Friday Thoughts and Links
Thanks, Roidbags!! Without your help guiding my optic gaze, I had no wherewithal whatsoever!!
And yes, that is what we call, sarrrrrrcasmmmm.
I have no idea why I’m writing in my teenage voice.
But sometimes we all just gotta let that venty, moody, pissant teenager that still resides in all of our chestal cavities out to air out the old verbiage.
Ohhhhh, reallllllllly. Is that what you haveeeeee to do?
Stop it.
Get back inside.
Here’s your links:
Your HCwDB Random Amazon Link You Should Click on And Buy Stuff to Help Pay For the Costs of Keeping the Site Going: “They say that it was so hot in the city today, grown men were walking up to cops on street corners begging them to shoot them.”
For the future DB1 Jr., this will be for his fifth birthday.
For you Bill Simmons fans, ever wonder what the sound of a rusty steaknife cutting through a well aged steak sounded like? Now you know.
Speaking of which: Truth In Advertising.
Clan.
Bored this weekend? Why not take some time to enjoy some repetitive photos?
So what’s up on the Jersey Shore these days? Shoe-holes.
Speaking of which: The Jersey Thor. I still blame myself.
In case you missed it yesterday: A High School in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania smells a whiff of freedom.
Nice. And from good news in the war on douche, I takes you to Pear. First up:
Not enough to ride into your weekend? Okay, have some
Don’t ever say I didn’t do nothin for ya.
you’re not worthy to quote Glengarry Glen Ross. The movie or the stage play.
@fm
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Put the fucking coffee down, Son. You don’t talk to DB1 that way and out of spite for you I will buy that Glengarry Glen Ross book twice to offset DB1’s costs cause that’s the fucking way I roll, and other shit,….. and shit, Son. And I’ll do it more as in some instances I donate to blogs of interest. And none of the shit I donate to is half as funny and important as HCwDB to cultural relevance.
Bloggers/Comedians/Independents of all sorts need some assistance as the interwhebs become more interwhebbed …..and shit.
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Fuck youuuu!
The banner pic is a fine example of Affirmative Inaction.
Members Only Pear just help me set a new Ejaculate Distance Record. Ejaculate, I says.
I’ve got that Pear’s only Member, riiiight here.
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I’m referring to my penis.
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And shit.
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Son.
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And shit.
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Son.
Rev bringing the beat down, Canuck Style. Eh?
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Son.
As mother nature continues her assault on my core body temperature with 4-6 inches of snow on the way and temps in the 20’s at night for the foreseeable future I long for sunshine or at least +40 degrees. The call of the whoooo still has not emerged, boobs, breasts, jugs etc; are still hidden under layers of wool, thermals and sweatshirt material longing to escape their shackles. I’ve taken back up my love/hate relationship with the Sticky to ease me through til warmer days. I find solace and hope in the selection of Pear on this Friday. On the one hand “Baby Mama Pear” and the rare reverse holy triangle tease gives hope, while “Members Only Pear” makes me want to join whatever club, where as a member, I would get to enjoy the finery of shoddily made faux pleather jackets to remind me of what a joke they were and stare at Pear to make me forget. This is all a dream right?
Not a dream, Et Tu, it’s why folks from across the U.S. of A. flock to SoCal. I hate snow . Hate. Even more than the NBA or Fish Slap. No snow here, not even frost
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Of course the sensible ones don’t stay, what with the mealy mouthed left wing politics ruining the old Cali way of life, the governments grab at civil liberties, the over taxation, the out of control spending of a legislature ( R and D’s both) on crack ,the overwhelming influence of illegals, and lastly 60% of the population working or retired from government jobs making us regular folks pay for their free ride deep into their old age
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If you can survive all that ^ , this place ain’t bad, it’s sunny and shit.
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And of course NASCAR comes to town this weekend bringing out every toothless yokel to the neighborhood. I like to go to WalMart to watch the fans leaving the race go in on their way to the interstate . Beer bellies doesn’t even begin to describe it, and that’s just the women.
