Inclement Weather and Inclement People

I know.  It's like I'm only barely eking out one damned post a month.  Let's just say I've been keeping busy and worrying a lot about personal problems going on in my life and leave it at that.  But then, what else is new, eh?  Would I like to say things are semi-fine or halfway tolerable?  Yep.  I sure would.  You may think me a pessimist or call me an alarmist but, really, I honestly try to bring harmony in my little part of world only have it it crushed, pulverized and throw back in my face like a messy, sticky wad of pre-chewed Goobers.

This is going to have to be one of those times where I don't reveal what's happening in my personal life right now.  To recall it and write it in any kind of half-attempted detail here would only send me to the Community Mental Health Center.  Let's put it this way: I almost checked myself into such a place, yesterday and people who don't suffer from severe anxiety disorder or depression might have had the same thought cross their minds if they had gone through what I've gone through this week.  It's enough to make you (actually me) wish that The Grand Joke of Life that sometimes plagues the continuously unfortunate would just take a big ol' hammer, whack one in the head and get it over with.  Ha. Ha.  Gosh, I'm quite the kidder.  Let's just say that and move on, shall we?

Speaking of Goobers... Look!  There's Goober!  He's with Andy!  I wonder what tune Andy was playing?  It was probably something lighthearted and something that made sense.  Kind of like the opposite behavior of the people we have running around the world today.  Btw, Andy Griffith died not too long ago.  Don't ask me about Goober, though.  I don't know if he's down in the dirt and food for maggots or what. The last I heard, he joined a circus that was demon- owned that had crazed clown midgets and hell hounds running the show.   Hey, that reminds me of a story I wrote about a month ago!  How about that?  

But anyway...

I will say that the only reason I'm able to write this post is because the temperature has gone down to a nearly tolerable level in this part of the apartment and I rigged a gate, an old window screen, to be exact, to keep the new kitten from jumping around and eating my electrical wiring.  Plus, some of the problems that were taking hold of my sanity have quelled enough to a point where I can put a sentence together with my keyboard without foaming at the mouth and pissing my pants.

Damn.  People are getting are crazier by the day.  Every once in awhile, I'll create some crazy assed story  or comment on some crazy assed piece of news that's going on in the world but I tell you what, folks.  The true life stories that are going on these days put my own fictional or incredibly real tales to shame, or at the very least, seem lame by comparison.

The whack job that went into the Colorado Theater and shot 71 people, wearing a costume or something, while everyone was attempting to watch the new Batman flick is just one of many signs this country is plain nutty.  I would say he's inclement.  You never hear that word, describing insane or unfeeling people much, but I'd say it's time for a new word to describe cruel or apathetic people.  People use this word to describe the weather these days but I would cheerfully give up this word to be associated with this fucker.

Insanity and cruelty must be bliss- for this guy.  His creepy-as-fuck smile says a lot.    

Speaking of inclement weather... what's going on here?  Non-stop floods and rain in the United Kingdom and over here, in the U.S., we have severe droughts and non-stop 100 degree temperatures nearly every day.  In other parts of the world, they're having "opposite weather" of what they're supposed to be having this time of year, as well.  And it's all being dealt out in heavy doses, causing anguish upon almost everyone that I've interacted with or read about. It's like the weather is mimicking the world's fucked up economy, violent state and it's loony people.  Or it's the other way around.

And let's not forget the cannibal dude who ate the homeless man's face, either, awhile back.  This guy didn't even stop eating this poor man's face as he was being shot and told not to eat the victim's face.

You would think that maybe the guy on the right was...uh....  kinda nutty.  Nope, it's the guy on the left that eats human flesh.  Whatever you do, don't hunt for the picture on the net, provided you haven't seen it, already, of the homeless guy's "face" after the cannibal dude gobbled most of it up like a kid at the fair with a stick full of cotton candy.   Or a handful of Goobers.  That picture of the homeless guy, after the cannibals handiwork, had me close to puking.  And that, my friends, is pretty bad if you can make me sick.

Personally, I don't understand it all.  The fucked up economy, the crazy people, the inclement weather, thinly veiled wars that are actually about greed and power, the messed up priorities of politicians and inclement DICKtators around the world and everything else I'm leaving out- but I'm sure you've seen on the Internet, newspapers or TV- it's really oddly coincidental that it's happening in such a short span of time.

George Carlin was a very wise, witty and humorous comedian and author.  R.I.P.  He's one of my heroes, actually, along with Kurt Vonnegut.  They really understood human nature.  They weren't shy about speaking their minds and being honest and direct.  Those are characteristics I mentally applaud about people who unabashedly exhibit them.  I hold both of the mentioned authors, who were realists and humorists, in very high regard.  I'm rather proud to say I own all of George's albums and books and I can say that I own most of the masterpieces that Kurt Vonnegut penned during his life.

My point is, is that George said, more than once, "When you're born you get a ticket to the freak show.  When you're born in America, you get a front row seat."  Wow.  The more time passes during my own era, the more truer and relevant that becomes, George.  And it seems the rest of the world is trying to shake off the fleas (the humans) more so than usual with rampant floods, death-bearing heat, earthquakes and so on.



I truly feel for the victims of those who have been shot and killed in senseless shootings, wars and so on.  I also feel for those living in poverty, never knowing a life where food is plentiful and healthcare is there to benefit them.

I guess when there are people that still feel and aren't apathetic to those around them, there is still hope.  There are days when I try to hold tight to that idea.  Some days, it's harder to do that than others.  But let's all try!  And let's all try to be better human beings and feel something humane for our own species.  At this rate, I have to admit, it feels as though we're quickly spiraling down the drain of history. 

Asmodeus' Astounding Circus (The Final Chapter)

Ah yes, long time, no see, everyone.  But I'm here now, for the moment, to delight and enthrall you all with the long overdue ending to a short series about a circus.  If you haven't read any of the installments or even if you need to re-read these fine, literary masterpieces once again to jog your memory on the storyline and characters...  Here are the following links to help you out in making even the slightest sense of past and present events and be entertained as all get out.  Woo hoo!

Auditions For The Circus

Second Round of Auditions For The Circus

Ringmaster Gregario excitedly went up to the circus ticket booth and asked, "So how many tickets have we sold for the big show?"

There was a line of adults and kids, eagerly waiting to step inside the big circus tent and be seated.

