Wednesday, July 14, 2010
Jebus, Mary and Broseph
“And Jebus said unto Mary and Broseph, “Hark! Go forth to Miami Beachlehem. And spray Axe Bodyspray uponst your head and shoulders three times. For it is easier for a cameltoe to pass through the eye of Don Cheadle than for a douchebag to get into Club Heaven.” — Corinthians Leather, 24:7
I don’t have time to come up with something witty to say, but Boss, your quotes from the Holy Scriptures are priceless.
Eye of Don Cheadle… heh heh.
one of her boobs is missing.
“Cripes”, thought Winston; “It’s bad enough this is a group latrine but do they HAVE to bring the camera in here?”.
Cousin Balki’s life spiraled out of control after his first taste of black tar heroin.
“That’s what my asshole looks like? Ewww….bleach time!”
Those back-alley circumcisions are brutal. Jebus seems to be a little confused, turning water into a whine.
Gaybaggery/Eurobaggery abounds in this photo, along with a sweaty, naughty, ambiguously ethnic hottie who probably needs to get plowed.
He’s always grabbing his nads when he’s around other people because he doesn’t want the others to hear what his nads have to say. They speak to him. They say things like
“JEBUS! GO HOME AND TELL YOUR DAD HE’S A TWAT WAFFLE!”
“JEBUS! YOU MUST GO TO THE NEAREST STREET CORNER AND DROP YOUR PANTS AND STROKE US! WE OWN YOUR SOUL!”
“JEBUS! YOU MUST EAT YOUR OWN POO! EVERY DAY!”
and things like that, and he’s trying to avoid the embarrassment, so he’s always strangling his dick to keep it quiet.
And the Lord sayeth: “Shakest thou it more than thrice and thou art PLAYING with it”.
This is a gay sex scene waiting on a chick to leave.
That’s probly the most epic caption ever. I can’t think of any sort of witty response. Kudos boss!
Life is rough when you’re 26, homeless, and your boobs cover your navel.
HolyMaryMotherofBejebus! Mary with a slipping Bra! A Broheim Joseph! Bravo to our Hebrew cousin, DB1. You outdid yourself this time, inspired , no doubt, by the Spirit.
Funny — I thought Mary was a virgin… not a whobag with belly boobs.
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Did the Corinthians ever write back to St. Paul?
I went to the barber and asked for “The pouty Jesus”. He said they were all out. I guess I know who took it.
“The bearded Alanis Morissette”
i writhed in pain at “Club Heaven”.
They look like the members of the homosexual death metal band: ‘Desicated Penis.’
This is a teaching moment. Like the kind Mel Gibson’s dad took the time to impart
Wow! Bravo to anyone who can type after seeing this
I’d like to quote Quagmire from Family Guy:
“See that button that looks like a drunken gay guy eyeing you from across the bar?”
At any rate, Jesus here looks exactly like that.
He’s ready to be hung up on the cross…
I have an open mind on this. I would like a better look at Mary. I like what I see.
The Jesus and Mary Shame.
Holy crap, I just turned Hindu. No lie. I’d rather pray to a monkey than that thing on the right. Wait a minnit….is that….Monkey Christ? Dangit, and I’m all out of bananas.
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God damnit, Dicy, get your tits off the interwebs.
Oops. That was me ^ . Wow, I haven’t been on this computer since Moses brought the ten Pez dispensers to the party.
Fergie’s audition with her new supergroup was going really well until long haired “Derrick” introduced some China White to the party.
That guy on the left stole Marv Albert’s ‘hair’.
omg – Jebus is the douchebag of the millenium
Unfortunately Axe Bodyspray is probably better than the “natural” odor from those hipsterbags.
She is soooo hott, I feel like i’m in a sauna. HOH anyone?
I’m reminded of a certain incident in the days of my youthful indiscretions, when I dropped a ten strip of triple dipped blotter with my girlfriend at the time. We were both frying balls pretty hard, but something I learned from a learned friend before I ever took acid stuck with me: “You can’t fly, you’re not Jesus, and cops are bad.” Sound advice to a young lad tripping like mad on over 2,000 mics of LSD 25.
