Friday Thoughts and Links
Remember when Peter Gibbons explained the simple truths about history?
How there were pieces of flair that the Nazis made the Jews wear that first established the vacuous consumer culture in which class is identified through the commodification of identity?
Heed the words of Peter Gibbons, Jerzey Tatthole. For you are Ric Flaired.
No idea what the hell I’m saying. But I’m still in NYC. Where Hot Chicks read the New York Times.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: ” I don’t need this. I already got trouble with my kids, my wife, my business, my secretary, the bums… the runaways, the roaches, prickly heat, and a homo dog. This just ain’t my day. “
Aging men turning to Botox for job interviews. In as rough an economy as we’re in, it’s hard to know whether to mock this or feel deep anger for how badly Wall Street pounded us in the pooper.
It’s pretty hard to get me excited to see a movie these days, since so many are pure poocrap, but Branded just may be the best. movie. evar. Hope it lives up to the genius potential in that trailer.
Dewey Beach? More like Douchey beach! Ah a ha ha!… ha… heh… I need new writers.
Greatest ‘Stache of the 1980s.
Douchebags with Photoshop. Like a funhouse mirror. Without the fun. Or the house.
Sometimes, in my sugar snack cake and cheap alcohol infused fever dream vision quests, a moment of clarity comes to me in the form of a Vision of The Ethereal Heavenly Peace.
Douchecake. For weddings as festering with materialist rot as is the rest of society.
But you are not here for douchecake. Today, you gets not ones but twos of a Pearin’ treat:
Woodland Creature Nightmare Pear
And if that dytopian vision of futurity isn’t enough, here’s:
And by Fronds, I mean slobber slap flyswatting of the Godhand.
Go forth, fellow hunters. Another week is conclude’.
Great links this week DB1. Second pear is to die for. And by to die for I mean I’d love to sniff her pear.
That “Branded” movie looks like a mash-up of the Josey and the Pussy Cats movie, Dark City, The Matrix and a couple of other sci-fi flicks and the trailer was as crystal clear as one of the Rev’s posts when he’s on a weed and brown liquor bender.
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Not only is this a new threshold to cross to be considered Auto, but could qualify for the death penalty.
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http://www.usatoday.com/money/media/story/2012-06-08/Kanye-West-Nike-Air-Yeezy-II-sneaker-launch/55459428/1
True story I was cast as the cheeseburger in the seconds 14 thru 17 in “Branded”. I got to hang out on the set and shit. It was cool I hope the movie does well.
Mmmmm…… Pear of Fronds!!!
I’ve been “Branded” a few things. Alcoholic, drug-addict, cheater, mad genius, drunk driver, shylock, and perfect father. Fuck the Botox my face is perfect at 47. I could use a “Kenny Rogers” on my chest region mind you but I’ll have to get sober for a few mornings and just do some pushups.
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I’ma start drinking Crown and Coke for the Triple Crown hysteria and I may get stoned in one minute.
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I went and got stoned for a minute.
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I bet Nena would suck a shitty cock, Dirty Germans.
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This Neneh too. I better stop the weeds not affecting my boner.
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Stoned
I believe the original “Woodland Creature Nightmare Pear” hangs above the collection of thigh restraints and balloon knot stretchers in Medusa’s basement playroom.
Having Jersey tattoo-eed on yer pec is beyond the call of duty.
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Vincenzo wins.
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And by wins I mean burps garlic laden “Bagna Cauda” and shits out olive oil puddles in the public terlet next door to the restaurant kitchen so’s the manager doesn’t hit him in the back of the head with the big ladel for “stinkin’ up da place”. Again. Vincenzo hates that but needs the paycheck to show to his P.O.
I want to straighten Pear’s fronds with my meat rake.
Nightmare Pear should bring Von Goolo scurrying from under the basement in 3…2…1…
Those aren’t palm fronds. That’s bamboo, and the big leaf is bird-of-paradise.
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True story.
