Puff the magic dragon
As a wizard of the internet I am constantly using it as the valuable resource of entertainment and information it was meant for. And what I’m about to share with you today is no different. Both informative and entertaining, I bring you obviously what the internet was invented for. It was certainly created so that ignored housewives across the world could have complete anonymity when they buy mystical dragon cocks to fuck themselves stupid with. This has to be what Al Gore envisioned when he invented the internet.
I showed this website to a female friend of mine and this was the conversation that followed.
Her: I want to know what hole the wallaby goes into
Me: all of them
Her: hahahah
Me: yeah that thing is confusing as shit
Me: it was literally fashioned after the anatomical location of a wallaby G-spot
Me: which didn’t translate well to the human vagina
Me: that thing is going to give girls a cervical exam
Her: hahahhahahahahha
Her: I have to read the FAQs
Me: “Cumtube – your toy comes with a syringe and a tube running through the core of the toy, so you can squirt our cumlube into you while you play.”
Me: omfg
Her: =O
Me: that was oddly arousing but immediately disgusting. I felt like I was reading some line from an erotic novel, but then remembered I found the book on my grandma’s nightstand
Me: ya know, that “weeeird” feeling
Her: hhaahhahahahahaha
Her: “just be sure to keep it clean and ride it out. Bubbles happen sometimes, but not all the time. If it develops into a rip, let us know, and we will do what we can to fix it” (this is where you come in) “To avoid letting the bubbles get to you, just take care of it.“
Me: bubbles!?
Her: who’s job is it to fix the rip in these things? Seriously, give that guy some purrell!
Mel: I like to think he sleeps in a hazmat suit and wakes up hating life, because he has to go to work and fix the rips in other peoples dildos molded after fairy tale animal dicks.
Her: hahahahhahahahahaha
Seriously, you have to see this shit for yourself.
B.
The United States Of Bourbon
I think I’m learning to like this man.
When dealing with the heady issues laid in his lap I only hope he goes with the Bourbon over the Vodka. God know’s how those Russians handle things. And i’m more than sure they’ve injected their brutal style of decision making into the recipe for that gnarly potato wine.
He’s got the reverse American Dream to deal with. I do not envy the man. I do however envy his liquor selection.
Godspeed Brother!
You can’t teach an old God new tricks
I always wondered what would happen if someone fed the Pope L.S.D……
The possibilities of Catholicism taking some weird turns because of his delusions of grandeur coupled with the emotional and physical effects of L.S.D. are through the roof. Who knows what “God” would tell him. And how he would interpret it back to the masses.
I could see him prancing room to room in his sweet papal hat, wrapped in his 4000 count Egyptian sheets, proclaiming the Banana as the HOLY FRUIT. Blessing every little bug that he spots in the window sill or on the walls. Dubbing them Saint Spider, and Saint Fly.
And then he peaks. One of those crippling peaks too. Where you don’t want to move and you can feel your pores squeezing each individual bead of sweat from your brow. He’ll stammer something about “fuck the ecclesiastical functions, I am the lord. I am the lord! Fuck yo’ couch nigga!” And WHAMMO! He’s paralyzed by fear and adrenaline when he realizes the crucified Jesus on his wall is trying to gnaw his own fucking arms off so that he can escape. And because of the fear, and how his own fight or flight response makes him react. He screams for a hammer and nails. And the already frightened and confused guards rush him the requested tools. And that crazy bastard re-nails Jesus back onto that cross.
And that metaphoric street performance alone…. physically acted out in that manner, would send him in to such a self reflective tailspin that the following epiphany would be glorious in nature and full of dangerous religious implications.
Someone dose the pope…A.S.A.P!!!
Would you pass?
I just spotted this video on some website. And normally I see interesting enough shit, that maybe later I’ll show the roommates or some random person that comes over. But this….this I felt needed to be shared almost immediately.
I want you to watch this, and think about why i like it.
I didn’t like it because the kid cried. Or even that it was some slick practical joke. That didn’t impress me ( I remember falling victim to one of those rotten bastard emails years ago).
The reason i really dug what was happening… is because the kid snapped. And im not talking about the tears or when he was clutching his Father’s leg. Im talking about the moment that Linda Blair look-a-like popped up on the screen, his FIGHT OR FLIGHT kicked right in. And what did he do first? He fought.
That moment when he screams and just starts swinging….your looking at a real primitive moment. That fucking kid wanted to live. And he was willing to fight to do so. And it wasn’t until he realized his momentary enemy was encased in the monitor that he decided to flee. Instinct was burning like a Monk in protest. It was god damn fantastic. I was so impressed with his reaction that i couldn’t even laugh. And it wasn’t until the boy was crying and clawing at his fathers pants…that i got a little pissed off. All i wanted to hear…was the Father…saying: “Good job boy” or “You did good…you passed the test”
There is something i invented. It’s called the sock test. Whenever you get a new pet…preferably a Kitten or a Puppy…you administer The Sock Test. Retrieve a sock and simply place it over the puppy/kittens head. It doesn’t strangle or suffocate. So before any of you get all bent out of shape…RELAX. This test is to simply discover whether your new pet is a fucking fighter and a champion…or absolutely worthless. Too stupid to get a fucking sock off of it’s head..or to even try for that matter.
There are normally 2 reactions.
(1)…The animal simply and rather quickly just fucking gives up. plops to the ground and lays there to die. You swagger over disappointed to your pet and slide the garment off. You at that very moment realize this wont be one of those pets that calls 911 when you fall and cant get up. Or hell…even have sense enough to clean shit out of it’s tail. And the pet knows that you know this. They live out the rest of their lives in a fat sleep. Dumbly pissing in guest’s sneakers or tearing the mesh bag of Onions that hangs on the bakers rack. I suggest you take this pet back where you got it or sell it to The Flaming Wok Chinese Restaurant.
(2)…The animal quickly engages in escape and tears the sock from its skull. In an understandable panic it flees under the closest couch/chair. You rise to your feet and declare the animal a Champion of Survival. Drinks clang together in celebration and confetti magically rains down in slow motion. You pluck the cat from underneath the couch/chair and lay a big wet one on it’s fuzzy belly. This lets the animal know you are proud and normally the animal (if male) quickly sprouts an erection to display to the onlookers (and if female) lands a spectacular back flip from your shoulder to the floor and prances like a deer…circling around the celebrating people in the room.
I have had a cat that had the First reaction. That cat was hit by a train!! How the fuck does that happen, right? How in the fuck does a cat get hit by a train? It was a fucking failure..that’s why. I knew that the day it plopped to the ground and laid there like a prisoner of war.
Every other pet was a 2 Reaction. And they were all champions…even in death they are immortal. God Bless them all.
B.