Trixie, who had before been a bubbly, beautiful blonde college girl went through a transformation, of sorts, after the circus owner, Asmodeus, escorted her away after her audition, many months ago and took the twenty something year old back to his own private mansion.

Being a demon (a fairly horny one, at that), Asmodeus had mesmerized Trixie with his charm and evil influence to seduce the giddy blonde.  Soon, Trixie found herself taking off her clothes, revealing her perky breasts and shaven pussy.  The demon circus owner took Trixie by the hand and easily grabbed her with one  powerful arm and tossed her on the bed.  For three nights straight, they fucked without a break.  The experiences Trixie endured caused her to almost lose her mind, completely.

Answering Gregario's question, Trixie slowly looked up from where she sat and said, with slow deliberation and with menace in her tone, "The fuckers just keep coming to see the show."

Trixie giggled slightly, seeming to change in her mood, grabbing a big wad of cash and sales receipts from her cash drawer and thrust it up towards the ringmaster's face.

"See?" Trixie asked.

Gregario nodded approvingly at what he saw before Trixie. Without warning, Trixie viciously grabbed Asmodeus' most trusted assistant by the crotch of his black pants with her free hand.

"AHHH!" screamed Gregario, quickly backing away from the ticket booth and Trixie's grasp.

Several customers looked where the scream had come from.  This got the attention of a pack of red eyed wolves.  Asmodeus' personal pets looked up from the half eaten human skull they had been gnawing on and growled toward the attendees.  Gonza, the large muscle-bound Head of Security came out of the side of the tent and confronted the customers.

"We have a problem here?" asked Gonza, threateningly.

The customers shook their heads, showing they had no problems, but were still very obviously shaking with fear.

An hour later, everyone was allowed to go into Asmodeus' Astounding Circus and take their seats.

A troupe of clown midgets entered from a hidden side room, in a multi-colored vehicle, with a pentagram sign on every side of the car.  The car stopped in the center of the stage.  One of the car doors opened.  Soon, The infamous Blutarsky Brothers came tumbling out.  All of them had bulbous heads, had extreme toe fungus and were mentally impaired.  The crowd let out various sounds of surprise.

Ringmaster Gregario walked up to the center stage, in front of the family of disheveled clown midgets and cried out, into his microphone, "Ladies, gentleman and children of all ages, it gives me a special kind of thrill to present to you the most amazing acts you'll ever witness in your lifetimes!"

Gregario waved his hand and pointed to the clown midgets that had painted faces.  Some of them were crossing their eyes and shaking their heads.  One had a permanent smile on his face.  Luscious, the member of the group who had undergone a botched sex change surgery, courtesy of one of "her" brothers and his handy knife, in order to become a man, stepped out in front of his brothers.  Luscious had tiny breasts, thanks to hormone therapy and a couple of sewn upon hairless gopher butt cheeks, but the vagina of the clown midget was far from perfect.

Tension and anticipation filled the air.

Isa, the eldest member joined her son, Luscious, who was dressed in a small, sparkly pink tutu.

The old ringmaster handed Isa, the mother of the 7 performing midgets, the microphone.

Isa announced, "My name is Isa, mother of my Russian babies, the ones you may know as The Blutarsky Brothers.  Tonight, we will show you our talents and you will soon gaze upon us with wonder.  Watch and fill your ugly American hearts with joy!"

With that said, Gonza brought in a handcuffed and shackled blubbery man in a size XXXL sweatsuit.  He was sweating, profusely, and had a collection of bruises upon his face.  Gonza thrust the obese man on his hands and knees.

Ringmaster Gregorio took a flask of whiskey from his back pocket, downed a swig from it and put it back in his pocket before explaining into his microphone, "This man was found to be attempting to sneak into the circus tent without paying."

Gregorio tipped his big black top hat toward the man as the man groaned in pain.

Continuing, Gregorio said, "This man will be given something special for his efforts."

The fat guy whimpered as Isa and Luscious took their places.  Both clown midgets lay on their backs on either side of the trapped man who Gonza securely chained to a metal platform.  Luscious spread open her legs and pulled the bottom of her tutu off, slinging part of the costume to the side.  She had a tattoo of a snake on her cunt lip.  Isa took off her polka-dotted, over-sized clown pants and spread her legs, in unison, with her son.  A few moments passed before Isa's legs rubbed furiously together, creating sparks of fire.  Luscious mimicked her mother's furious leg movements. Meanwhile, a fast moving stream of fire, much like a flamethrower, came shooting out of their cunts as their tiny legs furiously kicked up and down.

In awe, the crowd was spellbound and became perfectly silent as the gluttonous man's head began to catch afire.  He screamed in agony.  Gregorio, Gonza and the rest of the clown midgets laughed, heartily.  In only a few seconds, the man was totally engulfed in flames, shouting for mercy and receiving none.  Soon, his crispy corpse smoldered for a moment before crumpling into a stinking heap of ashen flesh.

Gonza and Gregorio shoveled the victims smoking remains in a nearby metal garbage vat.  What wasn't completely crispy would be fed to the hungry wolves, later.

Nervously, the crowd applauded, fearing what might happen if they did not show satisfaction of the clown midgets' amazing tricks.  One man, however, showed no fear and announced his displeasure.

The man, famous for his many quirky and comedic movie roles, stood up and said, "I don't think that was right."

Gregorio put down his shovel and picked up his microphone. Into his mike, Gregorio inquired, "And who might you be to think yourself capable of judging what's fair and what's not?"

The film actor stated, "Steve Buscemi, that's who."

Gonza quickly retrieved him from the stands.  Buscemi struggled, frantically, and groaned in protest, desperately trying to free himself of Gonza's mighty grip.

Buscemi was chained to the metal platform, begging to be released, promising to give them substantial amounts of money if they let him go.

A clown midget named Jeepo appeared, did a cartwheel in front of the actor and completed an admirable back-flip, flapping his arms like a bird, before coming down head first onto the metal platform and bashing his head in, making a clanging, crunching noise that could be heard from the stands.  A pool of blood gathered on the platform as Jeepo moaned.  One of his clown midget brothers, Trotsky, came out, pulled down his pants and scratched his taint before dragging his injured brother off the stage.

Ivan, another clown midget performer, came running out.  Stretching his arms outward, Ivan stood still and shouted, "Ta-Da!"

