Friday Thoughts and Links
We have seen many oiled up Beach Hottness on this site over the years.
But ne’er have I more desired to be power crushed between two sexy suckle thighs of musculature female tilling the fields thigh power crunchitude around my windpipes.
Oh orgasmic woe!!
How soft and deft doth death’s sweet touch be!
When Sophie’s tense and strong, yet softly sweet, thighs envelop my esophageal area in a cataclysmic tidal wave of End Times Dogs and Cats Living Together Mass Hysteria suffocation.
Her suckle supple chew dog spankle showers Freudian Death Drive erotics/necrotics dialectics arrive via perfect pooch spackle.
And Bro Johnson sucks.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB Classic Book Pick of the Week: “Sammy would walk up to a director and say, ‘Spencer Tracy and Marlene Dietrich in Titanic. Do I have to say any more?'”
Yet more signs of the Bleething of American Hotties: Totally Stylin’ Tattoos Barbie!
Foghorn Leghorn considers running for Congress.
Premature Pear to counter the fact that those Bros pics even exist in a harsh and cruel universe.
Ever get confused by bearded asswipes in Silverlake?: Try The Herpster Translator
Lost your I.D.? Try a taco.
What a strange world we live in when Steve Harvey’s Family Feud is busting out raunchy comedy bits.
But you are not here for Family Feud clips. You are here for Pear. And even though Premature Pear already took place, here you go:
For the Sista Hott lovers among us. Go forth. Go forth and imbibe.
FIRST
I’d walk many Myles
to sample a slice of the
Mocha Pear Bria.
I prematurely ejaculated when viewing Premature Pear.
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I should look again.
Suck that gut in U FAG
Mocha Pear
Nice
Bro Johnson does indeed suck. His gut in.
Chick in the main picture looks like Alicia Keys. What do I win?
Mocha Pear. I would beat that ass with a car antenna.
i love mocha pear! there should be more. that is all
I hit dat sweet ebony princess with the shelf butt. I can picture her doggie style taking my Jesus-sized cock and squealing as I ram her gently to avoid spilling my ashtray and bottle of Colt 45 sitting on her shelf while I give her a reach aroung of chronic. Cause I share and the dark ladies have always liked a round of Kroeger cock after I like their musky Brillo like bush gash.
^lick. I’m crunked and off for dinner.
Are we doing halloween pictures this year DB1? Cause I got’s to get my shit going on my costume.
It takes a big man to split black oak.
I would like to die trying with Sister Mocha.
And speaking of premature and the always premature calls for HoH consideration, this oily tanned goddess deserves nod and a premature gesture to go along with the premature mess I made because of her.
So, Sophie for HoH.
Silverlake is the black (pucker) hole of Los Angeles.
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It used to be the coolest place around because they didn’t know it. Years ago, I went to a recording studio at a dude’s house up 227 stairs (ever carrry a 100 watt Marshall combo-amp up 227 stairs?) that had awesome views , a great balcony and the shit kickingist vintage microphone collection in the history of mic collections
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Their dog park was awesome and since my dog shadowed me everywhere, I often took him there to hang.
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When I’d mention to the Silverlake dude ( a drummer with immense skills at the engineering console) how awesome his home/neighborhood was he’d shake his head sadly and say, “Fucking hippies are gonna ruin this place”
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He moved to Tujunga about a year later. Fuccen stinky hippies
Mocha Pear could use some Black Walnut. Too bad I’m only The Dude.
As ever, Premature Pear makes me want to punch a nun in the cock.
Who walks around like that, with his gut sucked in so hard his asshole is nibbling his lung tips like a starving guppy?
DB1 astutely pointed out last week the practiced positions taken by the horde of lemmings seen on this site, as they prepare to be photographed. The Douchebags put on the predictable scowl as they display their faux prison tats and suburban gang signs. They flex their ‘roided biceps for the camera phone, while the Hott, with her bleach-blond bubble-head, takes up the traditional one quarter turn, hand on hip, come-hither lip-gloss head-tilt. (Boobies) And always the silicone-toxic plastic breasts thrust jauntily forward for maximum photographic effect. Attempting to break free from societal, PC androgyny they’re reduced to clownish male/female overcompensation. These Andy Warhol fifteen-second superstars are not just figurative, but literal posers.
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Their cell phones and “social media” have become an extension of themselves and a poor substitute for meaningful face-to-face relationships. Poisoned by a constant intravenous drip of useless electronic information, they’re no longer living, breathing humans, but more a series of soulless, digital images. They are members of a post-industrial non-culture. Their self-worth is reduced to the number of so-called “friends” accumulated on face book.
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They are an entire generation, relegated to bits of data traveling at a frenetic pace, but going nowhere. A legion of pathetic, frog-raping propagates, devoid of warmth, lacking in spirit and incapable of meaningful speech. No longer capable of expressing feelings beyond their own self-indulgent whims and desires. Philosophic thought is no deeper than what can be displayed in a one-hundred-forty character message displayed on the cell phone screen.
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Their trivial messages travel between metallic towers, looking down upon them with ominous, blinking eyes and are then beamed up to hovering, faceless satellites orbiting the earth like buzzing flies drawn to the stench of a dying carcass. These encoded non-thoughts are beamed back again through a series of technological advances traveling through space at light-speed, but wholly devoid of substance.
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Every time you hear an incoming text message alert or that inane Twitter® birdcall, you’re listening to the sound of societal unraveling.
As the sweet sound of drum and bass fills my ears, succulent Sophie fills my eyeballs. I’ve fallen into a black hole of pleasure, now I must hide in stall #3 of the employee latrine and mix up a bowl of tadpole soup.
