The Economist's Credit Crunch Game Makes Subprime Loans Fun Again!

The Economist's Credit Crunch Game Makes Subprime Loans Fun Again!

We think the idea of “Credit Crunch,” a print-it-yourself board game in this week’s issue of The Economist, is great. We’re not convinced it’s exactly cost-effective to print the board, cards, and money with your own equipment, though—as someone suggests in their comments section, maybe a web-savvy reader should create an online version.

The Economist Sums Up Financial Crisis: "Oh Fuck!"

The Economist Sums Up Financial Crisis: "Oh Fuck!"

If you feel at a loss for words to describe the now global financial cover, this spoof cover floating around the internet for September’s Economist says it all: “Oh fuck!” Download the large version, suitable for framing or desktop wallpaper, inside…

That Economist Article We Wanted You To Read, In Full

That Economist Article We Wanted You To Read, In Full

Yesterday, we recommended reading the Economist as a healthy alternative to the illustrious Jugs Magazine. In particular, we highlighted the excellence of a recent article called Welcome Aboard, and laboriously typed in a snip for your amusement. We then recommended you go out and buy the magazine.

Buy This Week’s Economist, or Steal It, or Something.

Buy This Week’s Economist, or Steal It, or Something.

On Sunday, I realized with a sick chill of horror that I had officially become old. Sunday, you see, is when my local newstand refreshes their stock of periodicals. Usually, I leap from bed on Sunday morning, throw open the curtains, brightly baritone a “Good Morning!” song of my own devising to the sleepy looking magpies cocking their eye at me out my window, and rush down, eager to to secure my weekly infusion of pornography.

Gillette Razor Blade Hyperdrive

Gillette Razor Blade Hyperdrive

I, Brownlee, may have mentioned this before… but I am a huge fan of Gillette’s multiple-razor initiatives. I can still remember the first time I experienced the Mach 3, like an angel’s tongue lusciously licking the follicles off of my cheek. The next day, I marched into work and, with a word of stern command, began ordering stray co-workers — men, women, it didn’t matter — to caress, nay, fondle my cheeks. “What you’re feeling is very similar to what my ass once felt like as an infant,” I’d confidently assert. If this made my co-workers uncomfortable, it was well hidden by the awe which enraptured them at the touch of my silky-smooth jowls.