Ivan turned around and looked at the chained actor in the middle of the stage.  The clown midget slapped his face, for comic relief and made a tiny "O" with his mouth to appear as if he was surprised at the actor's predicament.

Without hesitation, Ivan pulled his gigantic pecker from his neon green clown pants and pointed it toward Buscemi.

Ringmaster Gregorio asked the audience, "So do ya think Steve is going to have to do some suckin'?"

The audience collectively gasped.  Buscemi's eyes grew wider than they ever had gotten during the filming of his past movies.

Abruptly, Ivan took a firm hold of his meat sword and quickly shot bullets from his pee hole.  Each bullet went through Steve Buscemi's head as if it were made of facial tissue.  Blood and fleshy bits flew everywhere.  In a matter of seconds, there was nothing sitting on the actor's shoulders but a deformed pulp of bloody mush and some bits of skull mixed in.

The wolves rushed in, eyes red and glowing, and ate most of the actor's body, tearing his corpse apart.

Trotsky and another brother, Dragoff, came running out with their tarp.  Some audience members chuckled at the sight of their little legs moving so quickly.  Both brothers threw the tarp on Buscemi's disgusting remains and ran back where they came from, doing the occasional cartwheel, along the way.  Everyone applauded their comical antics.  Trotsky raised his leg and cut a fart so loud and with such force, the back of his  little clown pants exploded.

Unable to resist the current spotlight, Dragoff came back to the center stage and stuck the wooden handle of a bloody shovel up his rectum and balanced himself on it, straight up from the surface.  The sharpened tip of the shovel was embedded into the ground, several inches deep.

Ivan ran out and blared toward the crowd, "Ta-da!" After saying this, the clown midget promptly pissed his pants.

At that point, though, Dragoff sunk downward upon the shovel handle and found himself impaled upon it. Waving his arms like a pinwheel, his arms seemed like they blurred, in motion, to the audience.  Suddenly, Dragoff's colon was busted open by the wooden handle.  It didn't help that Ivan took the opportunity to jump on his back, hoping to share the spotlight.  A moment went by before the handle went all the way through Dragoff's small body and exited out of his mouth before plunging through Ivan's right eye socket.  Both circus performers screamed and tumbled, smashing forward into the hard, unforgiving ground.

Teeth, blood, bits of exploded colon and gore spilled forth in rivers from where they lay, motionless.

A teenager cheered and texted to her friend the act she had just witnessed.  She texted:

OMG!  I JUST SAW TWO CLOWN MIDGETS DIE BEFORE MY EYES.  THEY WERE HILARIOUS!

One audience member clutched his chest, unsure how much more he could take.  His wife, sitting next to him, patted her husband on the back and said, reassuringly, "It's going to be okay, honey.  These people are really multi-talented."

Asmodeus, demon in disguise and the owner of the circus joined Trixie, arm in arm.  Both of them had just made an entrance and took center stage.  Asmodeus noticed the man who was clutching his heart and politely asked, shouting toward him, "Do you feel a pain in your chest, sir?"

The man shook a bit, sweating and then said, "I'll be... fine."

With that, Trixie pulled her arm slowly away from Asmodeus' arm.  Like a frightening wraith, the once pretty, buxom blonde traveled up the bleachers and stood in front of the man who believed that he was about to have a heart attack.

Trixie curled her finger, slowly and beguilingly,until the man felt he should move his face closer to the pale woman's figure.  She was whispering something under her breath.  The man's wife said, "Go ahead, Sweety Pie," she coaxed, "The lady wants to probably show you a neat trick."

The man shuddered and nervously asked, "Are you a magician?"


Trixie lunged forward and stuck her forked tongue deep into the man's mouth, giving him a french kiss from hell.  Despite his extreme fear, the man achieved a sizable erection.  Trixie's long, snake-like tongue roamed around the inside of the man's trembling mouth.

Asmodeus suddenly ran up to the man, the wife and Trixie and then declared, "You're openly flirting with my woman!  How dare thee!"

Horns sprouted from Asmodeus' head and he quickly transformed into his real identity. The frightening form of a demon stood before the aroused husband.  Asmodeus' eyes glowed, red and fiery.  The demon circus owner clutched the man's neck and thrust upward, popping the victim's head off from his body like the cork of a champaign bottle.

The head bounced from one bleacher seat onto the next until it finally plopped in a young woman's nachos and cheese.  She was sitting in the front row, way down below.  Nachos and cheese flew everywhere.  Melted cheese and human blood splattered against her shirt.  Instead of wondering about or doing anything about the mess or the decapitated head, she immediately took an electronic device from her handbag and texted her friend about how a human head landed, suddenly, in her nachos and cheese and how hard it would be to get the stains out of her shirt.

Meanwhile, Asmodeus was still enraged about Trixie's transgression against him.  Instead of taking his anger out on her, however, he killed the man who had recently had a forked tongue dive into his mouth.   Asmodeus' big red arms steamed.  The arms of the demon rose above his head and the sides of the tent began to catch on fire.  Everyone screamed, panicked and attempted to escape.

Suddenly the wolves with red glowing eyes and bared fangs came pouring into the tent again and began dispatching each circus attendee, who made it to the floor, with joyful and hungry abandon.  Flesh, tattered clothes, phone gadgets, and lakes of blood could be found everywhere inside the tent.

Very few people got out alive that day and Asmodeus' Astounding Circus closed down for several months, disappearing without a trace, until it suddenly sprung up again in jolly old England.

Needless to say, the circus proved to be more popular than the Queen's Diamond Jubilee and the Summer Olympics being held in London, combined.

Asmodeus and Trixie are married now in unholy matrimony.  And Trixie is constantly having to remind Asmodeus, every night, to take out the garbage.  Gosh!

But that's another story.  

Friendship Flea Market (Part 1)

I will break this series up into 3 parts in order for all of you to benefit from it's detailed awesomeness better. There will be two posts about this event on this blog and the last post will be on my photo blog, Pics for Kicks, in the near future.

This is all about the Friendship Flea Market. A spectacle to behold! I went here several weeks ago and it was hot and fun. We go here twice a year for our bi-annual dose of all that is good that humanity has to offer.

You've heard me talk, a little, about our bi-annual tradition of going to the Friendship Flea Market, in search of odd and/or cool items or completely ridiculous stuff before in the past. I've also talked about the variety of rednecks, ugly fucks and freaks you'll encounter. But this time around, I'm going to go in depth, share a couple of interesting links and put up some captioned photos I took for you to be entertained by.

