The Onion Dip

Humor. And Dip.

Vocalization Rights Still Available for Winter Storm Weep-Wow-Wowwww


Weather and Media

VOL 2018 Issue 2-3

For a modest fee, Weather Channel will insert your vocalization of “Weep-Wow-Wowwww,” the name of the nor’easter scheduled to alarm and disrupt millions of Americans Monday and Tuesday, into its alarming and disruptive reports. Whenever a live or recorded Weather Channel meteorologist or fearmonger utters the nasty winter storm’s trademarked name, Weep-Wow-Wowwww, Weather Channel technology will seamlessly overdub an audio file of the purchaser’s pronunciation. “It’s a unique way to add your voice to the hysteria,” said Weather Channel Advertising Director and Sound Engineer Hugo Muchomas. With Weep-Wow-Wowwww expected to dump a devastating 2-3” of snow during the morning rush hour in many parts of the Northeastern sprawl, totally incapacitating a sizable chunk of the world’s citizens, Muchomas predicts 2-3 million plays of your rendition of the three distinctive syllables on its highly trafficked and cluttered web and TV properties.



Winter Storm Weep-Wow Shuts Down Northeast as 0” of Snow Piles Up



VOL 2018 Issue 0

With schools, government buildings and most businesses shuttered throughout the Northeast, Winter Storm Weep-Wow continues to live up to its formidable hype. By 11:50 am Eastern Time, Weep-Wow has for hours pounded the coast and interior lands with winds and heavy precipitation so typical of a nasty March nor’easter, with 0” of snow amassed on even the puniest side streets of New Jersey, which declared a state of emergency at 8:00 pm last night. Contacting residents about their plans to dig out and cope the rest of the day is proving to be no problem, because there are no power or telecommunications outages due to Weep-Wow. The Weather Channel has announced to advertisers it is working on another developing nor’easter planned to hit the East Coast early next week, tentatively named Weep-Wow-Wowwww.


Jennifer Lawrence PR Delights Area Woman with its Latest Revelations and Parallels with Her Own Insignificant Life


Media and Celebrity

VOL 2018 Issue 4

The JLaw publicity machine has delivered a new chapter that provides two weeks of endearing enrichment in advance of the opening of Red Sparrow, as far as Hyacinth Ringworm is concerned. “The recent nugget about Jen having dropped out of middle school and self-educating was so interesting,” Ringworm chortled at this blogger. “And it’s exactly like when I transferred from Ball State to SUNY Cortland and had to totally change my focus and really encourage myself and lift myself up toward my goal.” Ringworm recalled the tidbit in September 2017 in which the actress divulged that she disappointed her then-boyfriend Darren Aronofsky with her infatuation with the Kardashians. “I had a main squeeze who made me watch Aronofsky’s movies Requiem for a Dream and The Fountain and he was so disappointed that I hated them, so I could completely relate to Jen at the time,” Ringworm explained. Although she recognizes that Lawrence’s serialized revelations over the years are concocted and choreographed by a high-paid team of savvy public relations professionals, Ringworm relishes their contribution to a greater narrative and looks forward to their future resonance with her puny existence: “I’m brash and opinionated about politics and just about everything else just like Jen, so whatever she and her PR team come up with to sell tickets to the next movie, which I probably won’t see anyways, it will be something I identify with.” Ringworm, who has not acted, had her iCloud photo archive hacked, been subjected to a humiliating audition or body shamed (professionally), or been accused of an affair with a co-star, added that she is roughly the same age as Lawrence and believes they will both get married and have a child around the same time.


Area Woman Dreads the Impending Florida Orange Freeze



VOL 27 Issue 32

Any day now a frost will devastate Florida’s orange groves, Nikki Hogshead knows, and her annual anxiety is spiking accordingly. An avid consumer of oranges and grapefruits and their associated products, juices and juice products, Hogshead has for decades observed that an unnatural cold spell, perhaps as extreme as a Deep Freeze or Big Chill, inevitably hits the Sunshine State this time of year, wiping out gazillions of citrus fruits. She has further noted that the related news coverage comes with images of icicles dangling from oranges, statistics about the negative economic impact on Florida, and grave commentary that, due to reduced supply, significantly higher prices for oranges and grapefruits are understandably warranted. At press time, Hogshead has failed to persuade any of her friends to accept her prediction and quietly start hoarding oranges.