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Anyway, at some point in our crazy hallucinogen induced conversation, I started suffering from the Jesus complex. Not that I actually thought I was Jesus, but that I was convinced that the SHE, in her intensely dosed state, thought I was Jesus. For some reason, I decided that the only way to convince her that I wasn’t Jesus, was to have sexual relations with her. See, If I actually TOLD her I was Jesus, or even brought up the word “Jesus” in a conversation, that would further convince her that I really was Jesus. Or at least, this was my logic at the time. So I kept the whole Jesus thing tight lipped, and out of nowhere announced that we should fuck.
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So I get her clothes off, and then I decide that I’m going to eat her out first. Because after all, Jesus would NEVER go down on a girl. What better way to allay her mistaken belief? So here I am, tripping harder than you wouldn’t believe, crazy colors and dancing fractals containing mathamatical code solving every riddle of the universe overlaying all matter as a vibrational energy of all existence, and then her vagina starts talking to me.
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Yes. Her vagina started talking to me. It’s sideways, slimey, hairy lips started moving and forming audible words. Not just words mind you, but coherent sentence structures pertinent to the situation.
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Her vagina addressed me by name, and pleaded with me in a nasal, childlike voice, “Please, don’t eat me!” I stared in disbelief, as her vagina now crawling with maggots and earwigs begged me once more, “Please, don’t eat me! I don’t want you to eat me!” I responded, “But I have to eat you. My girlfriend will think I’m Jesus if I don’t eat you. I’m sorry, but I have to. I have to eat you!”
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Then I started crying.
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At this point, my girlfriend freaked out and ran out of the apartment naked, screaming something about Satan and a blood motorcycle. So she spent the night at the detox center, and I spent the rest of the night cowering in the closet, plagued by visions of talking vaginas and being crucified for failing to eat my girlfriend out.
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Good times.
…… cocain
Hipsterbags gone wild.
@ Jaques: Bravo! Your drugs-are-bad story combined with DB1’s brilliant blasphemes make this one of the more enjoyable posts for some time.
@ DB1: Any chance of some of the old upvote / downvote? Or some reply to comment function? Me reckons there be great threads in this.
Is this part of a new segment called World Hipsterbag Vision in which a sultry, attractive hostess immerses herself amongst the aimless, weak and downtrodden meek who forgot to pick up their weekly allowance?
I would rescue her by throwing obscure vinyl records at those bags or hell, the can be pinned down by potted plants judging from their frail look. Then I would truly give her an epiphany of biblical proportions.
haha, your caption is hilarious, thanks for the laugh, I’ll need it to get through another day here in the underworld.
yeah, that’s pretty good. heh heh.
someone needs to whip him like passion of the christ
why are they looking at the camera as if its some sort of foreign object?
There is no god…
Ahhh, yes….the 80’s and acid……good times. I think….? Yeah, good times. I never dosed beyond the “laughing at the grass in the front yard” stage; I salute you, Jacques. You are a true Psychonaut.
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Psychonaut. Well, there’s my band name.
God damn, Jaques. You’re lucky to have come back from that trip. That’s enough acid to kill a mule.
Amerigo, I’m not sure Jaques totally made it back.
That’s a lot of acid, Jacques. And I always hated it when the trips turned bad like that.
Jacques – don’t get me started.
Rule #4 – sex is usually (not always, but usually) completely weird when tripping and is best avoided.
There are other rules.
and you don’t have to do acid to have weirdness like that.
About 15 years ago my brother gave me a bag of about 12 or 14 cookies that had been cooked up using just over a 1/4 ounce of psychotic Franken Pot. This was that Canadian stuff where you smoke one tiny toke and you’re stoned, two and your obliterated. He had eaten one cookie and said “Wow. Like holy fuck wow.” and told me he was completely obliterated on one cookie, and to be very careful.
So we thanked him and took them to a Halloween party. In San Francisco. You may not know this, but SF has only one religious holiday – Halloween. So, my wife and I eat some cookie and go to a party. I ate an entire cookie, she ate half.
The party is this big gay thing in the Castro – awesome party. Never saw so many Gladiators and Nuns in one place in my entire life. then it hit. We were no longer able to speak. Stopped dead. Drooling stoned. Muuuuhngnmgmghgmumghgmmhuuh.