The Dude posts his review of the Friday Thoughts and Links:
Excellent post by El Numero Uno — the ratio of words about being hung over, confused, frustrated and fixated on the generic Beach Hott as opposed to mocking Suck Johnson is at least 10-1. That’s good mileage, even if she’s barely worth the drive.
I feel like if I live a good enough life, I will be reincarnated as premature pear’s thong. Talk about powerful musculature applied for suffocation purposes …
Thank you Hermit.
Also worth noting that Foghorn Leghorn was actually based on the caricature of a Southern congressman.
If I had my druthers (or my sisters’ druthers), Hermit would have tomorrow’s Comment of the Week™ post.
I’ve been patiently waiting for a good dose of Hermit and when he brings it he brings with the best. Well worth the wait sir I loved it man and I’m in total agreement about the demise “social media” has caused to our social fabric.
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I second DB1, re; Sophies thighs.
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Mmmmmmmm Premature Pear was definitely needed after the debacle that was the “Bros”
@Wheezer
I second that!!!!!!, it’s pure genius
Per Tattoo Barbie. in my experience, the girl covered in tats is the hardest to impress and thus the hardest to get in bed…ie, least skanky.
Dammit DB1 just give Hermit his own section already. Wow. Bravo, Hermit.
Hermit Rising.
Could she? Oh yes…she could, she could.
I would slowly lick the salty sweat on her luscious thighs, backs of her knees, and voluptuous buttocks for starters. Gut sucked in choad I would quickly flush down the nearest toilet.
Hermit, FTW! Amazing stuff
Sophie, For The Thighs!
Sophie is PTA Mom Vanessa, just moments ago…
More than I thought…
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http://imageshack.us/photo/my-images/220/nice2v.jpg/
@DH usually I’m the first to shoot you down but you may be right on this one.
Premature Pear was perfectly timed,,,,because The Bros are infuriating.
Mochapearfwap.
As Hermit eviscerates the vermin.
Hermit FTW.
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Mocha Pear just doesn’t do it for me.
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I much admire the picture of Premature Pear, as her clam is perfectly visible between her protuberant gluteal chewyscrunchable mounds of ass meat.
Damn Douchble Helix!!!!, good call.
I don’t think that’s the same girl…
^She’s younger and tighter^. Did I say Boner?
Well yeah, Hermit, but then there’s the alternate universe of legendary Hall Of Scrote wordsmith He Just Bangs Bitches And Drinks… Say no more? Only if less truly is more.
No, DW, it’s not the same girl. It’s the samegirl. 15(?) years in the future.
Damn! Almost got the italics right.
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Now I wish I had flipped the younger one so her left arm was the danging one.
Well if it is the same girl (and I realise that I’m possibly missing some sort of in joke) I stand by my concluding thoughts regarding her; which, in a general way, amounted to suggesting that more photographic evidence was required before bestowing the fully hott appellation. She’s okay, but it’s a very flattering photo. Plus she smokes, which means her snatch could, on a bad day, taste like bong water. Used bong water.
Also, bald English tourists banging street hookers in Thailand gives you an indication of the types of idiots I’ve been exposed to this weekend.
30 years ago, there was this smokin’ hot young brunette broad at the pool. I was there, I saw her.
The one in the hat was there more recently. We have photographic evidence of that.
And PTA Mom Vanessa was that young hot thing 15 years ago. Because she’s still got it.
Get it?
I’ve not got it nor do I want to get it. Remember, I did mention ‘English tourists banging street hookers in Thailand’. I’m sure they ‘got it’… Thing is, they’re probably not sure who gave it to ’em or, when they even got it. (Don’t) get it. Got it?
Aside from this beautiful shiny girl above, does anyone have experience soundproofing basements? If so, does insulation provide acoustical benefit beyond the installation of sound deadening strapping and drywall?
As a much younger tall guy I undertook a bricklayer’s apprenticeship and can suggest there are some benefits, Kroeger. Whether or not said benefits are sufficient to muffle the screams emitting from your den of iniquity I cannot say.
@DH ^ Aha! I haven’t started drinking yet. Your point would have been understood by me if the first time I saw your post was in about 45 minutes and after three rye martinis.
Dearest Rev Chad
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Your basic insulation may offer a dampening effect against the usual sounds, such as television/video game/music. However, if you wish to get a real soundproof thing going, so as not to hear the cacophony produced by drums and other musical instruments or the primal screams produced by dry anal sex and acts of mutually consensual sodomy, you must use specially designed soundproofing foam and other like materials.
Hang on. Hey DW, you’re into words’n’publishing’n’stuff. Should that have been ’emitting’, emanating or sumfink else? Please advise.
Suck it in and wear a diaper.
@Tall Guy ^ I believe you are correct in your usage.
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http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/emitting
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http://thesaurus.com/browse/emitting
BA-HA-HA-HA-HA! You hambeast breeder, Stephanie. Pity you’re also a neurotic bushpig otherwise I might even consider unleashing my rod of justice on you when I visit to the US.
Mocha Pear makes me want things, dirty unspeakable things.
gabrielle union pear. mmmmmmm juicy
I bought 8 inch Roxul Acoustical and Fireproof insulation to be covered by a bitumen roofing membrane to be stapled to the ceiling/floor joists as a break between the wood and strapping. Then the sound deadening strapping system to be finished with a 5/8″ drywall finish. If it doesn’t work the rotten little girls will be up for sale and I’ll light the fucker ablaze. The bar is coming along nicely in the work shed.
Beach Hotness must surely have……..a Pear Of Legend.
SSSSLLLLLLLUUUURRRRRPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!
very beautiful girls