The following descriptions of the Friendship Flea Market come directly from their main website. Of course, some interesting data has also been added by yours truly. And no, by 'yours truly', I don't mean you can have lovable ol' me. I'm not cheap, unless you ladies suddenly drop to knees and start sucking like your life depends upon it. Which it might, if I have my gun handy dandy. Ha ha. What a wonderful, acceptable joke that was!

Seriously, I don't own a gun. Maybe.

Friendship Flea Market is not just a market, it is truly an event. The market features vendors of every sort, a variety of dining options, camping, and nightly bonfires with a live band. Admission is free and parking is only $3 per car. In the year 2011, the market celebrated it's 43rd year in Friendship, Indiana. Feel free to observe some of the patrons authentically dressed in buckskins, loincloths, and pioneer garb. Feel free, also, to witness sunburned babies, screaming in strollers, left alone by teenage redneck parents and the friendly tank topped people walking their Pit Bulls, dogs that will gladly chew off one of your legs, while you casually check out the 200 different varieties of salt at the spice booth.

Everything imaginable can be found at the flea market. Look for unlimited treasures including, furniture, knives, guns, sex toys, bongs, one hitters, porn movies, antiques, jewelry, clothes, crap that no one wants, rugs, toys, tools, electronics, lots of leather and related items to the more primitive. They even have books for sale for people that still read. Imagine that!

The flea market has 2 – 9 day shows every year in June and September, the same days as the National Muzzle Loading Rifle Association hold their Spring and Fall Shoot. You can hear the shoot going on nearby while you shop, eat, endure sunstroke and walk through endless aisles of assorted stuff. In fact, the shooting, which is going on maybe 1/8th of a mile down the road, will happen, abruptly, without warning and will sound so loud and close, you'll swear you've been shot at least a half dozen times during the course of a day's visit.

Now, what the heck do you suppose that Sugar Glider is thinking about all of this?

This is the first part of a series. Anther post about the Market will become available in the days ahead. Stay tuned!

Too Disgusting For Me

You know you've lived too long in this world when you've been around long enough to see a clothes company selling push up bras for little girls. That's right. In case you haven't heard, Abercrombie & Fitch are now selling push-up bikini bras for 7 to 14 year old little girls. The bra's padded cups and halter tops promise to lift and emphasize what little boobs the girls have before puberty.

Why in the fuck is this a reality?

I mean I don't get it. This goes way beyond sick to me. And I'm a pretty sick puppy.

The Abercrombie & Fitch company are the same stinking douchebags that sold (don't know if they're still selling them) a line of thongs for 7 year olds, in 2002, that were decorated with the words "Eye Candy" and "Wink Wink". These fuckers should absolutely be killed. Any parent buying any of this crap for their little daughters should be taken out to the woodshed and given forty whacks with a machete.

Push-up bras are sex tools. That's it. Ridiculously deceptive sex tools, at that. What kind of people would endorse this crap for kids? Bad enough that adults do this and the Botox injections and the other superficial bullshit that people do because they believe appearances to be so fucking important. Why would you push your kid into trying to be more adult-like? Do you want some pervert to rape them? If that isn't the parent who would buy something like this and Abercrombie & Fitch's goal, I don't know what it could be. After it's all said and done, that will be the likely result sooner or later. Who knows? It's probably already happened.

I feel the same way about these little girl beauty pageants you see on TV these days. The parents dress their little girls up, sometimes barely over the age of four, maybe not even that old, in tiny revealing dresses, tu-tu's, gaudy jewelry and so much make up that only a whore would wear. Then they have them compete with other little girls in revealing outfits and have them dance seductively and act like a slut on stage before a cheering audience. The parents that enter their little girls into these contests are more depraved than I could ever imagine. It boggles the fucking mind. I might write about some sick shit at times, but I would never involve children and I sure as hell wouldn't make up these pervert-watching TV shows for all the child molesters out there, drooling and ogling.

The kids are the real victims here. They don't know any better. They think they're just playing "dress up" but on a grander scale. But the parents and adults, in general, should know better. They must be doing it for profit or fame or to somehow live their warped dreams through their kids. Whatever the excuse, it's not good enough and completely wrong in so many ways.

Hey, if you wanna watch something that goes so far beyond good taste and good sense, watch Toddlers and Tiaras. It's one of those little girl beauty pageants shows and it's on a channel that I thought would have the decency enough NOT to have something like this on their schedule- The Learning Channel. This irresponsible show was so creepy and frightening to witness, I had to turn it off after just a few minutes. It made me sick. And it takes quite a bit to make me sick. On second thought, don't watch this shit! I wouldn't subject anybody to watching anything this distasteful. Go watch a porn, featuring a bunch of burnt out crack whores and sexually diseased freaks, instead. It would be a helluva lot more wholesome and less degrading, for sure.

Well, that's all I can say about this kind of thing. I think I'm going to go out for a walk pretty soon and try to clear my mind. Shit like this really agitates me.

Really Sick Jokes

Guy checks into a hotel, asks the clerk, "Is your porn disabled?" "No," replies the clerk, "It's the regular kind, you sick bastard."

*********

John goes into an elevator, looks up and sees this great big huge guy standing next to him. The big guy sees the little guy staring at him, looks down and says, "7 feet tall, 350 lbs, 20 inch penis, testicles 3 lbs each, Turner Brown". John just faints dead away and falls to the floor. The big dude kneels down and brings him to, by slapping his face and shaking him. He asks, "Are you Ok?" In a very weak voice John says, "Excuse me, but what did you just say to me?" The big dude says, "When I saw the curious look on your face, I just figured I'd give you the answers to the questions everyone always asks me. "I'm 7 feet tall, weigh 350 lbs, have a 20 inch penis, my testicles weigh 3 lbs each, and my name is Turner Brown." John said, "Oh Thank God! I thought you said 'Turn Around'"

********

These two starving bums are walking through an alley when one of them sees a dead cat. He runs over, sits down and starts to eat the cat, tearing the meat from its limbs. He says to the other bum, "Hey, I know you're hungry, too. Why don't you eat some of this cat?"

"Hell no!" replies the second bum, "That cat's been dead for days, he's all stiff and cold and smelly!"

