Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The Prophesy of Miguel’s Mini-Faux
“And lo! When Miguel’s Mini-Faux aligns directly with Kelly’s giggles, the douches will gather by the thousands uponst their boats and make hand gestures… and the Lord your G-d will grow angry at their cries of “Whatup?” and the lake will tremble with the stench of Axe Bodyspray…”
— Exodouche, 4:20
Miguel has dared young Kelly to ingest the beach ball… Any entrance orifice will do.
Exodouche, 4:20 has to be one of my favorite passages from the Booble.
“…& a wizened yet naughty angel will kick Miguel squarely in the crotch!”
What the hell is wrong with people? There’s no excuse for this! That blond in the background is out on a boat in the sunshine and yet is totally covered up!!
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That irritates me almost as much as that dipshit’s fauxhawk, bar-bling and 1970s-era women’s sunglasses. Someone should wrap that rope on the seat around his neck a few times, toss him overboard and gun the throttle until that craft hits land or runs out of fuel.
Frankly, I was hoping for fire and brimstone, and the water turning to blood.
Fucking antipsychotics and booze don’t mix. I just woke up and my kids are missing.
@RRR
I left you a bedtime story yesterday on the big boob nipple thread. It was kind of sick.Son. I need to up my weed consumption. Son.
I gotta find my fucking kids. Son.
^ They are at my mother’s. Ima getting stoned and drunk as nfucck son.
Exodouche, one of my favorite books from the Booble. Along with Song of Broheim and Doucherotomy.
A pox on you house , douchers
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On a related note, Howard Stern fans that miss Bubba The Love Sponge can check him out on the internet HERE.
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Same uncensored shenanigans, marks, works, shoots, cutting promos and lots of NASCAR discussion and interviews. Best of all it’s free but a lot of commercial breaks
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Ned is the man. Yes, I am a redneck from Fontana
A few well placed Exocet missiles should do the trick.
Miguel & Kelly pose unaware. Little did they realize that in the toxic water behind them a comical yet tragic boating accident had occurred a few weeks earlier. It was said the boat was piloted by a an Ambien fueled man, cranking some Professor Longhair on the shipboard stereo, who’s only article of attire was just one Dark legging. The boat sank and no one knows what ever happened to the pilot or his whereabouts. However on this day his cooler was found by a local amateur underwater explorer seen here swimming with it back to shore for examination of contents that would hopefully shed light some light as to what actually happened that ill fated day.
At least the beach ball will stay up longer than the douche…
I was thinking along the same lines…what we really need is for DarkSock to start running a charter boat service at all these little gatherings…that oughta clean up some of the water pollution.
They’re both wearing ladies sunglasses.
^I think they did th old switcheroo with their sunglasses.
This is some weak ass Lakebaggery.
@ RRR 1:22
DarkSock will be captain to your Gilligan!
Unsurprisingly, there seems to be an oil slick trailing that particular craft…
The girl is hot
His dick is small
His tiny nuggets
Her big beach ball.
She’s lickable. The only thing he’s good for is shark food. Or target practice.
So I’m walking down the road one day enjoying a new snowfall. birds chirping and squirrels making nests on a cool December day, and see a quiver. Not the shakes I usually have but a doppleganger for my compound bow scabbard. So I’m a little buzzed and think, hey that is my quiver, and what the fuck is it doing here cause I never hunt moose stoned son. After further investigation with my trusty walking companion Ben Asslick I find my name on an arrow. It said Chad Kroeger, 13 Melamine Way, Ingleside, Ontario. The revelation of where I might live in the future caused convulsions that led to Ben being spewed upon and his repugnance was spewed back at me. So I killed him while calling him a sissy
Matt Damon and danced about his corpse for three hours while cooking Jimmy Dean sausages over his flaming smoky flavored deliciousness and topping my dogs with sweet honey mustard and chipotles.
Out of nowhere comes Richard Dawson and Adam Arkin. They ask me where are you going
Charlie Brown? I told them I was going to save Kelly from the pud coccks above so she could roll and shake and suck all over my massive virility. So the fucks challenge me and quickly learn that old school street fighting beats MMA preschool training any day. So these douchewanks are dead and I ask myself where are you going, sister told me.
We are stardust. we are golden, we are billion year old carbon, and we’ve got to get ourselves back to the garden. So…..Aw fuck it I’m too stoned to go on. But did you Sarah Palin puts murderous thoughts into the minds of unstable virgins. It works. I know sons. And I am stoned immaculate. Mrs. Kroeger has just banned me from typing after dark son.
