Wednesday, February 16, 2011

There has been a lot of doubt about how my uncle Charlie died and so I wanted to clear the air once and for all.  Ok, I admit that Charlie was into goats and goat sex, but those goats were was never a gay thing with Charlie (not that that's anything wrong with that).  You can see clearly from this photo that the goat has panties around its ankles, not briefs.  This pretty much proves that the goat was a girl.  I mean, I know a lot of guys like to put panties on male goats, but Charlie wasn't like that.

"If it's a boy goat, it better be wearing some briefs and aftershave when I come down to the barn to visit!"  He would yell, in his drunken rage, just before beating us kids and the wife with his empty scotch bottle.  But I'm telling you that when he went to visit boy goats in the barn it wasn't a gay thing.  He always said he "just wanted to suck on a few cigars with them goats" before he "got their wives pregnant".  Charlie was a card like that.

Anyhow, one time Charlie was in the barn getting the wife of one of the goats, a young goat named Maximus Snodgrass, pregnant when Snodgrass himself went crazy for no reason and came at Charlie from behind.  Snodgrass's horn went right up Charlie's butt and at first Charlie started to cum (cause it felt pretty nice) but then as the horn got deeper and started to rip Charlie's organs he didn't feel so good.  The Horn came out Charlie's belly.  He tried to hold his intestines in, but they were all slipping out through the hole in his guts.  The goats were stepping on them and carrying away bits in their teeth (goats will eat anything, really).

We more or less found him like that when we woke up from having been beaten.

I was a young brrom at the time and I ended up having to sweep up everything.  Yuck!

Sunday, February 13, 2011

Ok, well a lot of people have been saying that this site is just plain dirty and also kind of fucked up.  But today is Valentine's day and so I just wanted to do something sweet and normal.  Here's a picture of me and my girlfriend.  We're in love.  In this picture we're making sweet love in the mountains.  Sometimes when I want to get her in the mood I bring out a big ol bucket of slop and corn cobs and I put it down in front of her and then when she starts into it I run up from behind and give it to her real good.  Sometimes I'm so excited that I don't even know if I'm getting her ass or her pussy, but with pigs it don't matter much.

Pic related: it's us together...

A lot of people hated on us for this love affair, frankly.  They said an inter-specieal love affair can never work out.  They wouldn't listen to what I said and my dear Petra Flabbybottoms (for that is her name) oinked in retort.  The good news, though, is that a pig can eat pretty quick through a corpse and turn all the evidence a pile of wet bad smelling pig shit in short I don't think we'll be hearing from THOSE haters again.  Just sayin.  

I used to be a young pig farmer, that's how I met my sweetie-piggles. 

I'm almost too disgusted to tell this story...but the truth has to come out.  I was a young cucumber minding my own business in the cucumber patch.  It was nice there.  Bees landed on me and also it was sunny and ants crawled over me carrying crumbs and it tickled a little.

Then one day Old Mother Molly Hare came to the garden and started rooting around in the vegetables with her old crackly fingers.  Soon enough she picked me up and plucked me off the vine.  At first I was like: ok I'm going to be cut up and put in a crunchy salad, or maybe put in a jar with some vinegar and made into a delicious pickle.  But no, that was not my fate.

Old Molly Hare took me inside.  She took me up to her bedroom.  It was lit with candles.  She was stroking me as she held me in a funny way.  Next she covered me up in some gooey jelly she kept in a jar and then she started to move me toward the long forgotten cavern between her thighs.  Oh jesus no!  I thought, but it was too late.  She was rubbing me along the outside of her crack.  Odd smelling fluids were squirting onto me.  I wanted to vomit, but I was a cucumber and I didn't have a mouth.  My seeds quivered in horror.

Then it happened, I started going into the opening, it was like being shoved into a dumpster full of dogshit and peanut butter.  Everything went black...I started to choke...that's the last thing I remember...

Friday, February 11, 2011

Maggots.  How do the work?  Is it magic?  I was once a young piece of meat.  I was minding my own business sitting on a table being marinated in some teriyaki sauce when all of the sudden a fucking fly landed on me.  First the fly cleaned its wings with its legs.  The the fly cleaned its head.  Then the fucking fly touched me with its tongue and licked me.  I tell you it was fucking sick, dude.  It was even more sick than when happened three days before when I was a cow and some motherfucking rednecks in a factory killed me with a bolt gun and then hung up my dead body on some hooks and cut the fuck out of it with a bunch of spinning buzzing saw blades--scattered hot bloody chunks of meat all over.

Anyhow, back to the story.  So there I was and then that fucking fly laid eggs all over my eggs all over me.  After that it flew away and then suddenly all these damn maggots appeared on me and started to eat me.  I thought all was lost but then some crazy broad named Ariel rebel came and took the maggots and put them in her vagina.  WTF?!??

After that I got thrown on the grill.  So sweet...

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Motherfucking right you can find F-18s at great prices on my blog.  How much are F-18s going for these days anyhow?  Probably not that much unless you get the one Top Gun was driving...or was an F-16?