That horse was scratched just so’s that crooked trainer could fuck up The Rev’s weekend.
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There is no God.
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Or Dewey Beach pic. The bastards.
That’s not bamboo. That’s Samurai Scrote’s pubic patch which is harvested daily to meet the demand in North Korea for chop sticks.
Does he have a corn dog tattooed on his chest?
Don’t mock the Botox guys. We all got sandpaper fist-fucked in the pooper by Big Biz, and Wall Street just considers that foreplay for the Grand Reaming they’ve got planned next. Can’t mock a guy just tryin’ to survive. I can’t, anyway.
I’ll tell you what happened to that horse, D.H…
Woodland Creature Nightmare Pear is Virtual Woodland Creature Nightmare Pear. And…she’s making me look at my computer funny.
Ah the weekend. Summer weekends remind of Miami Beach and the time when Sinatra hosted Elvis’s welcome home from his Army show at the Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami in 1960 it was one of the wildest times I have ever been a part of. During the run-up to this show we was all down there filming that Tony Rome picture and painting the town red almost every night. We was also banging anything that had hairless legs, which sometimes resulted in very interesting circumstances. Knowing that the whole Miami clam bake was coming to an end with the Elvis showcase made it that much wilder.
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The powers that be had decided back in ’59 that “The Pelvis” was coming back and the plans were made to have this big shindig TV show hosted by Frank and broadcast for all the world to see. Never before had two superstars of this kind shared the stage. There was some good-natured animosity between these guys. Over the years Frank had made some comments knocking Rock and Roll and Elvis, but Elvis was a good guy and handled it well. Plus Elvis got his revenge.
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So we was all down in Miami and it took over a week to prep for the gig. At the time I was working as the assistant to the head of the city of Miami’s building code department. And by working as the assistant to the head of the city of Miami’s building code department I mean I was in charge of all the concrete delivery and excavation for all new construction in the county and managing the skim and kick-backs that were coming from the builders and the city officials back to the East Coast Families.
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The whole gang was on hand and Frank had his Hoboken Goon Squad there to keep an eye on his daughter Nancy who, plain and simple, loved to fuck and would fuck anything. She did fuck anything. Except Rickles, of course. So Frank’s goons tried to get her to keep her pants on and would also work to scare the shit out of any Charlie who thought he might take a run at her. It didn’t take much to get into her trou, so these guys had to be on their toes. Trou, I says. Che peccato!
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This week in Miami the head goon was a guy named “Ralphie Figs.” I never did know his real name. He claimed to have invented the Pinky Ring. He also was a Button Man for the Gambinos and liked to kill guys by putting them in industrial trash incinerators. Now, he wasn’t killing any of the guys who was banging Nancy, but they didn’t know that, so his presence was a pretty good deterrent. And besides, he was banging Nancy. This did not stop her from sneaking out and looking to get her itches scratched. Ya mean?
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One night she gave the other babbos on the goon squad the slip and hooked up with some colored guys she met over at Wolfie Cohen’s Rascal House. The goons roughed up these moolies pretty good and Frank had to grease the muckety mucks from the local constabulary, some of the meat eaters who were were called to the scene of the “incident,” and the witnesses who needed to be shut up, to make the whole thing disappear. Nancy was a real problem and gave everyone agita (pronounced, “ah-gee-da,” I says). If she fucked a guy, the guy would catch a beating, and if a guy wouldn’t boff her, she’d threaten to tell her Daddy’s muscle the guy did, so he’d get the beating either way. Madon, what a Sticch!
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The week of the show we knew she’d make a play for Elvis. She fucked Norman Fell, so you don’t think she’s thinking of fucking the biggest star in the world besides her father, the only guy who could eclipse Sinatra? The problem for her was Elvis was nailing everything that came within a bird’s length of him. Some of the best pro girls in the greater Miami area was tossing him free ones thrice daily. Thrice, I says. So Nancy had to work for this one.
