It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (1 of 9)

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there may be some of you who believe that i am fucking about when i ponder where i can get some of this narcotic Plutonium. but obviously, you don't know me well enough (or at all).

otherwise, you would know that i am a total fucking scumbag and would literally give anything to get my hands on an unlimited supply of this Wunder-DRUKQ. mostly for personal, recreational use.

follow your nose, wherever it goes.

sure. all the narco-trafficking and civil war has turned a lot of Colombianos into "survivalists." but can you imagine what things would be like if this shit permeated the tenuous membrane of American drug culture? fuckemos!

add that to our coke/weed/heroin/crack/meth/gasoline/submachinegun/money/war/animal/tv/pussy/internet/blowtorch problem, and you've got a nation of mindfucked fools eager to go down on ANYTHING.

god bless Amurrrica!
god bless Spike Jonze!
god bless Vice TV!
god bless burundunga! i think... it is the Devil's Breath after all. yo well. somebody fucken bless it! or i'm gonna have to. and trust me, you don't want that. you really don't fucken want that.


nota bene: if any of these are giving you shit while loading, just click on the title of the post to watch them individually. pain in the ass yes. but it's either that or slipping it some Scopolamine and coercing into anal. anal and letting you watch it. surely it would oblige. now if only you had some Scopolamine. asshole.

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (2 of 9)

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (3 of 9)

sonofabitch.

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (4 of 9)

motherfucker.

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (5 of 9)

christ.

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (6 of 9)

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (7 of 9)

fuck.

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (8 of 9)

shit.

It's Worse Than Anthrax and Obliterates Free Will? Where The Fuck Can I Get Some? (9 of 9)

fucken ay! i shoulda known those pussies at Vice wouldn't actually try it. though my desire to get my hands on a gram of this shit is a bit tempered by sobriety, i'm still down. i just wanna know what it would be like to function sans a significant portion of my higher brain. back to zero and all that.

"a woman is better because a woman can suck your dick and a donkey can't": Part ONE

in case any of you ever have to testify for/against me, i am an out and out pervert. just giving you a heads up on the inevitable perjury tip.

por ejemplo, i think 'cumshot' is the most awesome compound word in the english language.

i truly believe that 'bukkake' is japanese for porn with redeeming artistic value.

i love, love, love midget porn! esp. interracial midget porn.

asking girls 'what's up with the asshole?' on the first date is now both my morals and my ethics. braydon szyfranski style!

and i'm strongly considering saying yes to my boy JPot's demand that we start a porn site. an idea we've bandied about since high school. he's in with some of the BangBros. crew somehow, so all it takes is a word it seems. hmmmm. i do need a new creative outlet.

sure, i'm a bit of a sexual deviant. fine. you got me. happy?

but there are a few things i just can't get with. namely, necrophilia, pedophilia, scat shit (redundermifflin?), and bestiality. there are other "sex acts," that i find at least somewhat disagreeable, but these four are completely unfuckwitable in my book. as they should be for any rational being. and if someone as fucked up as me can avoid them, there's hope yet for the lot of ya.

that being said, seeing this VICE TV ep entitled "Asses of the Carribean" was truly some of the most mind-blowing shit i've seen while not on hallucinogens. i was totally expecting hardbodied femininas in booty shorts, workin it out, ya know?

nope nope nope. not gonna do it.

entire generations of Colombian men fucking donkeys (and enjoying it) because the female population of the staunchly Catholic drugbasket that is Colombia don't put out til their thrity? fuck naw son. i appreciate cultural differences and variant norms, but jesus.

literally. jesus, you fuck!

look what you and your cronies are doing to people. come down here, be a man, and straighten this shit out. it's the least you could do. and if not for the men of Cartagena, Colombia, do it for the poor donkeys. won't you please?

"a woman is better because a woman can suck your dick and a donkey can't": Part TWO

gentlemen. if you had to suffer six years of blue balls, what the fuck would you do? that is the question. you're getting closer to the horror now. ease toward the light. gently now.

and apparently, just for future reference, donkey pussy is mad tight son. that ill na na.

"a woman is better because a woman can suck your dick and a donkey can't": Part THREE

for those of you that place homosexuality higher on the threat level chart of sexual terrorism than bestiality (surely none of my readers?), then maybe you can take comfort in this woeful trend. sexual repression in the name of arbitrary beliefs can be a good thing, huh? plus, if the rural legend that fucking a donkey makes your dick bigger is true, i guess it'll be the men and boys of Cartagena who will be having the last laugh, eh?

and p.s. the end is not for the faint of heart. but twif your heart was all that faint, you wouldn't have made it this far. nor would you be reading my god damn blog. peace.

