Fuck.  I was very busy today and forgot to post.  In lieu of a post with actual content and quality, here is a fence post.  Fuck.

Fuck.

-

Tonight the whole Master Bastard crew went out for a group man-date to see national treasure Doug Stanhope in a shitty tinderbox fire hazard comedy club. And it was amazing. You wont get much out of me tonight, so I figured I would share the signed poster Sir Chapsworth so generously gave to the group to commemorate the occasion, and offer some out of context punchlines from the show. Enjoy!

"It looked like a cyclops winking in the rain, a single milky teardrop running down the taint"

"Any pure race is fucking hideous. Seriously, what is the name of your favorite aboriginal porn actress?"

"She took it in the ass like YOU would if you didn't know it was coming!"

"She had one of those stereroid man-clits that stuck out like a clam neck"

"I jizzed some clumpy, yellow old man cum that disn't even make it past my knuckle"

And there were so many more. If you ever get a chance to get offended by him in person, I would highly advise taking it. He is a very gracious and diminutive man, and kindly answered Terlet's request to give our podcast a quick radio spot. For free! Details to come on an upcoming Master Bastard podcast!

Hey everybody!  Whoa, it’s already June 10th, isn’t it?  Time to show your appreciation for the mother organ that we spilled out of one sloppy birthday years ago!  Everyone loves vaginas, from the newborn that called it their home, to the filthy old man that can’t wait to visit one again someday.  Even gay people love them!  Some gay guys wish they had them, and lesbians, well... no one loves them more than they do!  From the moment men are born to their last dying breath we are thinking about them.  So let’s all take a moment to see just how much vaginas have influenced our culture all these years!

Vaginas are our food!  Just look at this luscious cut of beef.  Just grill that puppy up and drizzle some A-1 sauce on the labia and you have yourself one delicious meal!  Do you think the visual appeal of the vagina wasn’t considered when the butcher put this cut out for sale?  Get real.  The cunty cuts always sell the fastest!

And after a long day of sweaty work down at the factory there is nothing like taking a quick snooze on the couch.  The vagina couch that is!  Every time you fall asleep on it you wake up with you face jammed in those meaty lips.  This couch sells like hot cakes, and even comes in a waterproof version.  Pleasant dreams, sleepy head!

And a few months ago I took a dream cruise to the beautiful glaciers of Alaska.  And after braving the cold winds and the high seas I took this gorgeous shot of mother nature’s vagina!  It just goes to show you.  Even in the coldest corners of the world there is a little familiar warmth for those willing to look for it!

And what do you get when you throw hundreds of millions of dollars at an architect and tell him to make the most visually appealing stadium ever known?  This homage to woman, the Chinese pussy center, affectionately known as the VaChina Bowl.

But don’t forget what this day is all about.  Appreciating the vaginas in your life.  So take a few moments to get on your knees, face to face, and tell it how much you appreciate it.  And while you’re at it, take a picture with grandma’s.  You’ll be happy you did when it isn’t around anymore.

I wanted to see just how far I could get into an awkward conversation on the anonymous chat website, Omegle. The answer is... Not very far.

First fail. Of many.

Getting closer...

They can only take so much.

Well, that's about enough fun for tonight, folks. I have to go. Someone is knocking on my door REAL hard. It might be an emergency or something.

Greetings, fellow filth fanatics.  I, Hamtackle, have decided to start a new segment on Popular Irony, the filthy five.  In it I will provide a list of five strange, offensive, or shocking things in popular culture.  I begin this segment with a list of five cult vengeance films that are superbly fucked up, and therefore are excellent for this venue.  The films are listed in no particular order, as they are all so very wrong in their own way.

5.) Dead Man’s Shoes

This film is all about an older brother to a mentally retarded boy that goes off to serve in the military, and leaves his brother alone.  He has always been his younger brother’s protector, but while he is away a group of criminals and drug dealers take him under their wing.  He serves as their personal mascot and plaything, subjected to horrible torments and ridicule.  When his big bro returns from the army, there is hell to pay.  Highlight:  When big bro doses one of his brother’s tormentors with a buttload of LSD and tortures him.