The first bum says, "Okay, suit yourself," and continues to eat everything, skin, muscle, guts, all but the skeleton.

A few hours later as they are walking down the street the first bum says, "Oh, I don't feel so good. I think there might have been something wrong with that cat." And just then, he pukes up a huge puddle of rotten cat flesh and guts with stomach bile mixed in, all half digested and looking like mush.

The second bum sits down next to the puddle and says, "Now you're talking! It's been months since I had a WARM meal!"

********

These are the Royal Wedding condoms, called CROWN JEWELS. I kid you not. Talk about being in bad taste. This is a real product. Enlarge the picture to check out the oddly humorous details of the rubbers. If you want, click this link to go to the company's website. I thought it was just a joke at first. I guess it is, in a strange sort of way. On the bottom of each box of condoms it says: LIE BACK AND THINK OF ENGLAND. Wtf???

*********

In a hospital serving victims of land mines, a little girl wakes up from surgery.

Little Girl: Doctor, something is wrong... I can't feel my legs!

Doctor: Yes, we've had to amputate both your arms.

**********

A guy goes to the pub, and says to his friend "You won't believe what happened. I was taking a short cut along the railway track, and I found a girl tied to it. I untied her, and then we had sex over and over again, all the positions, everything.

His friend replies, "That's great... Did you get a blow job?"

"Oh, no... I never found her head."

**********

Two guys are walking down the street and see a dog on the lawn, licking his balls.

One guy says to the other, "Man, I sure wish I could do that".

The other guy says, "Don't you think you ought to pet him first?"

************

How do you get a baby out of the blender?

Nachos.

********

Definition of disgusting?

Shoving 7 oysters up your grandma and sucking out 8.

************

A woman is in a coma. While washing her intimate parts, a nurse notices a slight pulse. She calls her husband, and explains to him,

" ... so I have a theory that if such slight stimulation can give her a pulse, oral sex just may wake her up completely!"

"Well ok, I'll try, if it helps her," says the man.

The nurses wait for him outside the room. All of a sudden, they hear the woman's pulse go flat, and rush in the room to see the man buttoning his pants. With a confused look on his face, he says, "Yeah, I think I might have choked her."

*********

What's better than four gold medals at the Special Olympics?

Not being retarded.

*******

What do you do if an epileptic has a fit in the bath?

Chuck your washing in.

*********

A five year old boy and his grandpa are sitting on the front porch together, when gramps pulls a beer out of his cooler.

The little boy asks: ’Can I have a beer Grandpa?’

Grandpa replies: ’Can your pecker touch your ass?’

The little boy answered: ’No Grandpa. It’s just a little pecker’.

Gramps says: ’Well then, you’re not man enough to have a beer’.

A little later Grandpa lights up a cigar.

The little boy asks: ’Can I have a cigar Grandpa?’

Once again, Grandpa asks: ’Can your pecker touch your ass?’

Once again the little boy replies, ’No, it’s too little’.

Gramps replies, ’Then you’re not man enough to have a cigar’.

A little later the little boy comes out of the house with milk and some cookies.

Grandpa asks, ’Hey there young feller, can I have a cookie?’

The boy ask, ’Can your pecker touch your ass?’

Gramps replies , ’Hell yes, my pecker can touch my ass’.

The little boy replies, ’Then go fuck yourself’. Grandma made these for me’

********

This young cowboy walks into a seedy cafe in a small town in West Texas. He sits at the counter and notices an older cowboy with his arms folded staring blankly at a bowl of chili.

After about 15 minutes of just sitting there staring at it, the young cowboy bravely asks, "If you ain't goin' to eat that, mind if I do?"

The older cowboy slowly turns his head toward the young wrangler and in his best cowboy manner states "Nah, go ahead."

Eagerly, the young cowboy reaches over and slides the bowl over to his place and starts spooning it in with delight. He gets nearly down to the bottom and notices a rotten dead rat in the chili. He immediately pukes up the chili into the bowl.

The old cowboy quietly says, "Yep, that's as far as I got, too."

********

There was a little girl and her mother walking through the park one day and they saw two teenagers having sex on a bench.

The little girl says, "Mummy, what are they doing?" The mother hesitates then quickly replies, "Ummm... they are making cakes."

The next day they are at a zoo and the little girl sees two monkeys having sex. Again she asks her mother what they are doing and her mother replies with the same response, "Making cakes."

The next day the girl says to her mother, "Mummy, you and Daddy were making cakes in the lounge last night, eh?" Shocked, the mother asks, "How do you know?"

She says, "Because I licked the icing off the sofa."

I See That You Have a Horn Growing Out Of Your Head

I've often wondered how it would be to visit any bloggers who I've had the pleasure of interacting with for awhile now. Though it sounds like a quaint idea, this could be a dangerous action to take with serious consequences in the end. I mean- What if you surprise me by throwing me a party? Or a parade, in my honor, even? Or drug me and take advantage of me in my slumber? Gosh, my humble and modest self wouldn't know what to do except blush and act all embarrassed and stuff.

And let me tell you, when I start feeling a little disconcerted, I tend to break a mighty wind and juggle my brightly colored balls. Yes, I carry them with me in my Suitcase O' Fun. I just so happened to buy these balls off of a circus accessories type website one day. What? You didn't think I was talking about my own cojones, did ya? Nah! The only time my jolly, friendly trouser bells are brightly colored is when I paint rainbows on them. Makes me feel all peppy, festive and stuff.

So... when should I come over?

And then there's always the chance I'd come over and I would get the surprise of my life by finding out that you have a horn growing out of your head. Talk about your awkward moments. I wouldn't be able to look away, either. I mean- you might have a unicorn horn growing out of your forehead or have a kooky looking horn like this woman down below.

You could be eating a baby's leg, too, while I'm standing there, attempting to make conversation. Then what am I supposed to do? Tear the other one off and gnaw on it so you don't feel awkward eating alone, in front of me?

You could be a religious psychopath, too, pushing your beliefs in the powers of the Almighty Bullwinkle on me.

Or you could pretend to be normal for awhile and we're sitting there, all cozy and shit, in your living room and you suddenly jump out of your refried bean bag chair and shout, "Holy Toledo! I forgot to introduce my cross eyed, drooling retarded cousin, Alfonso, to ya." At that moment, Alfonso peeks around the corner at me, widens his retarded eye at me and stumbles into the living room with a bloody meat cleaver in one hand and his festering pecker in the other.

