Friday, April 22, 2011

Unsung Heroes of the Criminal Underworld

       It has been said that unsung heroes never deserve the credit they think they should get, that they fail to realize they are just average people instead of something really special. I for one fully agree with this statement, and don't understand how they can be so deluded. But one thing I know for sure is that they are boring as shit. Every time I see one of those specials on CNN I want to yawn my face off.

       Another thing I have noticed is that unsung heroes are almost always ugly--in that respect I suppose they are remarkable. They are some of the least camera-friendly people I have ever seen or heard of, and the fact that they have enriched lives or whatever does nothing to mitigate this. So I have decided to compile my own roster of unsung heroes who are not so objectionable to look at and who are not the living equivalent of a roofie. In fact if you ask me these guys are pretty awesome. They are The Unsung Heroes of the Criminal Underworld.

       Little Richard the elf was a jolly old chap with a love for pointy hats and an honest day's work. He was dedicated to his career and loved every minute of crafting his fine snow for the children until they shot him in the fucking head, not the children but someone else. He is survived by his life partner David the Gnome.

       Three-year-old Bobby Connors has never been big on complicating things. He operates on the simple belief that girls are doodie-heads, and he has made it his business to make them pay. I couldn't agree more and I applaud him for his efforts.

       Jamiroquai the monkey never planned on being a killer--but then again he never planned on a lot of things. His life took a dramatic turn in the summer of 1980 when his monkey bride was abducted and sold into sex slavery. Don't ever honeymoon in Bangkok.

       Rowena Rubberface has been dealt some devastating blows in her life, but she always bounces back.

       Marty was told he would never amount to anything since he was merely a middle finger. Big mistake telling Marty that, Mr. Index. Now you get to watch your boy Ring get his throat slit. 


Related in ways you couldn't possibly understand.

Well then I must say that's a pretty shitty fish you caught. Let her keep it.

By the way this is Benjamin Button.

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. Just ask Liberace the rat.

       Breanna the baby bookie isn't buying your sob story. She has never really been interested in your bullshit. You have two choices, staring contest or a knife in your ass (I would probably go with b.).

Bobby Connors is so awesome I'm acknowledging him twice.

Manny the Mannequin has pretensions of being hoodrich.

Baconlegs and Coach Pooter

Cannibalistic Fuckerface

and finally

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Dr. Clamslammer's Guide to Being Romantic

       My girlfriend is always complaining I'm not romantic enough, and when I say that I am paraphrasing and probably understating a bit. She essentially feels that aside from Gollum and Jeffrey Dahmer I am the most appallingly unromantic creature who has ever walked this earth, and we all know that Gollum in fact walked Middle-Earth, so according to my calculations that would put me in second place. And as proud of that as I might be if it were true, I have to tell you that it is in fact a 100% falsified and fabricated fallacy based on spurious unempirical research that was peer-reviewed by retards and the cast of Laguna Beach. In other words I doubt the veracity of this assertion. So today I am going to talk about romance, and just for shits and giggles I am going to do it using an alter-ego. His name is Dr. Clamslammer, and he's probably one of the most romantic guys around.

       Why hello there, I'm Dr. Clamslammer, and I'm here today to talk to you about romance. Much like proctology, my area of expertise, it is an ancient and very delicate art. I don't just go shoving my roto-rooter up someone's mud chute all crazy and impulsive-like, and you shouldn't go into romance that way, either. I have found that if one does they will most likely encounter the polyps of rejection. But if one can manage to ease in all lubed and gentle-like, then the patient is more likely to be receptive and submit. Though I admit there have been times when I crammed it in there all mean and rough-like in an expression of my rage.


       Never underestimate the value of licking, but for God's sake make sure you're doing it right. You don't want to tease her by doling it out in too-small samples. I recommend you start at the bony part of her heel and go all the way up to her armpit in one long romantic lick. Trust me it will drive here crazy.

       Impress the fuck out of her by blasting her with your best fart. Make sure to do it when she's not expecting it. Women love surprises and to be impressed by athleticism. It will also show that you feel relaxed around her.

       Make numerous references to her sphincter and what it is capable of doing, how it can constrict and relax, etc., and offer to demonstrate. Explain to her what a "pink sock" is and politely ask if she would be interested in one. Women like for you to educate them and we all know they love clothes.

       Brag about your sexual encounters with the vertically challenged. If you haven't had any I suggest you make some up. Women love open-mindedness and acceptance of differences.

       Show her that you are "hungry like the wolf" by dominating some Whataburger while she looks on in awe of your keen sense of romance.

       Communication is key to romance, and 90% of communication is nonverbal. Tell her about the five-alarm fire she has ignited in your crotch nonverbally by staring deeply into her soul with an ill-concealed erection. Then when you verbally tell her about it she will just nod understandingly.

       Taking her out into nature will awaken the romantic beast within the both of you. Just make sure you and your partner are of the same species.


       Suggest that she and a friend reenact a classic romantic scene from a movie for you. A personal favorite of mine is this scene from Lady and the Tramp.

       Is there anything in this world more romantic than simply enjoying a beautiful sunset together? Well, yes, actually there is, and it's hot sweaty monkey sex.

       Give your significant other one of those mushy romantic nicknames like "fuck muppet." Every time I call my girlfriend that I can almost hear her heart melting.