4.) The Proposition

I love modern westerns, and this one is great.  It takes place in the 1800’s in the australian outback, and follows Charlie, the middle brother in a three-man family gang that is raping and murdering their way across the desert.  Charlie’s older brother is a psychopath and a sadist, and his younger brother is a simpleton and a soft-hearted boy who is mostly along for the ride.  When Charlie and his younger brother are captured he is presented with a proposition.  Either find and kill your older brother, or watch your younger brother hanged.  Highlight:  This is the only film that features a rape scene in which the rapist sings a beautiful rendition of “danny boy” while in the act.  On Christmas day, no less.

3.) 13 Tzameti

This is a french film that is presented in black and white.  The protagonist is a laborer that works for an anonymous old man who lives in a beautiful house.  He discovers the secret to the old man’s wealth when he dies suddenly while the boy is working, and uncovers a letter that features a time an a location, with no other directions.  The boy decides to take his chances, and ends up an unwilling participant in a competitive game chance with fatal outcomes.  Needless to say, his life takes an exciting turn for the worst.  Highlight:  When the protagonist first appears at the location of the competition and receives a t-shirt with the number “13” written in thick black ink, then walks into a room with two men facing each other, guns pointed at each other's heads, with a bare lightbulb dangling between them.

2.) Freeway

Some films are so brilliantly shocking that they can never be mainstream, but are interesting enough to draw big names to appear in the cast.  This film stars Reese Witherspoon and Keifer Sutherland, and is a modern retelling of little red riding hood.  Keifer is the big bad wolf, a serial killer that picks up young hitchhiking women to rape and murder.  Reese is little red riding hood herself, a streetwise girl that show the wolf that sometimes the prey can bite back.  Highlight:  When little red riding hood has the tables turned, and mocks the disfigured wolf.  “Well, look who got beat with the ugly stick!”

1.) Oldboy

Some of the finest works in shock cinema is coming out of south korea these days.  If you haven’t watched Oldboy, then you are missing out so badly that I pity you.  The main character is a degenerate drunk, and a horrible father.  One day he is abducted from the streets during a rainstorm and spends the next 15 years imprisoned in an apartment without windows, his only link to the outside world in the form of a television set.  One day a gas cloud floods his room, and when he awakens he is on the roof of a building with one mission- to find out why he was imprisoned, and who did it to him.  Highlight: When Oh Dae Su finally corners one of the men responsible for his suffering, and questions him by tearing out his teeth one-by-one with a claw hammer.

The end of the line.  It was a place you didn’t want to visit, especially half-naked and covered in blood and sweat.  Luckily it was bearable through the fog of liquor.  I pretended I didn’t see the lights screaming at me through the rear view as I pulled another deep drink from the bottle.  I still had some shots left in the six shooter, but honestly it would probably end up in my mouth before it was turned on the federales.

*Bump.  The cop car was losing patience as it brushed up against my tail.  I couldn’t feign ignorance anymore.  Fuck this country.  Fuck my life.  And fuck this goddamn sun.  I pulled over to the shoulder and watched as the cop calmly exited his vehicle, shotgun in hand.  He screamed something spanish at me, then immediately followed with some indecipherable broken english.  As a full time drunk with pullover experience,  I presumed he wanted me to put my hands on the steering wheel, so I did.  The left hand was torn to pieces.  At some point I had put a sock over it as a bandage, but didn’t remember doing it.  Thank god for booze.

I could only imagine his reaction as he looked through the window at me, a gringo covered in blood with a sock on one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other.  “ID!” he shouted.  Almost out of reflex I dropped the bottle and reached into the plastic bag at my feet and grabbed a handful of US currency, then tossed it out the window like bloodstained confetti.  Then I lurched forward and got back on the road, fully expecting a pump-action load to punch me in the occipital lobe.  It was a few moments before I looked in the mirror and saw the cop frantically chasing down airborne $100’s.

