Friday, April 28, 2017

Question: Do you belive in BMI?

I'm guessing this means Body Mass Index. Either that or Bowel Movement Intensity.

Believe is a weird word to use, isn't it? I mean, I believe BMI exists. Because it does exist. Do I believe it's an accurate guide for fitness or obesity? Perhaps. But there are other factors. BMI doesn't take into account muscle mass or weight distribution. Some people prefer to use waist to hip ratios for these sort of calculations, while others get accurate body fat percentages to go on.

Let's use me as an example. I'm six feet tall and I weigh two hundred pounds. Technically, this is considered overweight on the BMI scale, at around 27. But, I carry a lot of weight in my penis and thick, thick balls, so that throws things off. I also have a big ass that's filled with seventy-three percent muscle and forty-eight percent orgasm inducer.

So I'm obviously not overweight. That would be impossible. I get too much exercise picking up all the dropped panties.

Now, as for Bowel Movement Intensity, I'm also about a 27. And as we all know, that scale only measure up to 25. Big intensity on this guy.

Short Answer: I could do with losing a little weight in my scrotum. I'll admit it. I'm not ashamed.

Thursday, April 27, 2017

Question: What's with all the poems?

Had to bump this one up or it wouldn't make sense. I hate when I have to do this. I always feel like someone's figured out the game and they're Kevin Spacey-ing me from Seven. (Or Se7en if you're an asshole.)

First of all, go fuck yourself. I can't imagine your motivation is positive.

In addition, you already know the answer. I get asked questions and I answer them. If your sensibilities don't allow for two out of three questions to be about similar topics, why are you on my blog? There's a joke about boobs or poop eight days a week up in this motherfucker.

But you're not alone. My traffic falls slightly if I answer too many original poem requests. Maybe that's because when I'm asked these questions, I write a poem on the spot. I take three to ten minutes, and I do only the vaguest of edits. Even though I'm supposed to be good at poemetry, I can admit that the quality could be lacking due to this speedy method. But here's the rub - and please don't tell the poetry people who pay me (alliteration, nailed it) - I never spend much time on a poem! I've been paid for poems I've written during a bowel movement. No joke.

So you're not really getting the worst of me. Some might argue, based on my success, that you're getting the best of me. That my explosive, on the spot creativity - not unlike this blog - is my best work. And based on income and publications, I'm a poet first and foremost. So who are you to criticize? Anyone opened up their wallet for your poetry lately?


Short Answer: I don't really harbor any animosity for this question, and certainly not the question asker. I like any excuse to talk about poetry. In fact, I invite someone else to meta this shit up and ask why I posted yet another post about poems. That'll kill my traffic, but I don't give a fuck. Let's do this!

Note: Boobs/poop.

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Question: I'd like a new poem, please?

I'd rather, Father, have the author, further speak to plot things farther.
I'd hence begin to quench the when, the stench of lending meanings thin.
I'd then have salve to palm the half, to sand the man down to a task.
I'd revel in the shrivelled dell of shelling him, for quelling well.

And if the whiff of shuffling off caused stifling of the lesser clause
I'd execute the transigent and end that flexing malcontent.

I'd rather, hence, than revel off
I'll bother when the clothes come off

Short Answer: Skiptracemuse

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

Question: What would you rather do?

A little vague. But I can handle it.

If it's something bad:

I'd rather eat braised dick meat atop a bed of unravelled testicle noodles.

If it's something good:

I'd rather fuck God's virgin snatch.

Short Answer: (Warning! Very Important Short Answer!) In looking for a particular post that this reminded me of, I used my search engine on-blog to look up the word 'homeless'. What returned to me was the most entertaining page of results imaginable. I've never been more proud of myself or my own work. If you're too lazy to follow suit, here's the link to the search results:

You will not be disappointed. I promise.

Monday, April 24, 2017

Question: Poetry time?!?

The mirror withers
I'm tossed at night by unseen forces
The dead are speaking in familiar tongues
And this is the best time there has ever been

Truth lies like heavy rocks beneath the dying grass
The dream is spreading unannounced
The water line is higher, and sustenance easier to find
But they scream as if the world is dying

It has always been up to us
Our own happiness and the greater good
These things never left our sight
We let them close our eyes to it all

Short Answer: The Bawling Wheel

Sunday, April 23, 2017

Question: I've always kind of liked the Star Wars prequels. What's your take?

I think I'm finally done talking about this. The Force Awakens and Rogue One are here; it's time to let go.

