Welcome one and all to the first annual Popular Irony Beauty Contest, sponsored by Felcher's Facials! It's the ONLY skin creme product that comes in a high-quality reusable container: "Felcher's Facials... itsthefacialinaflask!

1.) Our first contestant hails from the fatherland, Germany. His name is Hans Grybbler and his blend of infectious charisma and ruthless efficiency will make him the "final solution" to your loneliness!

2.) Contestant number two is a beach-going beauty that prides himself on his hygiene and personal musk. Say He-llo to this resident of Louisiana, Eugene "The 'Stache" Jacobson!

3.) And who can resist the calling gaze of this Wisconsin damsel? A woman of many talents, Bertha "The Burger Whisperer" Hamish spends her days hand-milking dairy cows, and her nights breaking hearts as a line dancing instructor. Ooh-La-La!

4.) Wendy Smittens wants to warm your bed with her giant, feminine feet during the cold Detroit nights! Her all-natural beauty could take the contest by storm, so batten down the hatches, matey!

I own several ancient artifacts, remnants of creatures long dead to remind me of the futility of life. I decided to share some of these things with you today, mostly because I am creatively impotent and cannot think of a single fucking thing to write about today. The pictures are poorly lit and out of focus. Enjoy them!

Invertebrates of the sea, the most common of fossils. Here is a fossilized clam (giggidy), a nautilus, and a trilobite. They represent the bottom of the food chain of their time, like hillbillies of the vast oceans.

This beautiful phallus is a petrified sperm whale's tooth. It measures about six inches long and is rock hard. Just like me.

Here I have an ancient piece of walrus ivory, the vampire sow of the north. Did you know a walrus has a bone in it's dick? Fact.

Now we move into the crown jewels of my fossil collection, coprolites. To the non-fecophiles among us, this is petrified shit. This one is cut and polished dinosaur poop, from some unidentified herbivore. I bet it tastes like pudding.

This is a random piece of mammal shit. Just imagine the steaming orifice that pushed this baby out all those years ago. The color is amazing, looking good enough to eat.

This is a hardened ball of shit from some plains-dwelling herd animal of North America. This one is strange because it is incredibly dense and to the touch it seems to be made of some kind of lightweight metal. Fascinating.

And the final piece in my collection, pride of my many shits, is this grizzled dandy. This fine specimen was gifted to me by none other than Mr. and Mrs. Terlet when they were traveling through the desert on one of their many adventures. Where most of my turds were preserved in wet or temperate climates, this one bears all the marking of desert life. I sure hope the rigid barbs of concrete pain weren't there when the poor bastard squeezed it out. We are not sure the origin of this poop, but judging by the familiar shape I can only hope it was human.

It's all in your head

Let's all take a moment to appreciate how fucking retarded scientology is. It is based on a book written by a person who was a well-known fiction author, throws around terms like "gazillion" when talking about the timeframe of human history, and centers around a cash for righteousness scheme that doesn't even try to pretend to be legitimate. And it pisses me off that they use the word "science" in their name. Cocksuckers.

And we shouldn't neglect the mormons here, as long as we're talking about shameless horseshit religions. With these assholes you get racism ingrained in their ethos (black people weren't humans according to mormons until like the '70s or some shit), posthumous involuntary baptism, and incentives for excessive breeding (your children will serve you in the afterlife on your own personal planet! Provided you are a white male, of course.) But scientology and mormonism both share one characteristic that separates them from most other religions: it is okay to make fun of them.

Think about it. Even the most devout christian has no problem laughing at the absurdity of Tom Cruise, and we now have an entire broadway show that pokes fun at the mormons! Can you imagine if The Book of Mormon was about the Qur'an? Do you think it would finish opening night without a body count? And good luck criticizing anything christian in this country without starting a protest complete with misspelled homemade signs, since nothing screams "persecution" like an 80% majority in population.

But the ridicule of mormons and scientologists is beginning to piss me off. Not because they aren't entirely deserving of the scrutiny and ire, but because the only ones that should be speaking up are those minority of Americans that spread their dismissal of religion evenly. The atheists. Because anyone that believes that every animal on earth fit onto a fucking boat is not equipped to argue about the absurdity of a garden of eden being located in Missouri.

And please don't misunderstand me, I am not trying to push an atheist agenda here. There is no need to, since the accessibility of information should kill off the memory of a creator on it's own in time, provided we don't enter another cultural dark age. Actually I encourage people to wear their faith on their sleeve, since it is a useful cue to some of us to disregard everything they say. It is just frustrating to share space on the religion-bashing bandwagon with people that believe in the talking snake. From outside the dogma bubble it looks so much like a eunuch in the locker room, laughing at how small everybody's penis is.

