For all the hyperbolized doomsaying, there’s a good chance you’ll be around next Thanksgiving. Maybe a few of us will be dead from ISIS. ISIL, when you want to pretend to care. I always expected mall attacks launched from the Chess King. I have young Muslim men in my Super Bowl of terrorism betting grid. I’m feeling confident. Global warming will kill precisely none of us. A person too old to drive will run some of us over. Brake, gas, gas, brake. It’s just a pedal. I served in Korea. AARP got my back. Use a condom if you intend to ass fuck. Two if it’s Charlie Sheen. I can’t stand the thought of losing you. That’s meant for the lone attractive woman who reads site. If you have to wonder if it’s you, it’s not. Bernie Sanders stream of consciousness rape is still rape even if you did it through a whole in the sheet. The dead member of Kriss Kross carried that band. Happy Thanksgiving.
There’s something quietly poetic in stripping off your clothes while bemoaning how men see you as an object. This Australian model has been railing against gender bias and misogyny for a few years now by way of getting naked in photos and videos. It’s a convenient tactic if you’re a good looking woman with plenty of free time for Soul Cycle. Fat chicks are kind of screwed in this particular protest model. Who will stand for the good looking women with the nice tits? God cursed you with perfect genes. Don’t let him get away with it. I mean, her. What time do you go on again?
Photo Credit: “StyleLikeYou” Youtube
After decades of massively funded public relations campaigns, HIV and The AIDS are the world’s most sympathetic communicable disease. Getting The AIDS is socially akin to running into a burning house to save a child. Only, you’re running into that house naked and that house is some guy’s ass. The media’s reaction to Charlie Sheen’s HIV positive admission is going to be some kind of tortured political correctness. Charlie Sheen bad. The AIDS good. I completely forgot the rules of moral algebra for canceling out.
Charlie Sheen went on the The Today Show with his The AIDS doctor to assure the world that he is the victim. A victim of vengeful sex partners who have been extorting him over public disclosures of his medical condition. You could look at those vengeful sex partners as opportunistic money grubbing whores, or porn stars who can no longer ever work again and may not have tons of free cash for daily Magic Johnson cocktails.
Sheen assured the world, half of whom he has fucked in a exposed orifice, that since he became aware of his HIV diagnosis, he’s informed all of his partners and engaged in only safe sex. He did cop to two instances where maybe he forgot the condoms. And of course there are those 6,456 times he was too fucked up to remember, but that shouldn’t count.
According to Fox News, Sheen had sex with multiple women just last week and kind of forgot to mention The AIDS thing. It is something you could easily forget when recounting your litany of drug and assault arrests for the more curious dates. Okay, so you chased your then wife around the Christmas Tree with a knife while blitzed on cocaine? Anything else? No? Good, enter me, Charlie, and make me feel whole again.
It’d be easy to say that you deserve what you get for fucking Charlie Sheen. I’ll say that. Maybe not so much for the paid girls needing to make the rent. In the very least, good industry habits require disclosing the deadlier of your sexually transmitted viruses. Sheen’s doctor says that his patient’s HIV is super duper contained, comparing it to how Obama has ISIS contained, so if you’ve fucked Charlie Sheen in the past half sozen years, I’d get an Advanced Directive penned up somewhat expediently. This drama is far from over.
Fresh off face kicking Corky to the mat to take the UFC title, Holly Holm has a new movie coming out. Fight Valley. It’s about bare knuckle brawling chicks who get super bloody, make-out, then cry about children and relationships because even butch dykes can’t escape Satan’s hormones. Movies with title songs that actually have the name of the movie as their chorus are guaranteed horrible. The exception being James Bond films, although half of those are horrible too. Fight Valley might suck but it preaches the tried and true values of loyalty, commitment, and revenge killings. When does this come out and how do I take my disenfranchised nieces to see it to be inspired by strong women. Carly Fiorina and Hillary Clinton are just mouthy caricatures. Real women cry blood.
