky Dennis.

(Not to interrupt, scumbags, but a round of applause requires two hands. No, no, I get it. You could basically do a crayon rubbing of her crotch from this 2-dimensional picture, but seriously, let’s focus on the task at hand. We’ll have plenty of time for the soggy cracker circle jerk at the Scummies’ after party.)

Before we announce the winners of 2009’s Scumbag Awards, and throw this dead year away like so much twice used condom, let’s have a round of applause for our honorable mention Scumbag of the Year, Megan Fox. At once the sexual icon of the year and the worst actress of the decade, the world unanimously declared talent irrelevant and loved up on Megan like a fat chick on 2 week stale chocolate cake: guiltily but with relish (literally and metaphorically). And I can’t say I disagree; I’d watch a baker’s dozen cinematic abortions starring Megan Fox before I’d watch one film peripherally featuring burn victim Renée Zellweger, who is purportedly a talented actress, but will turn you to stone if you look directly at her. The incident that won Fox the consolation Scummy was the much touted nude/lesbian scene in Jennifer’s Body that raked in ticket money like Horny Horny Hippos before we all realized it didn’t show any naughty bits. That is a party foul in the celebration of life, Megan, and you should know better.

Anyway, I believe the tradition with these things is to work backward, so the audience feels more fake-nail biting suspense than a black chick watching Maury’s Paternity Extravaganza. The fans of scumbaggery everywhere have voted, on this very site, and on Facebook and Twitter, and the winners of the 2009 Scumbag Awards are as follows:

Best Scumbag in Literature in 2009 has to go to Stephenie Meyer. In case you haven’t heard of it, there was this little series of vampire romance novels for little girls that took off like My Little Undead Pony and dropped the literacy level of the western adult world by a couple thousand degrees, leaving hope for Humanity in the hands of only the most elite of optimists.

Digital Scumbag of the Year goes to Mario for entering a foreign land, stealing all of its pocket change and hallucinogenic fungi, and banging its ruler before going back to his life as a plumber. Oh, and for turning party-minded gamers against each other across the world in the best seller of the year’s competitive mode.

The Scumbag Athlete of 2009 with the most homeless cheerleaders is Serena Williams, but only because, of all the nominees, only her cheeky antics threatened to put real, actual lives in danger. That’s right, smoking pot never hurt anybody (and definitely isn’t a performance enhancer, fucktards), dogs aren’t people so only Sarah MacLaughlin gives a shit, and cat fights are straight entertaining, even if they occur during competitive sports. Serena Williams, on the other hand, is a beast and a half, and should probably be put down for the safety of the neighborhood kids.

Female Scumbag of the Year goes to the very deserving Laura Ingraham because, as one male fan puts it, “Her particular brand of overpowering, gash rending hysteria appeals to the French Maid in me. I just want her to put me in a nightgown, ask how my day was, then shout derisive, meaningless rhetoric in my face while I try to answer.” It took Dan a full fifteen minutes to type that with one hand.

Male Scumbag of the Year goes to “Kirk Cameron, for continuing to make the world safer for stupidity. And because Living Waters still hasn’t posted their version of Origin… for digital download.” (Ala WorldsAsMyth) What do you expect, sir? If they released the mutilated Origin into the hands of their own people, there’s no telling what would happen. Cameron and Comfort are just following the rule that literature in the hands of retards can only lead to disaster, not to mention bad PR, so they only handed out to intellectuals who would throw it away before anyone realized how asinine it was.