Hey, brothers, what’s up?  Whoa, whoa, dude!  I’m no narc!  Mind if I sit in and puff a few with you guys?  Cool.  (toke toke)  This is some good stuff, my man!  I haven’t had stuff this good since before I was saved.  I'm youth pastor Bob, by the way.  Blessed to meet you guys!

You over there... nice board, man!  I shred all the time at the skate park over by St. Paul’s, but I don’t think I ever saw you over there.  I like to hang down there and drop in with the neighborhood kids, you know?  Just doin’ His work, am I right?  Wait a sec, you guys playin’ some Slayer?  Turn it up, man!  You know everybody back at my church give me shit about listening to them, but I just remind them that only He will cast judgement on me, know what I’m sayin’?  That whole “rock is the devil” garbage is for our parent’s church, not ours!  Pass that thing to me again, brother.

Oh yeah, that’s what I’m talkin’ about.  I don’t think I would rather spend a Saturday afternoon any other way, just tokin’, relaxin’, and celebrating our lord!  A lot of peeps down at the church don’t understand us young people, man.  They don’t get that we aren’t just hanging out by the railroad tracks getting high for the fun of it, but what we got here is a brotherhood, guys.  This little green plant isn’t some common street drug.  This is a sacrament.  And we all know who to thank for it, am I right?

Oh, I noticed you lookin’ at my tattoos.  Don’t worry, I’ve got nothing to hide from you guys!  This one on my chest meets up with a righteous cross over my heart, and goes all the way around my back.  It sorta connects my heart to my faith, because I guess...  I just know His name to be true because He is my very heart, you know?  Well, look at me getting all preachy on you guys, like you don't already know God!  People underestimate me all the time, I guess I owe you guys better than that...

So, what are you all up to tomorrow?  I mean, you planning on heading out to church?  I could sure use some company, and it IS Sunday and all...  I tell you what, I am in pretty good with father Hendricks down at St. Paul’s, and he is a seriously righteous dude.  I mean, he gets it, you know?  Anyways, I try to help out as much as I can down there, and I could sure use a hand...  I know you guys already know His word and all, but the kids could sure use someone to look up to.  And maybe we can keep the herb as our little secret, ok?

Well, I guess I should go.  But look, I will be right here tomorrow at 6am, and I sure hope I can count on you to guys to go with me.  But no pressure, you shouldn’t go just because I would be disappointed.  Make sure He is in your heart, and I am sure you will do the right thing.  But thanks for the high, friends.  Next time is on me!  See you tomorrow, hombres!

Kill two birds with one stone, that's what my pappy always said.  I had an awful conundrum at the super market today.  It's my boy's birthday and I only had enough money for one thing, chicken wings or a birthday toy.  Shit, I tell you what, decision making is a bitch.  Do I choose the love and adoration of my young boy or fill my belly with piping hot chicken wings?  Suddenly, brilliance struck.  I could do both!  I just have to take advantage of my extensive art skills.  I only need two things.  chicken bones and wire. 

This is the first and most important step.  First, you need to strip the chicken meat off of the bones.  I prefer to use my teeth.  I dispose of the meat by swallowing it.  That just leaves these shiny, perfect bones.  These bones contain so much potential for my boy's entertainment. 

All you need now is some wire, love and time.  You could make those chicken bones into anything you can imagine!  My boy asked for an Iron Man toy.  I did him one better.  I made him a Bone Man!  He's a billionaire industrialist whose genius allowed him to harness the unlimited power of BONES!!

Just look at his deBONEair mustache.  I think the green wire just adds to his mystique.  All I have to do is tell my boy that Bone Man gets 10X more pussy than Iron Man and Captain Kirk combined and he'll be sold.  I mean, 9 year olds are pussy hounds, right?  I know I was at that age.  I can't wait to see the look on my boy's face when the social worker brings him over for a supervised visit.  It's going to be his best birthday ever!     

DeBONEair

5.) Birthday Gift Absolution: Give Mom a gift of future savings by telling her "don't worry" about your next birthday. Think about it. She always spends countless hours and dollars planning something extremely thoughtful and appropriate, something that fulfills a need of yours that demonstrates how selfless she is and how much she loves you. How nice would it be to not have to burden yourself with that bullshit next time around? There is literally no downside if you consider that this gift is totally free, AND her guilt will no doubt lead her to buy you a sweet b-day gift anyways!

4.) Low profile personal defense stun gun: What better way to remind Mom that we live in a cruel, unforgiving world that could end any day with a brutal assault and rape? This stun gun is built to resemble a cell phone to deter all but the most determined sadists and psychopaths, and keeps defense at her fingertips anywhere to go. So for only a small charge you can show her that at the very least you don't want her to wind up bloody and violated in an inner-city alleyway.