The campus library at Dartmouth was marauded by BlackLivesMatter protesters who seemed really hashtag fucking belligerent and aggressive for an Ivy League library. You’re not facing Bull Connor and his attack dogs. These are prep school kids studying for their art history exams. The ranks of the BLM protestors were filled with white dudes trying to get laid by their first black chick. You need decent SATs to get into this place. These fucks aren’t stupid.
Dartmouth is the sole conservative leaning Northeastern liberal arts college so their paper put out a news story claiming the BLM protestors were pushing and shoving and calling all the white kids whatever the 2015 version of honkey motherfuckers is. All you can see in this tape are annoying future HuffPo bloggers flipping the finger and screaming in the library that Black Lives Matter. Which they do in New Hampshire because there are only like six black people and cops can’t get away with beating one to death during a traffic stop. People are going to notice when the only black person they know is suddenly missing.
ISIS finds itself this Monday morning with serious repercussions from its Paris terror attacks. The French rented an airplane they used to bomb a Syrian Sambo’s, millions of people have emotionally invested in their new French flag Facebook profile pictures, and Madonna’s rambling tear-filled Stockholm concert speech that may just spark a tidal wave of peace.
Madonna gave the twenty second shoutout to Paris that went on for another eight minutes to a packed house of Swedes who cheered because their English is just bad enough to make everything anyone says on a stadium mic sound slightly profound. Also, vodka. Madonna called for peace through unity and understanding. After adjusting her fifty-seven year old tits in her corset and truss, she added human dignity. How good was Madonna’s speech? President Obama basically ripped it word for word as his own strategic foreign policy on ISIS just a day later. By the time Madonna transitioned from geo-politics into Like a Prayer, there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. If we don’t see a complete surrender by the extremists of unnamed religion by Wednesday, let’s just say, you’re looking at another Madonna ad hoc. You’re not scheduled to blow yourself up until February. You’ll never make it.
Writer director Angelina Jolie is surpassed in horror only by oncologist clairvoyant Angelina Jolie. I might have that reversed. I could finally finish my Psych 101 paper requirements watching Angelina pre-cog her breasts and uterus out of her body. I see no redeeming value in a movie starring Jolie and her go-along to get-along husband about an artistic American couple living in the South of France struggling with their marriage. And not just because in real life she and Brad Pitt are an artistic American couple living in the south of France struggling with their marriage. Though that’s a good part of it.
It’s finally time to pity Brad Pitt. It’s tough enough when you have to smile politely at your wife’s freshly thrown pottery glazed in her backyard workshop. Taking four months to carefully act out the most annoying parts of your relationship in 70′s costumes has to be super fucking painful. She’s behind the camera. She knows you’re faking it. I will wrap your mouth in my last fallopian tube and smother you to death, asshole. Now act!
I’m pretty sure insipid British morning talk shows are more informative than their American counterparts. Kathy Lee and Hoda aren’t having a young woman on their hag klatch to touch her own tits while they look on approvingly. Kathy and Hoda aren’t even real people. You’re just imagining them because of terrible shit your uncle did to you as a child. You can’t care for other tits until you’ve cared for your own. What do you mean Breast Cancer Awareness Month is over? Stop being NFL. Keep rubbing. I’m almost finished.
Photo Credit: “Hannah Live Breast Exam”
Latin America was overrun with European colonials hundreds of years ago and never recovered. They’re like a girl who got felt up by her high school English teacher and can never love again. Every single country is some variation of fucked up, corrupt, undereducated, devoutly religious, poor agrarians with shitty leaders who steal all their stuff. Not that much different than here, but we can afford to buy the drugs.
Guatemala held a Presidential election because the last guy with a mustache reached his one-thousandth blatant bribery offense, at which point you have three minutes to grab all the gold coins you can and flee to Panama. The dude who won by a landslide is a comedian who’s spent the last fourteen years on a TV skit show in Guatemala that you just know has lots of donkey jokes. Also a midget in a devil’s costume who giggles. Jimmy Morales has no political or government experience whatsoever. It’s like Jimmy Fallon becoming President. Or Ben Carson.
