The egg stirs, cracks, hatches... Rises!!  A new era of suffering and despair bursts forth into our realm.  All because you couldn't keep your legs closed.  Seriously, why do you think that excessively attractive man chose you that night at that truck stop bar over the dozens of  other woman far more appealing than you?  I'll tell you why, that man was an elder beast from beyond the stars and he noticed your perfect egg laying hips.  His unholy star seed would thrive inside your womb.  All it took was a nod and a wink and within minutes, he was burying his thorny meat wand inside of your eager clunge in reeking men's room.

It's hard not to get pregnant by a man-beast that ejaculates in literal gallons.  Fueled by Cheetos and Pepsi, the egg matured quickly.  You thought it was just indigestion from eating at the Taco Bucket, but when you looked into the toilet, a giant feces smeared egg sat quivering in the septic mess.

You cared for it, kept it warm.  You knew it either contained your child or some other delicious animal.  Now it has hatched and your dark motherhood has begun!  It must be strange nursing a baby with a mouth full of grasping tentacles.  You could switch to formula, or you could try feeding him neighborhood children.  They all look so plump and tasty. 

One day the elder beast will return and claim his child.  With the powers of the star-born, he will depose the current celestials and usher in an age of fire and rot.  Until that day, good luck enrolling him in day care.

Awww, he has his father's tentacles.

The Usual Suspects

Whether it’s being poked, prodded, slapped, tugged, pulled, yanked, punched, spit on, or laughed at, there are few things that my cock is not up for.  Things that a less sensitive part of my anatomy might consider abuse are welcomed by my magnificently resilient member.  In fact, I have sent it places that even my fingers did not dare to go for fear of contracting some unknown skin condition or unwashable odor.  That is why I decided to give a short but thorough list of the do’s and don’ts of penis ownership.

Firstly I must emphasize that you should never do anything that might damage the skin of the cock.  No piercing or cutting is allowed.  Not many people know this, but if you were to cut of a man’s penis while fully erect he would hip -wield a red lightsaber for roughly ten to twelve seconds before dropping dead from blood loss.  Never forget.  “But could I slam it in a door”  you ask?  Well, that depends on the door.  I would suggest starting with a desk drawer and working  your way up, and always avoid car doors.  Don’t ask why I know.

One of my favorite practices is called “unkinking the hose”.  It is started by tying the dick in a simple knot and unraveling it with the sheer power of your erection.  If you don’t have enough slack to tie a proper knot then I can’t help you here.  Personally I do this with a sturdy half-windsor, or sometimes even with a bow.  This is a normal and healthy practice, but you should stay away from any pervert that suggests that you try any “corking”.  This is the practice of plugging the urethra prior to ejaculation with the purpose of firing a tiny projectile like some sort of miniature qtip cannon.  This is dangerous and unnecessary, which is why it pays so well.  Keep it safe kids.

And that takes us finally to verbal abuse.  Few things stimulate better than a good face to junk argument.  Just remember to keep any racial abuse to a minimum.  I have been to a few abuse sessions that quickly got out of hand when a gentle ribbing escalated to a shouting match, and eventually to some truly offensive hate speech.  And this goes both ways, since we all know how easily a cock can instigate in an argument, turning a normally pleasant participant into a vocally aggressive bigot.  And I am very sensitive to penis-based hate speech, as I am the owner of an african-american penis.  It’s just my choice.

But the possibilities are only limited by your own imagination.  Always be open to new experiences and exciting opportunities, and you will rarely find yourself disappointed.  Unless, or course, your neighbors call the police on you when they see you in the window threatening your penis with a loaded firearm.  Sometimes I take it too far.

There is not a single type of creature more majestic than birds.  I mean just look at them.  Feathers, beaks, flight, backwards knees, they are big buckets of fucking awesome.  It's too bad that I am terrified of live birds.  I hear that they aim for the fucking eyes!  What the fuck!?

It's hard sporting a rigid bird boner and not being able to own one, feed them in the park or view them in zoos.  The only kind of birds I can enjoy are dead ones.  Recently, I visited a Natural History Museum with the sole intent of photographing my favorite stuffed beasts.

First we have a large bird called the Gargantuicken and it's tiny birdlings.  Birdettes?  Chunkins?..... peeps.. no....um... CHICKS!  That's it, baby birds are chicks!  Just look at their adorable stuffed carcases.

