Friday Thoughts and Links
Some days I feel like reading Chaucer by candlelight while drinking tasty Mr. Pibb out of an original Burger King collector’s edition Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring blinking plastic goblet.
Other days I like to ingest a tasty gourmet venisonburger with a nice fermented grape juice chaser.
And then there are days when large fake breasts with heart pasties on them haunt my subconscious.
Today is one of those days.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB DVD Pick of the Week: “Kind of cliche isn’t it, spilling my guts to the bartender.”
And lo, when the Bieberbag and the Jackson Child shall commingle, then Gozer the Destroyer will micterate on Lebowski’s rug. Which is a shame. Foreth that rugeth tiedeth the roometh together. Eth.
Megan Fox transforms. Into unemployment.
In a related story, here’s a clip of Jacques Lacan explaining the unconscious.
The best show on television outside of Breaking Bad, Louie, has started season three on FX. This review from Grantland captures the essence of the show’s groundbreaking genius.
The Star Wars that I used to Know.
Dora. “Adventure goes bilingual” for the win. I would seriously pay to see this.
Signs we’re losing the war: Monster Energy Drink replaces Sara Lee on the Fortune 500.
Google peed in a horse once.
But you are not here for horse peeing. Well, some of you are. The rest of you are here for Pear:
And if that’s too skinnypear for your tastes, enjoy
Advantages to Third World Countries Pear
Photoshopped? Only by tequila.
Sandy Bottom Pear? Let me brush that off for ya there…..*brush* *brush* *brush*…..
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Third World Countries Pear? One on each side, even!
I guess there’s little pretense with this “blonde” gal…..or wait…..ah fuck it.
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Anyway, one would think she’d don a Wonderbra or something to create cleavage and at least try to hide how fake they are. I know I’m overthinking it regarding the mind (such as it is) of a bleeth, but I just gotta air it.
Those are the fakiest looking fakey looking fakey fake boobs I have ever seen, ever. Even those women who pour a fish-tanks worth of silicone into their chests don’t look as fake as this (they just look like they have massive boobie cysts). Ugh. That poor girl should get her money back.
On the plus side, those boobs distract you from her face.
Those boobs look like baked potatos.
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Dora was awesome.
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Speaking of the BiebDoucheLook at these sick bastids ( at least we only see one of the available holes)
Tori Spelling just can’t get it right, can she?
Fuccers^
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Anyways. You’all fans of Prog Rock need to get the Flying Colors cd.
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Unparalleled drummer Mike Portnoy and mega talent Neal Morse from Transatlantic, Dream Theatre, etc. team up with flashy guitar genius Steve Morse, his steady sidekick Dave Larue on bass and vocalist Casey McPherson on a decidely listenable array of intricate musical arrangements and surprising power pop-y hooks.
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The vocals are very good although like most Prog stuff the lyrics are really empty. There are a few slow moments but everything is worth waiting for as the reward is some soaring chorus harmonies or a Steve Morse leave-your-head-shaking-in-disbelief guitar solo
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There’s no tracks at YouTube yet so this little Morse ditty will have to do:
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My youtubes ain’t coming through: Morse
HAve a greatr night fuckers and Nacy and Stefany. Lenny has some of the new crop of Re-Con for the crowd
and the cops are already here. So fuck off cops that come latere. Fucking copos we got prescriptions you stools.
Lead picture: are we sure that’s not a blowup doll or a mannequin of some sort?
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Megan Fox: not my fault!
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Three pears – and two of them quite ripe – for the price of one? awesome, boss. Makes up for the barfbag earlier in the week…
Worst fake tots ever. Ever, I says.
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Sandy Pear has savoir faire, and I have wood.
“Getting divorced is like stepping out of a time machine…but it’s a really shitty time machine. It’s the kind of time machine that takes the real amount of time to take you to the future.” – Louis C.K.
Those tits have been in the movies.
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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Das_Boot
That bleeth needs this.
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http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&safe=off&client=safari&tbo=d&tbm=isch&q=torpedo+bra&revid=1721338291&sa=X&ei=Oy3uT9GVHMGN6QHw0cWbCg&ved=0CEIQ1QIoAg&biw=1024&bih=644#biv=i|8;d|qzYPv6RQxEHFmM:
I’ve always fancied myself a bit of a connoisseur of psychedelic drugs, so with all this talk of bath salts in the news I figured I had to give it a shot. I copped a vial for under twenty dollars, which I thought quite reasonable, went around back of the Village Pantry, snorted some off a discarded hubcap, sat back and prepared to get my freak on.
For quite a while, it seemed as if nothing would happen so I walked down the block to a seedy bar and sat down next to a plump, middle-aged Asian woman. She struck up a conversation and started telling me about her recent gall bladder procedure when things began to get a little fuzzy. From that time on I can only remember bits and pieces, but I do recall looking down at her thigh and remarking about how similar it looked to a slab of roast beef. I leaned down to take a quick nibble and all hell broke loose. I don’t remember much other than the room beginning to spin, angry voices and being forcibly removed from the bar.
Long story short, I woke up the next morning in a dumpster behind the St. Vincent Hospital maternity ward with various cuts and bruises, a severe headache, a pair of taser prongs lodged in my chest and dried afterbirth crusted on my beard and down the front of my shirt.
All in all it was a pretty good experience, but I’m not sure if I’d try it again.
Comment of the Week™ – right ^there.
okay, I’ll be obtuse:
‘Sock, why are you posting quotes about divorce?
@Baron, maybe its because TomKat is breaking up and Sock is gonna swoop in and “save” Katie.
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@ Hermit, fucking gross. Well done.