I have to go eat a fish now son.
Rev, you are a legend of epic proportions. Pass the bong, son.
@Mr. Reeve, 5;07 PM. This photo was taken on “Lake” Kalamazoo in Saugatuck, MI. On a good day it’s three feet deep. Only class-D weekend boat choads anchor in the middle of it where these fools are. Real men are in Lake Michigan two miles downstream.
Damn Rev,,,Charlie Brown to R. Dawson, Lol.
The Scrote is wearing 3 necklaces,,,HC none.
Id cover those perky a’s with honey and cinnamon.
Some salty, polluted ropes too.
– and love every second as I played Dokken on vinyl.
I think I find Lakebaggery the most offensive of all.
Sort of like giving Mother Nature one to be getting on with when she isn’t expecting it.
RevChad is the StonerNaut Du Excellance….”Hey, how many pots have you smoken?”, SON???
Tara learned a hard lesson about getting so drunk one forgets to remove one’s sarong in the tanning bed, Son.
Every time Kelly squeezed Miguel, he jumped upward in surprise and hit the rim of the boat, cutting notches into the frame with his pointy head.
Fucking insomnia. Got to smoke more, bang the neighbour while her hubby is away more, she has a hot box. Drink a bottle of XXX before Mrs. Kroeger wakes up and I have to serve her breakfast in head. Smoke some chronic first. I loves me the getting old at 46, but I could use a new cocck to go along with my swole stone. 46 more years then I go to Romulus with my dear friends Spock and James Tiberious Kirk and we have green pussy waiting for us. If we can’t find it Harvey Mudd will sell it to us.
^son.
If thy brother, the son of they mother, or they daughter, of the wife of the bosom, or the friend who is as thine own brah, entice thee secretly saying, “Let us go and serve other dudes, which thou hast not fist pumped, thou, or thy fathers.”
Namely, of the brahs of the people who are inebriated round you, near unto sober, or far off from sober, from one end of the party boat even unto the other end of the lake.
Thou shalt not consent unto his homoeroticism, nor hearken unto his shaven groin; neither shall thine eye view his greasiness, neither shalt thou spare, neither shalt thou touch him.
But thou shalt surely mock him; thine scathing words shall be first upon him to put him to shame, and afterwards the mock of all the people
And thou shalt insult him with sarcasm, that he get pissed, because he hath sought to thrust thee away from the Hott thy Goddess, who brought thee out of the land of Maxim, and into a house of bondage.
And all nightclubs shall hear, and fear, and shall frolic no more any such suckedness as this is among you.
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-Doucheronomy 13:6-11
The boat sank and you never know what happened to the pilot or his place. Today, however, found the refrigerator was a local amateur underwater
^ Wait, Motorcycle Parts is now a crime reporter? Sweet!!! Please tell me there was a body in the fridge…
@Rev 1:33:
Yes, I saw that story in the other thread. Thanks for the elaboration. Also, as a bedtime story, that sucked balls. I couldn’t fall asleep at all, as I spent the whole night on my knees, hunched over the toilet bowl, drenched in sweat, trembling and fighting with all my resolve to keep my stomach from turning completely inside out from revulsion. That story made me wish I had no imagination.
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But reading your missive at 6:13 above changed my mind and made me wish I had access to better weed right this moment. Fuccen work– I hate having to appear “sober” and “professional” and “fully-clothed” all day long. Fascists!
@Creature 5:29
There’s not a single part of me skinny enough to pass for Gilligan anymore. Besides, I liked him better as the filthy, drug-lovin’ beatnik, Maynard G. Krebs. “Dobie” even sounds like “doobie,” for crying out loud.
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“Dobie Gillis” = “do be jealous?” He’s so jelly. COME AT ME, BRO!
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Ya know, deeply inhaling Sharpies from my desk drawer gets you almost as high as a finely-packed bowl, kids. Just remember not to mash the felt tip into your nose and upper lip, or your co-workers will suspect something, son.
Anal bead charlie.
@Jacques 1:06
*Clap. Clap. Clap.*
That was downright inspiring. You didn’t by chance spend some time in a fundamentalist end-times cult, did you? You’ve got the cadence down pat.
Fatness, thanks for clearing that up. The turds at Lake Havasu were not impressed with this douche.
@Jacques 1:06:
My God, man, you’ve got to post more often. Perhaps you could continue the Stackhouse/Hurley saga? If you can do McCarthy like you can do Leviticus…
I’m a little thought and buzz, hey that’s my quiver, and what the hell are you doing here because I never moose stoned Sun.