Next up is the rock dwelling ocean bird, the Rumpadumps.... Well, looky there.... If you look close you can see Rumpadump chicks!  I wonder if the museum killed the chicks themselves for this display or if they waited around the Rumpadump cliffs waiting for them to die.  I bet they are delicious.

This is a Grey Park Bird.  I see them in the park sometimes from my apartment window.  Terrifying!  From the looks of it, this Grey Park Bird has also pooped out some chicks.  Nice work, mama Grey Park Bird!  Well, maybe not too nice of work.  They are all dead.

I think these are called Click Clacks.  It is my understanding that baby Click Clacks are prized for their gallbladder.  I hear it's real good for boners.  Too bad this one is full of sawdust.  I could really use a good dick thickener.

Ah, the majestic Birdjamin Buttons.  These birds are simply amazing!  They age backwards just like Brad Pitt in that terrible movie.  Look at the proud, fluffy white parents admiring their newborn.  That baby better go get some food for it's parents.  Mama and dada have aged out of their flying stage.  Nothing but eggshells and oblivion awaits them.

What's that there?  It's the bird that McDonalds butchers to make the Filet o' Fish, being trailed by it's brood of tiny McNuggets.  

 Can you hear the lonesome cry of the Royal Crested Cockneck?  It's terrible.  It sounds like someone farting into a an unwilling elderly woman's mouth.  Well, isn't this a coincidence, it's got itself some dead babies too! 

 Feast your eyes on nature's most hideous infant.  The Sleek Shitstack.  Just looking at it makes me happy that it is dead.  Those dead parents have to pretend that they love that mess.  What deluded assholes.

Last but not least is the sworn enemy of the Gargantuicken, the Enormuck.  If I understand my history correctly... In Jesus times the Enormuck was saddled and ridden into battle by the Jesuses during the crusades.  They fought the Jewishes who rode the Gargantuickens.  When horses were invented, people stopped riding birds altogether.  The giant birds, free from their masters, continued their own feathered wars that still continue to this day.  These display Enormucks were probably murdered in their sleep by sneaky Gargantuickens.  Such war crimes...

Until next time!

“They did it on purpose!  They’ve come for our freedom!  And if we don’t fight to protect them, we’ll have to concede them!”
 

The man went on shouting, his audience entranced.  If they decided to believe him, they’d sure shit their pants.  Perched on his soapbox he commenced to his ranting, foaming and spitting, with canine-like panting.
 

“The government spooks have now shown their true faces, with all their resources being put through their paces!  

The CIA, FBI, and even the Navy!  A free-thinking public could only spoil the gravy!  

It started out small, healthcare draining our coffers!  Now they will win this dark war since we’ve turned into paupers!”
 

He was winning them over as their doubt was relaxed.  Maybe he knew something more, besides no one liked the new tax!
 

“Now we have got Aurora and Newtown, coincidence you say?  It’s manufactured convenience, reason to take guns away!  

Twelve shot in a theater, one kid killed twenty-six?  Do they think we are stupid?  Can you not smell the clear fix?  

It was government lackeys with training to kill, not some troubled young people who were mentally ill!”

Even the skeptics were turning, their conversion was nearing...  And the faithful among them began chanting and cheering!
 

“Now the bombing in Boston, civil war has begun!  And no one is safe, they’ll destroy everyone!  

Next it’s the Big Apple, L.A, and every city between!  The fight will be brutal!  DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS?!

WE TAKE ACTION!  A NEW FLAG, UNDER COMMANDER GLENN BECK!  NOW OUT TO THE STREETS!  WE’VE GOT A NATION TO WRECK!”
 

The crowd now behind him, he started his riot.  But to the outside observer, it all seemed so quiet... For all his screaming and shouting, and conspiratorial tone,  The man looked quite pathetic, marching alone.

Tossing salad is an art, and it takes dedication and a gentle nature to do it properly.  Many people are hesitant to try salad tossing at home because they are afraid it will become a messy chore, but if done properly a salad can be tossed with little necessary cleanup, leaving you with a satisfied feeling.

First choose your lettuce.

It must be fresh and showing minimal signs of wilting, and in order for you to find it palatable in the end, must be washed by hand first.