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Ralphie Figs was no dummy, so he did what Mr. Sinatra asked and made a lot of dough playing nurse maid to the horny daughter. This was a much safer gig than collecting for shylocks who lent money to people of questionable morals, and who would shoot you and then polish off a nice plate of Baked Ziti. But at the end of the day he wasn’t afraid of Sinatra and didn’t care if Nancy played Hide the Sopressta with Mighty Joe young hisself. So he banged her, had her followed, and filmed her getting banged by other guys so he could use the footage at a later date if need be. Capice?
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One night Nancy finished banging Figs and waited til he drifted off to sleepyland before sneaking out to make her play on Elvis. Elvis knew who she was, and she had been at the show rehearsals, so she was able to get word to him to set some time aside for her. Which he gladly did. Hey, she was good lookin’, loved to boff and was Sinatra’s daughter to boot.
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So on the night in question she ducks out and heads up to Elvis’s room. What she don’t know is that one of Elvis’s crew told one of Fig’s crew that Elvis was fixin’ to meet up with her that night for a fuckfest. Figs had one of his guys rig up a real first-class hidden movie camera set-up so he could record the evening’s events for posterity’s sake. And also so as to set up Ralphie’s retirement fund. Na mean?
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So Nancy had her fucking shoes on that night as the King delivered the best performance of the Tupelo Basket Fuck that he ever done. Tupelo Basket Fuck, I says. And it was all on film with sound and in living color. Nancy couldn’t keep her mouth shut about boffing Elvis and when Frank heard about it he hit the roof. She was a real chiacchierone.
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This is where Figs played his cards. He told Sinatra he had the whole thing on film, as well as a complete volume of his daughter banging all kinds of guys, and showed him a little bit of the footage so that Frank knew he wasn’t bluffing. Figs told Frank he wanted an amount that was a digit with 6 zeros after it, and if he got that amount he would turn the film over and mum’s the word. Figs never worked another day in his life, and as a matter of fact none of us ever saw him, or that film, again.
Doucheywalnuts is the king. THE KING I tells ya.
They killed my horse. Fucking bastards. Good think I bought a big bottle and a few cranks rolled.
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Renderers
Although I haven’t read Doucheywalnuts newest reminisce, until then, Dark Sock FTW!!!
Speaking of Rickles…
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http://www.hollywoodreporter.com/news/don-rickles-president-obama-shirley-maclaine-335308
Doucheywallnuts kills yet again!!!!!!, he’s a shoe in for some kind of award come award season.
“When you’re young, you look at television and think, There’s a conspiracy. The networks have conspired to dumb us down. But when you get a little older, you realize that’s not true. The networks are in business to give people exactly what they want. That’s a far more depressing thought. Conspiracy is optimistic! You can shoot the bastards! We can have a revolution! But the networks are really in business to give people what they want. It’s the truth.” – Steve Jobs
Don’t really like the guy, but he does say some good stuff.
Nice one DW, whatta dame that Nancy Sinatra. The closest thing to that kinda action I’ve gotten was reading that story. Even my weirdo neighbor scored last night at 2am. Thank you paper thin walls. Ah Madon such is my life. Happy Friday everyone!
I fist fucked the stable groom who peed in the butt of I’ll Have Another…it was bittersweet!
it was also dark….Sock?
Schwartzes at Wolfie’s in 1960?
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Hadda be the help.
Yes Stephanie,,,,he has a corn dog tattoo on his chest, with New Jersey scrawled on it.
Pathetic.
I have had personal interaction with various New Jerseyites.
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This is what makes them who they are: They absolutely know they are lesser human beings. It’s obvious, even to them.
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But they refuse to be treated like lesser human beings, and are in-your-face about it.
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Piscopos.
Mom and I fist pumped the shit outa that place.
Thanks for another great read, Wallnuts!
Ralphie Figs,,,genius.
Tks Wallnuts, you cant make that shit up.
Agita – from Broawdway Danny Rose