Having said that, here's an answer from June, 2011 which should satisfy.

Short Answer: I've answered a bunch of Star Wars questions over the years. Because this question was specifically about the prequels, I didn't feel it was appropriate to do a Star Wars mega post, but feel free to give that shit a googs.

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Question: How are you going to celebrate your birthday?

I have a question for you. You, plural, like allayous.

How does everyone know when my birthday is?

So this is obviously one of those things about my blog, one of those not-so-bad, unavoidable, inconveniency things. When an occasion roles around, or an event eclipses our world, I'm going to get multiple questions about it. And I'm going to answer them all. And I only post once a day.

Yesterday was my birthday, and yet, I must answer this question today. The problem is, I didn't see things very clearly, and I kinda answered this one yesterday. Also, I posted a collection of birthday posts. That leaves me with little to fill this post with that isn't going to be redundant.

I just had a thought. I could tell the truth?

The first half of yesterday's list was partially true. I woke up, left my wife to sleep, and got to work on the blog. I was interrupted by a call from my grandmother which I took with mustard because I don't like relish. We talked for an hour and forty-five minutes, because a boy's relationship with his grandma is a special one.

Then, I attempted to go out for lunch with my friend and my missus. The first place we went was awfully full. They had a forty-five minute wait. I said, "But it's my birthday," and got a round of blowjobs from the scantily clad staff. (Sorry. Dammit. It's hard not to embellish. I got a quicky handjob in the bathroom from a line cook named Carlito.)

Okay, okay. We just left without any blowjobs or handjobs (and Carlito's phone number) and went to another place. I had a lamb burger and pulled pork poutine. My wife had a salted caramel milkshake, which I stole after a well-placed neck chop. (I'm seriously incapable of keeping this together. I swear I'm so honest in my real life. This must be an outlet. I can't stop!)

After I set that fucking place on fire with my mind, we went across the street and got some beers for afternoon, sunny-deck drinking. I got a Stiegl radler, a Stella and a Guinness to cover all the bases.

For supper, we went out for sushi. My wife isn't a big fan, so I took advantage - anal style - of my birthday privilege.

Later, I was given presents. These presents were comic book and Nirvana themed. I was a happy puppy.

Then, Rick and Morty. Then, a movie with Elijah Wood (who I'm quite taken with) on Netflix. We played on the YouTube for a while then my wife went to bed, and I spent the last hour or so by myself, appreciating the entirety of my existence with one hand on my fully erect penis.

Short Answer: I guess you can take what you want from this. Most of it is real. More of it than you'd probably believe, now that I look back over it. Talkin' 'bout you, Carlito! Nice gams, buddy. (Also, I love relish.)

Friday, April 21, 2017

Question: Happy Birthday, Keith!

Thanks, friends.

Not sure what I should do today. Already put a birthday themed compilation together:

Obviously I don't have time today to do a really involved list. Here's my tight birthday schedule:

9:00: Wake up horny.
9:05: After a few minutes of experimental self-manipulation, choose to let your wife sleep. You can plough her later, and you're a gentleman.
9:06: Doubt your decision. Wake up wife with, "Are you awake?" chants until she answers.
9:14: Hang out with your wife for a bit, who's hilariously groggy because she's trying to pay attention to you on your birthday even though she needs more sleep.
9:24: Start your blog. Get interrupted by a phone call from your grandmother.
9:24 to 11:26: Go for a long walk and talk, solving all the world's problems.
11:45 to 1:45: Lunch.
2:00: First round of hookers.
3:15: Hydration.
4:00: Second round of hookers, wife included.
5:00: Dinner if I can still feel my mouth.
6:00: Sex with my wife and that girl she likes from Safeway, the one with the big thighs.
6:45: Play Candy Crush while girls go at it.
7:00 onward: Free period. Nothing scheduled. Probably recovery and a movie about murders.

Short Answer: Should be a good one.

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Question: Whack-a-doodle, hoopla, pool noodle. ?

Okay. First things fuckin' last.

Way to remember the question mark. It's an afterthought, but it counts.

Secondably, that is the correct password, you are permitted into my clubhouse.

I'm pretty sure all these O sounds are a form of assonance. Is that a funny sentence? If it is, you're a fucking pervert.

Now what was I saying about assonance?

Assonance. That is funny.

Assonance is the repetition of the same vowel sounds. It's like alliteration and consonance, in the sense that it sounds like a terrible medical condition that has a lot do with not pooping.

Whack-a-doodle, hoopla, pool noodle, pooping.

