When I got home from work today, I found this nifty pamphlet wedged in my front door.  I love free shit, so I was instantly excited.  What could it be?!......  Jehovah's Witnesses!?  And I missed them!?  Damn.  They are always such gooey balls of kooky christian fun.

I noticed something interesting when perusing their ad.  The Jehovah's Witness' Jesus is a fuck ton handsomer than the conventional Jesus.  I mean just look at him.  He looks like Brad Pitt an George Clooney's sexy adult son.  Those rich brown eyes, that trimmed and dignified beard, that wistful smile.  

Their Jesus is handsome, but it's still not good enough to ensnare me.  With that being the case, I decided to assist my local Kingdom Hall with some free advertising ideas.  I hope they like them.

First up is Wrestling Champion Jesus.  I know that Jehovah's Witnesses don't play sports, but that doesn't meant that Jesus can't fucking rock the sports dome!  This is Jesus after he won his fourth international championship title in greco-roman wrestling.  That eye drawing bulge will really bring in the closet cases and lonely housewives.  Asses in seats, folks.  Asses in seats.

The tough sportsman is cool, but I like to think Jesus loves to have fun!  Motherfucking Jet Skis!!  How could anyone resist this fun loving, beach bum savior.  I better not let my wife see this or it'll be time for church! 

 I mean, jet skis are cool and all, but what Jesus needs to be is a hero!  A space hero!  Could you imagine the utter bad-assery that would be Astronaut Jesus?  That would get all those smarty pants scientist flooding the Kingdom Hall in droves.  Did you know Jesus invented rocket propulsion?  Well, he didn't, but most of the bible is complete horseshit anyway, so one more lie wouldn't hurt.

I hope this helped.  If I didn't already dedicate my Sundays to drinking, swearing, smoking and fucking, I would totally be there.

I remember the sensation of being suspended upside down, the pressure in my head swelling to unbearable levels, and the warm, wet fluid pouring into my eyes from my mouth and nose. Drowning must be just like being born. One moment you are nothing, free floating in the womb, then someone awakens you to the suffering that will be your life until your end.

I was in a basement on an earthen floor, nude and alone. The entire length of the right side of my body was a shredded mess, but someone had dressed my wounds. My eyes however, were burning and left me in agony. I could tell that some fine sediment made its way under my eyelids and scratched grit into my pupils whenever I blinked. There was a vague recollection of being dragged across gravel and feeling dozens of small hands all over me, checking ever recess in my body for some unspoken treasure. And in that moment I wished I was dead.

A small mexican man brought me some milky colored water and only nodded when I spoke to him, clearly unable to speak english. The quality of the water and the lack of conversational english made it clear that I was on the mexico side of the border. Apparently my success came through the most difficult of possible scenarios. When the man left I poured the nasty water into my eyes to clear out the dirt, then drank the rest with the understanding that I would likely be shitting uncontrollably from sickness a few hours later. Then a large man with a large silver belt buckle entered the room followed by a little girl, no more than ten years old. I scrambled to cover my nakedness from her, but she didn't seem startled at all. She spoke. "What is your name?"

When I didn't answer the man shouted some mexican gibberish at me and kicked some dirt up from the floor. "What is your name and who is your family?" she asked again. I just stared back up at them, unsure what to do. The man barked again and the little girl ran out the door and closed it shut, and he stared at me while he began undoing his belt. I wasn't sure if I was in for a beating or a buggering, or even which I preferred in this situation, but the man's intentions became clear as he pulled the belt loose and let the large buckle dangle at the end like a savage medieval flail. I cowered with my back exposed to him like a frightened turtle as he laid into me. He aimed for the exposed part of my head and when I covered up with my hands he focused on them, my brittle fingers breaking with ease. The beating was so violent and relentless that I didn't even scream. I just laid there waiting to die. And after what seemed like an eternity he dropped the belt in the dirt next to me, the silver shine reduced to a dulled blood red, then I saw the shadow of his raised boot for the moment before I lost consciousness again.

MMMMMM!! Would you just look at that steaming pile of shrimp.  Deeeelicious.  I can't wait to stick my teeths into that pleasant platter.  But wait!  Oh no!  Shrimp Poop!  These shrimp still have bits of their last meals stuck on their corpses.  Well fuck that, I'm not gonna eat a shrimp's shit. 

EWWWWW!!