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@ RevChaz, thanks bro. Party on and stay away from the existential crises vending machines at 4am, lest we hear about you setting your furniture on fire again.
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@Everyone else, Get Some unless jerking off is still what the cool kids are doing.
So,
1. Vin – THANKS for the prog link – I’ll check ’em out. In return I give you BATTLES (with Gary Numan on vocals, and it’s FUCKING AWESOME)
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2. I feel VERY sorry for the woman in this photo. Her life is SO fucking over. Think about it. Think about it for more than 10 seconds and you’ll realise, yes, her life is over. She has nowhere to go, and the few talents she has are made out of plastic. This is one of the saddest photos I’ve seen on this site.
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3. Sock is JUST FINE.
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4. I’m in a kind of blessed turmoil. Aquamarina (she posted here a few times a long time ago, and is NOT Mrs Tempest) nearly died last week from a blood infection. Aqua is an exGF from a loooong time ago, and is a friend of mine and Mrs T, and we are pleased she is home and recovering. We both owe her a number of favours. So do yourself a favour and re-experience young (if misguided) love as explified by myself and Aquamarina:
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5. FUCK Lacan. God damn charlatan.
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6. This is the bleakest thing I’ve seen in years. Fuck you.
Here goes.
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I could still get in Dutch from sayin’ something but the way I figures, there ain’t many people left who could do anything, or are in the shape do anything, to me all these years later. Now it’s a long story, so I don’t want to hear any shit or catch any guff from any of youse ADD kids. If you can’t stick with the story go on over to Hooman Karamian’s site and read about what’s going on with the losers in Scottsdale. Since it’s a long story I’m gonna break it up and give it to you in small bits over time. That’s a good idea, Aina?
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Dealey Plaza, the grassy knoll, the Texas Book Depository. The triple underpass, the stockade fence. Do those things mean anything to you? Jack Ruby? Dwight Eisenhower, the Bay of Pigs? I know you know who Lee Harvey Oswald was. These things all have something in common; Cuba, Castro and the Mob. Actually, that’s three things but really they are all the same thing. Na mean?
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There really is no easy way to tell this story, but the whole thing begins with Castro taking over and trowin’ the mob on its ear outta Havana. I told youse how great Havana was back in the day, during the 50s. The mob was printing money running hotels, whores and casinos, dealing dope and buying and selling influence. People from all over was flocking to this little island paradise and the Cuban people were benefitting from the mob’s success. And that fuck Castro ruined it for everyone. But I already tole you that.
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So after Castro did what he did, Eisenhower started plans to explore overthrowing Castro and the Commies. No secret there. What people don’t know is that Ike was in the mob’s pocket. Ike was a lot like Babe Ruth; he loved whores and booze and the press kept this stuff hid from the public. But the mob wasn’t the public. Capice?
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After World War II Ike moved to New York to become President of Columbia University. Everyone knows the Big Apple is trouble for guys who can’t control their urges for dames and swill, and Ike was no different. He drank gin like is was water and banged more dames than Sinatra and Tom Jones combined. Oofa!
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A local half-a-retard Shylock named Max “The Nose” Turtletaub had some business with a local hooker – Candy something or other – who swore she had a fling with Mr 5-Star General War Hero at the Essex House. When she tried to pawn some cuff links at his place The Nose called bullshit. She told The Nose she got them from Ike hisself, and that if he didn’t believe her, he could see for hisself the next night when she was meeting Ike at a suite in the same hotel. So Max sets up in the lobby of the Essex House and sees Ike walk in, and he follows Ike to see where he’s headed. Sure enough Ike goes to the suite Candy the whore told him about and two minutes later Candy joins him.
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Now Max was into the Profaci Family for about 25 large thanks to him being lousy with the ponies, and he figures this info about Ike might be of interest to this bunch of goombahs who was always looking for ways to extort money from working stiffs. So one thing leads to another and a Profaci goon called Louie Five Dollars sets things up so one of the Family’s puttanas – Rosalie the Clit – winds up as Ike’s bang box. She got that moniker cuz her clitoris looked like the rear fin of a ’57 Caddy. Clitoris, I says.
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Things worked out even better for the mob. As it turned out Ike loved guinea broads and loved guinea broads bangin’ his ass whilst they was wearing his General’s uni. One thing the mob has is an endless supply of guinea broads who like to fuck. So Louie $5 and his crew set things up so they can record everything. A real Candid Camera, ya mean?
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Long story short; the mob got pictures and film of Ike banging in ways people would find “odd,” which eventually gave all the mob families leverage on a local level. Who knew that Ike’s tastes in guinea dames, Max the Nose, Louie $5 and Rosalie the Clit would all play a role in directing the course of history?
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Next; the mob gets Ike the President and JFK the Senator, who loves him some whores.
Well, it may be like lying on 2 doggie Kongs™ , but I’d still tap that.
Doucheywallnuts don’t you have a job or anything else to do? Oy Vey.
We like Louis C.K.,we like anyone that’s really funny and appears like a sadsack.
And those boobs could double as shelves for the books she could be reading…sad,really isn’t it? I got the feeling her doctor is laughing at her.
Surely, balloon boob is to autobleeth as codpiece is to autodouche.
@Doucheywallnuts, I’ll read your schpiel when my Focusin kicks in. Also WTF happened to Medusa? Is she still LARPing with that dildo made of mercury? Aw man, we’ve had some good times here haven’t we?
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Is it still okay to be a total dick to everyone or are we not doing that anymore?
With tits that fake there’s gotta be a huge wanger on that fucked up freak of nature hidden by “her” dress thing. The flamer on the left with a tranny fetish can’t wait to have it slid down his throat.
Louis CK is a tool.
Those aren’t tits, they’re battering rams. Holy crap.