Short Answer: I'm giving up on this. It deserved less of my attention.

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Question: Does anybody care about me?


I suppose it doesn't help that rather than any sort of altruism, I just selfishly thought, 'Can this eventual suicide be traced back to me?'

I assume someone cares about you. If they don't, you could always try caring about yourself. And even if you can't pull that off, killing yourself is hard work, so maybe don't go that far.

(I realize in no way have you mentioned killing yourself. If you are going down that route, would you mind putting in your suicide note that you'd thought of it before reading this blog post? Thanks a bunch.)

Parents care, even if they're dickbags. Other family members? Orphan...owners? Teachers who are the proper level of interested in their student's lives?

Lotta options. Lotta caring out there.

Is it getting awkward in here or is it just me?

Clearly I'm not a councillor. I'm not even sure if that's the right kind of counsellor.

Short Answer: Most people have more of a support system than they realize. Often, communication is what's lacking, not caring. So I encourage anyone who honestly feels the way you do to reach out. Speak to those around you and don't be ashamed about how you feel. Help will appear. And don't forget, we're all a little more awesome than we think we are.

Monday, April 17, 2017

Question: Are you going to celebrate Easter?

Does this still count as Easter? Am I late? Oh God, am I pregnant? Am I pregnant with Jesus's baby? Is that blasphemy? How many question marks are at my disposal? All of them?

What I'm about to do is awesome:

That's a link to a post from a few years back. In said post, I linked to older Easter-themed posts. That's right, I've officially got to the point where I can re-post an answer that already re-posted answers. A clip show within a clip show.

Eventually, this blog is going to begin writing itself. Is that where AI comes from? From AKA? That'd be sweet.

There. Now this is the normal kind of lazy post, where I find one thing that sort of addresses the question. That's both kinds of lazy. I feel I've really accomplished something here today.

Short Answer: Sometimes, at the end of 'lazy posts' I feel the desire to write something original, just to not be a piece of shit. That is all.

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Question: What are some of your unused, blog post premises?

1) Steven Seagal took my dog. Now what the fuck do I do?
2) A band called Jumpsuit Summercamp.
3) The bidet ad-campaign tagline, 'Keep your seafood fresh'.
4) A doctor that has to touch pastry to help with his diagnoses.
5) Were-mer-men.
6) Mer-were-maids.
7) Regular maids.
8) Megular raids.
9) Loss of interest, mid-blog post.
10) Ten.

Short Answer: Butts.

Friday, April 14, 2017

Question: The NHL playoffs are nigh! What are your predictions for the Canadian teams?

Guess who didn't watch any hockey this year?

He's got three thumbs, and only one is in his ass, and the other two are pointing at his face. His expression is abashed. Is that relevant? Does any of this make sense?

The Toronto Maple Leafs will win the Stanley Cup!

See how that felt like a lie?

Now fill in the blank with the other Canadian teams, and see if it feels like any less of a lie.

Only Edmonton sounds plausible, right?

Short Answer: It's Washington's year. Sorry, Canucks. Not the Vancouver Canucks, Canucks, like, Canadians. Not, like the Montreal Canadiens, know what, fuck this. Hockey sucks now. Not going to the Olympics? Are you fucking kidding me? Selfish pricks.

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Question: Daddy took my t-bird away. How will I have fun, fun, fun?

Go to Kokomo?

Beach Boys.

As song lyrics go, this isn't all that inspiring. I got a young girl pregnant and now I'm not allowed to drive for a bit? That's right. Getting grounded isn't all that interesting. And I added the interesting bit about knocking up some teenager.

Go surfin'?

I just realized that a lot of Beach Boys songs are pretty much white privilege anthems. If you tried to describe the problems of the fictional characters in their songs to, say, someone who has to walk all day to get water, they'd be like, "What the fuck are you talking about? Water is far too rare to surf upon."

That's what they'd be like.

Make it big?

(Nobody remembers that Beach Boys song. Nobody. That's just the sort of niche joke I'm looking for at all times. No wonder you're here, reading my blog.)

I'm thinking you can masturbate, masturbate, masturbate until Daddy unplugs the wifi.

Short Answer: Or you can do that thing that's always an option in Beach Boys' era films: watch, watch, watch the super hot girl who lives in the house next to you - who is of a comparable age - through her window, ya fuckin' creep.

Note: Another option is drugs, drugs, drugs.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

Question: Let's hear some jokes, monkey!

