Hot Chicks With Douche Bags

5:05 pm May, 19 The Reverend Chad Kroeger said...

Now that is no horses butt.

5:07 pm May, 19 The Reverend Chad Kroeger said...

Is that Nina Hartley two decades ago. Don’t mind me I’m getting stoned EST style. Son.

5:08 pm May, 19 Medusa Oblongata said...

I would love to finger-kick her in the baby house.

5:25 pm May, 19 Ted Brogan said...

Criminally low resolution.

5:44 pm May, 19 Hermit said...

Her rump beckons hypnotically, but be not fooled my beloved friends, for the young maiden gathers her hair back to avoid the vomit as she prepares to disgorge the contents of her stomach and small bits of her esophagus into the basin. Not just here in this basin, but in many basins. From the Amazon River Basin to the rugged, isolated mountains of Homoslavia® and everywhere in between, The Machine continues to rain down napalm and cough syrup on the unsheltered and the unfortunate, straining thin oatmeal and dysentery through galvanized chicken wire and varicose veins.

Meth labs and bait shops dot the rural landscape like the open facial sores of their hapless victims. Weeds, beer cans and World War II hemp choke the ditches and deserted barnyards. Flooded fields lay fallow and muddied, the dead and bloated livestock lay rancid and picked over by famished, trailer park refugees trailing pathetic louse-ridden children and lawn furniture behind them..
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Fueled by garage fires and chicken-fried steak, desperate immigrants, astride whirling, flailing blades of hardened iron, crisscross the suburban landscape in an orchestrated gang-rape, scalping the dying vegetation. The sulfurous tails of their mounts spew concentrated carbon monoxide and methane vapor in an ear splitting cacophony , heralding the day of reckoning. The death toll grows as the coal-mine canaries drop lifeless from their perches onto the shit-strewn newsprint.
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The Machine’s pernicious by-products find their way to urban coffee shops and disease-choked ghettos, delivered through a pipeline of mutilated death. Grim marketers congregate at the doorsteps of taverns and nursing homes. The Oregon suicide kit comes with a designer plastic head sack and a conditional, money back guarantee. Limit, one per customer, fully biodegradable.
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Respected American icons like Harry Truman, Charles Manson and that fat guy from Subway® are kicked to the curb like the empty, plastic hulls of overpriced “spring” water. No one is safe from The Machine’s insidious, far-reaching tentacles, as three hundred million undiagnosed psychopaths line up at drive-thrus and tanning booths in vain attempts to squelch their deepening depression with cholesterol, pop music and skin cancer.
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Meanwhile, in a quiet, secluded glade, the vulnerable young mare stands expectantly on a morning hillside. The rising sun illuminates her glistening vulva and casts long shadows on the dew-covered meadow. Her rump quivers in restive anticipation as she chews on the tender shoots of succulent spring grasses, awaiting the arrival of her dark, forbidden lover.

5:47 pm May, 19 Wedgie said...

^Hey, Ted Kaczynski. How ya doin’?

5:58 pm May, 19 The Reverend Chad Kroeger said...

Episode #1 (Part Two) The Puffington Post
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Wow. I got way too stoned for my second entry but I kind of fuck things up like that generally when it really doesn’t fucking matter. So I got really twisted in the late afternoon at around the time the sun feels like a
God filling you with life-force while you do the pass over to the sweet Jewesses as they return to the kibbutz and their mother assumes control. The time when the mere sight of you tells her to just shut the fuck up and you’ll give it to her soon. She can’t get all snappy while you are sacrifucking a whole bunch of cash to support her dream. Wow!
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Funny thing dreams. Some or them are a beautiful patch of our innocent selves returning to our conciousness. Healing us from within is what it does. But who gives a shit about that fucking crap. We are all still miserable about something or many things that have affected us in the life in the cage. Raging against Hermit’s machine. The one true machine in place every day within inches of us preparing to take control. Ready to suck the gangrenous minds straight out of our receptacle, leaving us as a lesser, neah , a totally fucked version of ourselves.
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On a more serious note, I have seen with mine own eyes, robin’s nests seemingly abandoned like so many Haitians. My psychiatrist is a Haitian. He’s got some dope VooDoo dolls around man. And gave little effort to avoiding them while grass, sinew, and embryo flew towards my sidewalk. Dirty grackels always eating the yolk and throwing away the egg. I am in a totally stones stream of semi-consciousness but find my typing skills improved. The birds were killed by my lawn mower if I didn’t mention that already. Wow. Stoned. I forgot what I was typing about. You ever notice that the people that win lotteries are always really ugly. That’s a Jay Leno joke,
I hate that cocktease more than George Lopez. And that fucker likes Chryslers. I have hated Chrysler’s since the summer of1987 when my third car, a 1977 Bell Canada Van, Led me to my penultimate girlfriend, (not counting the old flames, travelling, hookers and massage parlors
) Kerri, in retrospecty I can see how my father hated her. But she was a Natural blonde with a loose esophagus and I dated her for a few years until I met Mrs. Kroeger. She’s a dear she’s all piss and vinegar about the new blog. But she is …………Sorry! I thought I was going to faint, I need a drink. Fuck off with the noise in the other room. Its fucking 9pm girls go to sleep. I hope you sons have boys so ya don’t have to pretend that you’re happy with the fucking nail polish abd teletibbies and shit. I am going to a clinic about getting a scrotal, throtal, swab to exclude that I may be cranky because that rev dude did me and ran away.
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Son.
.May a Friday rise up to kick your buddy in the balls.

Burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrppppppppppppppppppppp!!!!!!!

6:04 pm May, 19 Mr. Belvadouche said...

I wouldn’t mind speed baggin those tectonic plates until Richter decides to redo his scale

6:05 pm May, 19 The Reverend Chad Kroeger said...

“World War II hemp choke”….WOW….”I curtsy” (batts eyelashes).

6:13 pm May, 19 Hermit said...

Wow, Rev, I was trying to work a whole, baby birds and lawnmower thing into one of my dispatches, but
I couldn’t pull it off.
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Just, Wonderful.
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.WW II hemp was planted to make rope, and actually grows wild in ditches around my hovel. As kids we would smoke it. The residual herbicide and fertilizer got us off a little, but the weed wasn’t worth a shit.

6:32 pm May, 19 Hermit said...

I sometimes smoke nylon rope,but it’s a bit harsh and the hallucinations are of poor quality and don’t last long.

6:33 pm May, 19 The Reverend Chad Kroeger said...

@Hermit
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The 62′ Brigadoon I have restored is made of the most flexible Maidenhurst from

6:50 pm May, 19 Hermit said...

Rev, I’m sure you wouldn’t have it any other way.
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Also, If anyone is interested in a parallel interpretation of my 5:44 pm post, it has been posted in the parallel universe.

7:17 pm May, 19 Et Tu Douche? said...

I gotta say reading Hermit & The Rev is way better then television.
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I would pat top dollar if I had top dollar to sit quietly in a corner just to watch Medusa “finger-kick her in the baby house”.
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Off to the parallel universe for more pose and shit.
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Son!!!!

7:24 pm May, 19 DarkSock said...

I would pat top dollar too.
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What?

7:26 pm May, 19 DarkSock said...

You know, Hermit’s right. That’s a bathroom vanity and mirror, not a mural. Hell, I couldn’t tell; the picture’s so tiny it’s only got 8 pixels, and 7 of them are ass.

7:37 pm May, 19 creature said...

…apply rotation to a sugar plum!

9:12 pm May, 19 Nancy Dreuche said...

Parallel Universe Hermit is worse than a bad Jerry Seinfeld. Universe Universe Hermit worked in a Jarod from Subway joke amongst death and decay. Mad props.
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And that chick’s ass is so phat you can see it from the front. I think, if she would would only turn around.

11:11 pm May, 19 mr.reeve said...

Ok. So Sock just posted some shit and deleted it. NICE!

11:13 pm May, 19 mr.reeve said...

PEAR but is this cheapen pear???

2:21 am May, 20 Collaz B. Popped said...

I wanna put my Fred in her Ass – Stare.

5:09 am May, 20 Ted Brogan said...

DarkSock seems to have an itchy trigger finger.

6:30 am May, 20 Douche Wayne said...

That’s no mural. She’s clearly doing lines while planking.

6:35 am May, 20 I R A Darth Aggie said...

Mural? what mural?

7:19 am May, 20 THEONETRUEDOUCHE said...

My mind is making that picture move is oh so wonderful ways!!!!

8:58 am May, 20 Banana Hammock said...

dammit, just bent my crown trying to get a 3D shot of her undercarriage…

10:38 pm May, 20 Whoop-Di-Douche said...

Someone obviously gave her the goods to tie one on.