Wednesday, March 7, 2012
The Rusty Trombone
His pick up line: “If you blow into it, it’ll play Dixieland.”
Carolina’s Mayan Eye of Coitus is far too delightful for this scenario.
And so a punch a nearby inquisitive scrub jay in the feathery nads area. And it tweets sadly. On Twitter.
Just like the Golden Spike, I would love to invert him and hammer him headfirst into a railroad track.
Not Pictured: Three-finger taint punch being delivered by yours truly from the far left. I just wanted a basket of wings and these Goose-slurpers wouldn’t get the fuck out of my way.
Does his shirt say Cock Army or Cock Away?
Any talk of music or instruments bring back so many good memories. Some of the best nights ever in Vegas were the nights Sinatra performed with Count Basie and his band at the Sands. When these guys were paired up it brought people in from all around the world, from entertainers to athletes and tourists, too. But the best part were the chicks, who flocked to see both Frank and the Count. The guys in the Count’s band did nothing but smoke pot, screw white broads and play the best music you ever heard. Ya mean?
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For the most part you never saw a white chick with a colored guy. Never. But when the Count came to town that’s all you ever saw. I guess you can say music, Frank and the Count did more for integration and to break down barriers than any politician. The funny thing is you also saw white guys with colored dames, only when Frank and the Count hit the strip. The only times that Frank ever was with a black skirt was when the Count was around. One night after Eartha Kitt’s late lounge show Frank was hanging with Basie and a couple of the guys at the Riviera and Kitt approached Frank. The next thing I know he’s taking off with her and another black broad, who turns out was her “assistant.” Kitt was a wild lay, and had the habit of queefing when she was getting banged. She’d let one fly and without missing a beat would say, “It’s talkin’ to ya Sugar!” Frank did both of them, pulling off the “Mexican Basket Fuck” in the process. Mexican Basket Fuck, I says.
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Another thing; we called black people “coloreds” and didn’t mean anything by it. It was just the word we used, everybody used. We never used any negative names, and besides coloreds, maybe negro, but not all that much. These days you have all these politically correct assholes who will yell at you for saying “black guy,” and tell you it’s “African-American,” and these same folks who wear the t-shirts and bracelets and put the bumper stickers on their mini-vans to “Save Darfur,” send their kids to all-white private schools, cross the street if they see a black person coming their way, and certainly don’t know any blacks. A mannagia!
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There were a lot of dames who had a hankering for the black meat, a lot of big name dames, to boot. And some big name guys, too. Finocchios, I says. There were babes would would tell me that they just loved to touch “it.” “It,” being black dick. The finocs kept things quiet as that was the ultimate taboo, interracial homos. You might see guys talking and get a feeling that something was up, but never see anything. Those guys would have made great spies. Except Merv Griffin. He’d bang anything with hairy legs and a joint, and didn’t care who knew.
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Now a little known fact about Judy Garland. She loved drummers, but really loved black drummers. One time she hooked up with Buddy Rich in New York City – thanks to an introduction I made – in the mid-50s after they were both featured for a gig at the Latin Quarter, or it might have been at the Metropole Cafe. Either way, he banged her good and proper. Buddy banged the skins and the babes with the same level of gusto, and if you ever saw him play you know what I mean. He’d even wipe is brow with a towel like he did during gigs, when he was “Va de giobba,” or doing the job as we used to say. Garland was always in various stages of fucked-up, but was known as one of the best lays ever. When her and Buddy went at it they ripped apart a hotel room at The Plaza to the point where it needed to be renovated. Judy also gave incredible skull. Skull, I says. I know this because she “thanked me” several times over the years for my largesse in giving her the intro to Buddy, before she got too sloppy on pills. Her and Miss Day were top 5 all-time when it came to giving skull. Day was a technician, Judy was all sound and fury. For as good of a lay as she was, when the early 60s rolled around and she was a total mess I wouldn’t have fucked Judy with Rickles’s dick. If I could have found it.
