Wookiee kills ‘Bar Rescue’ star Jon Taffer after abysmal cantina revamp

Jon Taffer (pictured above) has a minor stroke while 
observing a Sith Lord urinating in the corner of the bar.

TATOOINE -- Jon Taffer, star of the hit reality television show “Bar Rescue,” along with his entire crew, met their untimely demise Sunday evening at the hands of a Wookiee bar owner outraged by upgrades Taffer had made to his establishment on the planet Tatooine.

Chalmun, the cantina’s proprietor, had been repulsed by the makeover of the Mos Eisley Cantina, a dive bar once known for its wretched hive of space scum, into an upscale wine bar called the Tatooine Sapphire.

“After seeing the new sets of silk designer sofas, mahogany book shelves, wall-mounted wine racks, and all this other rustic horseshit, I was angrier than Luke Skywalker when he found out he couldn’t bang Leia,” the Wookiee said through an interpreter.

Immediately following the remodeling, Chalmun shuttled the bar consultant and his team into the desert in a landspeeder and forced them one by one into a gigantic sarlaac pit.

“In hindsight, it may have been a slight overreaction,” he continued. “I could have just shot him in the back with my blaster rifle.”

Cantina patrons watch in awe as 
Taffer reprimands the bar staff.

Strangely, Taffer seemed to have utterly no concern for his impending doom, eyewitnesses say. 

Rather, he was reportedly so intensely focused on berating Chalmun with an endless stream of insults degrading his ability as a bar owner and his failures as a Wookiee, husband, and friend, that he didn’t notice the massive squid-like creature preparing to eat him.

“This is ridiculous!” Taffer continued to scream, eyes bulging from his enormous head, as he fell into the monster’s gaping mouth. “I’m not sure what’s worse—your bar or your attitude!”

Taffer, renowned for his ability to save failing bars around the country from closing, had believed the Mos Eisley Cantina would be his most daring turnaround yet. The Tatooine establishment is famed among intergalactic mixologists as the place legendary Jedi masters Luke Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi first met the smuggler Han Solo. It is perhaps known more importantly as the bar where Darth Vader got his first “dry handy” in the bathroom stall.

Despite its historical significance, the bar was running a steep $300,000 debt and, compounding the problem, Jedi patrons were frequently scamming free drinks, using ancient mind-trick techniques to tell bartenders, “That’s not the Natty I’m paying for.”

Even the one night Taffer ran reconnaissance on the bar to get an inside look at operations, things spun out of control when a brawl broke out between a bachelorette party and several patrons, reaching its climax when the bride-to-be hurled a thermal detonator at a group of Ewoks.

That same evening, a belligerently drunk Jar Jar Binks continually shouted “Meesa wanta Olde English!” while attempting to play “Semi-Charmed Life” on the juke box for the fourth time of the night, and the bar’s Rancor bouncer tried to eat Admiral Ackbar in an attempt to get him to stop grinding on innocent bystanders while yelling, “It’s a trap!”

Even worse – two Stormtroopers never received their quesadilla order.

Despite all that, Taffer and his staff had recognized an opportunity.

“All this place serves is Keystone Ice,” BB-2Y8, a professional droid mixologist whom Taffer had brought on board for staff training, beeped at the bar owner. “You must understand that surrounding species like the Hutts, who are renowned wine lovers, have a huge presence in this star system. We need to offer a menu with sophisticated food options and organic drinks with subtle, oaky aftertastes.”

BB-2Y8 had also introduced a new drink called the “Jabba the Hot Toddy” to round out the drink menu, and Tom Stevenson, a New York City master chef, developed several different tapas-style dishes and cheese board recipes for the food menu.

Both experts are now dead.

After abandoning the alterations and murdering Taffer, the Wookie bar owner is reportedly happier than he’s been in years.

Trump, If President, Would Use Aladdin's Genie To Deliver On Campaign Promises

Genie, fed up with his new master, Donald Trump, turned the 
presidential hopeful into a cat after he wished for a huge wall
around New York City's Spanish Harlem to trap in the Mexicans.

Donald Trump, Republican front runner for the presidential nomination, claims to have acquired Aladdin's fabled magic lamp, and vows to use the three wishes granted to him by the lamp's all-powerful genie to deliver on his campaign promises, many of which have been lambasted by critics as nothing more than a pipe dream and more far-fetched than the idea of, well, an all-powerful genie.

"I ripped off a Muslim guy for it a few weeks ago," Trump said during a recent campaign rally, when asked how he could have possibly procured a priceless artifact that’s eluded generations of scholars and treasure hunters.

The presidential aspirant then digressed into an unprovoked, highly offensive rant against the Muslim people, calling them criminals, rapists and "war-mongering Allah lovers,” before making similar derogatory comments about the Chinese, South Koreans, Chileans, Scandinavians, French, Portuguese, Canadians and any other race he could think of off the top of his head, including the Dutch.