Running out the door without so much as a goodbye may be an act of rudeness to you, the generous host, but I would likely be inclined to do it. After all, I don't wish to take the chance that Alfonso gets too close for comfort and allows his pus-oozing pecker to drip into the cup of freshly brewed coffee you made just for me.

I'm all about good manners, you know, but you have to draw the line somewhere in the landscape of picturesque penile disorders.

Seriously, who's to assume exactly what to expect when visiting a fellow blogger. Still, since I'm curious about such things and I wonder if they're just as funny, interesting (in a good way) or intelligent as they portray themselves in their blogs, I would take my chances and do it. If there should be some awkward silence between us, at any point during my stay, I could handle it. There's no need to have our mouths yapping about, in a constant state of vocalization. In fact, that kind of thing can be just as bothersome to me as the quiet times.

And if you're somewhat crazy, in a non lethal way, I would likely get along better with you. I find people who are slightly touched in the head to be interesting and humorous. People who are too humdrum or try too hard to act "normal" cause me to become frustrated around them. Unlike the slightly unusual folks, they don't interest me and, in fact, kinda annoy the shit of me because they're boring me. I'm never sure if it's on purpose or just because they severely lack in the personality department.

I've actually left people standing at parties or other public places while they're still jabbering away about the most mundane of topics. You can look at this gesture as being rude but I look at it as being rude that they're taking up my time by talking about something that any ol' flesh and blood, conformist droid could and will talk about. Those that engage in that type of conversation should consider themselves just peachy-keen lucky if I come up with an oh-so-incredible excuse for leaving you with your jaw dropped in mid-sentence, too. I might offer an "I have to leave now to take a shit" or something smooth like "Your face gives me a stomach ulcer from hell."

Signs that I may be bored with those things you call words that won't stop popping, incessantly, out of your mouth would be:

Fidgeting from foot to foot

Falling asleep

Watching the clouds in the sky

Choking the living shit out of you

But, chances are, that since we are either interacting with each other between our blogs, exchanging fascinating messages on Facebook, twittering our twitters or trading emails, I will most likely enjoy your company in person and you'll be able to keep my utmost attention. Gosh, good news for you, huh? I can feel the radiant, heart-warming glow of your excitement from all the way over here. Oh, that's just a belch you just burped from all that rancid unicorn meat you've been eating. Ah, well. Sometimes we get mixed signals from one another.

So, like I said before... when should I come over? Heh heh.

Fun Houses

When I was a little kid, I'd go to the town fair and they would always have either a really crazy looking fun house or a terrifying one. The first time I entered inside a fun house, I got trapped in this tumbler kind of thing that spun you up and over, round and round (like a clothes dryer) until you received a concussion or fractured elbow. Loads of fun. This was back in the late 60's and early 70's where they didn't give much thought to safety issues. Then there would be the claustrophobic mirror rooms to contend with. I'd walk into mirrors, almost in tears, trying to get the fuck out. I almost had a seizure from the panic attacks endured, trapped in those rooms. Luckily, I wasn't scarred for life having been exposed to that shit. Just a few years.

On the subject of fun houses, this seems to be the kind of house that would be fun to live in.

What's that nursery rhyme about the old woman that lived in an over sized shoe, had so many children, she didn't know quite what to do-- so she let the government foot the bill, keeping the rugrats fed, schooled and clothed while her vagina steadily grew to the size of a fun house?

Yeah, you know the one. I think she lived here, in the fun house pictured below. After awhile, the woman, a human vending machine, didn't bother going through labor or pushing down hard to get the bloody little bundle of joy out of her ever-widening gaping clam. She needn't try. Often times, she'd bend over to pick up a lit cigarette that fell out of her blubbery mouth or a dropped, halfway drunken can of beer and the lil' cutie would just kind of plop out onto the roach-infested floor.

The old woman (who just looked old because she was a meth addict) wouldn't know she had given birth until she stumbled back and tripped over the infant, causing it to cry out, cursing it's very existence into this world and the fact that it's mother was a drug addled whore with festering sores covering 80% of her body. Luckily, the kid rolled out of the way, onto a bed of dead rats, before it could be crushed by the stinking behemoth.

Later, the darling little baby couldn't tell whether it was sucking on a nipple, during breast feeding or a pus-filled skin ulcer that reminded one of a strange, nightmarish teat.

Otherwise, it was a nice house. Friendly neighborhood, too.

The next pic isn't so much of a house as it is a photo of a building. But it would make a nice house. Sure, it's been through a couple earthquakes, but hey, no house is perfect.

This next one is a bounce house. They call these things fun houses, too. People buy and rent these "civil lawsuits in the making" for their kids' parties. It's supposed to keep the kids occupied. They jump all around in these big inflatable enclosed rooms, cracking their heads and bones together, causing each other to scream and cry and have all kinds of related fun.

All I see, when I look at one of these things, is the end result. Someone always manages to get hurt and bloodied. Yes, indeed, nothing says "party time", more adequately, than one of these plastic, injury-causing monstrosities. Good luck with one of these fuckers at your next kiddiefest!

At least this next "fun house" has a sense of humor. Sure, the neighborhood kids, your offspring and their rabble of pals will sustain multiple broken bones, chipped teeth and contusions, but at least they'll be able to come tumbling out of a rabbit's asshole, eventually. Gotta look on the bright side!

This next shot is for an establishment that is a kind of "fun house" for grown ups. This fun house is a bar and grill in my general area. I've wanted to take a picture of this sign forever, but didn't do it until a month ago. "Hummers" is a really nice name for a bar, isn't it? Big red lips, right there on the sign for the place. Great piece of advertising, that is. A place you can go, get sloshed and meet that special someone.

Someone that's just perfect for giving you a hummer, hence the name.

After getting your hummer for the night, why not make a stop at this next fun house. At this fun house, you can eat all the doughnuts you desire, while the doughnuts busily soak up all the alcohol in your belly. Afterwards, if you haven't thrown up all the doughnuts in the toilet bowl in the back room, you may decide to make a return visit to Hummers and do it all over again.

And wouldn't that be fun?

Chocolate Pudding And A Slider

The other day, the wife and I were sitting at the new Chinese buffet restaurant in our redneck community, eating, talking and laughing about something I was reminiscing about. I'll get to that story in a second.

