Mister Tony Gets in the Crabsmas Spirit
Who doesn’t fondly recall the Crabmas rituals of youth?
Sitting around by the hearth. Giddy on sugar cookies and rice wine.
Eager to open my Crabsmas presents that had been brought down the chimney by Santa Crotch.
How those warm childhood memories resonate over time. Familial traditions passed down from parent to child like virulent sores in a Burmanese whorehouse.
Far be it for me to criticize Mister Tony and his lady friends for dressing up in celebratory tones to honor the Crabsmas traditions. For these primitive thespians are simply basking the wondrous winter wonderland of bottle service roasting on an an open fire.
When not a creature was stirring. Not even Deadmouse. And the egg nog was spiked with daft spunk.
And Father Crabsmas shouted merrily from each and every rooftop… “Hoe Hoe Hoe!! Merry Crabsmas!!”
And Tiny Timbaland shed his crotches, leapt to his feet, and shouted “Merry Crabsmas to all, and to all a good M. Night Shyamalan!!”
Okay. I get a coffee now.
A good ear flick and a kick in the nuts may be all it takes to rid us of his moronic existence.
.
.
To wash the palate of all that crappy music Rev posted yesterday we need to go to the greats, archived from the days Leno had mostly black hair:
.
The Kinks, Hatred
I’d clear the babe scraps from his table. And punch him really hard in the face.
Tony the ugly bald fuck
Had a very shiny head,
And if you ever saw it,
You would want to see him dead.( Like a DoucheNoz!)
All of the other douchebags
Used to laugh and drink his Goose;
They never let poor Tony
Play with any fake tit Bleeth cooch.
Then one foggy Crabsmas Eve,
The Donk came to say,
Tony with your head so bright,
Won’t you load my nose tonight?
Then how the douchebags loved him
As they shouted out with glee,
“Tony the ugly bald fuck
In a horse’s butt you’ll pee !!”.
“Ok, that will be $40 Mr. Tony, feel free to get back in line as often as you want”.
No wait, lemme guess…..Tony wowed the ladies with brilliant lines such as “Guess how many bills I laid down for this suit?” while pointing at it, and…..well, that’s about all he could think up. The Reindeer Hotts laughed politely, thinking maybe he was really rich (“Who would spend a ton of money for that?” they asked each other), so they hung out with him for awhile. By about the 5th or 6th time he told that joke, they were outta there.
.
Methinks Vin should record his holiday ode…..
I have a really bad feeling that DB1 is going to inundate us with pics of Mister Tony.
Any time I see Mister Tony all I can think about is this:
Somehow Carlos Danger as Mayor of NYC makes sense.
Crabs? Christmas? Hon?
.
No, seriously…Pfah?
.
Quick…someone ask him if his wife’s hot or not.
That Scott Hamilton sure can pull some Hotts.
Mr Tony doesn’t know whether he wants the white or the dark meat. I suspect he may just have a carrot.
It’s Doctor Tony. I didn’t spend six years in douchy medical school to be called “Mister” thank you very much.
Tony juggles poo. One is named Lars and the other is Harriet. It doesn’t matter where he is, he turns to greet them, and they are giant turds. Everything is shit in Mr Tony’s eyes. Because his glance will do that.
.
He had a mommy named mommy. She called him the pooper. Because he did until he was 14. Then he met samurai scrote and SWISH SWISH NINJA STYLE! No one came to play as the sole egret shits on its feet.
He is reminded of the hopelesssness of the situation – no one gets out alive.
You guys realize the pattern on that “suit” is $5 bills?