Friday, June 4, 2010
Mopey’s Neck
Don’t look now, but Shia LaBouf just decoded Mopey’s neck to determine where Optimus Prime hid Michael Bay’s harem.
That’s right, bitches.
Transformers references.
Because it’s early. And references to Slavoj Žižek’s nearly opaque use of Lacan to position the garish neck tatt as an ahistorical signifying phantasm of societal trauma, yet neither fully linguistic nor semiotic, just ain’t flowin’. Thankfully Ass Pear is on the way.
Or, as Jacques Derrida once noted, “Ass Pear is neither ass, nor pear, but something fully real at the moment its différance renders it incapable of grasping in the here and now, and only on the butty butt.”
Sweet look broski. You make Perez Hilton look like Charles Manson. Get a job, toolbox.
hey girls, did i get it all or is there still something in there?
Dogtown and Sleeze Boys.
The scale on his neck must be for weighing the trophies he pulls out from his mining operation
I found Mopey’s long lost brother.
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Surprisingly, the search was short, precisely as the ladies will discover soon enough.
Choads of Dogtown.
What’s with the sudden influx of severe Tattbags?
After a streak of bad luck and poor handling form during his run on a crab boat he earned the nickname One Finger Louie.
This is what happens when children are conceived in the mud at a Widespread Panic concert.
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Later in life the boy needs direction but the folks have left him behind and are on the road all summer in their Winstar following this year’s tour recalling their younger days of acid trips and drinking wine until 4 AM by having acid trips and drinking wine until 3 AM as they no longer party like in the old days.
I have always found that the always classy neck tatt says not only fuck you society but fuck you God as well. Gotta love these early 20s dickheads that tatt their whole body up. Good life choice.
Skanky girls like the two pictured love neck tatts and pierced bell heads.
yea thats right girls, drink the koolaid
One night with the two vacant blondies is an experience you will remember forever; they are antibiotic-resistant.
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Foolio on the left is, quoting Hitch, best disposed of from a great height, over water.
The French also made famous the use of the Guillotine, didn’t they?
Maybe they should bring it back into style. This choad would be perfect to calibrate the blade.
As usual, quietly waiting for Ass Pear.
Once Jack and Janet tossed her out of the apartment Chrissie started running with Mr. Roper’s dope-dealing stepson; life took a quick turn for the worse thereafter.
Slugs Grifty: 2008 World Champion Booger Flicker; crushing pussy like it was Natty Lite beer cans.
In prison you either get tatts or you get sodomized on the regular.
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Mopey said “Yo, why it gotta be either/or?”
Blondie in the middle has a mouth that could fellate a water tower.
.
.
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Which makes her just barely qualified to orally service me… should my wife mysteriously perish by pillow suffocation.
When blondie blows this douchebag, it must look like an earthworm writhing its way along the floor of a toothy cavern in Carlsbad.
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Or a small bit of plankton meandering past the rubbery lips of a Megamouth shark.
Give the guy a break, he is probably enjoying a nice night out with two classy ladies after spending all day in court litigating big oil and trying to make America a better place for us all to live. Or… he just got done smoking meth in dogtown on 18th street and this pic is taken in the middle of the drum circle. You decide.
That throat is ripe for the slittin’!
His tattoos tell the epic of Lemmywinks, escaping the colon of Mr. Slave.
Where’s Ed Gein when you need him?
Hey, lay off people! He doesn’t know better! All his did was scratch his itchy bum, and he asked these hotts to smell his finger. You have to make accommodation for those mentally less fortunate than you.
Hott on the right has some serious bad-schoolgirl vibe. Nice. Kind of like a blonde, caucasian Gogo Yubari.
Or, as Jacques Douchteau once noted, “What an f’ing twat!”
Blonde in the middle could fellate a broken underwater oil pipe. She should probably swallow every last drop too.
The end-point of the evolution of the word “necking” can best be described by this douchebag’s, um, er, uh, neck.
Tired of suffocating in turtleneck sweaters each year, doodlebag here spent his money on turtleneck tatts instead.
One wonders if even the tatt-artist is tempted to grab the neck and squeeze instead of delicately injecting the dye via needle.
It’s the death grip, either way.
Silken satin platinum blondes are ironic signifiers of Bleethed skanks, while run-together tatts in their dirty inky appeal indicate “cool?”
A chipmunk will stuff his cheeks and neck with nuts while a douchebag will just tatt them to show to the gals he has nuts.
The latest indicator of “shit up to here” is the douche neck-tatt.
When Tony Alva quit his skate team and this guy went back to G & S as a toddler. Stacey Peralta and Sid held him down and hieroglyphed his ass. They later all parted ways after I switched to the Sims team. Fuck Tony Hawk and this goof.
The scales of justice over his Adam’s apple must be a desperate attempt to right the wrong in the Garden of Eden.
One wonders if Mopey’s dick is as tatted as Mopey’s neck.
Mopey shows off his poker signal codes to two Las Vegas hoochies in the hopes they’ll let him play his hands all over them.
He thinks his detention hall was called Dogtown. I knew Dogtown and you are no Dogtown punk. I would like to break his neck with my 31 year old Big Foot and smash his face with my Kryptonics and Gullwings.
If you don’t get the reference to old skategear you are probably a douchebag.
I would pummel him with my Lance Mountain deck and Venture trucks. Then I would shove my skid plate down his throat with a couple of Swiss bearings.
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Cus that’s how I roll(ed).
What he did was, he gave his little sister a shit ton of whiskey and pcp, gave her a box of crayons, and let her loose in the downstairs bathroom after his dad’s bimonthly El Chico Juarez platter bender. Then he took a picture, went to the tattoo parlor, and asked if they could turn it into a tribal.
If BP’s done with that pipe crimping robot maybe they could put in the GPS numbers on this guy’s neck and turn it loose after him.
Those scales look like a good place to press my thumbs while I’m throttling the living shit out of him…
Hey girls can you smell that?..No?..pull my finger again
That’s an outline of a cock tattooed on the side of his face,seriously. He chose that one off of the chart on the wall.
FUCK this guy!!! Dude, if I ever see you in public with that FUCKIN’ WANNABE GANGSTA LEAN going on, I’m gonna fuck you up!!
I PROMISE!!!!!!!
Lacan and Zizek references mixed in with douche mocking?? I have found my online home. Great stuff, keep it up!