After a few hours were were capable of movement and went to another party. It’s hopping and bopping and some douchebag is doing the douche dance with a woman we knew was friends of the hostess. He had just met there at that party. Great. At least people are having fun. I absent mindedly put the cookies down on a table and went to the fridge for a beer. I turn around and the douchenozzle has huffed down half the cookies in a gulp. I tell him “NO!!! DON’T DO THAT!!! THEY’RE FILLED WITH POT!!!” and he’s like “Filled with pot? AWESOME!!!” and he scarfs the rest of them down!
My wife is like – “where’d the cookies go?” I point at Mister Douchebag. She shakes her head “He’s in for it…”
Not more than 5 minutes later, the host of the party kicks everyone out – she’s tired and has to get up sometime before noon.
So we all leave, and we see Mr Douchenozzle licking the tonsils of the girl he had met at the party. We think “That’ll be amusing… not…”
A few weeks later we call the woman who threw the party and asked her about what happened between her friend and Mr Douchenozzle. We told her about the cookies. This is about verbatim:
“Well that makes a lot of sense. So they go to her place, and she says she has to use the bathroom, so she can go put her diaphragm in. Then she spends a few more minutes getting all “ready” and cleaned up. She strips down, wraps herself in a towel, and when she returns, he’s not there! His clothes are there. But he’s gone. So she goes looking around – she lives in a very small place – and he’s nowhere to be found. Then she hears wimpering coming from the closet. She opens the closet and he’s naked and fetal in the bottom of the closet, quietly crying “please god, make it stop, please, make it stop…” So she just slammed the door shut and went to sleep. She kicked his ass out the next morning. What an asshole.”
Let’s hear it for pot cookies! Especially made with Frankenpot!
Once again, I am humbled by the creativity employed by the DB1 as he mocks the douche.
Also, I’d like to trade places with Mr. Tempest for a couple of days. My best stories suck compared to that one.
Yeah. There was this other trip I had where I was reading a comic book when I peaked. I thought I got stuck IN the comic book. I later learned that particular state of hallucinations is widely know as “cartoon land”.
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Dark Sock is correct (except it was the mid ’90s for me). The ground still crawls before my eyes to this day.
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That’s a pretty good story Troy. Remind me to tell you the story of when I slurped down a whole pot of cream of mushroom soup….
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…that had about 30 Liberty Caps in it. It involved a comedian, a wrecked Ford LTD, lots of peanut butter, and a game of X-Wing that got a little too intense.
@Jacques –
I can imagine.
Actually, no I can’t. That’s fuckin crazy.
Reminds me of going to see Genesis in 1975 (in NYC for Lamb Lies Down on Broadway) and me and my buddy ate a stack of valium (pop a chocks! Six in the mouth!) then smoked several grams of Lebanese hash, and then a few doobies of thai stick, a six pack of beer, and then topped it all off with two hits each of triple dipped Xmas tree blotter and two pots of coffee.
It’s a VERY long story. But talk about completely baked… The beer and the downs made everything slow and rubbery. The pot and the hash made everything ridiculous and paisley. The Acid was LIFTOFF!!! and the coffee put an after burner on the whole mess. completely deranged. Brain is going in nine million directions, but at around 20 mph. Faster than you can run, but not much. Completely fucked up.
Remind me never to do that combo again.
Amen to that brother.
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Ahhhhhhh, the days of mindlessly mixing illicit drugs are long gone. Now a second cup of coffee in the morning equals instant heartburn. A third cup comes back as bloody vomit and a peptic ulcer.
Hayzoos lookin douche look like Albanian Jim Morrison wannabe.
…or maybe this dude in the movie “Blow”:
…and “Hamlet”:
ehhh…I meant this guy:
http://eur.i1.yimg.com/eur.yimg.com/xp/premiere_photo/20050905/18/1716876988.jpg
While Jebus, Mary and Joseph may hold the needle-track record for making my skin crawl, Muggy and Co. get my vote soley based on Mugg’s “minace grimace” and Rosalyn’s Rosalyns having the ability to start a holy war.