After a half hour of us gorging on crab legs and General Tso's Chicken and so on, a family of white trash comes in and plops their big fat redneck asses in the booth behind us. Why they sat behind us when there was no one else in the restaurant is beyond me. Maybe they wanted to flaunt the intellectual conversation they would be engaging in. After eating for a few minutes, they started rambling about what they were eating and how it wasn't that great. In fact, the food is great there. It's just that the hillbillies in our small strung together towns can't handle anything beside plain old meat and potatoes. My wife and I could hear them, quite easily, because they were so loud. I think they wanted the workers and management there to hear what they were gabbing about.

From that topic, they leaped to another kind of conversation....

One of the family members, the oldest dude, said to no one in particular, "You know, the craziest thing I ever had to eat was a White Castle hamburger out of Jennifer's coochie."

I have no idea if 'Jennifer' was at their table at the time but I heard a distinct female giggle following his statement of personal culinary triumph.

My wife heard them and stared behind me, at the guy saying it. She began to laugh. I did, too. I whispered to her, "I guess that's why they call those hamburgers 'sliders'."

I thought what he said was also funny because only minutes before they came in, I was watching my wife eat a tiny bowl of Tapioca pudding. I like Tapioca pudding, don't get me wrong, but to me it looks like sperm. I told her that it looked like a big blob of jizz and she laughed and said, "Yum." She gets my depraved sense of humor and we've been together for over 21 years. In other words, we've said just about every crazy thing you can say to another person and still know it's cool or acceptable.

Anyway, the sight of pudding got me to thinking about the experimental days I had with old girlfriends. Because of one experience I had with one girlfriend, I had trouble eating chocolate pudding for awhile.

Decades ago...

I got the idea to use chocolate pudding on my girlfriend's vagina. As I filled a bit too much chocolate pudding into her twat, she wriggled around on a bed, expressing her enjoyment. Soon enough, I was down between her thighs, eating her pussy. She moaned and groaned and I was getting into it pretty well. But the chocolate pudding was getting everywhere, man. The sheets. My face. Her butt cheeks. But I didn't care. I was a man with a mission. Even if I couldn't tell what was where because of the vast amounts of pudding covering the whole area, I was going to get to the bottom of things.

Soon enough, she was really going crazy and giggling, like I was tickling her or something. Then I was realizing I was tasting something different other than pussy and pudding. I found out, the hard way, that my tongue had slipped into her butt hole. I tasted a distinct hint of poop juice. My brain lit up in shock and fear and I promptly got up from the bed. She said, "I really liked it when you licked my anus. But it kind of tickled.' I stuttered, saying, "But... But I didn't know I was... licking your asshole. I... I couldn't tell because of all the pudding."

And then I screamed.

She said it was okay because she had wiped her ass really good after her last dump. This attempt at consolation failed to console me and I vowed to never use chocolate pudding as part of my sexual experimentation again. Unless, it was to be put on my hardened cock and slurped off by a sexy young woman. Which, actually, that very thing happened later on in life.

I just stuck my prick in a bowl of chocolate pudding, pulled it out and she gobbled away on it like it was a chocolate covered banana. I provided the homemade whipped cream, of course.

Enjoy your desserts!

Sick Jokes

What's the difference between a gay man and a refrigerator?

-- The fridge doesn't fart when you pull your meat out

I used to be a sadistic necrophiliac with a penchant for bestiality, but I realized I was just beating a dead horse.

My girlfriend and I were having sex the other day when she looked at me and said, "Make love to me like in the movies."

So I fucked her in the ass, pulled out, and came all over her face and hair.

I guess we don't watch the same movies.

A family are driving behind a garbage truck when a dildo flies out and thumps against the windscreen. Embarrassed, and to spare her young daughter's innocence, the mother turns around and says, "Don't worry; that was an insect." To which, her daughter replies, "I'm surprised it could get off the ground with a cock like that."

Two homeless men are standing around bragging about their day. The First hobo says "Today I found $20, and was able to buy a nice hot meal. It was my luckiest day ever!".

to which the second hobo replies: "Oh yeah, my day was way better! I was at the train yard, and found a woman tied to the train tracks. After I untied her, we fucked all day"

"Did you get a blow job?"

"Naw, I couldnt find her head"

An elementary school teacher, a lawyer, a Catholic priest and three young boys are on a plane with only three parachutes. Engines explode, plane starts going down.

The teacher says, 'Save the children!'

The lawyer yells, 'FUCK THE CHILDREN!'

The Catholic priest looks around and whispers, 'Is there time?'

A woman is shopping at a grocery store. She picks up a half gallon of skim milk, 2 loaves of wheat bread, one dozen organic eggs, and some carrots. She goes to the checkout line.

"You must be single." the clerk says.

Amazed at the flattering insight of the clerk, the woman says, "Yes I am. How could you tell?".

"Because you're ugly".

A woman successfully gives birth after several hours of labor. The doctor takes the baby and leaves the room to perform some tests. Several minutes later, the doctor returns with the baby in his arms and then suddenly begins to punch it, kick it, throw it about the room and slam it against an adjacent wall. The woman screams, "OH MY GOD WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY BABY?!" To which the doctor replies, "April Fool's! It was already dead!"

Rape isn't a laughing matter, unless it is with a clown.

Q: What's better than winning a gold medal in the Special Olympics?

A: Not being retarded.

Q: How many babies does it take to paint a house?

A: Depends on how hard you throw them!

Power Madness and Public Pools

I thought I'd take a break from the oil spill series for a bit to talk about other, somewhat lighter subjects. Too much bad news and describing negative events tend to drop me in an emotional hole after awhile. But, I'll be back with my third installment, later. Promise.

A couple days ago, my wife and I went to the public pool. It's like some nasty nut house. You got your screaming, splashing monkeys (kids, to some), your ball throwing, sometimes-hitting-you-in-the-face teenagers and old fuckers wearing a collection of straps for a bathing suit, showing off their ugly skin splotches in all their glory.

I think some older folks dress this way, on purpose, just to make people sick. Who wants to see some old wrinkly, dried up fart showing off his gorilla back and gigantic boulder-like moles on his belly. And I won't even go on about the saggy man titties. I try not to look but it's like looking at a car wreck. It's just so damned hideous, you have to catch a glimpse, even it means your retinas are burned out by the overwhelming, powerful grotesqueness of such a freakish thong-wearing monster.