Anyhow, look, I got Tom Cruise on the telephone.  he's in Africa right now taking care of the kids and whatnot.  Fitting them out with bling because he knows that if you want to be successful, you have to feel successful.  That's who he's starting the bling for Africa program, to make sure that all the little starving buggers over there start acting like fucking Americans and towing the goddamn line.  "There'll be an F-18 in every driveway"  that's my motto.  Or maybe an F-16.  Whatever.

step 1. a poor african baby is taken up by fucking Top Gun.

step 2: the poor baby is given all the latest bling and whatnot.

step three: doesn't he look so much better now he is Americanized?  put that son of a bitch in a jet, baby!

i was once a wet tear but now i am a dry cheek.
Ok, now I'm confused.  I accept that you are cheating on me with rage boy...and that you decided to punish me by taking off your shirt so that I could look at your breasts one last time before you cover them forever and leave...but why did you have to hold that picture of your new boyfriend over your chest when you did it?

Also, why does your new boyfriend have a picture of you in his hand holding the picture of you holding the picture of him and in that picture he's holding a picture of we are in some crazy hall of mirrors?  I'm really goddamn confused.  See, the only thing I can think of is that you two set this up in advance so that you could present this optical trick to me.  I mean you'd have to practice that pose so that you knew to stand the same way as in the photo and you'd have to make sure the lighting was exactly the same and...well, it would just take a lot of planning and I find this hard to imagine you'd want to bother with such an elaborate plan since we've only been dating for like 3 days...and well...what the fuck?

...anyhow, after she left I got a job on the frontier between Pakistan and Afghanistan (I was still a young drone interceptor being flown by the US Navy in those days).  I blew up many innocent brown babies but I never saw my true love or the jerk who stole her again.  Tears tears tears!

Monday, February 7, 2011

I don't know if I ever introduced you to my girlfriend.  Her name is Alonza P. Morningdew.  I met her at a truck stop in Florida.  She looked like she had just wandered up out of the swamp.  I was a young truck driver back then and I was driving my first job: delivering a whole truckload of horseshit to Kentucky.  Anyhow, Alonza told me that she had a special talent that she had learned from an old man in the swamp: sucking snake poison out. 

She told me that the old man had told her the secret to long life was that you shouldn't spit out the poison, you should swallow it.  Also, he told her that because people don't get bit that much (and therefore wouldn't have much of a chance to practice sucking at snake bites) what she should do is find the snakes and suck the poison right out of their mouths.

I told her I thought this was basically insane, but she insisted it was true and proved it by giving me a snake sucking demonstration right there behind the truck stop.  Well, I'll tell you I was impressed.  I took her with me and we've been together ever since.  Here's a picture of her about to suck some venom out of the mouth of a rattlesnake we caught in the swamp near Jacksonville.  She's gonna spit the venom in this jar and sell it to tourists.

Speaking of too soon, how many of you remember this tragic night?  I was a young investigator on the forensics squad at the time and I was called to a house party in Vancouver to investigate a highly suspicious death.  Apparently this young girl (she was only 17 at the time) had ingested quite a large quantity of anti-freeze and was now laying, dead, on a bed upstairs wearing only her underpants.

Why was she in her underpants?  Nobody knows.  It seemed like the body had been moved a few times, maybe in order to establish that she was actually alive...but it was pretty clear from looking at her eyes that she was dead.  I've seen a lot of dead bodies in my time and I can tell when a corpse is a corpse.

I tried to talk to the people at the party and get more information (they were witnesses, after all) but by and large I found them to be quite hostile to conversation bout this subject.  Many of them called me by a homophobic slur for even bringing up the death (as though it shouldn't be investigated!).  Others said they didn't want to talk about it anymore...even though it had just happened two hours before!  Others claimed they had no idea someone had died and then got made at the ones who didn't want to talk about it.  It was very confusing.

So, I guess we will never know why Mary Ann Rialab drank that anti-freeze.  I know a lot of people have told me not to mention this story; not to ever speak of it again...but I refuse to suppress the truth!

Sunday, February 6, 2011

A lot of people ask me what it was like to be there that day, when she destroyed the whole city.  I don't like to talk about it much, but I can tell you at least that it was fucking the worst horror any of us had ever seen.  I mean, I lived through 9/11 (I was an executive banker back then and I narrowly avoided being incinerated because I was 10 minutes late for work that day) but 9/11 was nothing compared with this shit.  You can see the terror in the faces of the people in this photo running for their lives.

A lot of people smelled the greasy crisco stench coming up in the wind a few minutes before the juggernaut beast herself came up through the smoke.  A few of these people, wisely, made a run for it and some of them lived.  Others, out of some morbid curiosity I guess, remained to watch--they took out their cell phones and tried to film it all.  Those people; the curious ones, were all crushed, gutted, pulverized, mutilated...none made it home.

Incidentally, I should add that everyone involved with the catastrophe (after the gaint was felled by a couple of well placed surface to air missiles--scattering chunks of burning meat all over the downtown area) testified at the trial that saw every employee at the Lululemon company jailed executed for creating such a hideous spandex nightmare of an outfit in the first place.

Saturday, February 5, 2011

My Blog

So this is my blog.  It's going to be really good.  You might think it sucks as you are reading it, but believe me the quality is going to improve.  See, already the last post was only 1 line and now this one is like 3 lines.  Complex sentences, complete with subclauses, which even turn into non-essential adverbial clauses; quite by surprise.  Spellingh erros!  A great blog entry!!!

Ok This blog will get better as I add shit to it.

Yes it will.