Just over a year ago I found Matt Ralston while trolling Craigslist Juneau for a no strings attached pen pal. In addition to providing male tourists from the Lower Forty-Eight with expert edging services, Matt turned out to be a really funny guy. Now it’s come time for Matt to fly from the nest. I couldn’t be more proud if he were my own bastard son.
You can now read Matt (and myself and others) on the brand newly launched LastMenonEarth.com where we will be sending up the douchebags of this world, including video, audio, and galleries chock full of lady fudge. I don’t know what lady fudge means, I just know I want it. Matt will also continue to be my life partner on our Last Men on Earth podcast.
You can also follow Matt on Matt’s Twitter or just Google West Hollywood police blotter Unsure stabbings and keep up to date with his nocturnal activities.
I only cry when I watch good looking women fight. This is embarrassing.
(Yes, the header photos have become progressively more disturbing throughout the day.)
Rebel Wilson took hardcore Twitter grief from the BlackLivesMatter hashtaggers for making light of recent police brutality with her lame bit on the MTV show about the brutality of police strippers. It’s funny, because it’s a play on words, until Rebel Wilson starts taking off her clothes, then nothing’s funny ever again.
A lot of people have problems with the police. But I really hate police strippers. You guys know what I’m talking about. They come to your house, you think you’re getting arrested, and you just get a lap dance that is usually uninspired. I hired a police stripper for my grandmother’s 80th, and he wouldn’t even feel her up. Well I paid an extra $100 for her to get an erotic back massage, but it only lasted one song. I hate this injustice. Hence the shirt.
MTV scrupulously reads every single line of copy before its approved and masturbates thinking about content relevancy to teens. Did this make the pass? If so, fuck you again, Millennials. At least Miley showed her tits while yapping out her gravel quarry barker. How soon until we get that wall built to stop Australians from entering the U.S. and how will it work exactly on first class passengers who had to purchase an extra seat arriving at LAX? We might need bigger nets.
America’s sweetheart Taylor Swift let out a big old fart on the air during the MTV broadcast of the VMAs. It seems she does share some normal human function. Though mostly just the farting, along with some jealousy, hatred, and vaginal dryness.
Lena Dunham spends a lot of time working the fat shaming meme for fun and profit. The self-described actress and writer posted a picture of her old man swollen prostate gunt to Instagram long enough for it to be seen by millions of innocents who probably did shitty things in their past lives. Dunham waited some period of time then removed the photo citing the destructive nature of body disparaging trolls on the horizon:
Just an FYI, I don’t delete because I’m ashamed of my body — I delete because certain pics become hot beds for negativity. You think I want a teenager visiting my page and seeing a zillion comments about how fat I am? No, because that is hurtful to any person struggling, comparing, contrasting. So since the trollz came out, I will instead share a pic of me shining bright on my rightful throne.
Who could have expected this close up of your Nutella-filled pubic area would become a hot bed for negativity? Why not post a picture of a Pope doll hanging ragged out of your rectum and act shocked that so many people had nasty things to say. It’s all about the teenagers. For fuck’s sake, stop saying that. You’re trying to promote your new website featuring your Freshman lit overwritten short stories. Who’s shameless now, you Lucky Brand destroying self-involved suckling muffin?
At some point this chick is going to shove that bottle directly up her twat and finally move some water. It’s the natural next step in using sex to sell a product nobody wants. You might pay twenty bucks to watch this Cybergirl grind a pole, but try ordering water at a strip club and see where that lands you. I like my thumbs. Now, lower your hands and I’m good for a case.
I don’t know the precise construction of ass, but at some point if you keep pumping it full of saline and evaporated fat, it’s going to explode like any other container. Khloe Kardashian may have spotted an opening in the family whore tote board race to the Cadillac, but she’s playing with physics fire. That diaper she’s wearing isn’t going to do squat to limit the blast radius. Clear a three block perimeter and send in the RC robot to detonate that shit burger. O.J. can make more daughters.
Tyga wrote a song about how ‘Stimulated’ he gets for teen pussy. It’s a love song of sorts for Kylie Jenner who tries to appear natural in the video even as her low credit score rapper boyfriend is scratching out Jared Fogle inspired lyrics on his detective notepad.
They say she young, I shoulda waited She a big girl, dog, when she stimulated She a big girl, dog I’m gonna do what the fuck I wanna do when I wanna do She a big girl, dog I’m puttin’ in, I’m penetratin I’m gettin’ big, I’m stimulated.
Now that it’s in music video format, everybody can act up in arms about the statutory rape that nobody cared about before. It’s Calabasas, Jake. Mom wants her kids to fuck for fame. Vagina Dad wants to eat crackers off a dick. And Child Protective Services doesn’t care to remember the entry codes at gated communities. Why not write a song about fucking teen girls? Call it My Baby Making Black Thunder Cock Is Banging White High School Girls and You Can’t Do Shit. You’ve already won. Take a lap.
Britney Spears spent six months on hiatus from her Vegas show to work out, make smart nutrition a part of her lifestyle, and attend her boys’ soccer games without a bra to remind the neighbors she once filled the Tokyo Dome. She still looks thick. Maybe it’s the settling effect. Or the costumes. Something isn’t working. It’s possible that Mississippi just sticks something voodoo fierce. She could be absorbing fat through a subterranean network of tubes acting much like a virtual grease trap. Or it’s the Cool Whip. Some things you can’t dance away. Leave dad his thirty percent at the door. Nobody gets skinny in the asylum.