"That terrorist would've used the genie to acquire a nuclear warhead and blow us back to the time of Muhammad,” the billionaire entrepreneur said with characteristic machismo while using a healthy amount of duct tape to secure a toupee to his scalp. “And the Mexicans would've been involved somehow, I assure you.”

Sources have confirmed that the man in question is actually a law-abiding U.S. citizen whose only tie to extremism of any kind is the Extreme Nacho Platter from Chili's he indulges in on Saturdays. Further, he’s not even Muslim, just a white guy who got really tan during a recent trip to Punta Cana.

Trump says his newly acquired magic lamp should put to rest allegations that he wouldn't be able to follow through on many of the lofty promises he’s made to voters, such as construction of an unfathomably expensive wall along the U.S. border with Mexico, or the seemingly impossible task of deporting every single illegal immigrant in the country. 

Prior to acquiring the lamp, Trump had planned to secure additional funds for the border wall by traveling via magic carpet in lieu of using Air Force One, thereby cutting his travel budget. Through translators, the carpet indicated it would rather “get shit on by a stable full of horses” and “a bunch of puppies that hadn’t been house-trained” than have Mr. Trump’s “gigantic smelly ass” on his fabric.

"Look, guys, with an all-powerful genie, I can do anything. End the conflict in Syria, stop the violence incited by the world's drug cartels and terrorist networks, protect generations to come from the devastations wreaked by climate change, and eliminate human suffering of any kind," the real-estate mogul said, before winding up and punching an undocumented immigrant square in the face. "But I'm going to build a big, shiny new wall across Mexico instead."

"Maybe I'll even get that damn Obama to show us his real birth certificate once and for all," he added.

The presidential hopeful also called for the American people not to get too greedy and go asking for "a ton of other stuff," because he plans to use a wish to circumvent the democratic process and become president in the first place. 

Plus, he may use another to get his old, shriveled, wrinkly penis to finally work again. By press time, he hadn't quite made up his mind.

Batman Pivots to Daytime Crime-Fighting Due to Raging Night Life

Batman, 23 beers deep, was kicked out of a local dive after
repeatedly playing Meat Loaf's 'Bat Out of Hell' over the jukebox
and running around the bar stark naked. He proceeded to
fall asleep in an alley, in a puddle of his own urine. 

GOTHAM CITY -- Batman, renowned masked guardian of the Gotham metropolis, has decided to trade in a life of crime-fighting under the cover of darkness for one in broad daylight, citing a newfound propensity for late-night binge-drinking that pushes into the morning hours and renders the vigilante too "shit hammered" to incapacitate the city's villainous scum.

"Once the Fireball shots start flowing, you can count on me drooling all over myself by midnight," Batman said in a coughing fit induced by one totally righteous bong rip.

With increasing frequency, Gotham's elite have invited Batman to private evening soirées at their estates in an attempt to curry favor with the superhero and author of acclaimed best-selling novel Bats: Not Just for Baseball.

The caped crusader has even taken to hosting ecstasy-fueled raves in the Batcave, decking out the subterranean lair with strobe lights, body-numbing electronic music, KY Jelly wrestling matches, inflatable swimming pools filled with jungle juice, and thousands upon thousands of Jell-O shots.

The parties, however, are typically ill-attended due to the swarms of giant bats and impossibility of actually finding the entrance.

The unfettered partying has led to a skyrocketing crime rate in Gotham City, as tactics that were successful while apprehending criminals in the dark -- namely, obscuring movement through master-class stealth -- prove completely useless while wearing a jet-black suit complete with cape and bat ears in the middle of the day.

Further, Gotham’s protector is typically more hungover than a boatful of French sailors to be of any use, often complicating fairly textbook situations, eyewitnesses say.

In one particularly egregious misstep, Batman, while chasing down a man for a routine parking offense, drove the Bat Mobile straight into a school bus full of nuns going on a religious retreat.

"Ever get a hangover after drinking wine spritzers for seven straight hours? They’re gnarly as fuck," the winged watchdog said in his defense, right before grabbing a 24-ounce can of Busch Light and shot-gunning it in three seconds flat.

Batman has also disturbed the peace countless times, leading the public to call for his arrest and describe him as “worse than a festering pile of guano.”

Most recently, after smoking a bowl of “the dankest Sour Diesel in Gotham,” he headed to a McDonald’s drive-through, ordered five Big Macs and a 50-piece McNugget, and then began yelling “RACHELLLLLLLL!!!!!!” into the microphone over and over after forgetting why he was even there in the first place.

Gotham officials have sparred over the best course of action to handle the ongoing nuisance, going back and forth between pinning Batman on obstruction-of-justice charges, or letting him continue down a spiraling path of slow alcoholic decay that will cause him indescribable pain after losing his possessions, property, loved ones and, ultimately, any scraps of dignity that still remain.

As of press time, they were leaning toward the latter.