Running Without the Goose (Reverend Chad Tent Revival Edition. Son.)
HCwDB regular and dimensional hypernaut Reverend Chad Kroeger touches down on Earth long enough to deliver this payload of bring-down:
Although a wretched and buzz-harshing picture, Snor and friends here show the downtrending of douche signifiers to the fringes of society. As civilizations rise and fall like so many Peloponnesians, so do trends and Snor’s moods. Snor think he’s a player with his gaudy ring, infected flab shave reveal, flea market Ed Hardy cap, obligatory wingman Yankee Matt, girlie drinks, and chin fungi. Snor is wrong. Snor is sleepy from a high glycemic index.
When you are the assistant road manager for Insane Clown Posse it is very difficult to combine Vegas flash with the VIP pop-up trailer. No Goose and Red Bull drinks here. No bolt on Vegas hotts. The drink is XXX and Faygo for the bros and Jugaloo hotts, and by hotts I mean Beth and multicolored Jenny.
Beth used to have a great job as a greeter at a Hyundai dealership in Nevada until she ran away with Jen to follow the Clowns to every festival they headline. They left with just the bikinis an their backs. As they are the tastiest Jugalette’s at every show with their trashy clothes and insatiable appetite for sugary soda, Snor and Matt have no other options here than the old regulars for a go. Snor told Matt they were really hot last year when they were 17 and only had two kids each frolicking in the putrid festival mud/toilet. But that Faygo hides the remarkable bodies they arrived in. And that thing on Jen’s tummy is not a tattoo, just sayin’.
As the good Virgil causioned Dante at the gates of hell, “Do not ye effort at escape or attempt to look like a douchebag, or ye become ons’t with them”.
Good luck Snor and Matt, I would rather finger Cee-Lo Green’s constipation than be you. And I will ponder that while I dive into another drunken day and dream of Wanda Sykes. Put on a fuccken shirt Snor.
By “tents” you mean the bikini Jen is wearing?
Also, I think that’s a tequila being poured, but I don’t quite remember which one.
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(yes, it was a good night)
The Rev’s prose is quite coherent and it’s about time.
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OW Yankee Matt’s ponderous gaze screams “Help get me out of here” and chicks that smoke Marlborough Reds now that and side boob Tuesday is classy.
this reminds me of the pig sty grandpa built that one year, except that I’m sure his sty smelt better than this and had fewer diseases among the farrow
I must reject the proposition that either of these females is named Jennifer. I have a personal theory, tested over many years, that there are no ugly women named Jennifer, or any variation thereof. All Jennifers are hott, and these two are not.
Snor is the living, breathing embodiment of all that is white trailer trash. Within 2 years a late-night street sweeper will stumble across his lifeless body, face down in a gutter. St. Peter will use this photo as Exhibit A just before pulling the lever and sending him on Mr. Toad’s Wild Ride to hell.
Now, to go rinse out my eyes with rubbing alcohol.
Pretty sure The Rev meant to say “Assistant TO the road manager.”
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Speaking of Reverends… I one time ran into Reverend Al Sharpton in a men’s room in Manhattan. I was washing my hands when he came out of the stall. I looked up and saw who it was in the mirror and then uttered this gem, “Hey REV! Wow, never thought I’d run into you here.”
Holy Shit, I actually understood that. Does this mean I’m triple high? Nice job Rev, however I would have preferred it if John MacEnroe came riding in on a Seadoo at the end. But that’s just my thing.
its bad when the most upscale thing in the picture is the pack of marlboros.
that said i would hum every quarter inch of jenn’s freshman 15 like a toothless and fat again john popper with a mouth numb from novocaine trying to play rachmaninoff piano concertos on a harmonica, then i would hum every quarter inch of her other freshman 15 after she changed schools and none of her grades were good enough to transfer.
Beautiful prose there Rev. And fat girls should not get belly tattoos. Never. Ever.
Is this the green room before the “guests” go on Jerry Springer?
Mana Nicole Smith on the right reduces global warming every time she goes out for a tan.
” infected flab shave reveal” FTW . LOL’ificaTionZ!
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Snor re-uses that Goose bottle filling it with generic WalMart Equate-brand vodka and proudly states as he pours, ” You can alwyas tell the quality of the good brands.” Loo-Hoo-Zer
Poor Tiger, he can’t even score with the strippers from Bob’s Big Boy and Body Shop. Maybe that’s why he looks so sad.
it’s SOOOO-WEEEE time at the Iowa state fair…1st one to impale a sow without using their hands gets a rice crispy treat & a can of Oly
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IRA guy, that’s Hornitos…us bottled spirits afficionados spot it straightaway
I’m so stoned that I saw this and I was reading it thought I was typing with my eye powers.
Can’t get the C-Lo Green visual to go away. Paging Dr. Tequila, get up here stat.
Ease up on making fun of the juggalos. Not because they don’t deserve it — God knows they do — but because none of us wants to wake up with one of those meth-head “hatchets” sticking out of our ass.
I get it! Black is DB1, Blue is Mr. Sock, Green is other. Wow! The Colors!
@scooby douche
i have the same theory about jessica’s. never met one that didn’t pop my champagne cork. me thinks the jugaloo above is named julie. julie’s are notorious for being a cute faced human shed. whatever her name be i would still definitely juggle her loos
astute observation rev…don’t forget, yellow=mr. white
Reverend,
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I think I saw Beth, pre-Clown Posse, at the Hyundia dealership drinking the juice of catalpa pods and basking in the harsh Nevadian sun coming through the showroom window. The floor beneath her was littered with the spitted seeds and cat fetuses.
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Have you ever noticed that the grey rectangular “submit comment,” button at the bottom of your screen sometimes takes on differing personalities and shapes? It’s seemingly innocuous presence confounds and dazzles the eye in a most unpleasant way, with it’s undulating flow of current. It speaks of wrestling moves and compliance, rumors of wars and deference, it’s ultimate goal; surrender.
Sometimes it speaks to me even when I don’t listen. Sometimes it listens to me even when I don’t speak.
But, it always beckons.
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How’s the weed holding out?
Blecch. I could show you a few Jennifers that would turn your stomach so far you’d shit out of your ear. I could also show you one that would make me play for the other team. PERMANENTLY. However, she doesn’t dig me that way, despite my desperate pleas and promises to buy her whatever she wants, and she doesn’t have to do anything to me, i just–wait, what? Oh, sorry. Everyone in this pic makes me gag, except for poor Juan in the background there. i would help him escape. He’s most likely there as the main entree for the barbecue later.
Oh,come on! The girl on the right is just more corn bred Mid-west. Guys,you want baby making hips like those,or do you want a skinny model bitch that looks like a boy?