Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Blow Job Week—Wednesday

Blow Job Week continues. Huzzah!

Today we have a little non-traditional Shit Talking photo.

This was still taken in a toilet (let's just say the toilet was an abandoned Circuit City, I'm sure the homeless have popped a squat here).

Anyway, Libby wants you to know that she's into more than just BJs, she's out to provide patrons a "real good time".

So if you want to dial up Libby, call 241-9192. Area code 502.

She what specials she's running today.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Blowjob Week Continues


Blow Job Week continues.

Live in the middle of Tennessee?
Just passing through while hyped up on adderall?
Want some type of venereal disease?

Call 931-217-1015.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Short & to the point Monday!

It's Monday.
It's kind of shitty. 

I awoke to 4 puddles of cat vomit this morning. Of which I stepped in two. Barefoot.

I then put my hand in fresh bird shit on my Jeep.

I also picked up dog poop.

So if anybody wants to pee on me, that's all I need for the human expulsion quadfecta.

So let's not ramble on today.

If you're in the mood for a BJ, call Angela Parsley 597-7532. Area code 502.

Give her a ring.

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Ooh! Ooh! Um, things you'll find on Pete Townsend's laptop!

"Newborn Porn"

It may have happened 9 years ago, but Pete Townsend's child pornography case still piss me off.

He had pictures of a two year old getting raped on his computer for, "some kind of document relating to Internet porn". Well it's been 9 years and his master thesis has never been released. 

Shit, Hitler somehow published Mein Kampfe. 
Charles Manson has released over 5 albums from behind prison walls.
You can even find the Unibomber's manifesto online if you dig around.

But Pete Townsend roams free trolling Russian-child-rape-bondage sites and we are left without his master work. Why?

Come on Simon & Schuster or Golden Books, let's get this thing published!

Eh, this gives me one more reason to hate The Who.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Eats Shit!

Who eats shit?

I eat shit.

Sorry for shutting this thing down for almost a month again. At this point, I'm becoming more sporadic than conversations with a dementia riddled grandparent.

Sorry, I'll try to do better.

Anyway, the chains are off. And it looks like semi-normal posting will resume.

Thinking there might actually be two posts today.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Gangs R Pussies

Several years ago, I lived in an "emerging" neighborhood. One day, I came home to find two gentlemen on my doorstep. One guy was in his 40s. The other couldn't have been more than 16.

The older one proceeded to bust out a rap on me that went something like this...

"Hi, my name is Anton and this Horatio. Horatio is an ex-member of the Latin Kings. And I work for (insert anti-gang neighborhood association here). Together, we're trying to help people like Horatio stay out of gangs by selling subscriptions to (insert newspaper here). If you don't buy a newspaper subscription from us, he'll more than likely drift back into the gang...."

(from here, I'll embellish slightly but you'll get the point)

"...break into your house, rape your wife and spray paint all over your garage door. There's also a good chance he'll eat your cat, whip you with a hot coat hanger and then sell drugs to orphans. Then he'll kidnap those orphans, stuff their tiny buttholes full of drugs and smuggle them over the border and sell them into white slavery. Where those kids will grow up to be suicidal, Russian roulette playing, coke addicts who worship Satan and turn into cannibals. Then before you know it the Latin Kings will have so many enslaved white folks, they'll set them loose on the midwest like an army of rabid, Angel Dust fueled dogs. Farms will burn, churches will be turned into brothels and the entire nation will forced to wear wife beaters, shorts that are three sizes too large and grow shitty, pederastic mustaches—even the women."

So with a back story like that, how could I not subscribe to the newspaper.

Now, you would think an organization that specializes in drive-by shootings would be good with delivering newspapers. Instead of slinging bullets, they're slinging printed words. You would be wrong if you believed this, in the two weeks we had the newspaper, it showed up three times.

Gangs. You're Pussies! Stick to spray painting garage doors and shopping at K-mart.