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Can’t get the Boston teams out of my blood, though.
fm doesn’t even win a set of steak knives.
I was diosaa[pointed by bayybe moma pair, but then is wasw was saw membmer’s only pear and near shit my self through me dick, and that made up for it fo sho.
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By the way, I’mf cuk fuc,king drunk after my firth or seventyhn beer, or shot, or barley wine, or some alscohol shit of this nnight and decidedn dd hot not to correct anthing i’m fucking tu[ping down becuase fuck that 3urjktu[pid dhist ………aI ment I ment “stupd shit”…..
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So’s I be chiling watching Dr/ Who, crica Tom Baker and Romana fucking time period circup, so stray catsd and shit make all the fancy get with owhoe numbers ahd fort cormichael pa=tamgas merk tengas flasssst. Frrraakkk!!
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Bti serspise;u .//….. don’t think that shit don’ t dfuukd on the flak side , which i don’t agreee with. Not mmuch.
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Mona lisa? what? Tjaaaaaaat@@@!!!!!
Fuck you Re v. BRW..TBEW..
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.Upi you a dick and shitttttttt…
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Okay, make that a fallong gallong of beer…..
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,sit shit ai love living in a tonwn with so many mivcronm bereweries l…..YASS!qq!!!!
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,ug
Dmand, left the capps onlocoknig on ;..
asdfac
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fawk!!!
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.l>
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.BRW (by the way) DB1,,,,… you need to just fucking relase dd and print the last fucking thing a I put out for your shit like….four mfucking
weeksmothnths ago, even with the “mu=ysoginistic shit” shtat you objecxted to. you wanted to dedit that shit…so fucking deit edit it!!!!! UFawkier!!!!.
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You aint’ gettin more shoit from me until you mpoosst that fucking episode of my shittttt!!! number 3…or four….I don’t rempmper wthic.h…..just put oit up.!
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Oeaasyorry….LI loive you gys…so very much… I don’t know anthing but dot dot dotodtodtoodotodotodododt….dot….dtodotdot……..dtood.t….dti.dt;id;t;;ii;dti;;;;;;,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,a.l,;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;l,;l,;,,;l,l;,l;,l;,;,,.m,m.,.;;k,k;,.kl;k,k,’.k.,’k,.K.,.,.,<<<.,.,'<<<'',',.',.'.'.M.mm.m.
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poop.
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That shot of the dude riding a brontosaurus reminded me of the time Robert Crumb did the same thing, but it seemed to me that Robert was having a hell of a lot more fun
Cheers
Lets send a posse out to look for Jacques. And by posse, I mean pussy.
I have never seen a character like Jacques on Portlandia or a Mumfiord and Sons gig. I think he told me to go fuck myself again. I take it as brotherly love…..and shit. Drunk Sons.
Members Only pear Katherine Webb? And daang.
Members Only pear is a true delight.
Jacques was channeling FlyTeethe. And by “FlyTeethe” Ii mean gallongs auf bier.
NO TARMAL FAGOATHS AN SLAPWHOARS
On July 11th 2010 Samurai Scrote’s asshole detached with inaudible pop and began inch-worming it’s at across the floor of the Pacific Ocean heading due east. 18 months later an unsuspecting systems analyst named Chuck Wagel who resides in the greater Los Angeles area would drop his morning double expresso latte in shock as what appeared to be a soiled rolled-up condom writhing lewdly towards him sprang off of the floor and began hungrily speed-raping his left eyeball with a lewd sock-foot-extracting-itself-from-a-deep-mudhole sucking fart staccato as Chuck writhed helplessly in an astounding death agony.
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But Chuck’s head still hurts less than Jacque’s does this morning.
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Alkies.
Flyteethe has been missed since shortly after he maimed the Rock Band playing punks. I hope the daycare is still thriving cause if there’s one things kids need while spending their early years in an economic turmoil, it’s a raving lunatic of indeterminate gender to look up to in addition to their alcoholic, bath salts dabbling parental units.
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And speaking of of raving lunatic parents, Lenny The Box is coming for supper with his kids and some new herb. Son.
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Go Leafs.