Many will hail the outsider victory as a turning point for Guatemala because they have no idea how Guatemala works. Morales is a born again Christian with deep political ties to the military party that used to assassinate people who smiled like the enjoyed living in Guatemala. The entire reason to study other countries is to realize how relatively not fucked up the United States is. We elect boring ninnies who don’t inspire or get much done, but that’s a good thing. Hope is good. Change is bad. Bring on the losers and the gridlock. Tomorrow being just like today isn’t that bad depending on your starting point. There are very few Americans sneaking into Guatemala to be housekeepers.
Dr. Phil who only does harm as a doctor nabbed the first interview with the Florida semi-employed journalist who Linda Tripped Jared Fogle into talking all about his lust for little kids on her secret phone recordings. I’m not sure how much this Rochelle Herman-Walrond chick ultimately got paid, but I guess enough to make three years of egging on the fucked up Subway spokesman into long bouts of child sex confessions and fantasies. We can pretend she didn’t like it. Dr. Phil will. There are tears.
I had a little boy. It was amazing. It just felt so good. I mean, it felt — it felt so good.
Jesus, Jared. Your odds of fronting another fast good restaurant chain’s childhood nutrition program just took a nosedive. Maybe Dr. Phil will help explain how Herman-Walrond first got her antennae up about Fogle in 2006 when Fogle told her after a radio interview that he found middle schools hot. But in 2015 Jared was still a free former fat guy and Subway was still running a flash video game on their site asking kids to stuff the sandwich into Jared’s pants. Somebody dropped the ball. Herman-Walrond, I like women over eighteen. Can we still talk? I hear you’re very understanding.
Charlie Sheen’s porn star fiancee of 2014 erupted in a backyard conflagration of his and her photos and all the sweet notes and death threats he sent her while tweaking during their six month romance. It’s unclear why a year after her told her to hit the streets she suddenly went apeshit on video. Scottine Sheen, formerly Brett Rossi, is screaming about getting offered a hundred grand to shut the fuck up and how that’s not much money for a girl to live off of even in a trailer park two hours east of Los Angeles.
You choked me out! You threw me on the floor! You dragged me around like a rag doll! You told me what a piece of shit I was all the time. Fuck you
I’m sure if she worked out the numbers in her head she’d realize she just got paid more to fuck than her industry quote, but even porn stars have romantic hearts and hers is clearly broken. Like her hymen at twelve. I added that for emphasis. Don’t make promises to a porn star you can’t keep if you don’t have decent private security. Fire your agent.
Photo Credit: Twitter
Koko the gorilla is just like us human beings. So they locked her in a cage filled with her own shit and forced her to learn sign language like a second class Helen Keller. After 44 years of training, Koko asked her human handlers to put a fluffy kitten on her head. First off, put the cat on your own fucking head, you primadonna. Second, I’m pretty sure she signed ‘in my mouth’. Koko eat kitty yum yum.
Koko’s plan for escape seems to be forming very slowly. You figure it’s been in the concept stage ever since they let her watch herself on TV and she realized she was fucked. An unpaid Kardashian. Maybe she’s waiting for everybody in her detention facility to pass from old age and then just walk out the front door. She’s like the Taliban, willing to sit on a plan for twenty years if it’s solid. Hey, didn’t there used to be five kittens in this crate? Oh, Koko, you are such a cut up.
Sometime during Morrissey’s endless list of verbalized complaints about topics ranging from mushy peas to fair eco-trade practices in Sub-Saharan Africa, he spit out being manhandled in the junk zone by a TSA agent at the San Francisco Airport. If you listened to Morrissey’s side of the story, it read like a Burning Bed rape story where he was subdued and sodomized in the name of keeping not moderate Arabs from blowing shit up again. He relished recounting the story as it contained all his favorite subjects: his victimization and men fondling other men’s balls. He even noted he had legal action pending.