If only there was another way to enjoy the texture and shape of shrimp without all that annoying feces.  Well now there is!  Introducing Shrimpums, the snack that is shaped like shrimp.  Do they taste like shrimp?  Not at all!  Shrimpums come in a variety of flavors, Cheese, Beef, Taco, Chicken, Dorito's Nacho, Vindaloo and dozens more, but not shrimp! 

CHEESE FLAVORED!

Are you craving the tangy crunch of Shrimp!  Then grab yourself a moist sack of Shrimpums the snack that is shaped like shrimp!

(WARNING: May Contain Rat Feces)

A few days ago I started to track and describe my bowel movements. For science. I am tracking consistency, relative size, production effort, smell, and ease of cleanup all on a 1-5 scale. I promise you that my personal defecation records will be the most interesting and enlightening thing you read today.

Monday, March 4

I slept in until around 9:30 am when the pressure awakened me. Approximately eleven inches of light colored feces in an unbroken and moist chain were produced with little effort, scored at a 4 for size and 2 for effort, respectively. Smell was horrendous due to the protruding iceburg-like posture of the coil, 4.5. After several wasted handfuls of tp I resigned to the shower as the most thorough and practical option, also 4.5.

Tuesday, March 5

Had to shit when I awakened, unable to since I had to go to work. After settling in the office I visited the stall to produce a football-shaped oval of lumpy and dense poo, size rating only 2.0, although the wide midsection bottlenecked and caused a roughly seven minute shitting time, with an effort rating of 3.5. Judging by the red streak running longitudinally through the mass I should have taken more time or eaten more fiber yesterday. Smell almost nonexistent and wiping effort minimal, both at 1.0.

Wednesday, March 6

All day long I could sense the warmth of a burgeoning shit inside me. I worked through the afternoon with anticipation of the ripening in my bowels, but was unable to coax the beast out of me despite the performance of poop calisthenics (deep squats, leg lifts, and crunches). No poo to rate, and overall quite concerning.

Thursday, March 7

My concern deepened this morning when I was still unable to relieve the growing colonic pressure. I worked through the day without time or urge to complete the act. Upon returning home from work I was able to spark the breach by the consumption of two microwave burritos. A risky gamble that paid off. Produced two dark links of poo about eight inches long each, quite quickly. Almost startlingly quick, rating 1.0. Diameter was roughly the girth of a baby's arm and quite solid, rated 4.0. Smell and cleanup were both formidable, necessitating the implementation of both dampened tp and some odor coverup by air freshener and closing the bathroom door, which remained closed for the rest of the evening. Easily both could be rated a steady 4.5.

I will continue tracking my movements for your reading pleasure, and may consider experimental shitting such as documenting "tracer foods" that can be visible post-defecation. Until then, happy shitting!

Dear Popular Irony,

I married my husband four years ago, and our relationship has been absolutely wonderful throughout. He has always loved dogs, especially pitbulls, and used to breed them with his family since he was young but never owned any since we began dating because we always lived in small apartments that didn't allow dogs. I always promised him that once we had a home of our own he could get a couple dogs, and last year we finally achieved our dream and bought a lovely house in the suburbs. But that's not the only milestone we reached in our relationship, because I just found out recently that we are having a baby!

We are both thrilled about starting a family, but recently my husband started discussing buying a pitbull puppy like nothing has changed. I know I was very supportive of his love for the dogs in the past, but I'm not sure how I feel about them now that I have to worry about the safety of my unborn child! I am afraid to bring it up now since he is very adamant that pitbulls are just as safe and loving as any other breed of dog, and his feelings would be hurt if he found out I am having doubts. Popular Irony, I need help fast!

Sincerely,

Troubled In Texas

Well, Troubled, this is a very difficult situation to resolve without one of you being unhappy with the outcome. If your husband has been very straightforward about his love for pitbulls and you have been hiding your reservations about them, then it would seem you might be on the losing end of the honesty scale here. But I understand that the safety of your family is far more important than any casual agreement you made with him before you found out you are pregnant.

But there is one saving grace in this scenario that you can use to make sure you don't find your relationship in a situation where it is strained to the breaking point. Your baby isn't born yet. Now hear me out... Pitbulls are a lot like other dogs. There are good ones, and bad ones. And much of the pitbull's personality is decided by how it is raised. If your husband buys a pup tomorrow and raises it right, then you will have nothing to worry about when it comes time to have a baby.

So buy the dog, and get yourself a secret abortion. If you tell your husband you miscarried (this might take some acting on your part, but you should have no problem managing some well-timed weeping), then he can have his dog, and your relationship will likely strengthen as a result of the "tragedy". Two birds with one stone! I just hope you haven't told your whole family you are expecting, since that would complicate matters. Hope I helped!