You've probably seen me give shit to people who don't bother asking questions. In this case, I'll make an exception, because I really enjoy the domineering tone. If you're going to be this aggressive, you win.

This is a timely question because I just thought of a new joke this morning.

Michael Jackson and a bundle of kindling walk into a bar.
The bartenders asks: "Wanna be startin' somethin'?"

Thank you. Thank you. Oh, you're quite welcome. Thank you.

Oh! I've got another!

Knock Knock
The Who's there
(door opens)

Get it? I get it.

What is this theme? It's amazing. I'll go one more time.

Why did super group Chickenfoot cross the road?
Because of the obscurity of the band, vocalist Sammy Hagar thought he might garner some attention by crossing the road. Sure, he ruined Van Halen, but at least people still recognized him on occasion. Joe Satriani, for the record, stayed on the original side of the road with drummer Chad Smith, because they realized that separation from Hagar was probably the key to their future success.

Well. That didn't work.

Short Answer: Like Meatloaf said, "Don't you have any more mashed potatoes?"

Note: If you get all four of these jokes you're my hero. Or more accurately, you get to join me as my hero.

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Question: fa;lj?

Many things.

First, I've been saving this one for a particular day like today, where I want to talk about something that I wasn't necessarily asked about.

Second, whatever the fuck this is, good job putting a question mark at the end.

So, in my newsfeed today, I saw two headlines that stuck out. One was that North Korea is 'ready for war'. The other, that Katy Perry's hair has gotten even shorter! She's gone all the way down to pixie cut!

My first thought was, one of these things matters and the other doesn't. But that's not an unexpected response, nor is it an inappropriate one, or even an interesting one. In fact, you probably thought that's where I was going with this. A rant on real news, or some shit.

Here's the thing. My second thought was, maybe these things are of equal importance. Since when can North Korea do anything in a war other than launch a measly attack and get fucking destroyed by the entire world, led by America's bloated arsenal and its bloated president who collectively are willing to waste billions of dollars killing the shit out of people?

The answer is: Since their last missile test, which was the offensive equivalent of two pumps and finishing mostly on the bedspread while aiming for the back of that prostitute's knee.

Or, something we can all relate to, is the possibility that we live in a world where Katy Perry's haircut is of far more importance than it should be. I clicked on it. I wanted to see if it made her boobs look any bigger. There, I said it. You know what I didn't click on? The North Korea thing.

I guess the point is, what the fuck? What the What the fuck...the world? What the fuck...priorities? What the What? The? Fuck?

I feel so much pressure and responsibility now to check all news for myself, to see what's legit, and then prioritize it accordingly. This climate of biased, bought journalism and people getting their news from social media sources (meaning, other non-journalists) has put a lot of the onus on we the people. And who has the time? How am I supposed to know what thing matters more? How am I supposed to know what's real? If I checked all dozen news stories I came across in my minimal time on social media, I'd be setting myself a two or three hour task. Daily.

Short Answer: There's Vice. We need more of that. Journalism that reeks of authenticity, so we can relax a little bit. I don't have hours to check everything out. I need those hours to masturbate to pop stars.

Monday, April 10, 2017

Question: Could you write a pilot for a tv show?


Wait. You're not asking me to do a treatment here on-blog, are you? Because if you are, you're going to have to go get fuck-smacked in the disappointment corner. On average, I spend one to five minutes on this blog a day. I'm not going to spend a few weeks on this one post.

Here's an episode for Three's Company I just wrote. Jack walks in on the girls simultaneously masturbating while watching Magnum P.I. Jack runs from the room and trips over the couch. Mister Furley gets pissed. Jack doesn't sleep with the blonde one or the hobbit. The end.

Nailed it. That's not a pilot, though, right?

Okay, here's a pilot.

(insert picture of a pilot)

That joke was never going to work, so I didn't bother with the picture.

Anyway, I'm not going to share a real idea with you. You'll steal it. Besides, TV show ideas are a dime a dozen. It's all in the execution. Like, the idea: Have Tom Hardy look like he wants to jack off on the face of every person he meets, in a mud-caked London in the past. That's Taboo. It was great.

Short Answer: I'm not sure I made a point at all. Maybe that's the TV show! A guy who never has a point. And people are always dumbfounded. And then, at the end of each episode, there's a really hard core sex scene. It's on HBO.

Sunday, April 9, 2017

Question: Top Ten Craziest Protagonists in Movies?

That's very specific. I also like that you capitalized the letters, so I wouldn't be able to refuse titling my list exactly that way.

