Swole
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Monday, January 20, 2014
Marnie Kisses an Orange Challah
It must be Shabbos.
Thursday, December 12, 2013Swole Man River
Swole man river,
Dat swole man river
Dem greased up chest shave,
Dey shave that man cave,
Dey jes’ keeps roidin’
Dey keeps on roidin’ along.
Dey don’t fist poodles,
An’ dey don’t fist pumpkins,
An’ dem dat fists ’em
is soon givin’ blumpkins,
But swole man river,
Dey jes keeps roidin’ along….
Coffee time.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013Kissing the Behemoth of Choad
The Behemoth of Choad was at the top of the Alpha Omega Nu kegging hierarchy for most of 2011 and parts of 2012. Then graduation came, the Behemoth of Choad finished that degree in pre-med pre-law and was forced to get a job manage his father’s credit assets.
But the party never ends for the Behemoth of Choad. He just wears a suit and tie when he has to. Otherwise: it’s beer, bitches, and Balzac.
Because the Behemoth of Choad enjoys classic French literature.
So you can understand Cheryl’s inability to control her carnal desires.
Next thing you know, it’s time for dual yoga at the beach.
Do not judge Cheryl and the Behemoth of Choad too harshly. For if not them, then who will watch TMZ at the Buffalo’s Wild Wings bar while guffawing into a Bud Light Lime for the next ten years? Someone’s gotta do it. Might as well be them.
Thursday, October 10, 2013The Artistic Meatwad
Sometimes black and white just captures the nuances of the pathos of a given moment in ways that color cannot.
Thursday, June 13, 2013Inflatapeople
New!! From Mattel!!
It’s… Inflatapeople!!
That’s right, kids!!
Just add vodka, wait four hours, and let the douchey pool party begin!!*
*Only $7.99 at participating Walmarts, PetCos, and other fine establishments in the greater tri-state area.
* Consult your physician before inflating. May cause irritable bowel syndrome, rectal itch, shingles, lupus, or a total loss of faith in a just and moral universe.
Tuesday, March 12, 2013I Dreamed of a Cloud…
And the cloud spoke to me…
“What up?” it said with a whispered gust.
“Is that you, Cloud?” I responded pensively, with a noted lack of trust.
“S’wat I said, bitch!” the cloud replied and shook it’s mighty swole.
“Look, you’re lucky I’m even posting your sorry ass!”, I responded, for without Pear, this pic was not whole.
And the mighty cloud thundered with gay-ass dazzle…
It quivered like jello, then fondled its azzle….
“Tell me, Cloud, how is it, to float up on high? Do you grow like a daisy, in a cow patty pie?”
I didn’t know why I was talking like that, in a falsetto sing-song voice. Perhaps I saw it in a film directed by Philip Noyce.
“Cloud, does it make you happy, by the by? Do you feel you can touch the sky? Please do tell me, Cloud up high!”
“Shel Silverstein can suck my jabrone! Poetry is for pussies and wussies and Joey Fatone!”
And so the cloud fondled its ballsack and cried.
For its ballsack was shriveled and wrinkly and dried.
Friday, December 21, 2012GREATEST CRISIS OF MODERNITY: GETTIN' CHEMICALLY SWOLE. SON.
DarkSock here, dispensing this year’s G.C.o’M.
Dammit, Boss stole my thunder by posting this photo Saturday under the possibly twinkie-withdrawal induced title of “Most Impending Sign of Nuclear Scrotacalypse”, but no matter. This only reinforces my thesis, like the wholesome fiber and bran of Justice.
In the primordial con-groo-ation that is douchethink, bigger is better. This is of course why ‘bags must be repeatedly reminded and retrained after each lunch break running the till at their Arby’s gig that although a nickel is bigger, a dime is more valuable.
If a C-cup is good because it gets attention, well hot damn it stands to reason that a pornesque DDD is double-plus-good. Right? If pleasingly firm biceps are desirable, then hormone-swollen limbs that thwart wiping one’s anus without audible grunts is The Bomb.
As long as douchebags lust for the “TIT” in “Titillation and bleethes pine for the “COCK” in “Peacocking” then these unholy couplings of amplified freakish meat-sacs will continue…these lost souls will endeavor on past midnight to the baleful throb of club beats to make and break sexual alliances like lost socks tumbling in the Coin-Op Dryer of Oblivion ensconced in the vast Laundramat of Despair and Poo. This confluence of bulbous external sex organs and swole beach muscles can be evinced writhing in sweaty club hook-ups in pee-stink cave-echo-sultry bathrooms; lolling teats, chemically distended tumescent abs and Raisinette™ testes lubed by hair gel and Preparation H, emitting an unholy balloon-squeak symphony like Satan’s Crickets in the Bait Shop of Hell.
And they do this not only shamelessly, but proudly; wagging their yogurt hoses and flapping their silicone fortified dairy bastions at polite society like so many lewd KY-encrusted party favors…because their cartoonishly exaggerated flesh, good for maybe another decade or so, is their currency and worth. So reasons their room-temp IQ narcissist minds.
They simply do not comprehend that they are the Nickels. And just like Weekend Hulk here at his weekday Arby’s register…it is up to society to make change.
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Stone Phillip Will Not React To You
No, not even you, Trickster Paid-to-Pose Energy Drink Swilling Giggle Hotts.
EDIT: Props to Douche Ellington in the comments threads for noticing the genius photobomb taking place in this pic by Chet Largeman (named in the threads by “this just in…”). I did indeed miss the pudwhackery, revolted by swole as I was.
Monday, July 30, 2012Cartoon America
To paraphrase the old guy talking to Jimmy Stewart in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, when the douchebags become cartoons, print the cartoons.
Monday, July 16, 2012Peter PumpinHead and Mary Mammageddon Approve of the HCwDB of the Week
Peter and Mary think that Kisseus and Nanine are just swole. I mean, swell.
Sorry, that was a Freudian slut.