The video is out now. As much as it’s easy to hate airport security and TSA because they are incompetent boobs who steal your shit and finger fuck your grandmother and have yet to stop a single fanatical Muslim from boarding a plane because they’re not really even allowed to, this doesn’t look like the gladiator rape Morrissey’s been promising us through use of molestation puppet re-creation.
Does the occasional male TSA agent take the opportunity provided him to reach-around men he finds alluring and give a little pecker squeeze for Uncle Sam? Absolutely. That and seventeen union mandated meal and relief breaks during six hour shifts is the only real perk of the job. If Morrissey has to get an unrequested handy for the rest of us to know we’re getting to Denver alive, so be it. It sucks to be Anglo handsome and famous and sexually undeclared. Next time, bring a fake wife. It’s San Francisco, Steven.
Natures likes to punish college educated white women who belong to the Sierra Club but can’t start a campfire. There’s Lyme disease, but that’s still a work in progress and only afflicts famous people. In a fresh experiment, God sent an Alaskan black bear to torment a shrill kayaker armed only with pepper spray and her Discovery Channel level knowledge of the outdoors. The woman with a vocal range that could neuter a house pet covered the bear in cayenne mist for daring to be in his own house then chided him not to break her kayak as if she were his super annoying girlfriend begging him not to go to his buddy’s bachelor party in Vegas. You can test yourself by watching this until the end. It will remind you to be dutiful to a higher power of your choice. Also, to hope the bear consumes her alive in part two.
Watching chunky lady talk show porn piggy back off one another for masturbatory ratings tears is fascinating. Oprah secured a big get for her show nobody knew was still on the air when she got the cute little ragamuffin kid from Who’s The Boss to admit on national television that he’s the 79,858,920th person in the world to be HIV positive. Harkening back to twenty five years ago when such revelations where newsworthy. Or when Who’s the Boss was actually on the air. Danny Pintauro’s confession has moved a lot of people who haven’t given a fake shit about this kid since he stopped appearing on their TV screens a long time ago. Including Alyssa Milano who was the only former cast member from Who’s the Boss who didn’t know Danny was HIV positive, mostly because she didn’t keep contact with him and he didn’t want to tell her. That didn’t keep The Talk, the overtly racially diverse afternoon talk show, from showing Danny’s Oprah confession to Alyssa Milano and closing on her tears while she declared Danny a hero. Actually, she called him a beacon of light. What? There’s nobody more affected by this than Alyssa Milano.
Cheap tawdry elicited tears are the money shots of daytime talk. Why are you crying? There’s cum in my eye. Are people revealing they are HIV positive heroes? I think the argument can be made for this in the early days of The AIDS when you risked a ton of repercussions. Now you might as well shamefully confess you serve meals to the less fortunate. Nobody gets kudos for coming out with kuru after eating the flesh of their human slaughter. Ranking diseases based on nobility seems unfair. As does showing some chick crying over a co-worker from twenty-five years ago announcing he’s HIV positive. Half of West Hollywood is HIV positive. Walk Santa Monica Boulevard with your pressed juice and breathless sobs. Just don’t breastfeed your baby. You will be shamed.
On the heels of their All-Natural Burger introduction that by process of elimination left people asking what was in all their other burgers, Carl’s Jr. quickly rolled out a highly publicized new themed burger. The Tex Mex Bacon Thick Burger. It’s unclear what any of this means except that at this point the Carl Karcher great grandkids are summer interning in the marketing department. Designing a burger around Google trending border war topics seems like a poor culinary rationale. I get it, the blonds are Americans and the brunettes are Mexicans. Why must of think of half-dead Central American children being run by coyotes across the Sonoran while I’m trying to eat my ten thousand calorie burger?