Now what?  It seemed unlikely that I would ever find a calm place to hang out for a while, but more importantly, what was my long game?  I gave up on happiness back when I ditched Vanessa’s corpse, and all I had left was the booze.  Then I saw the lights again.

The cop was back.  Fuck him for screwing with the age old agreement between mexican police and criminals.  If you pay them off, they leave you alone.  They don’t get to double dip in the honeypot.  Soon he was right up my ass again, pressing against my bumper.  I hit the brakes hard, and the truck turned sideways.  All I remember is the bottle floating through the air like a glass bird, and smashing me in the face.  I would have expected the crash to knock me unconscious, but there was no such luck.  Money was everywhere, greenbacks turning in the wind as my vision stabilized, and I noticed I was laying in the passenger side footwell, breathing heavily.

All I could think was that my back is broken.  I couldn’t move my legs, but there was pain there.  Screaming in spanish.  Shotgun pointed at the truck for sure.  End of the line.  I put my head down and saw it, my last salvation.  I reached out with my “good” hand, the one with only three broken fingers, and grasped the revolver.  Without hesitation I guided the barrel over my teeth and fired.  It could have been all over, but god hates me.

Thank shit it’s finally memorial day! I have been waiting for months to get the opportunity to appreciate the sacrifices and efforts of this country’s military by calling over a bunch of friends, getting shitfaced, and cooking meat over coals in my back yard. My grandfather once told me that pretty much the only thing that keeps him getting up every morning after all these years is the thought that his brother bled out in a field in Vietnam so I could get an extra day off of work to force feed myself processed cheese once a year. So I consider it a duty of mine to make sure that sacrifice does not go unappreciated by drinking enough beer to make my piss run clear, and eat enough protein to make my shit the consistency of stale whole-grain bread.

Yessir, many americans laid their life on the line eagerly in exchange for promises of being buried under nondescript, identical headstones in graveyards that receive annual plastic flags and flowers, secure in the knowledge that their families might even remember them from time to time and head down to the cemetery to explain what the name on the cross means to their children. And who can blame the kids for being pissed off that they can’t play the nintendo DS for a half hour while the family weeps over a chiseled rock? Our soldiers died so that the worst suffering that kid would know would be having to wear something other than a t-shirt and sweatpants for a few hours on a day other than sunday.

And I think we can all feel warm hearted about how the corporate entities in our country put aside profits on this weekend, and in reverence for our fallen soldiers decide to dramatically slash prices on everything from cars to kitty litter. I know that personally I will remember those in my family that fought and died for freedom every time that I hear my cat scratching away in the litter box after taking a sizable, patriotic feline shit. I was watching one hell of a NASCAR race this weekend when I saw a commercial for a gun shop that can apply an american flag graphic FOR FREE to any rifle with a synthetic stock that is purchased through the end of memorial day, and I fucking cried like the day Earnhardt hit the wall.

So before you go to bed tonight to sleep off the liquor and grilled beef, make sure you look around you at the world we live in and appreciate those that made it all possible. And if anything is worth choking to death on your own blood in a foreign country, it’s watching the new season premier of "The Bachelorette" on this glorious holiday.

Have you ever spoken to a total retard?  Not like a person with a genuine mental handicap or an extra chromosome, or anything, but a true retard?  If you are shaking your head right now then I have news for you.  You are the retard.  And by the way, no one can see you shaking your head, dopey.

I decided that some things need extra explanation.  Not really complicated stuff, like string theory, psychology of the female gender, or the implications of a growing Chinese global economy, but more simple stuff.  Like evolution.  When you say the word most people have one of two reactions to it.  They either recognize it as demonstrable reality, a theory only due to the stringent requirements within the scientific community to deem something a “law”, or they think you mean humans came from chimpanzees.  Can you guess which one is the retard?