3.) Female-adapted portable john: Let's face it. Mom isn't getting any younger, and sometimes she is missing out on life's most interesting moments by spending them in long lines at the movies, in restaurants, or at the stadium. Well this little product will show her how much you care by giving the gift of independence. Small enough to fit in her purse, and with an attractive and feminine design, she will feel comfortable using it almost anywhere. And for the frugal Mom, a simple rinse in the sink will allow for reusability in the short term, and the entire unit is dishwasher-safe.

2.) Sturdy jumbo cleaning tote: Remind Mom that she has "got it maid" by helping her get organized for one of her favorite daily activities. Big enough to fit supplies for cleaning a number of domestic living spaces, you are sure to see her eyes light up when she opens this gift for mother's day. Nothing makes Mom feel more needed than a filthy mess made by one of her children, so make sure to leave her plenty or opportunities to use her new tote when you visit next week.

1.) Waterproof personal massager: Being a Mom is one of the most stressful occupations in the world, and you will find very few people to dispute the fact. While searching for relaxing gifts for women one theme kept coming up. Personal massage devices. This one is an affordable, quality design that is sure to give her the ultimate "stress relief" that money can buy. It's also waterproof, so she can use it in the... bathroom, I guess. And this model's unique design is sure to reach even the most inaccessible sore muscle, and it's touted as "whisper quiet", ensuring that even if she uses it in bed it won't wake up Dad!

The young girl was possessed by seemingly endless energy, and kept fighting and screaming for the entire four or five minutes her father was gone.  I have done many horrible things, but this one was certainly on the top of the list.  I stood there nude, covered in blood, and gripping a small, shrieking child in my arms.  Anyone who walked in on the scene would assume the worst, and they’d be right.

Her father came back in the room, and I was relived to see he was sobbing still, not chomping at the bit to tear me limb from limb.  He threw a fresh pair of pants that were way too fucking large at my feet, and placed a beat up .38 on the floor with a half empty box of ammo, a small plastic bag with a few stacks of american currency, and an unopened bottle of tequila.  I motioned for him to back up and he complied, while I grabbed the gun and inspected it.  Loaded.  This guy was taking some serious chances by handing this over.  Bad idea.  My index finger was badly twisted so I fed my middle digit through the trigger guard and raised it at him.  He didn’t flinch as I fired three shots into his torso.  The fucking sound deafened me to the world, but I could tell the was screaming at an extra few octaves now that I had dropped her, and was crouching over him as a large bubble of blood formed in one of the holes in his chest.

I put the pants on and the promptly fell back off, so I kicked the half-blind girl off her father and sloppily dragged the belt off his corpse before tying it around my waist.  I had no shirt, but fuck it, three quarters of the people here didn’t wear them anyway.  I gathered up my goods and headed for the door, glad to put the memories of torture and the sound of wailing behind me.

I was surprised to see that it wasn’t some back country shed I was being kept in, but a seemingly nice middle-class house upstairs.  Out the window I could see a pickup with the windows down and a shine near the wheel.  Keys.  I didn’t waste time in stumbling out the door and tossed my gear onto the passenger seat before sitting down and starting up the truck.  The leather was burning a hole in my back, but I was happy to have it.  Some dreadful mexican polka music flooded the car and I quickly shut it down, then tore the cork out of the tequila bottle and drank deeply.  With any luck I would forget this shithole in a few hours of drinking.

I was about two miles down the road, a gringo covered in blood, shirtless driving a stolen pickup while half drunk, when I saw the federales behind me.

I've been waiting for weeks
For my body to be complete
I sent money away
And it should arrive today...
IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK!

The model was deluxe
It was designed for more fucks
And could go from flaccid and slim
To being filled to the brim...
IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK!

I shelled out more cash
So it can fill any gash
And when I put it together
It'll attach to my nethers...
IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK!

When the mailman delivered
My insides all quivered
I've been a Ken doll below
But now I am eager to show...
IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK!

So I tore open the box
Expecting a king kong size jock
It's contents were disjointed
And I admit I was disappointed...
IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK!

It was shriveled and pale
And as thin as a rail
Apparently the caucasian
Was just a repainted asian...
IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK!

When I wore it with hair
It seemed barely there
And forget it without
It was a pale small-sized trout...
IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK!

If I could send the thing back
I'd probably order a black
It might just be clashing
But decidedly more dashing...
IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK!

If I had taken the hint
I'd have read the no-refund print
Now resigned to my shame
I must decide to proclaim...
IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK! IT'S MY COCK!

Did I mention that I fucking love the Don Knotts, Tim Conway movie, Private Eyes?  Well, I fucking do.  Watch as Dr. Tart opens Lord Morley's coffin.  BOO!  Did I get you!?  No?  Then fuck you.

That is all....

Putin wears hello kitty nipple tassels!

Real man NEVER afraid to show tassels!

Even russian horse appreciate fine-quality hello kitty tassels.

Is for protecting nipples while hunting in heavy russian foliage.

Looking beautiful VERY important for masculine russian man.