Here we go:

Two Less Than a Dozen of the Best Insane Movie Characters at the Forefront of Their Films

Okay. You get the joke.

The 'unreliable narrator' is a very popular thing these days. To me, it's almost a deus ex machina, a thing that allows you to fuck with the story, the rules of story, and character arcs, all behind the thin veneer of: "But it's okay. Because you can't trust what you've been told!" Still, I get the freedom it allows.

That may or may not have had anything to do with this list, I now realize, as narrators in film are rare/dumb. I guess I should've used the previous paragraph for a book-themed post about crazy characters. I guess I could go back and erase it. But I've come too far.

Top Ten Craziest Protagonists

...aaaaaand I've changed my mind.

Finally. Here we go:

Top Fifteen Craziest Protagonists

15) Willy Wonka from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971). Typically, Charlie is the protagonist in this story. I'm using a technicality here - his name in the title - to justify including Gene Wilder's madcap and somehow subtle performance in this list. He's not really the protagonist, but without him, the story doesn't unfold at all. He's the central figure of a movie full of crazy.
14) Norma Desmond from Sunset Boulevard (1950). Classic crazy. When she tilts her head back and zeroes in, I lose boners for a month.
13) Tony Montana from Scarface (1983). While researching this list, I came upon a lot of wonderful crazy characters who were simply too evil, or the obvious antagonist of their films (insert every villain ever, in fact). This is a true bad guy as the protagonist role. He's so madcap, he thinks a gun is his little friend. What? Crazy.
12) Batman (or many other superheroes) from Any Batman Movie. Dude dresses up as a bat because his parents were killed. Right?
11) Hedra Carlson from Single White Female (1992). Jennifer Jason Leigh perfectly cast as a weirdo. The scene where she changes her appearance to match Bridget Fonda's is particularly off-putting. (Again, this is not a true protagonist, but this movie really is a two-woman show. If you claim she's actually the villain, I'd be hard-pressed to deny you. I'm not perfect! Leave me alone or I'll cut my hair like yours!)
10) The Narrator (or Tyler Durden) from Fight Club (1999). I'm talking about Ed Norton, here. He's nuts. Punches himself until he's not so nuts, then blows up some shit and shoots himself in the face.
9) Pvt. Leonard Lawrence from Full Metal Jacket (1987). There almost isn't a protagonist in this Kubrick masterwork on the irony and tragedy of war. Humanity is the protagonist, or maybe Matthew Modine, as per usual. To me, at least for the first part of the movie, 'Gomer Pyle' is the central figure, as we follow the journey he takes as he breaks under the pressure of wartime preparation. Has anyone looked crazier on film? Thanks, D'Onofrio. You good.
8) Dr. Henry Frankenstein from Frankenstein (1931). Obsessive like his literary counterpart, Henry on film is a little more flamboyant with his crazy. His sheer glee once the monster comes alive is the exclamation point.
7) R.P. McMurphy from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (1975). Jack's got a couple on here, no surprise. He's brought a touch of crazy to every role, hasn't he?
6) Patrick Bateman from American Psycho (2000). Has a crazy protagonist ever done more crazy shit on screen? The beauty is, of course, did he do any of it? That's double crazy!!
5) Baby Jane Hudson from What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (1962) Again, she's the villain, right? But if you watch the whole movie...I don't usually mind spoilers in lists like this - they come with the territory - but in this case, I'll hold off. Point is, it takes two to tango. But Baby Jane, dancing and singing her old, childhood songs about her daddy in full-makeup over an age-pitted face? Big time crazy!
4) Travis Bickle from Taxi Driver (1976). I guess you could argue that things turn out okay for him. Maybe he's not so crazy. But in that iconic scene, well, he is talking to himself.
3) Jack Torrance from The Shining (1980). More Kubrick, more Jack, and another example of the film's villain as the main character and arguable protagonist. I love that there was so much crazy coming from everywhere in this film, that Talia Shire was actually traumatized by it all.
2) Nina Sayers from Black Swan (2010). Not unlike Carrie, much of Nina's crazy comes from her relationship with her mother, though in a more subtle, crawling-across-glass kind of way. Black Swan is an entire film dedicated to watching the protagonist split down the middle.
1) Alex de Large from A Clockwork Orange (1971). My favorite film, and my favorite villainous protagonist. Alex is addicted to ultraviolence, and nothing is going to come between them. He finds it far too horrorshow.

Short Answer: Put my honorable mentions in the list, this time. Felt like they all deserved a blurb.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Question: I like when you're serious. Could you write something serious today?