Classic Rocker: I Never Called Steve Miller The Gangster of Love

Steve Miller Band / The Joker LP 2


VOL 73 Issue 1

Over-the-hill classic rock aficionado Turner Bachman has adamantly denied ever calling Steve Miller The Gangster of Love or Space Cowboy. “What is Steve talking about? I never called him those crazy names–and my people didn’t either! Why would we?” Bachman erupted at his steering wheel while idling on the New Jersey Turnpike one afternoon rush hour. “And I definitely didn’t call him Maurice,” he muttered, “because if I had, I would have remembered that.”


On Her Way to Major Medical Procedure, Woman Sweats Over Penmanship



VOL 26 Issue 2

As Fran Chin was driven to the world-class academic medical center, she couldn’t stop worrying about her handwriting. Although the laser-assisted robotic surgery entailed significant risks, Chin didn’t give them one thought. Instead, she kept doubting that she would be able to complete the pages and pages of forms pushed at her by the state-of-the-art healthcare facility. Chin wasn’t sure if she could be a model patient at admittance—clearly filling out the critical personal, family, medical, legal, insurance and administrative information that would be read carefully and typed unerringly into various, unintegrated software systems and databases, and scanned and filed by many employees of the next-generation healthcare center. Her concern wasn’t health-related—her hand and fingers were fine—it had simply been years since she had written a lot. Chin mused about the ultramodern procedure and technology’s impact on medicine and life, as she recalled that the only other time in her adult life that she had manually filled out so many forms, apart from her previous medical procedures, was when she registered her children for school.


Shockingly Refreshing: Taser to Buy Keurig to Buy Dr Pepper



VOL 300 Issue 3

Axon, the maker of Taser, announced it will acquire JAB Holding, the maker of Keurig, the day after the coffee company announced it will acquire Dr Pepper Snapple. The piggyback purchase “may not seem intuitive at first, but it makes a lot of freakin sense when you think about expanding our arsenal of good vibrations, and accelerating the delivery of satisfaction,” said an armed, fierce Axon spokesperson. After embracing a future of office and home dispensers conveniently spitting and hissing a wide range of hot and cold crapola, Wall Street investors have gone absolutely hog-wild envisioning zapping themselves and each other with Diet 7 Up and Vermont Country Blend.


Mumbling Jackasses and their Lackeys Vie to Replace Don Imus



VOL 66 Issue 1

As soon as Don Imus announced his forced retirement yesterday, hordes of incoherent jackasses and their employed sycophants began, for reasons unknown, flooding Cumulus/Westwood One with their resumes and tapes. In a strange coincidence, all the applicants mumble, wear cowboy hats when photographed, mistake contrived incorrectness and crotchety senility for humor, and talk down to the manservants with whom they surround themselves as human shields. While a Cumulus/Westwood One spokesman declined to comment about the firing of Imus, he noted that the company’s e-greetings division is reporting an explosion of sales of Good Riddance cards.


Sunday’s NY Times Magazine Evokes Curious Feelings in Liberal Elitist



VOL 43 Issue 52

Like every other Sunday morning, Ariel Dushku sipped her Folger’s and devoured The New York Times Magazine, her favorite touchstone for human connectivity and potential, consciousness and integrity, equity and veracity. Before poring over the gloriously articulate and indignant letters to the editor, increasingly facile crossword puzzle, exquisitely biased political commentary, and amazingly insightful long-form articles, Dushku compulsively studied the advertisements. She couldn’t wait to be enticed by a condo complex fronted by gaudy sculpture that will be raucously laughed at in 10 years, with units starting at $5 million, presumably designed to appeal to the sketchiest of Russian oligarchs. Then there will be the obligatorily condescending promotion for watches that should be viewed not as ostentatious, outdated accessories but as assets to be lovingly passed down through primogeniture. And Dushku always lingered on the group portraits of effete wealth managers or their stylishly smug clients, even though she is a debt-saddled second-year Legal Aid attorney who shares a studio apartment in Jackson Heights. “Good Sunday Times,” the card-carrying liberal elitist Dushku thought, as she wistfully balanced the importance of social justice with the indisputable fact that neither she nor her descendants will ever afford or qualify for goods or services of the advertisers in The New York Times Magazine.


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