Friday, May 28, 2010
No More Philosophy
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subject: may 22 philosophic picture
Hi, I am the person in the picture that was posted on may 22 under philosophic saturday ramble.
I am not sure how anyone obtained this photo. This is a professional picture for a Versace Advertisment and is copyrighted. I have the proof from my agency. I would like to know whom submitted this photo.
I thank you for your cooperation.
— reema
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Feds are still working on tracking down the mysterious submitter of the image, Reema, but local police have released the following image of the suspect, believed to be a fugitive from the law and douching abroad in France.
Good luck with your investigation, and may this culprit be apprehended for his crimes against humanity.
No wait, he’s not in France now, but under house arrest in Switzerland—–wait a minute, that doesn’t look like Roman Polanski…..
He’s wearing pajamas, they’re bikini’d young hotts…..
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Is that Hugh Hefner’s wayward son, Spew?
@ Wheezer
I don’t know but the girl on the left looks like she is giving the stink eye, or is that just the way her face is arranged?
ask not for ‘whom’ the douche toll
he tolls for thee!
& wtf boss, the Haiku stop accepting comments @ 105?
“whom submitted” – A for effort?
All I can say about that thread is that it was a good read. Treat it like the Sunday paper. Get a cup of coffee, kick off the slippers and pour through the long posts. It’s worth it
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RE: this photo
Christin Audigier’s cock is actually located above his asscrack. It was almost cut off as a vestigial tail when he was born but when the surgeon raised the scalpel little Chris pissed in his eye and the discovery was found
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True Story
back and to the right of this picture, crimson ted is pointing back at him.
I suppose that quote should read, ‘for whom the douche oils’
Neuman!
@Reema,
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I have it on good authority that Buffalo Beast submitted that pic. Feel free to take it up with him…
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at your own peril.
I hope she find whom did it
New Orleans (AP) Ed Hardy Corp has volunteered a solution to the oil spill off the Gulf Coast.
Hardy is offering half price airfare and free Grey Goose vodka shots to it’s army of douchebags to go to the coast and smear as much oil over their bodies as possible in an attempt to mop up the spill.
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Douchebag spokesman, Mark “Donkey Douche” Mueller said today that he will personally give a free vicodin to anyone named Mike from the Chicago area that joins him on the coast. “So far Mike,Mikey, Miguel and Michael have signed up, brah”
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In a reply to Mueller, Florida twatwaffle, Jason “Stackhouse the Poet” Bleiber said in a Facebook post, “Dude, we’re there. We’ll get swole, impact d shit outta that oil spil and crush any pussy within a fist pump…… GET SOME !
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Upon hearing the offer, Hillary Clinton is reported to have shackled Bill Clinton in the cellar of their Harlem, NY estate
“I love Breasteses. Very, very nice. I also love radishes.”
Reema
You are delusional and surely one of those “models” who was recruited by an “agent” when you were spotted coming out of a Supercuts that’s located in a mall somewhere in middle America. More people would have seen you here than in your “advertisement” for “Versace.” You deserve ample mocking…
@creatch, 9:23 a.m. –
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The haiku thread is again open for business. : )
Does the blonde have a Hello Kitty tatt near her cooter? Really? Really?
was this that picture of the guy that looked like a girl with a beard? classic!
As soon as the photo shoot was over, Christian gestured for his man-servant Benoit BoneSmuggler to “shoo the icky girls away” so the swapping a population paste could begin.
I don’t really care who submitted the photo, let alone whom. But what I do want to know is two-fold: is the brunette on the right of legal age and, if so, where may I go to find (stalk) her and talk to her (fwapp-off to while hiding behind the her shrubbery).
Holy shit! A take down request whodunit!!! I think it was Professor Johnson, in the library, with a computer.
I think it was Stackhouse at the glory hole with a fleshlight.
Ahhhh sheeeit. Massengill done started a game.
It was Bruce Boxleitner, in the foyer, with a lämp.
It was Mr. White, in the restroom, with his pee pee piston.
It was Samurai Wadsworth Longfellow Scrote, in the conservatory, with Walter Mondale’s cockk.