If you guessed the latter, then give yourself a cookie.  You earned it.  If I only had a nickel for every time I was discussing evolution and someone interjected “I ain’t descendeded from no chimp!” I would have like, at least five bucks or something.  First, you can rest assured that no one is trying to say your momma is a chimp.  All it is saying is that at some point in our several million year history (a long time), before we were even humans, there existed an animal that ended up being the progenitor of both humans and apes.  One of the most ridiculous arguments made against evolution is that it cannot be the truth, because we cannot be descended from chimps if they still exist.  Hopefully I don’t have to explain why that is retarded.

But everyone should know that it exactly this argument that Charles Darwin was trying to avoid when he was releasing

On the Origin of Species

back in the 19th century.  He knew that everyone would completely disregard the amazing simplicity and obvious truth of natural selection and get hung up on the most famous of human flaws, egocentrism.  They would see that if animals were descended from less complex and advanced life forms, then maybe we were too.  And that couldn’t be true, since we were certainly built in the image of the almighty creator, who for some reason needed a physical form that was perfectly adapted to exist on a lonely rock floating in the void of oblivion.  It bothered him so much that he resisted publishing his life’s work until academic competition threatened to rob him of his advancements.

The entire basis of the theory of evolution is built around the concept of natural selection, which is devilishly simple (pun intended).  All it states is that any creature that reproduces sexually is more likely to survive, and thus reproduce, if they are better suited to their environment than their peers.  And if some seemingly minor mutation occurs in a creature (as occurs regularly), then that mutation will often times be passed onto it’s offspring should it have reproductive success.  Basically, if something survives, it is more likely to fuck.  And if it fucks, it is more likely to reproduce, making it’s genes survive through the generations.  And before you get all christian on me and preach about how “life is far too complex to adapt into a human from a single cell organism”, I must stop you.  This is not such an amazing feat, as your mother accomplished it in a mere 9 months.  Blasphemy, I know.  

It does not end there, however.  Because a mutation does not need to be an advantage to be passed on, it just needs to be present in a surviving population.  There are countless examples of perfectly adapted and fit species dying out due to some cruel, random chance extinction, only to be replaced by a less evolved creature.  Therefore I submit to you, dear reader, that the very presence of the multitude of retards in our midst proves this theory.  Because where there is one retard you are certain to find another, equally big retard in their family tree.  Retardation, you see, is one of the dominant mutations that has been plaguing our species since we first crawled out of the mud puddles.  And it is still going strong.

Today was for shit.  Hate.  So much hate.  I am getting tons of shit from people inside and outside of work for varying degrees of bullshit.  I was, and still am, a walking pile of fat and rage.  Then I get home and literally get shit from my dog in the form of a sloppy pile of diarrhea.   It was right in the center of the carpet, and boy, did it ever soak in deep. 

With that, I end this post.  Fuck my work, fuck my coworkers, fuck the world, fuck my dog and fuck you!  Have a nice day.

Welcome home, Daddy!

Edit:  I took a nap and I feel better.  Never mind!

Hi everybody,

I would like to use today's post to apologize to my dear website co-conspirator, Hamtackle.  It was Hamtackle's turn to post today and it also happens to be Draw Muhammad Day!  Hamtackle drew some wonderful, sexually graphic pictures and posted them along with the hilariously detailed descriptions you have come to expect from Popular Irony.

Within 5 minutes, I got on my computer, with my wife by my side to do a bit of "surfing".  My browser's homepage is our website, because, you know, I'm self centered.  The first thing we see is Hamtackle's truly hilarious Muhammad drawings.

My wife emits a light scream and I nearly choke on my mouthful of hamburger (I almost always have a mouth full of hamburger).  My wife in a near panic and my heart racing, I text messaged Hamtackle.  The website is in my name and being a natural coward, I asked Hamtackle to take down the post.

Hamtackle rightly refused. "Then you take it down.  I don't give a fuck.  If it was jesus sucking dick it would be ok.".  Sad but true, Hamtackle.  Sad but true.  This is the first time I have asked Hamtackle to alter a post in any way, let alone take one down entirely.  I sincerely hope that this does not damage our friendship or discourage future collaborations.

As part of my apology, I will post just one of Hamtackle's exquisite drawings.

Sloppy Sorry Smooches - Terlet   

-