Son
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Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Pee Wee Baz Luhrmann
I’d Gatsby her Greats…
I’d Moulin her Rouges…
I’d Romeo and Juliet her Baz Luhrmann’s… wait, that doesn’t work.
I’d Australia.
Ah, screw it. Battleship is on HBO.
Friday, January 25, 2013Friday Bonus Haiku (ultra-rare missing one-half of site's mission statement edition)
Check out this dame’s stems…
Her legs go up to her neck;
Wrap around you twice…
Thursday, January 24, 2013Ask The Reverend
Hey brothers. Reverend Chad here, the resident stoned, drunk pastor to answer a few remarkable questions with insight and spirituality. And by spirituality I mean, stoned. Son.
Q. Dear Reverend Chad, I was fighting with my wife about the time I spend on the internet. Are you really a Reverend and where is your church? Thanks in advance. Tara MacGotchys
A. Thanks for the question Tara and what kind of name is that for a dude, man. And you didn’t expand on your wife problems so I can’t help you there. If she comes at ya with a knife pop her one right in the beak. Am I really a Reverend. Yes. I am a Reverend of the Divine Universal Light Church. The church is based in Walla-Walla Washington to counter the ill effects of a strong Seventh Day Adventist Church and University there. My congregation is based in Ontario, near the Quebec border. I am just outside the city limits of a city called Cornwall, where I grew up on the means streets man. Smoking doobies, drinking and banging broads since I was in grade 6. Hell of a life before I found the great divine one. Then again I party all day now so I’m still a pig. So I moved my church from outside Toronto so as to get away from the metrosexuals and show my pampered kids a little bit of hards knocks, ya know? And I sent them to the worst public elementary school in the city with the lowest average family income in the area. We get this corn farm of which I lease a bunch of the land to a farmer. I still have a few landscaped acres and we attend services in the Grove. The Grove is also where the magic medicine of my followers comes from. The farm is home to our branch of the church and it is called The Plantation. There is a druid-like circle of Mighty Canadian Pine and Maples and it’s a great place to get you’re groove on. Cornwall used to have this huge paper mills that stunk to no end. Yas rode a bicycle by it and the acid rain would pock your lenses man. So everybody is unemployed now and ya can get a 15 year old hooker for a blowie for a slice of the world’s best assortment of pizza and a gram of Grove weed. Good times man. So to finish off with your question. The church is in my backyard. Thanks for the query. Son. Good luck with the wife. One time at The Plantation, which has distant dock privileges, Joel Osteen came to visit on his Sea-Doo with Shania Twain and Alannis Morrisette naked on the back. Tammy-Fae was supposed to be there but her p*ss got stuck to the car seat. Wow! That was a freakshow party.
Q Reverend Chad,a few of us at work were guessing you are probably a fan of Maroon 5. Thanks for taking the time to answer our question. Clint Damyacine
A. That’s a good question Clint. But let me ask you a question. Does a dove know how beautiful it is as it’s released at the end of a wedding or Obama speech. It might be beautiful at an Obama speech after Springsteen has finished playing The Rising, but at the wedding it is the end for the groom and an ugly image of drudgery and Groundhog Day Syndrome, from which I suffer, and better atoned with a more fitting poem from the Bruuuce. If a grizzly bear gets stoned in the forest, can he be arrested by honkie. I think not. Therefore I will put forth a motion that at all weddings Maroon 5 music must be played every fifth song. 5, the number of destiny. Two parents, two children, one hooker. Playing such festering pus would prevent many men from getting married and perhaps a few, just a few may be saved from a life of slavery and boredom which is the institution (torture) of being married with children. I understand now Ed Bundy(grrrr. young Christina) what Peg put you through. F**k Maroon 5 . Don’t get married son. Go for ex-strippers. Get it. Thanks for the question Son.
That’s all for this week. I’m depressed now so I have to take my SNRI’s. Keep the questions coming and I’ll try to answer your scintillating qeusstionez. Son.
Monday, January 21, 2013Two-Button Biff is…The ClubRubber
Yeah, we’ve all seen this guy out on the town. Two-Button Biff chicken-necking to whatever’s blasting through the house system, wending his way through the fleshy pit trolling for skank around the 1 am mark, after the first barrage of free drinks has softened up the moistened beachheads of Southern Pants.
Then…he spots his prey…moves in for the chill…after floating out a string of increasingly crass come-on lines without rebuff, it happens: The Suggestive Forearm Caress. Don’t do it, Amber!
Fast forward to the next morning…the drafty walk of shame after Amber abandons the futile search for her panties, which he had the presence of mind to stuff behind the head of the mattress on the floor of the spare room of a brah’s pad he’s crashing at until that kiosk job at the mall comes through again. He will, after being ejected by said brah for not pitching in on, well, anything, take the several soiled trophies he’s stuffed between the grimy wall and lumpy mattress and tack them up on the wall of his old room at Ma’s house.
Then T.B.B. will shellac himself with axe, button them two buttons…and steer the Hyundai towards The Club once more.
Monday, January 21, 2013Monday Crisis. And AbaCrab.
DarkSock here at the helm again, with ominous news.
Our hairless leader, DB1, aka Jay Louis, lies in a coma.
He was found late last night surrounded by a halo of empty Night Train bottles and what appeared to be an empty footlocker once filled with hoarded Hostess™ treats such as Ho-Hos and Twinkies. His shiftless mass was buried under a translucent shroud of shucked snack food wrappers.
He now lies in state in a Los Angeles hospital in a diabetic coma. It is not clear if this was a drunken binge or an attempt to end the crushing despair following the collapse of the corn syrup giant that until recently spewed forth such tasty treats. Given that he posted the news of the downfall of Hostess as “The End Of Joy”, he is now on suicide watch.
Until we know more, we must carry on, wayward sons. With Mock.
Take for example the dongle in the adjacent photograph, whom I’ve named “AbaCrab”.
Six pound watch, gratuitous display of his torso, which has been shorn more hairless than a fetal pig’s belly, and of course the dangerously over-siliconed girlfriend exacting endless revenge on Daddy, who cared more for SportsCenter™ than her.
What say you, faithful readers? Dissect this crass display, as always, in the comments section. In the meantime I shall endeavor to tirelessly comb DB1’s filthy apartment in the hopes for some sort of sign, some tiny clue, as to where he has stashed his Vicodin™.
Oh…almost forgot…Gratuitous Pear.
Monday, May 9, 2005Fraiku – Ken and Boobie Dolls Edition
I saw this pic from alert reader MC900footdouchebag and I had to nick it for Fraiku…
Ken and Barbie? No…
What a pair…No, it’s more like
Kenna and Boobies
Everyone knows that
Barbies don’t have genitals.
Don’t do this half-assed!
Ken looks like a cross
between Michael Jackson and
Donatella V
I am sitting here
And realize this is the worst
Thing I’ve ever seen.
Their faces were switched
at birth. Their genitals removed.
Thanks ObamaCare!
Macy’s Mannequin
And cheap knock off Real
Doll share a moment
Something tells me that
This broad’s monkey hole is sewn
Completely shut. Son.
Science is awesome.
Human-shaped condoms keep you
safe and disease free!
More like Down’s Syndrome
Boris and Natasha B.
Meet Moose and Squirrel
Which one wears it worse?
And by ~it~ I mean Botox
and lip injections.
judging from background
this picture was taken in
Homoslavia
Macklemore really
went downhill since lips replaced
by frog intestines.
I’m betting that dogs
yowl in pain whenever they
try to use toilet.
Photog says to them
“Make blowjob with teeth to the
camera!” Nailed it.