Here's something serious.

I think the world would be a better place if there were more fart noises and nudity. In every situation where something sucks, there should be a fart piped in. Congress, fields of battle, at the symphony: farts.

Here's something else that's quite serious. Diarrhea. That is all.

Short Answer: I don't think 'serious' is a topic unto itself. Taking into account that my number one goal is to be entertaining, I'm sure you can understand why I head for humour first. With serious topics, it's not so easy to be sure you're entertaining people. Like, an essay about my dead aunt might not do it for you. But a picture of her tits? That'd be gold.

Friday, April 7, 2017

Question: I've had an idea...hand shoes! Wanna get in on this?

Do I look like Dragon's Den? Or Shark Tank? Or...wait a second. Is 'wanna get in on this' a sexual thing, not a business thing? Do you want me to put No, it isn't a sexual thing? Is it maybe a sexual business thing, like, somehow I get paid for putting It's not that either? Fudge.

Well, now that all the fun has been wrung from this answer, I guess I'll address your invention.

Mittens. You're talking about mittens. Sure they might be hard mittens, but that's what they are. People won't want them, unless those people have feet for hands. That's too niche a market in my esteem.

Short Answer: How much crawling/standing on your hands do you do, man?

Thursday, April 6, 2017

Question: New euphemisms for sex?

The two-finger discount.
Puncturing the o-ring layer.
Down to brown.
Porking the sour pudding.
Playing ballclaps.
My mother and your mother were smack-smack-smack.
The long toboggan.
Mal-intent and the path through the forest.
Carol Burnett would approve of this.
The Iron Giant.
Cloak and bang her.
The cowpoke.
Slippery crevice.
Tipping the maƮtre D
Haranguing by nutsack.
Floppy Freddy and the Shitmix.
The acoustics of moist flesh.
One minute and thirty-nine seconds in heaven.
Rainy season in the drop zone.
Attention to tail.

Short Answer: Out of breath.

Bonus euphemisms:

I am awesome!

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Question: When did Frankenstein first figure out he wasn't a real boy?

Maybe when he drowned that real girl?

This question is confusing and frightening. I don't think you seriously want me to answer; you could watch the movie yourself and make a pretty good guess. Like somewhere around when he tries to communicate with a person and they run in terror.

It's possible that Frankenstein never figured it out. He could tell he was different, but he was pretty dumb. I'm talking movie Frankenstein I just realized. In the book, it's even more clear when he figures it all out, because he's quite intelligent and says many actual words.

Does it make me some sort of ass that I assumed you were talking about the movie? Is it because I assumed most people don't read things, especially if they're things that can be absorbed through the eye ball? Is eye ball one word or two? Eyeball?

Pay attention! Based on the fact that Frankenstein's monster (that's why I thought you were talking about the movie...vindicated) is made up of real boys, I'm willing to be argumentative here and claim that he never figured it out. He may have been an abomination by some standards, but just like Soylent Green (spoilers right after these parentheses) he was made of people.

Short Answer: You've seen Soylent Green by now, yes? No? Fuck.

Monday, April 3, 2017

Question: Who's your daddy?

I guess you'd have to ask my mom.

Based on her career choice as a dirty, dirty whore, I'm assuming she could probably narrow it down to around three-dozen johns, any of which I'd be proud to have as a father. They would be better than the father I did have; a filthy old popple named Craig.

"Listen to Craig. He's in charge while mommy's out for her nightly walk."

I don't know if this has anything to do with nurture and/or nature, but one time, when my mom was out working, I fucked Craig right in his popple hole.

Short Answer: This didn't go the way either of us imagined.

Saturday, April 1, 2017

Question: Could you do an April Fool's Day list?


Let's turn this saran-wrap across the toilet upside down. (This is funny because that would in no way stop the prank from being as effective. That's why it's funny. In case you didn't know why. That's why. Funny.)

Top Ten Fool Songs

10) Why Do Fools Fall in Love by Frankie Lymon and the Teenagers

9) A Fool in Love by Ike and Tina Turner

8) The Fool on the Hill by the Beatles

7) Taken for a Fool by the Strokes

6) Fool for Your Loving by Whitesnake

5) More Fool Me by Genesis

4) For a Fool by the Shins

3) Chain of Fools by Aretha Franklin

2) What a Fool Believes by the Doobie Brothers

1) Lovefool by the Cardigans

Short Answer: This one time, I did the work for you. Or, those links are all pictures of penis undersides. Good luck!