We already went over how women like surprises.

       There is no law stating that you can't take your next little lover's quarrel and turn it into something beautiful and romantic as fuck.

I'm not sure what "connocting poopie" is, but it sounds hella romantic.

       You haven't truly consummated your relationship with that special someone until you've had a good long soak in a heart-shaped jacuzzi tub that was last used by these people. That concludes today's lesson. Your homework is to talk to your lover about that interesting dotted line that connects your balls to your asshole. She might not know about it as women don't have them. Protip: it's called your Ass-Ball Connector.


Friday, April 1, 2011

Old People I Could Defeat In A Fight

       Your first impression of this GIF might be that it's not really related to much of anything, which just goes to show that your impressions are full of shit. It is very much related to my feelings toward old people, and shows how I would go to practically any length to kick and old person's ass, if I had a hankering to do that, which I always do. You see, the thing about me is that I grew up in South Florida, where the old people are thicker than mosquitos, and much like those detestable creatures, love nothing more than to suck the life out of your supple young skin. They pinch their precious pennies their whole fucking lives and omit close loved ones from their wills so that they can afford to come down there and live like termites in high-rise condominiums by the beach. Sounds pretty awesome, huh? Wrong, it sucks ass. Pretty much all they fucking do is drive horribly and vote, and if they're not doing one of those two things then they are probably driving horribly to a voting booth somewhere, or they are tipping a waiter seventy-five cents after getting refill after refill and asking for their brisket "very lean." They are the scum of the earth and I fucking hate them.
       And if there be any doubt among you as to my ability to kick wholesale old person ass, I submit the following photograph as undeniable proof.

       I am the fucking badass on the left. My homeboy Marshall is on the right. We bump beats loud in that bitch and do whatever the fuck we want. I can almost guarantee you that Cyndi Lauper or some other street shit was blaring at decibels that would make most people's ears bleed, and before you start to question our sexuality let me go ahead and assure you that we are gayer than shit. We are so gay we suffer from heterophobia.

I saunter into Marshall's bedroom semi-nude as I so often do and find that he is reading a Sports Illustrated while wrestling a grizzly bear and ripping electrical wires out of the wall with his bare hands.

Me: "Bro, if you're gonna do shit like that you need to call no hetero."

       But just because we bugger each other in the ass does not mean we couldn't take out an entire Piccadilly full of old people if we had do, and believe me, we have to. But let's say Marshall came down with mono from making out with his girlfriend. Well, first of all, he would definitely have to call 'no hetero,' and secondly, I would have to do this shit on my own.


       If this is what happens when you get on an escalator, I would hate to see what happens when the freight train known as my fist arrives right on schedule and it's time for you to ride it. All aboard you decrepit son of a bitch.

       I would like to introduce you all to Dorothy Densmore. This stupid old hag called 911 twenty times in thirty minutes to complain about a pizza parlor. Imagine the surprise on the face of this dried-up fishwife when it backfired and the police arrived at her door, and she was cuffed and shoved rather roughly into the back of a squad car and taken for a ride downtown. She's lucky I didn't get to her first. I would have viciously attacked her with the business end of a pizza cutter, then held her down and shaken red pepper flakes into her eye.

       It's always amusing when old people try to embrace our technology, that is until they get frustrated and start throwing a temper tantrum, using antiquated curse words and blaming various ethnic groups for all of their problems. Then it becomes appropriate to devastate their face with a flurry of punishing punches.

Come at me, bro.

       Sorry John McCain, but your crazy old man eyes don't frighten me at all.  If you thought that bamboo cage was constricting, let's see what you think of my figure-four choke hold.

       I don't give a flying fuck how things were back in your day. Today you are going to meet your maker. Then we are going to turn your lawn into a blacktop so that all the kids in the neighborhood can play foursquare.

       If I were him I would have used the PIT maneuver, causing that incontinent old dyke and her gas guzzler to slide harmlessly into someone's lawn. Then as I was driving past I would have fed her a molotov cocktail.

To be honest, I'm not entirely confident about this one.

       It is common knowledge that old people like to horde all their money, as if they will somehow be able to buy their way into heaven. But if me and my brass knuckles have anything to say about it, they will first have to experience hell on earth.

I would not harm this gentle spirit. 

       If you want to walk around with that shit-eating grin on your flabby old face, then don't be surprised when I make you eat shit.

       This is probably the old person who has pissed me off most as of late. I would put on my big boots and kick him in the pearlies, and when he bends over I would just sulk him in the ok computer with a bunch of spinning plates. Then he wouldn't feel so lucky. He would wish he was bulletproof and want to disappear completely, but I wouldn't tell him how.

       Okay, all joking aside, it's time for you to get in the box, Andy Rooney. It's getting to the point where your "essays" are so boring they are making people impotent. You make the other people on 60 Minutes seem vivacious by comparison. I strongly suspect you have been legally dead for six or seven years now. Don't worry, you can be buried with all of your decorative books.

       And tell your crazy-as-shit brother that having to wait until the ungodly hour of 6pm to eat dinner at Western Sizzlin' doesn't constitute abuse.

       In the future, we will have robots to give old people their just comeuppance, while we sit on the couch and eat grilled cheese sandwiches made by other robots, but until then I have my work cut out for me.