It was Mrs. Peacockk, in the horse stable, with a frozen jelly dong.
It was Creature, on a tropical beach, with an asbestos flaygon.
I believe it was Samuräí Scröte, in the earhole, with the first 37″ of his unsheathed cockk (a.k.a. “just the tip”).
It was Darksockk, in the Gulf of Mexico, with a fishing trawler.
It was Bucky, in the VIP room, with a welder’s torch.
It was Wheezer, in the cellar, with THAT MUTHUFUCKA’S!! dignity.
It was Pumpy, from the heavens above, with the left hand of God, saying “let there be mock.”
It was BCS, on Plinky’s mom’s pendulous love handles, with a Plymouth Fury covered in dolphin cockk’s.
It was a left-handed Jewish lawyer, with a thesaurus, in Stackhouse’s frozen turkey locker.
It was Crimson Ted, over there, with his index finger.
It was Russel Brand, with a spy camera, hidden in his chest hair.
It was the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.
It was Mammy Miami, in a closet, with a sack of poo.
It was me in the backyard filming blondie doing deep knee bends over a pile of carrots.
It was me, in brunette-on-the-right’s belly button, with what might appear to be my fully-extended pinky finger with the tip painted purple–but isn’t.
(What’s with my psychic “at-the-same-time” posts today?)
It was Whom, in the Whom, with the Whoomer.
It was Torque MuleBrow, in her ass, with GoJo lube.
It was Admiral Hamilton ManTitty, with the Porch Beef, in the Paw Paw Patch
It was Nipsey Russel, in Charles Nelson Riley’s bunghole, with a Gordita.
It was me, in the horse, with pee.
It was Dyslexic Donkey Douche, at night, wondering if there really is a Dog.
It was BCS, in Pfah’s stolen VW, drinking Pig Whiskey and eating Gut Loaf Whistle Pie between cruel laughs as he ruined the white leather upholstery.
It was Peter North, on Reema’s face, with a pint of meat yogurt.
It was Llleahmmah, on Ambien, in his van behind the Arby’s.
It was Crucial, sipping MM, with hidden porch beef.
Despite the possibility of her Hello Kitty tatt, her probable stink eye and above all “whom” she chooses for company, I’d nail that blonde piece in a heartbeat given the opportunity. The dark haired one is alright too and while I’ve risen early this morning for a number of reason the dude in this photo makes me think I don’t want to face the day. In fact I don’t want to face any day knowing there’s idiots like that wandering around the planet. Crimes against humanity sums it up well.
It was me, but it wasn’t my fault. The baby walked on my keyboard while the Mrs. Reverend Chad was getting a bum blast. She is so cool for an old broad.
It was Mr White, in the E8xE8 group with an SU(3) symmetry.
It was Crucial, in the impluvium with the Corinthian capital
It was Dr Bunsen, in the collider with the Cabibbo–Kobayashi–Maskawa matrix
It was Troy, in Stingray, with the aquaphibian
It was Medusa, in the Dungeon with an Italian
It was Mr. Scrotato Head, in the tabernacle, with a yogurt gun.
It was me, in the comments thread, with too much time on my hands…
It was Scroteophobic, in Fratton Park, with a football.
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Ah, that was just lame. Let me try again.
It was Bagnonymous, in Ass Pear LaPlantes asscrack, with generous and equal amounts of industrial lubricant and black tar heroin.
It was Scroteophobic, using the Kostant-Sekiguchi theorem, with a slide rule.
holly shheeeeeet darksocks I think is onto who the freak did it
man I ache from the laughs
but its good though
It was Vin Douchal, in the honkytonk, with a Stratacastrater.
It was Smoot, in the Museum of Natural History, with a “Groooh?”
It was DB1, using the HoHo’s, with Veronica’s librarian glasses.
FLYTEETHI NYER MTHURS FYKIN GCOKOIE DOU GHCUTERT WTIH AF UCKNG THRAOT PUN CHA ND A YROK PEPRMINNNTP ATTY FUKRS!!!