Love,

Popular Irony

So today was the final day in the eight year reign of Pope Benedict XVI, and along with a bitchin' new pad down at the nun's living quarters he gets a new name: Emeritus Pope Benedict. And although he leaves under a veil of suspicion surrounding some seemingly sinister secrets leaked by his former papal butler, and with the distinction of being an ex-nazi child molestation advocate, he does not leave with an unparalleled level of lewdness for Popes in general. Tonight we take a quick look at the Catholic church's long legacy of perverted and lustful Popes.

Pope Leo VII (d. 939 CE), having served only three short years as Pope back in the crazy no-holds-barred years of the 10th century, died doing what he loved most. To be more specific, he died while fornicating. There is very little by way of details regarding his death for a variety of reasons including a lack of reputable and critical outside journalism during those days, and also because the church doesn't fucking want you to know about all the fucking they have been fucking around with when they judge everyone else for their own habits regarding fucking. That's a lot of fucking. And it doesn't stop there.

The 10th century was somewhat of a golden age for fornicating and adulterous Popes. In fact there are two other Popes that both died the same way and for the same reason. Pope John XII (d. 964 CE) and Pope John XIII (d. 972 CE) both met their end at the bludgeoning hands of jealous husbands who objected to the papal pumpin' that was being "thrust upon" their wives. One wonders why when the church suffers the indignity of a sex scandal resulting in the murder of their Pope, that they then elect another Pope who decides to call himself BY THE SAME NAME less than a decade later, and then they are surprised when he has the same penchant for boning other men's wives! Wonders never cease.

But my favorite fallen Pope is the last on my list, Pope Paul II (d. 1471 CE). This guy was WAY ahead of his time, and would have fit in with the modern church quite nicely. He didn't have problems "coveting" his neighbor's wife, oh no. He wasn't sent to meet his maker in the throes of passion with a forbidden mistress. And there was no shameful political secret that drove him from the ranks of the holy. Pope Paul II had a heart attack while on the receiving end of a particularly enthusiastic page boy sodomy session. Maybe this is why the Catholic church is so slow to remedy the problem of child diddling within their circle. They have a long rich history of shameful sexual practices by their #1 guy that FAR overshadow some hasty groping and kiddie fucking by some lowly priests and bishops. In the eyes of papal history these neo-pedophiles are simply amateurs in the most common of the deadly sins. Lust.

It was an uncharacteristically overcast day in the desert. I had whittled down my meager belongings even further to just clothes, a wristwatch, and the money. All could be contained neatly and dryly in some jumbo sealable plastic bags and tied to my belt to ensure I didn't spill thousands of dollars into the Rio Grande.

Now that the liquor was bleeding from my system it seemed like a fucking ridiculous idea. And considering that my abandoned car was cleared from the crossing, the police might have full knowledge that I was attempting to flee the country and would be ready to scoop me out of the water and into custody to face trial. I wish I had my gun back. It was stupid to throw it in the gutter like that. At least I could have used it to force the police to kill me instead of arresting me. But the time for doubt was gone, and so I wrapped my cash in a dirty motel towel and stuffed it in a plastic bag, then marched out the door and into the busy street.

I walked for about twenty minutes until I was out of sight of the crossing and away from the majority of the traffic. The river was about sixty yards across, and the opposite shore was spattered with mexicans staring out at their freedom. This was both reinsuring and ominous. Clearly there was no one posted to stop them from swimming across, but on the other hand, why were they waiting? Surely these men, all my age or younger and with bodies hardened by years of manual labor, could easily swim the distance far easier than I could, and yet they do not. With these thoughts in my head I sat on a dusty riverside rock and took off my shoes, sealing them in a bag and tying it to my belt.

The men on the other side were interested now, gesturing at me and no doubt discussing the crazy gringo that was obviously about to jump in the fucking river. I waded out into the freezing water and immediately regretted it. But I had no other choice, so I jumped forward into the deeper water.

In my head I was swimming forward, but my eyes seemed to be lying to me and indicating I was swept swiftly downstream. I struggled to keep my head above water as I went, the only thing keeping me afloat was the meager bits of air in the plastic sacks tied to my waist. The water was much faster and stronger than I anticipated, and suddenly I realized I was in deep shit. The cold seized the muscles in my left leg and I took in a deep mouthful of muddy water, swallowing fast to clear the way for a desperate gasp of air only to be cruelly denied by another gulp of wetness. I was in full panic when I lost consciousness.