As with all fast food burger buying decisions, just tell me if it tastes good when I’m wasted at two in the morning and does it cost less than five bucks. I don’t care how fucking high you are, you’re never so faded that six bucks for a drive-thru burger makes sense. The connection between erection and hunger remains entirely unproven, though science has shown your odds of getting laid by a model decline in direct proportion to how many meals a week you eat at Carl’s Jr. Good luck with the math. And the gas.
Photo Credit: Carl’s Jr
Taylor Swift fans are disheartened their infallible deity was dramatically out performed in a guest duet by Mick Jagger summoned from his ancient tomb only moments before going on stage. Objective onlookers agreed that the ancient Jagger was also more fuckable and didn’t need to wear high waisted pants to hide his hippy figure. Taylor Swift trots out an assortment of celebrity guests every venue because even twelve year olds know that seeing a gangly chick with giant teeth and a limited vocal range isn’t worth the tremendous Ticketmaster service charges. It’s time for Taylor Swift to come out from behind the Oz-like smoke and vocal assists and start handing out gifts. Cheap medallions with incredulous origin stories won’t cut it. Toss cash and apologies. You had a solid run. Leave while really impressionable tweens who struggle with mathematics still have you on top. There’s always the comeback tour.
The social media phenomenon of pre-pubescent Maddie Ziegler is based entirely around her remarkably advanced interpretive dancing skills. Let’s all believe that together. Maddie’s work is typically her twelve year old self in nude material rolling around on beds portraying the underaged angst of sexually repressed and emotionally tortured grown women. Occasionally she gets to fend off a naked Shia LaBeouf. Or this new piece, Lucky Thirteen, narrated by Chloe Sevigny just to let you know it’s not the least bit to do with alt-teen Kids behavior.
The video portrays a woman looking back on her middle school years happy she was a weird outcast so she didn’t grow up to go to state school and get a government office job. The only real option of the kids who combed their hair in middle school. Rather she can grow up to be a dancer or actress or jade jewelry artist since her parents are still paying her rent at thirty. If you look closely you can see Maddie’s mom off to stage right encouraging her daughter to show skin to win. If it helps sell more clothes to teen girls, we’ll have to agree it’s all worthwhile. Women and women and girl’s fashion remains the height of unchallenged pedophillic social marketing in the culture. Stephen Collins and Jared were set up. Free the tender hearts.
Albanian TV news is not something you enter lightly. It takes journalistic talent, the ability to pretend Albanian is a real language, and some heaving amount of tits. The 21-year old Enki Bracaj showed up for her screen test with her massive tubes about to fall out of her top. It was a ten second intro to a news piece on something Albanian nobody cares about, but Bracaj caught the attention of every single literal dick in the building and was hired to do whatever the hell she wanted at the station. Critics are calling out the ridiculousness of hiring a chick to report the news simply because she has an amazing rack while others are asking the critics if they’ve never ever watched news on TV before. It’s racially diverse male anchors across from big ole tits and crazy white teeth. This is the natural next step in the evolution of the medium. The perfectly coiffed caublasian and the savvy Albanian chick taking super deep breaths.
Photo Credit: Instagram
Azealia Banks was harassed on a Delta flight because she’s black and a woman and people can’t handle her truth to power. Or because she beat on some French tourists and called a male flight attendant a ‘fucking faggot’. Banks explained how the white power was the real culprit. Also how she can’t possibly be homophobic because she’s bisexual, naturally, her brother is trans, and all her employees are gay men. So basically how white guys mention they have tons of black friends to defend their racist statements. Well played.
Banks gets away shit that bloated white devil Alec Baldwin can only dream of in his racist homophobic drunken rants. Banks confuses keeping it real with being an asshole. Like blocking everybody else’s exit off a five hour Delta flight because you need some drama. That’s when the Air Marshall needs to step in and put two to the back of her head. Well all agree to step over the angry rapper chick to get the fuck out of here then explain to the authorities how she went for the Marshall’s gun. She’s black. They’ll buy it. She’ll appreciate the irony.
Professional wrestling is the fake sport with the real injuries, maiming, and death. It’s that sort of completely idiotic combination that has made the sport wildly popular among teenagers and grown men who drink twelve-packs of watered down beer because repeated pissing is part of the entertainment schedule.
