Happy Thanksgiving!
HCwDB will resume tomorrow.
In the meantime, try not to kill your family today. They mean well. They’re just neurotic, horrible people who are the reason for everything that’s gone wrong in your life.
A Little Turkey
As your humble narrator prepares to enjoy the holiday in which America pretends we shared peacefully with Native Americans, I read a little Howard Zinn
For boobies. For the lack of Gator updates since he bought Bulgaria in 2008 or so. And for HoHos.
Who do not get a link.
Because HoHos are beyond linkage. They are beyond intertextuality, a pure Other without parallel. And chocolatey.
Herpster Steve Struggles to Remain Ironic and Detached Around Jennie
More references to his love of the new Chick-Fil-A on Sunset might help.
Ed Sucky
The very idea that this transcendent blonde suckle thigh who has gifted us with vision of taut glutes and orgiastic bongo celebration would commingle, even for a second, with Ed Sucky’s toxic, amorphous, societal pollutant of a corpus, is enough to make a lone bonobo monkey in the rain forest smack his breast and wail in anguish for the pointlessness of natural selection.
“Bring me the Butt of Frieda Garcia!”
For it is glorious.
Who’s Frieda? She’s my secretary. Who am I? The guy chomping on Frieda’s butt globbs.
Andy Swirlwind has the aesthetics of a rotting mango, and should be mocked accordingly. If Frieda’s butt globbs hadn’t drawn my attentions, he would, and should, be mocked further for being a heaping urberdouche.
“Would You Like to Buy Some Time Share in Acapulco?”
Yellow Eyes said in a thick Scandanavian accent to Marisa.
“Uhm, no.” She replied.
And the colored lenses go, “doo de doo, de doo, de do de do, doo, de doo, de doo, de doo de doo doooooo….”
Melvin In the Garden of Hot Chick Eden
I gotta say, good for you, Melvin. Messy mid 70’s Anchorman style aside, your poo eating grin is well deserved and prefectly apropos to the situation of illogic in which you find yourself.
Now bite the proverbial apple, and cast us all into sin.
Ubiquitous Red Cup Has No Comment On This
Ubiquitous Red Cup.
Still Out There.
Still Observing Skeezy Butt Chomp.
Country music something or other, Toby Keith, may be taking song inspiration from years of HCwDB Red Cup worship, but URC is mine first, dammit, and I’m keeping it.
Headwound Harry
Giant mandanas.
Still out there.
Still scrotey.
Still bothering hot chicks who think it’s sexy to chomp Tootsie Roll pops.
Mmmm.. Brunette Carolina… how your bony suckle shoulders invert gremlin harmonics.
In a related story, “Invert Gremlin Harmonics” will be the name of my future synth indie techno band, that will only play gigs in Echo Park, and never advertise.