The second award Scumbag Style would like to give at the conclusion of 2009 is the Best Scumbag in Literature Award. Not to worry, you don’t have to actually know how to read to appreciate this one, and I’m totally going to John Woo the logic and give you a pass on how you’re reading this. Merry Kwanzaa. It is near impossible for a writer to be a scumbag based on what he writes (though one of our candidates succeeds brilliantly), as art is open to all sorts of interpretations and subject to something called the First Amendment. I dunno, must be some Chinese mandate or something, since in this country we can say what we like, as long as we apologize afterward. Rather it is the circumstances surrounding the writing that lands an author in the cesspool of those nominated. Whatever, you decide. The nominees are:

Dmitri Nabokov, son of Vladimir Nabokov, the famed author of Lolita and Pale Fire. It takes big balls to not only ignore the dying wishes of your father, not to mention one of the most important literary minds of all time (we don’t see many of those nowadays, so the sitch is particularly poignant), but to agonize over the decision for 30 years, keeping everyone that was hoping you’d make the wrong choice in suspense. But that’s what Nabokov the younger did, and to great fanfare this year. He released Original of Laura, the novel Vladimir was working on in the weeks leading up to his death, despite the author’s wishes the manuscript be burned because it was incomplete, to say the least. While fans, such as myself, are grateful to Dmitri for jumping on the dick move grenade for all of us, it doesn’t make him less guilty.

George R. R. Martin is the author of the immensely popular (for fantasy, alright) series A Song Of Ice and Fire and, though you can’t tell because his fans aren’t screaming, obsessive nutbags (Twilight, Potter), they eagerly anticipate the arrival of each new installment with the patience of a jungle cat wrapped in a huge blanket getting its nails trimmed. So when Martin announced that the fifth book, A Dance Of Dragons, would at least hit the presses around June this year, and then failed to deliver, a lot of hate was sent his way, even though Neil Gaiman told us to behave. If he wasn’t a national treasure of wherever he purports to be from, he’d probably be dead in a ditch right now.

Stephenie Meyer. You know what you did, what you created. Time to crawl back under whatever rock you came from. Well, wait to see if you win the award, then slink back to your dank, wet, sparkly cave. Wait…

Ray Comfort, who can barely be considered an author, “improved” Darwin’s admittedly dated Origin of the Species by adding a sizeable introduction that compared Darwin to Hitler, among other outright falsehoods. This is your exception to the ”content not applying to scumbaggery” rule. He then proceeded to distribute it, not among the mutant Christian flock that can stand to look at him, but at the top 100 colleges around the country to try and do some damage at the place where people like to learn facts. He paraded Kirk Cameron around while doing this, so that college aged men and women could see where their childhood went, and laugh at them with the voices in his head.

Remember to vote in the comments section below, and give me a reason for your choice if you like. Or don’t, I don’t care. It would be just as easy, and probably more entertaining, to pick my own winners and then attribute embarassing quotes to each of you.

(His powers of cunning come directly from his mustache. I’m not advocating jumping him and Samsoning that thing, but it would be pretty cool if someone did today.)

Reports are coming in from astute fans around the country: Ray Comfort and Kirk Cameron have launched their forces early, today instead of tomorrow. If you’ve been reading this ‘zine since inception, you’ll remember the tizzy we at Scumbag Style got in when we heard these guys had added an introduction full of radical Christian hate to Origin of the Species to mark its anniversary, and were planning to hand them out for free on the campuses of the top 100 universities in the country on the 19th of November.

Well, it seems Asshole Day has come early this year, as it is November 18th, and Comfort’s goons have been spotted handing out vandalized copies of Origin all morning. They must have heard of the plans of ours, and other like minded organizations, to sabotage their plans and strike early. We must act quickly to stem the irreversible damage these scumbags are trying to cause. This isn’t a drill, people, this is a very real attack and it is happening now.

Head to your nearest college campus and find these guys, take their offerings, and keep them from the youthful, impressionable, stoner minds of college students across the nation. WITHOUT HURTING ANYONE make it damned clear that the enemies of intellectualism are not welcome at institutes of learning, and that they have their own campuses to spread their rhetoric and propaganda at. At the very least, show them your monkey genitals, and offer them a closer inspection. Fling poop like our ancestors! Show them what other uses God made bananas perfectly for. Offer them a tour of your science buildings, and then offer them same sex relations in the bathroom when they shut you out. Hit up the local dollar store and buy fake mustaches and do some kind of silent protest thing where tons of Ray Comforts idle around the people giving out the books. I don’t know, you guys are the college students, you’re supposed to be really good at this. Do something!