Goddamn, put something more on, please. In fact, I suggest hopping into a big burlap bag next time you want to show yourself in public. I'm trying to keep my food down, you bastards!

Not that I'm any prize. I have stretch marks on my stomach now from when I've lost weight the last year or so. If you want, you can trace them with your tongue. No, on second thought. Don't do that! I would giggle and cave your skull in with my fist.

And as far as caring what people wear, I don't care that much, except when you go to great extremes to be noticed. Then it becomes a weird, needy psychological malady on that person's part and I feel something must be pointed out. Like, get some mental help or stop doing that or both.

Getting back to our public pool outing...

Our main reason for going there was to get a tan and for me, to help with the non-catch skin condition on my hands I've described in an earlier post. We need to get tanner so we don't fry like bacon on our upcoming cruise to the Caribbeans. In regards to my eczema, I figured the chlorine and whatever other chemicals in the pool would help me with my hands and fingers- to help soften my skin and get the dead parts off. Sure enough, some of the old dead skin was starting to separate or shed from my new skin from being in the pool. I felt like a snake.

And no, I didn't shed and leave any skin in the pool for some numb nuts to come up for air and suddenly gulp my dead skin sheddings.

If anyone had seen the palms of my hands that day, when we got out of the pool, they likely would have screamed, pointed at me and declared, "Leper! Leper! This freak with leprosy must be destroyed at once!"

Then I, in turn, like Shrek, would begin a rampant, angry chase against the villagers and stab them with their pitchforks.... or something.

I'm just delighted as heck (sarcasm) that no members of the pool staff noticed I was wearing shorts (a big no-no), instead of swim trunks. There's a big sign at the front entrance of the pool about what you can and can't wear. They say you can't wear shorts, for one thing. No mention of thongs and straps around creases or bulges on the old, ugly or attention needy, of course.

As I was aimlessly walking around the pool, unable to swim because of the frantically mobile kiddies thrashing about, I began thinking about the old saying, Absolute power corrupts absolutely and suddenly thought of that phrase in several different perspectives.

For one, if you had the super abilities of a super hero, would your powers eventually lead you to doing more for yourself than others? Perhaps subtly pushing you to use your power(s) against someone? I would think that human nature and primal instincts might eventually take over and have some negative aspects on you- even if you believe and have convinced yourself that scenario wouldn't happen.

I, myself, think that wouldn't happen to me, but, humans (myself, included, unfortunately) can be unpredictable. Anyone with a speck of common sense can see that and have likely experienced that.

Having too much of anything is bad for humans and their race, in general. Too much money. Too many vices. Too much time wasted. Too much hate. And yes, too much love- if that love takes away from your own self worth or respect and places its powerful drive and purpose solely on that other person, group or organization.

In summary, I believe power can be a dangerous drug or influence for us, humans. We don't have the discipline or wisdom to use it the right way or in a potentially lethal circumstance most of the time. Our ever-advancing technology and intelligence (oh, really?) surpasses our more positive virtues with more frequency than the other way around.

No peeing in the community pool, kids!

Your Favorite Nursery Rhymes

All Around The Mulberry Bush

All around the mulberry bush

I decided to chase a weasel

This monkey thought 'twas all in fun

When he tore off the head of the weasel

A penny for a mule's head

A penny for a weasel's

That's the way the economy is

Goddamn regular gas is so high right now

Might as well be using diesel

Up and down the Shitty Road I go

I'm pumping in and out of the weasel

Couldn't find a ho to give me a blow

Now Pop! goes the weasel

Higglety Pigglety

Higglety, pigglety, my friend Gwen

This bitch spreads her slop hole for all the goddamn men

Gentlemen come every day

To see how many my friend Gwen doth lay

Sometimes nine, and sometimes ten

Higglety, pigglety, my friend Gwen

Whore!

Come To The Window

Come to the window

My baby, with me

And look at the stars

That shine on the sea!

Break out the bong

We'll sing a song

I'll bend you over

And ram in my schlong

I see two little fish

Far down in the deep

I see lots of things now

This is

good creep weed

Cry "Neap, neap, neap

"

Have no fucking reason why

Latch your hands onto that window sill

As I cream your sweet cherry pie

Diddle Diddle Dumpling

Diddle, diddle, dumpling

My retarded son, John

Went to bed

With his trousers on

So I went into his room

Dent his head in with a broom

Diddle, diddle dumpling

John's now in a tomb

Fee Fie Foe Fum

Fee Fie Foe Fuck

I smell the odor of an English schmuck

Be he 'live, or be he dead,

I'll grind his cojones and run him over with my truck

I Love Little Pussy

I love a little pussy

Especially when it's wet

And if I don't hurt her

She won't be a threat

So I'll not pull on her clit

Nor make her take any abusive shit

And that little pussy of hers

Very gently, I will hit

Georgie Porgie

Georgie Porgie, puddin' and pie

Kissed the boys and made the peter puffers cry

When the boys came out of the closet

All happy and gay

Georgie Porgie attacked them from behind

Put a bag over their heads

And had all of them filleted

With his goddamn butcher knife

Damn sick fuck, that Georgie

John Jingle Jingleheimer Shits

John Jacob Jingleheimer Schmidt

His name is my name, too!

Whenever we go out

The people always shout

"You fuckers have the same name, goddamnit!"

Jack Be Nimble

Jack,

be nimble

Jack, be quick

Jack tried jumping naked over a huge bonfire

And burnt his goddamn prick

Then Jack jumped high

Then Jack jumped low

Then Jack fell into the fire

Received third degree burns

Losing all of his toes

And his prick

What a dumbass!

On Top of Spaghetti

On

top of my woody

I have a disease

I lost my poor meatballs

Due to aids and herpes

That fucking slut Gwen

She's the Queen of all Sleaze

Because of her rancid coochie

I now pee through a tube

I wish I could stab her

It might make me feel good

Hokey Pokey

You put your right foot in

You put your right leg out

You hook your right fist in

And you punch him in the face

You do the Hokey-Pokey

And you slit his goddamn throat

That's what it's all about!

You put your left foot in

You put your left foot out

You put your left foot in

And you turn yourself around,

Quickly firing off your bazooka

Decimating all of your enemies

Because

That's what it's all about!