Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Prince Meatwad Gives Orders
“Fetch my servant wenches, Squire! Bathe them! Shave them! And bring them to me!”
“Uhm, Prince Meatwad? Things like that aren’t really done in this country. Individual autonomy, human rights and all that.”
“No? Well then scratch my “Pacas” belly tatt.”
“Uhm. Okay.”
This guys tattoo sucks!!! he cant even spell Alpacas correctly
They’re all meatheads in this shot. And the Kid Rock wannabe smells like possum entrails.
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“MMMmmm, them’s good eatin’! Let’s go to the fancy eatin’ table for some of granny’s vittles.”
Turquoise bikini hott pleases my nether regions.
Dollars to donuts that PACAS has the biggest nipples of the bunch, despite the fact you can currently only see his! Wow.
Apparently, PACAS is a small Mexican rodent. Nuff ‘said.
AAAAGH! I remember the pair on the left from a previous post on this site. He has Sister Mary Jesus Guadalupe tattooed on his boob. She was enhanced. Why can’t I forget anything?!!! Oh Wheezer great HCwDB records keeper perchance do you know when those two were featured?
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Douche in the middle has a 1 Paca. Instead of a 6 Pacas.
Mayan Eye of Coitus from the lovely in the turquoise bathing suit. I see it. She’s looking at me.
Maybe his first name is Al.
Not only is it a small rodent, but it’s from the genus “Cuniculus”. I’d give turquoise some cuniculus.
Those grads from the Pennsylvania Academy of Cosmetology Arts are hardcore.
@ Crottenham. Those aren’t nipples. Those are teats dangling from steroidily produced udders.
Udai? Qusay?
Fake tits, no tits, bitch tits, real tits, fake tits, fake tits.
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From L to R.
Turquoise hott owns me.
I can only assume that the word “Butt” will soon be added to complete the tat.
Damn it Smackdouche ! You beat me to the Penn. Acad of Cosmo Arts, you bastard. You gotta get up pretty early in the morning to get off a comment around here.
When he gets more money he’s going to have FUDGE written above his existing belly tatt.
All Pacas report to duty. Ha I made a funny. Alpacas.
This buttmunch is obviously from Green Bay. He must have the “G” on one of his shoulders.
Blue cockk ring bikini chick,,,,fwappable,,,would love to see that pear.
Mr. White stood in the back room of his office and mused over the rack of weapons in front of him. He rubbed at his chin with his gold jewelry encrusted fingers. Not a garish man by nature, he simply couldn’t resist the temptation to spend his new found, and apparently never ending wealth.
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“Dumb fuckers,” he said out loud in a cool and controlled voice, “they just keep coming, one right after the other.”
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The muted thumping electonica music and the occasional squealing of a sex starved woman managed to penetrate all three pains of the tinted glass windows. Although Mr. White had invested considerable money into the property, he preferred not to look at it for fear he would become too enraged at the most inopportune time.
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But now was most definitely the opportune time. He took a quick look at his diamond encrusted Rolex. 4:25. Five more minutes and the gates would be securely locked. Mr. White consoled himself with the rationalization that the watch was not oversized like those worn by so many of the revelers outside.
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The investment property had actually been Medusa’s idea. They had discussed on numerous occasions in the dungeon. It was only when Mr. Scrotato Head agreed to put up the initial cash that they decided to put the plan into action. He had been quite hesitant at first, but when they managed to present him with Francine, naked and trussed on a St. Andrews Cross, he simply couldn’t say no.
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The property was only a couple blocks off the strip. It had been a condo complex in a former life. Now it had all the accoutrements of a top notch cockk and c*nt resort. Two nightclubs. A massive pool complex. And stacks of cookie cutter rooms with cheap mattresses and even cheaper, gaudier decor. It was a douchebag’s paradise. A 24-hour shuttle service and ridiculously priced drinks made for a steady flow of customers. That and the under-the-table deal arranged with a couple of the local strip clubs to provide “ladies” at all hours of the day and night.
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Mr. White took a deep breath and focused himself. So many choices. He ran his fingers across the polished wooden handle of the coal shovel. It was his favorite, but admittedly he’d used it so many times that he felt guilty for the others. The maul was nice. It was Vin Douchal’s choice, but it was a bit heavy and for Mr. White the first swing was always the most important. The machetes were quick, deadly. A gift from Crucial Head after he’d completed the drafts for the renovations. So many choices.
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“Just pick one, darling,” Medusa cooed as she stepped into the doorway. Her tight, red leather corset pushed her tits up superbly, her scarlet areola peeking out of the top and contrasting so nastily against her creamy, white skin. The matching leather g-string was small enough to ensure that she was hiding nothing beneath it. The red leather leggings had been The Reverend’s idea. Although they served no practical purpose he simply loved how they framed her crotch and ass. Her hair was pulled back in a tight tail, a commissar’s cap atop her head. Chemical goggles were draped loosely around her neck. She rested a HK MP5K comfortably on her shoulder, a silencer tipping the barrel. A second HK hung at her hip, enough ammo clips attached to her belt to more than do the job. She toyed at her g-string with her rubber gloved hand. The clock was ticking. It was almost time. She licked her ruby red lips in anticipation. “We don’t want to be late.”
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“True, true,” he almost laughed. He tugged at his own rubber gloves to ensure they were snug on his hands, and then brushed methodically at the polyurethane suit that he always wore on these occasions. He slipped his goggles over his eyes, and then, with a wry smile, grabbed the Louisville Slugger and lifted it lovingly from its resting spot. A dozen heavy gage nails protruded from its meaty end. The grip was well worn; the leather stained a dark, tomato red. Mr. White hefted it, felt its weight, it’s almost perfect balance.
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He turned to Medusa just as the clock signaled 4:30. The gates would be closing and at that point there would be no way out of the resort. Right on queue the music began to blare from speakers all across the compound. Nobody would hear the screams. Or the gunshots. Not all of the baghunters used silencers like Medusa.
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As Mr. White and Medusa left the offices and walked confidently, briskly down the stairs to the pool area, the first douchebags were already floating face down in the water.
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“Club Zone.com indeed,” Mr. White thought as he brought the bat down hard on the blubbering, tattooed freak at his feet. “Club Zone.com indeed.”
Guh. Who are these horrible people?
Axl Rose is getting douchier and douchier as the years go by……..
I like this picture because it reminds me of the” King Herod mocking Jesus” scene from the musical “Jesus Christ Superstar.”
It’s literally a “mock within a mock.”
Now THAT’S genius, DB1.
Am I the only one here jerking off to Mr. Scrotatohead’s gotdamn opus?
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I miss you guys.
@ Crucial:
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He had me banging the Winn Dixie mayo can again.
Which I will discreetly return to the shelves again tomorrow
As long as the one on the left is 18 years old, I’m good with this whole scene, man.
Pacas: A large, white-spotted, almost tailless rodent, Agouti paca, of Central and South America, having features resembling a guinea pig and rabbit: valued as food.
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How true. How very true.
If you happen to come to the San Fernando Valley in Los Angeles. You will find two cities with their respective gangs. Pacoima (Pacas) V.S. San Fernando (San Feros) So if this idiot shows up to a local event in San Fernando with his shirt off he will get beaten up so hard that every big muscle will have a purple bruise.
3diurnal