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Anyways, Garland first sang the black snake moan after giving a command performance along with Basie’s orchestra for the Queen of England in 1957. She got into it with Basie drummer Philly Jo Jones during an intermission and almost missed her number in front of the Queen. Philly Jo tapped that ass, as you kids today say, and Garland was exhausted and could barely stand. The show must go on though. Ya mean? One of the few times it wasn’t because she was banged up on booze or pills. From this point on she was hooked. The thing was, it much tougher to get with her preferred brand of drummer in those days, so to make up for it, she went with any drummer she could get a hold of. Rich, Krupa, Belson, Joe Morello, Shelley Mann, Jack Hanna, you name them, she banged them. And if she was lucky enough to cross paths with Max Roach, Sonny Paine, Ed Thigpen or any of the colored drummers, look out. Buona fortuna! There was a night in Chicago when Woody Herman’s big band The Thudering Herd did to Judy what General Sherman did to Atlanta in the Civil War.
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Louie Bellson was an interesting cat. Loved the colored broads and was a back door man. Was married to Pearl Bailey, not a good looking woman, but nice, and fun in bed. Louie used to say, “Ass ; the other pink meat.”
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The Count’s band used to give Sammy a hard time about the whole black Jew thing. They would call him “Brother Jew Boy,” and ask to see his circumcision. They used to say Sammy had to be a Jew because his cock wasn’t big enough to be a proper black man. Back in those days an uncut joint was pretty common, but nothing was angrier looking that a black guy’s ant-eater. The broads that went for that look really were special, in my book. Oofa!
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There were so many hounds in that group, it’s hard to believe so many horned up guys were in one place. When there was competition for some young skirt, that’s when things really got interesting. One time Quincy Jones – a trumpet player, arranger for the Count and lover of all tang white – and Norman Fell were interested in the same young filly; blonde, fair skin, long legs and a 5-star rack. “Q” was as sharp as they came but Normy Fell, despite looking like a schlub had a collection of A-game moves to go with a unique joint, and pretty much got any chick he wanted. I’ll tell you about his junk later, but Norm won this battle and spent the weekend with the blonde, leaving Quincy to troll around for sloppy seconds from the rest of the band. Boy did he take a lot of grief from the guys!
Mr. Roper would not put up with the ginger shenanigans going on up top. Up top I says.
I think Golden Spike’s shirt says “Cockk Hungry.”
I never knew Jack Hanna, zookeepin’ dude, was also a musician. Zookeepin’ dude, I says.
Maybe his shirt says Cocck Frenzy? As in “After I nestled my asshole against the glory hole doily, it turned into a real cocck frenzy all of the sudden!”
I don’ think Carolina really likes that guy too much. I think she’s just yanking his chain.
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Well somebody had to say it.
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OK OK OK. Just fucck off now would ya?
Baljeet in back left is giving out free samples of the new Dingleberry Icee from his 7-11 store- “open 24 hours, we cash county checks… no I.D. needed”
the girl on the far right of the picture has great personality aura. just as some girls turn bleeth, some girls turn into their mothers, some times right before your eyes.
i only hope the bling in blonde’s hand is connected down the back through the crack, onto two nut piercings and a prince albert. i hope she pulls hard and doesn’t let go.
Back in the day, I used to hang out at the King King, an abandoned Chinese Restaurant at 6th and Fairfax they turned into a seedy nightclub. Tuesday was Afro-Cuban All Star night, and Wednesday was Jump with Joey. JwJ pulled the hot chicks for a sweaty four hour session of old style ska. Mancini actually showed up one time and danced to “Shot in the Dark”, about six months before he died. One time, it was really crowded, hard to get an order in at the bar, so I ordered six beers. Turning towards the stage, I ran into Keanu Reeves, known at that point only for Bill & Ted’s Excellent Adventure — really the career high point for that thespian. I offered him a beer. I’ll never get that beer back. Let that be a lesson, young ‘bag hunters.
Oh, and back in the day, people were always sayin’ “back in the day”.
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True story
Somewhere in Ireland a ranga garden gnome goes missing.