Do this in advance, as nothing kills the mood like a break in the action for the purposes of basic hygiene.

Next it’s time to get to chopping.  Don’t think this is skipping the foreplay, because it isn’t.  The chopping is only the start of the action, I assure you.  Your aim is to lubricate the salad with a little oil, and loosen it up for the upcoming fondling.  There is nothing less appetizing than a dry, dusty salad tossing.  Get liberal with the drizzle and get that salad in manageable sections so nothing is neglected.  You are going to need to get into every nook and cranny to treat this salad proper.

Now you need to be willing to get your hands dirty.  Some people might get a little squeamish on this step, but you will need to soldier on.  You know what you were in for when you signed up for some salad tossing.  To make sure everything gets mixed up properly you will need to toss for about three to four minutes, or until the salad begs you to stop, which ever comes first.  Just remember to maintain eye contact, and as always, when tossing a salad you will need to remember to cup the bowls.

Now that the salad has had its fun, you get your turn.  Dress that salad with everything you’ve got.  Some say you should always dress your salad before tossing it, but that is not the gentleman’s way.  A good tosser knows that the salad always get’s its end first.  And besides, you are going to be all tuckered out once the dressing sprays its last drop, so get all the hard work done first.

And that, my friends, is how you properly toss a salad.

I love Terry Pratchett.  This gif is from a stop motion movie from one of his books, "Truckers".  It is part of the Nome trilogy.  I know what you are thinking, smart-ass.  I don't know how to spell Gnomes.  Well, these aren't Gnomes, asshole, these are Nomes, so shut your fucking fucking judgmental mouth.

That is all....

-

Twas the night before 420, when all through the city,
A bomber was hiding, in a boat that was shitty.
He laid all alone in a blood and piss soaked bed,
Scared that the SWAT team would soon make him dead.

The country was watching, wondering where he could be,
In devilish anticipation of a death on TV.
When one lucky smoker found some blood in his yard,
He ran to his phone, and the FEDS came down hard.

They showed they meant business, and fired some rounds,
Then listened to him whimper, and other pathetic sounds.
It dragged on for hours, and the kid seemed to be screwed,
Then the cops got him to surrender, with the promise of food.

The people were cheering, the terrorist beaten and dragged,
Then taken to the hospital, where he was treated and tagged.
He would get no miranda, probably suffer more beating,
But no one would care, he deserved even worse treating!

The media vultures arrived, circling overhead,
Eager for news, on if the killer was dead.
But the doctors worked hard, to make sure he kept breathing,
Because if the man died, the public’s rage would be seething!

"We want torture! Interrogation! and a televised trial!
And we hope he pleads not guilty, so the show lasts awhile!
To Gitmo he goes, after we’re done in the courts!
For more humiliation and torture, even a raping of sorts!"

And after our bloodlust, and the media circus,
Islamophobia would be stronger, with public burnings of burkas.
And America remains undefeated, foiling another terrorist plot
But who fucking cares?  Let’s just smoke some more pot.

Happy 420!

Hi, it's me, Beardo.  You know, Beardo!  I'm that portly guy at your work that wears shorts and a t-shirt year round.  Come on, you see me every day playing hacky sack while I am on break.  Did you notice how all of my friends are wearing winter coats and gloves?  HA!  Not me, t-shirt and shorts, baby, t-shirt and shorts.

What's that?  No, I'm not cold at all.  I am totally tough and cool.  In fact, I consider myself "The Coolest Guy at Work".  I don't see anybody else kicking ass in shorts and a t-shirt when the temp is the teens.  Hellz no, just me. ..... Why yes, these are the same shorts everyday...... Hmmmm?  Well, who needs to own more than two t-shirts, really? 

I can totally tell that people are jealous of how cool I look.  They wish they could be me but they can't brave the cold like a real man, like me.  It is so obvious that my female co-workers want to pork me.  I mean, who wouldn't, right?  ..... What's that?  .... Well no, I haven't "Bed" any of my female coworkers......Yet!  I think they are just too intimidated by my manly beard that is the same length as my balding head hair.  Only one attachment needed for my clippers, and yes, the curtains match the carpet.

Well, I'm going to get a little more hacky sacking in before my break is over.  Where are my friends?  Those losers said it was "too cold" today.  Wussies.  ... What's that?  Why yes, that is frozen saliva on my beard.  It looks bad-ass right?  Your eyes say no but my chapped skin says "Yes"......  OK, bye then...