WWE champion Seth Rollins needs to work on his in-ring pretend combat moves because he keeps injuring his opponents above the modest hematomas and lacerations called for in the Code of Conduct. Dude, you’re supposed to hit me in the abdomen, not the kidney, and the chair goes to the front of the head, not the temple where I die suddenly from stroke complications. Over the weekend Rollins launched the forever wrestling Sting into the turnbuckle causing the ancient grappler’s head to snap back and do some significant and career ending spinal damage. Not for nothing but Tom Cruise does his own stunts and looks like a million damn secretly gay dollars. Hone your craft, Rollins. These are actors who need to have working backs to slaughter their families in murder suicide travesties post-retirement. He’s going to let you win. We all read the script.
There are a bunch of industries that have a convention every year to talk about how awesome they are and hand out awards and make the hookers in the zip code just a little bit heavier in the purse. Maybe one M.D. gets up in Aspen every year and announces himself a living god, but it doesn’t happen thirty times in the evening with a sober audience applauding. Military men typically are humbled by their honors, shying away from any individual attention. Film and television actors truly believe they deserve the praise.
Viola Davis cried over her Emmy award for Best Lead Actress in a Drama Series after reciting some Harriet Tubman and talking about the scarcity of roles for minority actresses in Hollywood. Davis was followed by black actresses winning every single award.
Before you quote a famous dead person, ask yourself, would this same person quote me? How could Harriet Tubman fathom the hardship of scoring a seven figure acting gig? Do you realize what it takes to bypass the Venison Alfredo when dining at Spago, Tubman?
You’re both interested in helping liberate black people. Harriet Tubman risked her life dragging them hundreds of miles to freedom in the North. You’re giving a rehearsed speech at the Emmy’s in a Carmen Marc Valvo five thousand dollar gown. Who’s quoting who? Tubman doesn’t deserve you. She wasn’t even SAG.
Miss Colorado made history at the Miss America pageant over the weekend when for her talent portion of the contest she came out dressed in scrubs and made up a story about an Alzheimer patient she cared for in the hospital. Joe. He would frequently call Miss Colorado into his room late at night and quite lucidly ask her to reach up for the gauze on the very top shelf. You sly silver fox. Miss Colorado couldn’t actually change his bandages since she’s that kind of nurse that looks hot in scrubs but the risk management department quietly tells the real nurses not to let do or touch anything. The monologue was moving. But being a tall blond hot nurse is not a talent unless you’re getting boned by a doctor with a ponytail and everybody’s proof of age is being kept on file at a Mailboxes, Etc in Florida. Bring back the batons. Nice flight attendant wave. Next.
The population of Quatar is about eleven. Plus fifteen million Southeastern Asians to do their laundry and build Olympic Stadiums. Two of the nation’s finest found themselves moved to Beverly Hills because their dad or brother or uncle is a stupid diplomat or something in the U.S. Like all pissy Qataris, they took their million dollar race cars out into the residential streets around their mansion and almost killed a few kids while definitely killing their clutch. A breathless chubby cub reporter on the scene interviewed the dude who got out of the smoking Ferrari who told him he had diplomatic immunity and could get away with murder. Then he threw his cigarette at the pudgy Peter Parker and said Fuck America. That last part is only awesome because it’s so fucking Homeland.
The State Department is investigating the incident and lists its importance as somewhere between finding the missing Clinton emails and hosting a brunch for the new Surinamese Prime Minister coming to see the baby pandas. Previously, diplomatic immunity has only been used by foreign consulars to get out of shitloads of parking citations and score tickets to Martina McBride concerts. Running down a cute American kid on a trike could set off an international incident requiring apologies and formal gifting like never seen before. Sugar in the gas tank would be a shortcut. Nuking Qatar should be a go-to backup. Obama, get on this shit. I want to feel safe again in Beverly Hills.