What makes the chubby chick on the right better than Carolina?
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She SWALLOWS. Carolina goes “eeeew!” and spits it up and makes a bunch of gagging sounds. Chubby chick is just “Mmmmmm moar…. gimmme cummmm….” Chubby chick wins.
I do believe “doucheywallnuts” may have completely lost “himself.” But hey, for our benefit and entertainment. Continue on, dear friend.
Don Rickles and Peter O’Toole are the only members of the pack that still remember Douchey Wallnuts. On good days Sophia Loren and Ann Margret talk about Douchey as a strapping young man eager to make in the biz. What biz he wanted to be in is a subject of debate.
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Ann says she gave him a blowey when he was security at the filming of Bye-Bye-Birdie. Elvis always told me that he and Ann had a thing with Douchey and some peanut butter and banana sandwiches, but there was no banana if you know what I’m saying. So Douchey blows a brisket and cock punches Elvis with Margret’s sharp nipples. Fucking blood everywhere. My Sharona. Douchie sneaks out under Bunny Warner’s crinoline dress, as was the custom with the well-heeled young ladies of the day, and scoots away with Bunny and her driver Herschel Cocker in the old vintage Bugatti her dad Pops Warner bought her an account of her sweet sixteen and shit. Bunny sure was a looker and when she found him later on that month licking her puss she realized what a treasure she had found in her dress.
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So Douchey and Bunny keep carrying on like two Jews in heat for years. Years I tells ya. Nobody’s the wiser cause he’s like a good fella hiding in her pantaloons. And lucky he was that Bunny fell so madly in love with her crinoline man as Elvis was right pissed that Douchey took his banana out of his sandwich. So pissed that one day while Elvis, Frank, and Lawford were meeting with Elijah Muhammed to figure out what to do with Malcolm and his uppities over a few slices of Hebrew Salami in Montreal, Celine Dion comes in as a five year old banging her much older manager Rene and says. “That Douchey has caused enough grief to the families. So you know what we gotta do with all the time warp and shit
Good Lord she’s cute!!
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ASvB
Rusty speared quite a bit stupid fish on the left.
…says The Dude
^big
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I aimed high. Sue me.
Trombone should have tried some Australiana.
I guess when you’re ginger and have skin that requires SPF 100,you gotta go the stupid route with the hair.
d’ohhh!
His Shining Amulet of Valhalla may not have impressed Batman and the rest of the Justice League, but Narwhal Lad knew it was a ticket to tail at Dave & Buster’s.
What’s up with all the pictures having a girl that’s not hot on the right?
@Troy Tempest 7:30PM
You’re preaching to the choir brother, spot on observation and fact!
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Insomniacs
I LOVE the Medusa’s historical perspective…One page in my Diplomatic Passport says at the top: “A big iron needle stitching the country together.” (Jessamyn West)
Would like to see this guy’s douche spike needle…embedded in a railroad track. Maybe somewhere in Colorado…above 8,000 feet elevation. With the DB still attached.
Technically that thing on Rusty’s head is known as a “Fellatio Shift-Stick”.
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Medical FACT.
This guy would seem to present a challenge because of the huge crowd positioned in front of him. This won’t matter as long as you ensure to get good extension on your right. Start a little farther away than you’re used to, take an extra long stride and release quickly. Your right should extend far enough away from your body that you can gently hold Carolina’s right hand with your left and plant a kiss as your right hand unleashes maximum devastation. With any luck, there’s enough hairspray in this ginger’s stupid frohawk to embed it in the table behind him when his head snaps back from the force of your hammer blow. You then can finish licking Carolina’s hand while you garrotte Douche #2 with his own necklace on your follow through. Reward yourself with a hefeweizen with extra lemon, because douchepunching is thirsty work.
Alfalfa’s come a long way since “Our Gang”…even going som far as to dye jkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
Alfalfa’s come a long way since “Our Gang” and his earlier version of spiked hair.
She belongs in the Hall. The Douche Meter has her pegged a 9.5
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