Here at Abstinence Only University we apply the concepts embraced by Missouri public schools to provide the nation's first sociologically and scientifically hostile higher learning environment. If accepted, you scholarly experience begins with the mandatory wool and burlap uniforms and luxurious segregated dormitories, where you will enjoy a living space bereft of sexual temptation. But it doesn't stop there! We offer some of the most wholesome theologian-approved curriculum available in the bible belt!

Come join "professor" Diane Watkins as she explains the economic concepts of supply and demand through the lens of fundamental and righteous gender inequality. Learn how a woman's inherent lack of intellectual aptitude drives the world economy and how Jesus calls for male dominance to ensure fruitful capitalist prosperity until the second coming!

Discover how touching your genitals for any reason other than bathing could be responsible for the decline and eventual collapse of the American empire, just as it was for the historic doomed empires of the Ottomans and Romans! And take in the refreshing historical teachings that show us how personal sexual shame can benefit human civilization for generations to come at one of our acclaimed* lectures by notable author Norman Gregory.

Or is social studies more your thing? Perhaps you could sign up for Sociology 101 with Dr. Spencer Watson and experience the worldwide revolution in feminine empowerment by the adoption of ancient cultural traditions in the middle east, where fashion designers are "taking back the burkha" and making it a symbol of pride for western women today!

And for the inquisitive child in all of us there is a robust curriculum of natural science courses to demonstrate divine wrath for those that presume to understand the ways of God through observation of dangerous chemical reactions and exposure to radioactivity. Come learn how viewing the heavens through a telescope is the moral equivalent of a peeping tom staring lustfully through the keyhole of God's creation, and how piety can lead to intellectual truth!

So take the plunge and join us in training a new generation to fill America's future businesses with an army of righteous businessmen, politicians, and technicians that have an understanding grounded in respect for God's natural law, and steeped in a deep personal sexual shame. Our supporters are touting us as "A heavy-handed approach to integrating theological dogma into secular teachings" and "A dangerous regression into fostering contempt for scientific advancement."  Degree not included.

Nearly a half hour passed before I heard the sound of heavy boots pounding the stairs outside the door.  The brutish man was back with a cell phone and leather gloves on.  It seems he didn’t think I was going to be able to come up with the money, and he was prepared to finish me off.  Following close behind him was the little girl translator, no doubt tagging along to make sure I didn’t try anything stupid.  But the joke was on them.  Not only had my family disowned me long ago, but I never really had friends.  Especially not friends with the means to save my ass right now.  If I needed drugs or booze then maybe... but not money.

He handed me the phone and I reached out and took it from him, an ancient flip phone from some mexican prepaid phone service, and pawed at the number pad with my broken fingers with utter futility.  “Can you dial for me?”  I asked the little girl, and she walked over with that same level of chilling confidence she had when she told me all about my dubious fate a short time ago.  As soon as she was within arm’s length I had her.

I stood up with ease with a kicking and screaming child in my hands, hands that showed much more strength than even I thought I had.  The look in the man’s eyes was priceless.  Not long ago I couldn’t even stand, let alone leap to my feet.  He was amazed that I was no longer restrained, the bindings dropping to the floor.  My broken hands had easily slipped through the cord he used to tie me up, the only upside to the agonizing beating he gave me.  When I grabbed the child by the throat she stopped struggling.  I was one quick motion away from snapping her neck and she knew it.

“Tell him to bring me some clothes and all the money you took from me.  And a gun.”  I loosened my grip on her neck so she could mutter the words to him.  He shook his head at me and I smiled.  Then I slipped the fingernail of my left index finger into the girl’s eye socket and punctured the orbit.  I am not sure which I heard loudest, her shrieks or the wailing of her father as he dropped to his knees.  The sensation of her wet eyelid gripping my finger like a miniature vagina turned my stomach slightly and made me cough.  If they had fed me anything in the past day I might have thrown up right then and there, but I held eye contact with the man as he regained his feet, sobbing.  “And tequila”  I added, moving my gore-stained finger to the girl’s other eye.  I heard him scramble back up the stairs.  He would either return with a fierce resolve to kill me, or to appease me.  Either way it would end now.