It was Crucial Head in Mr. White’s ass with a box of Nerds.
It was (Fuck) Fish Slap, with Gator’s leathery foreskin (kinda redundant, I know), in King Douchuous IV’s left ear.
It was Medusa, in Francine’s Scrotatomasher, with baby lotion and a 10 lb. shake-weight.
It was Stephen Hawking, in a shopping cart, with a Spyro-graph.
It was Purg Hott, in DB1’s bank account, with a court order.
It was Snooki, in the pumpkin patch, with a waffle cone and a can of RustOleum.
I can’t believe I just read 70, count ’em, 70 posts, and not one of you muthafuckas pointed out that “Reema” is just a reamer from New England.
And no, Reama, Barbizon School does not count as a “modeling agency”.
I thought Reema was Licka’s cousin. And Tossa’s niece.
It was a Stingray, in Steve Irwin’s sternum, with a barb.
It was Baron Von Goolo, in a mortuary, with the severed head of Dane Cook.
It was Captain Bringdown, in the… wait… where the hell is Captain Bringdown??
It was Mr. Biggs, in Whoop-di-douche’s cat’s litter box, with the blackened, still beating heart of Russell Brand.
It was Sergeant Scrote Stain, in Vin Douchal’s grandmother’s armoire, with Jacques Doucheteau’s mustache.
It was Lämp, in Ass Pear, with a toggle switch.
It was HJBB&D, in the library, reading up on all the poetry he could find because he feels threatened by Stackhouse (who is not yet in the HoS whyyyyy, exactly?), throwing a book at a computer in frustration.
It was Franklyn Deal
orNo Doucheifelt with some
Haiku about boobs
It was Stackhouse, in the men’s room, threatening the water in the toiletbowl.
OK OK…..it was me, in my jerkatorium, pissed off that I had to go to work and will have to wait to see Ass Pear…..
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Or not. Who can say?
I am currently trying to talk Mrs. Wedgie into legally changing her name to Reema. Fuccen brilliant name, Mom & Dad. Truly.
What is your son’s name, may I ask? You know, Reema’s little brudda?
It was Vin Douchal, in the Yankees locker room, with Steinbrenner’s fat fuccen head.
@ Wedgie
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Isn’t his name rooter?
It was Donkey Douche, in the ass, with his cellmate.
I’m confused, was Reema the chick with the faraway eyes or the other chick with the facial hair?
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BTW Reema, If you find out whom the perpetrator is, I can hook you up with a left-handed jew who will take the bastards to the cleaners.
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My guess:
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Your agent, in his office, with a laptop.
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It’s probably the best publicity you’ll ever get.
It was Matt Stafford, in the fourth quarter, with his sunglasses and a a spongy muffintop.
Doc, you nailed it. Except, of course, it is pronounced “rootah”.
See ya. Time to go to get the cah washed. Then I might just have a couple of beeahs.
It was Old No. 7, on the front porch, with beef.
It was Fung, in the bathroom mirror with eyebrow tweezers
It was Pumpito, in the camera’s field of view with the disturbing man-boob-implant-jiggle-dance
It was Mr Scrotato Head with Francine’s underwear in defiance of three restraining orders
It was Dali, in the sound of a saxophone with fish for hands
It was Mozart, in D minor with a rondo
It was Dr Bunsen, in the beginning, with a singularity
It was Billy P Forklicker, in Okechobee country, with his sister Sue-Bob
It was me, far too often, with diminishing returns
LOL well played db1. Anyway I wonder if pic submitters can qualify for whistleblower status.
“I am the person in the picture…” Ha ha really? Don’t you mean you are “one of the people in the photograph”?
Dude!
Your head looks like it was kicked into that shape by an Iranian Funeral cortege, your ‘jammies’ are the Wilipedion definition of “Teh Ghey”, and if those are not paid prostitutes, standing in for your withered winkie and overstimmed ego…
I’m a Lemon Custard named Angelo, here for kidney dialysis and a fast bikini wax. .
It was Billy P Forklicker, in Okechobee country, with his sister Sue-Bob