Interstella 5555: Part Seven

and now it's here,
we've reached the end,
i know it's rough,
goodbye my friend,
the times were good,
the mood was light,
there weren't nuff room,
your twat's so tight!?

ultimo.
as if you didn't peep it on your own time. don't let me catch you running off again or i'll give you a colombian necktie. a colombian necktie's when you slit a guy's throat, then pull his tongue through the hole so it hangs down like a necktie. usually gets the point across. not to be confused with the oft-utilized sicilian necktie kids.

and for those who see this as mere adolescent hyperviolence, know that it's really foreshadowing for the next series of posts, which will be far more disturbing and upsetting than any of that necktie bizness. trust me.

New York Cares.

subway she is a porno. the pavements they are a mess. my sentiment exactly. but at least the mayor wasn't caught smoking crack.

this is a vice tv interview with philly band clockcleaners, who apparently have a terrible reputation both at home and abroad for their less than personable manner. but i think there's a lesson to be learned from their abrasiveness.

along with heroic substance abuse and hooker murder, rap-grade beef is what the game's been missing. the rock game that is. the closest thing we have is old heads (morrissey, pete townshend, et al.) indirectly shitting on brash newcomers (arctic monkeys, klaxons, et al.).

but that's fucking britain.

in the states, the best we can do is hinder shooting off at the mouth about how fucking gay fall out boy is. oh the irony, it runs deep, so deep.

during my first stay at the shooting gallery in brooklyn, i discussed with muscle matt and timemachine the merits of infusing rap's hardass ethos into rock. who says i shouldn't be able to stab the drummer of some other fucked up, gay band that i despise, outside the "ballroom" after the show, lance "un" rivera style? who says i can't dedicate half an album to calling out some faggot lead singer? who says i can't indict a pussified system that rewards cowardice, insincerity, and sensitivity over balls-out, maniacal self -destruction and advanced narcissistic rage?

who the fuck says there can't be BEEF in the rock?

your head is on backwards mate. you might wanna fix it.

god bless puppeteering.
god bless hallucinogens.
god bless MIDI.
god bless 1972.
god bless sid krofft references.
god bless boy-cut panties.
god bless stop motion animation.
god bless sleepless nights.
god bless suroosh and shane.
god bless don calhoun.
god bless death from above 1979.
god bless nymphomania.
god bless america, and no one else.
god bless trixie and the tree trunks.
and god bless VICE TV.

i wanna take you to a gay bahhhh.

i learned from VICE TV today that gay guys have a deep aversion towards cologne. they, at least the leathermen among them, prefer "the natural smell of a man." i would think you would want to cover that shit up as best as was humanly possible, but what do i know? it's news to me, as during that torturous and sexual harrassment-filled year and a half working in the gay stronghold that was the IKEA corporate office here, i'd never heard such a sentiment. you learn something new everyday, huh?

and if you're wondering what all this leatherman noise is all about, no opie, i'm not talking about your dad's handy all-in-one, multipurpose tool. it goes a little deeper than that.

there's an explanation, but that dog's gonna have to hunt.

sorry.

no cushy and convenient youtube window. take it up with VICE. here's the hyphylink in case you wanna step your leatherman game up, and god only knows you do. plenty of new york leather bars, high-priced gay sex shops, erotic haircuts, hard house music, and the incomparable Baby Balls himself:
http://www.vbs.tv/player.php?bctid=686989475&bccl=Njg2OTc1NDcyX19FVEM=

p.s. i fucks with VICE TV, especially the "Shot By Kern" episodes. basically a middle-aged scumbag who artfully cons 19 year old girls into letting him take "tasteful nude shots." and who doesn't love titties these days; they make the world go round.

leathermen i guess.

it's that basuco ese.

Exchange #1:

Peachpot: ay yo! neverending hologram! how's the ether search going?

Neverending Hologram: not too well p.p. and time's a-wastin'

Peachpot (strokes scraggled beard): sucks man. there is one thing you could try...

Neverending Hologram: i mean i really had my heart set on ether peachpot.

Peachpot (staring at plane overhead): well sometimes you just gotta roll my friend.

Neverending Hologram: so what were you thinkin?

Peachpot: basuco man!

Neverending Hologram: eh?

Peachpot: basuco man!

Neverending Hologram: no, i heard you fuckstick. what the fuck? enlighten.

Peachpot: yeah, basuco. wacky mix-up of crack residue, gasolina, and other assorted chemicals that may or may not be carcinogenic. lab tests are pending. gets you twisted.

Neverending Hologram: i don't know peachpot. sounds dangerous.

Peachpot (shaking head vigorously): nah man. basuco's straight. homeless slims and street kids living in the sewers of bogota smoke that ish to keep they minds right. gotta duck the paramilitary death squads ya know. social cleansings on the rise. if it's good enough for them, it's good enough for you, right?

Neverending Hologram: yeah i guess you're right p.p. i don't know. i'll think about i guess.

Peachpot: yeah. shit mang, what the fuck am i doin talking to you? late for methadone. gotta maintain homie.

Neverending Hologram: orale homes. tell pookie i said gimme my damn money.

Peachpot: i promise i will.

End Scene.