Xenu: Lord of Scrotentology
Often, ‘bag hunters will email me and ask me about our hallowed Hall of Scrote legends.
“Surely these people can’t maintain their intensity of scrotological burn as they chase hotties?” they ask me. “Don’t Hall of Scrote legends burn out?”
Were that it were so, imaginary conversation person.
Earlier this week we checked in with Joey Porsche, just as douchey as ever. Today, it’s Hall of Scrote legend Xenu. Classing it up with the barely legal hotties by puttin’ on a matching tie and coat.
You go with your formal self, Xenu, Warlord of Scrotentology. Your people look up to you from their clarity tests and know you are level-8 poo.
And I see each of you, powdered bottom girls from Dusseldorf. You knew not what Americans were like until you visited on your summer exchange program. And now you curse Western hegemony. But it’s too late.
It ain’t right, I tell ya. Xenu spreading his poo not only to hotts, but the visiting hotts from other countries! Think of all the cultural exchange that could have happened, were the Dusseldorf wonderhotts to have sat down with me. The different ideas, the different foods, things we’d seen. That thing they do with their tongue that I was utterly powerless to resist.
But instead, we have Xenu, douching them up. And the stench will travel back to Dusseldorf on them. And they’ll be shunned, because it won’t be the local douche’s smell on them, but some high-test US douche stank.
It… just ain’t right.
I can smell his stench all the way from 2009.
His nostrils always seem to be inhaling some sort of whiskery mass – all glued together with an opaque greasy substance, perhaps donkey jizz, which would be food enough for the dozen or so clusterflies that hover about him like scrummaging scabs.
.
.
But maybe that’s just me.
Donk! Donk! Donk!
Every time we see this douche there is a different maze on his chin.
Douchebag, please
Unsolicited photo of a buxom college cheerleader from VA Commonweatlh during the recent NCAA tourney.
Why? Because, shaddup that’s why.
.
.
CLICK
One ponders whether Lord Xenu’s image is reflected by that mirror, or if he’s immune to mere “mortal” shit like that…
Aren’t those Liz Taylor’s glasses?
http://www.freakingnews.com/Elizabeth-Taylor-Pics-2462.asp
I’d like to cast an eary vote Lord of Scrotentology as douche of the week, hell douche of the year!!!
Of course they don’t burn out. They consume hott (fist pump the shit out of crushed pussies, is what I mean to say), and excrete… well, everything, and evolve new limbs and limbic tentacles that grow out of their chins.
Circle of douche, Chirren.
That’s right, wee bitches.
.
Feel the gravitational pull of my cock. And my watch.
The girls pose for a picture after making the new YouTube hit video: Two girls, one cup, and Xenu. We can see Xenu swallowing the last of the poo as it runs in streaks down his chin.
Old douchebags never die. They just itch, scratch and swell.
I always wondered what happened to my cute neighbour girls Birgitt and Annette, they just disappered last year.
Well, now i know. They left with Xenu´s spaceship.
I drop a tear for them…
This cat makes no sense to me. I guess when you are fat and weird looking with bad facial hair you can dress like a wanna be Mr. T going to the Music Awards.
Turdalert, Turdalert
Xenu can perfectly BBQ ribs and chicken…..in his armpits.
Xenu can rip a phonebook in half….with his armpits.
Xenu can paint an entire section section of bleachers….with his armpits.
Xenu can calculate the probability of transmiting an STD to a monkey with his tongue…with his armpits.
Xenu can watch every episode of Little House on the Prairie without masturbating…with his armpits.
Xenu once re-upholstered my 78 Ranchero for free…with his armpits.
Xenu once fought off a pack of viscious raccoons, saving an entire pack of Kools in the process…with his armpits.
The Isrealites were led out of the desert by Xenu’s flaming chin pubes.
Xenu is Shiva in His Incarnation as Elvis.
Xenu needs to wear sunglasses indoors so that his mutant optic blasts won’t kill all the men and impregnate all the women in the room.
so Buffalo Beast’s mentor is none other than Imaginary Conversation Person.
now i understand the extent of Buffalo Beast’s clandestine bag hunting finesse.
there is hope yet for the league of bag hunters, no matter how Xenu ups his douche.
Xenu took revenge on L Ron Hubbard by graciously donating his time on this website.
Xenu lets little children color in his tatts with markers when rotating his other job as a wait-server at Bob Evans restaurants.
Xenu uses Mary Kay Cosmetics’ Satin Hands technique to go with his satin suits.
Xenu came in with the Wayward Wind and has haunted Gogi Grant ever since.
Xenu once rode an exercise bike across the English Channel…with his armpits.
Xenu became an architect….after he flunked out of dental school.
Xenu’s beard can shave itself…and so can his armpits.
Xenu’s recipie for a GOOOD-TIIIIMMMME!!!!!
One part Xenu….One part YOU BABY!
…and his armpits.
Xenu uses deoderant behind his knee caps.
Xenu takes his armpits to the movies at least once a week…sometimes he takes his mother too. That’s just the kind of sensitive guy he is.
Xenu would NEVER drag an alpaca into this.
Xenu would, however, shear a sheep…with his armpits.
Xenu is a registered independent…but always votes for his armpits.
Xenu has a great record collection. All vintage vinyl with no scratches at all. He likes to play them sometimes on his old-school turntable with a diamond tipped needle and a 100 watt pre-amp.
No joke, that shit’s hella cool.
Xenu didn’t drink Budweiser until it was bought out by InBev. Now it’s an imported beer, bitches.
1brownie