Holy shit! I just got these motherfucking Minecraft Legos, and they are the best fucking thing ever! I figured we didn't have nearly enough Minecraft-related content on here, so bend over and brace your anus, 'cause I'm going in dry!

Look at this majestic bullshit! Let me tell you, these little plastic fuckers are not cheap, but as long as I don't have to blow a hobo to get 'em, I'm jumping on the offer. How much did they cost? Between thirty and two-hundred dollars... But who fucking cares?! MINECRAFT LEGOS MOTHERFUCKER!

I knew you wanted to see some up close cross-section action, you filthy little wench! Well take it all in, because I have the Lego set and YOU don't! How do ya like them apples, bitch?

Fucking run, Steve! RUN! That little creeper bastard is coming to blow your dick off! And what do we have here... Some motherfucking gold just waiting to be mined and turned into a necklace in the shape of scooby-doo for the inner city folks to buy!

And how about the amazing fucking tree here? Who built that beautiful son of a bitch? ME, that's who! Because I went down to the store and awkwardly wandered around the children's toy section until I found the last box of these motherfuckers! Now that I built it I guess I will... break them down again.... and maybe build something as cool as the box art.... or at least try to.... fuck you.

The economy is rough out there. Businesses are closing their doors at an alarming rate, and only those on the cutting edge of financial theory are finding their piece of the ultimate commodity that we call appreciating solvency. The good news is that the answer has been sitting right under our noses since the dawn of mankind. Faith.

That's right. You probably spent countless hours and untold thousands of dollars analyzing market data, consumer confidence, and financial projections just to find your business unable to gain foothold on the slippery slope of success. And for every breakthrough there seems to be two obstacles, like an immortal serpent sprouting heads from every bleeding wound. But mankind has known these struggles before, and has always bested them with the application of a market principle we have named "ignorant certainty". This cultural tool is what motivated entire continents to wage brutal war for generations fueled by nothing more than an imagined sense of superiority and entitlement. The same tool that drove whole civilizations to doom themselves to famine and suffering in the pursuit of the construction of massive monuments to pay tribute to unseen deities. And now that same power that organized millions to move mountains can be yours with a simple call to Faith Based Business Consulting Inc.

But how do we ensure results without evidence? By liquidizing your entire business analytics model and operational computing practices, that's how. For far too long businesses have bowed down to the almighty spreadsheet, trusting it's unreliable, unpredictable, and unresponsive "figures" to drive their investment decisions, turning their backs on the very principle that separated us from the animals and gave humanity a stranglehold on earth. It's time to stop

spending

money with your brain and start

earning

money with your heart.

With a simple phone call we will send over one of our licensed analysts to visit your operational facilities and perform a series of meditative sessions and animal sacrifices to ensure you have the best possible options to drive your business forward, covering all facets of your business from staffing to advertising. And the best part is that all costs of implementation are absorbed by the vast savings you will experience by eliminating rational procedural expense optimization efforts, and if you market your new policy of ignorance well enough, your business might even qualify for federal tax-exempt status! There is literally

NO

downside!

So call us now and we will put you on the same path of historic success that gave us the Roman empire, the pyramids in Egypt, and every war in recorded history... Faith!

The term "faith-based" implies a disregard for normal consulting practices. Any guarantees of success are offered with an assumption of diligent and honest belief in the soundness of the program, and any failures are assumed to be driven by a lack of proper faith. FBBC Inc. denies any wrongdoing or responsibility in the supposed formation of tertiary cult-like organizations that are actively practicing ritualized torture or ethnic cleansing. Due to the open admission of a complete lack of evidence for successful consulting experience FBBC Inc. enjoys immunity from punitive legal pursuits. Because the market works in mysterious ways, believe at your own risk.

We know you love it, so here is another Omegle post!  Hot Troll on Troll action!  Our responses are the absurd ones in blue text!

Sometimes I wish there were time stamps on Omegle.  The chat below lasted about 20 minutes and it was a very one sided conversation. Each of my comments were about 2 minutes apart.  Sometimes patience doesn't pay off.

This is a different kind of Omegle conversation.  A third person submits a question and watches 2 other people answer/debate it. 

 This was my favorite one of the night.  Knocked that fucker out of the park!

It said that the other person was typing the entire time, but they never gave me a response.  I really wanted to know what they'd prefer.