Saturday, June 25, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Thursday, June 09, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
This is Cocoa. Ice T's wife...
These are here real fake titties. I have had two ladies with fake titties... As much as I enjoy them... they get no enjoyment. There's no sensation apparently... I say fuck it... keep them fake boobies coming... As long as my cock feels the sensation from your pussy... the big boobs are just an added bonus... just sayin...
Monday, April 04, 2011
Friday, April 01, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Well, it finally happened. A Wal-Mart greeter snapped and robbed his own store at gunpoint. Eighty-three year old George Plane Jr. is the Travis Bickle of Wal-Mart greeters. Thanks to a few shady connections, we were able to get a hold of Plane’s personal journal. What follows is the entry that Plane wrote just before he committed his almost epic heist.
Sunday March 6th, 2011
Saturdays are the worst days. I’ve had a lot of them in my 83 years, but they didn’t hit me this hard until I started working at Wal-Mart. I’ve lived through fifteen presidents, four wars and two wives. I was once a hero, an admired man. A respected father and husband, but that’s all behind me now. Since I retired I’ve lost touch with both wives and three of my kids. I also shit my pants this morning. It’s not like I’ve never shit my pants before, it happens to everyone. But it’s just the metaphorical icing on the dog turd of a cake that my life has been these last few years.
As men grow older, they’re supposed to grow more patient and wise. I probably would’ve been one of those men had I not decided to take that greeter job. I every shift I could because I needed the money. But day in and day out of saying hello to some of the most awful people I’ve ever seen has truly worn my patience thin. I smile, and I wave. Sometimes I give out a smiley face sticker to a child. Sometimes the adults smile back, and sometimes they just ignore me. Sometimes the children smile back, and sometimes they just tell me I smell like pee.
These people see Wal-Mart as a local excursion, a Sunday outing. But they’ve never been inside the belly of the beast. This place is worse than Korea, and I can say that because I fought in Korea. The only upside is, this place has toilets. When you’re 83, you forget a lot of shit. I couldn’t tell you when my children’s birthdays are, and sometimes I even forget my own address, but I can’t seem to forget the things I want to. I don’t pray for death like some people my age, but I do pray Alzheimer’s. Not severe, slobbering, “Why am I in this wheelchair?!” Alzheimer’s, just the kind of Alzheimer’s that makes you think every day is Friday.
I’m cursed with remembering every fat face I see walk into that store. Occasionally, I can’t hold my back my disdain for the customers. Two Saturdays ago I counted fourteen people wearing tank tops and camouflage hats. I said “Welcome to Wal-Mart, asshole!” to everyone of them. When they asked me what I said, I just pointed towards the middle of the store and said “Dorito’s and Mountain Dew are in aisle fourteen. Don’t forget to wear a condom!” Then I’d point to the smiley face sticker I put on my crotch and whisper “Caught ya’ lookin’, queer!” It took until later that night for someone to finally report me. When my boss, a twenty-two year old nerd, confronted me I told him that I was suffering from spells of dementia, then I handed him a doctor’s note I’d written myself on Wal-Mart stationary.
The Saturday following that, I greeted everyone by saying “Welcome to Wal-Mart, today everything is free!” By two o’clock, the police had attempted to arrest seven people for theft. When I was again confronted by my boss I just started talking to an imaginary woman standing behind him, then I started singing “The Star Spangled Banner”. He let me go with not so much as a write-up. People in American society don’t have a lot of respect for the elderly, they generally treat most of us like infants. But I think there’s a certain power in being unassuming. So, later today, I’m going to rob that Wal-Mart at gunpoint. When the cops show up. I’ll yell “Where am I? Where’s my wife?!” Then I’ll intentionally piss my pants and start crying.
Thursday, March 03, 2011
Monday, February 28, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Kanye West, rapper and fucking douchebag extraordinaire recently tweeted the above picture of the objects he had to place in an airport security bin. He accompanied the tweet with this statement: “Set off the metal detectors with the Swag.”
The tweeting of this picture is a little strange, seeing as Kanye isn’t typically associated with subtlety. If he wants to say something, he’ll storm an awards show stage, steal your microphone and then say it in as blunt a way as humanly possible. So, this makes us wonder why, if he wanted to tell us all that he believes he is better than the rest of us because he owns jewelry that looks like he stole off a 60-year-old Guido’s dresser, he would tell us this in such a roundabout way?
Surely, the sentence “I’m better than you b/c I just put a bunch of gold things in a box” is less than 140 characters? It is, in fact. It’s only 66 characters. But saying something like that, something as blunt as that, would transform our collective perception of him from that of an average celebrity douchebag to that of a man that truly does not give a shit about the fact that the country — hell, the world — is only now starting to climb its way out of a terrible recession, and there are plenty of people out there still struggle to find a job to make enough money so they can feed their families.
With only a single picture and 8 words worth of tweeting, Kanye said 1,000 words, and every one of them was F*ck You. Normally, this kind of F*ck You attitude is reserved for “The Establishment” or “The Man” that is always “Holding you down,” but not in this case, and not in this day and age. No; now the F*ck You attitudes are reserved for you, the average person, because you don’t have as high a financial standing as someone else. Therefore, you are of lower social and economic caste, and should be treated as such.
When Kanye sends out a Twitpic of his golden paraphernalia accompanied by a nonchalant message, he’s doing it because he really, truly wants you to know that his life is infinitely better than yours due to the fact that he can afford a bunch of superfluous shit that branches out beyond the basic needs of a modern, first world-inhabiting person; like a house, a car, food, etc.
So, Kanye, from all of us closer to the bottom of the Canadian and American economic ladder than the top, go fuck yourself.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Monday, February 14, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Wednesday, February 09, 2011
Saturday, February 05, 2011
On A Serious Note...
This is a story of 18 years of the life of a lady that didn't have a chance... It's a very sad read... Here It Is...
Friday, February 04, 2011
Thursday, February 03, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Saturday, January 08, 2011
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Sunday, January 02, 2011
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