Friday, September 30, 2011

A Foreign Man Makes an Uncomfortably Hard Pass at You

Bountiful Yurgel Family Farm
Excuse me, very beautiful lady. I see you are alone and possibly in need of insemination...


Oh, Yurgel is very sorrowful. My english is still not smart like yours, so I make accident words. Please do not go for walking away from me, I have very important talking for you. Yurgel means to say that I believe I earn enough dollars for you to allow me to give your bosom handshakes.


You look as though you smell very bad things. Please no more yelling, your loud words are bad for romance. You sit and Yurgel taste your mouth with curious tongues, yes? Then you make no more loudness, and come with Yurgel to family sheep farm in home village where you grow large arms from milking and baby-carrying. Much hairiness makes Yurgel very much man, and there will be very many baby.


Why can you laugh at not-funny life with Yurgel? Both women in home village very much like meat and milk from animals, and want to have family making. Can you go with me for buying alcohol? You will like offer better with drinking. Yurgel have only few rupels, but can trade for with opium.


Do not be fear, wonderful lady. Yurgel barter always with opium. First wife get for two handfulls of opium, but she die after fall under plow last year. You very smart lady. You not try fix plow when ox attached.


You go now? Yurgel cannot come? Take paper with address. You write Yurgel soon, but tape American dollars to envelope or letter not come from city. You will come to farm soon. Big American city too loud and smelly, not like family farm.  I will keep extra rations of yak fat for the upcoming winter.  Imagine... you could be getting Yurgel baby by time of seasonal wildfires...  Why does your walking so fast?...

Thursday, September 29, 2011

POLITICS

All you need to know about the current political climate. American bureaucracy at work! 

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Captive Love: Conjugal Romance and Incarcerated Intercourse

It's been a long time, hasn't it?  Now you are planning your big moment with your new wife, just a few short weeks after your union via satellite.  Just because she started writing you unsolicited after hearing the brutal nature of your crimes, it doesn't mean it isn't true love.  In fact, if you were still out on the streets you could imagine yourself with this pale, overweight, myopic, anxiety-prone, needy, submissive, annoying, introverted shut-in.  To set the mood we offer this brief tutorial on making that hasty courtship the best two hours of her life.

A.  This will take some advance preparation, but is an essential step in making your mind willing to copulate with someone hideous in a fully lit and heavily monitored shack owned by the State of California.  Making pruno is easy if you have some fruit, yeast, and a bag to ferment it in.  And what more romantic way to begin the interlude than with some athletic sock-filtered prison wine?  If she seems squeamish just refer to the pruno as "artisanal wine", and she will feel more open to the experience.  Make a batch two weeks before the visit, and make sure to slip a few bucks to the staff to turn a blind eye.

B.  After the deed is done, you should have about 1:55mins remaining in your two hour visit.  Bring a hand rolled cigarette made of only the finest nicotine-soaked discarded butts.  They make the most satisfying smoke, and put a traditional finish on an otherwise unconventional rendezvous.

C.  The all-important radio.  Nothing sets the mood like some proper lovemaking music.  Make sure the model you bring has a digital clock on it.  Those pricks that run the place deliberately leave clocks out of the area, in hopes they can barge in and ruin any marathon sessions.  Choose your station in advance, and choose something SHE will like.  You may have to work through some country music ballads here.

D.  Procure a prophylactic, preferably unused.  But any condom can be revived by running it under a faucet for a little while.  You can bet that she "forgot" to bring a rubber.  She knows that physical contact comes only once in a while, and she will use deception to force you into fathering a child to end her life-long loneliness.  Circumvent her efforts with this tactic.  And if she is obese enough you might be able to put it on and take it off without her ever seeing it, just keep her gut between your cock and her face at all times.

E.  You may need to rely on your partner to sneak this one in, but luckily it comes in an incredibly easy to conceal shape!  The dildo could serve to finish off your partner after you climax and lose interest, or to satisfy your new affinity for pegging, as is common with long term prisoners.  Just remember the unspoken rule of the conjugal visit room:  whatever is smuggled in MUST be smuggled out.  Bring all the gear you desire, but leave only DNA.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Dick Scustin and the Three Bears


Richard Theobald Scustin
Deep in an enchanted wood, there lived three friendly bears.  There was a  Mama Bear, a Daddy Bear and an adorable Baby Bear.  The bears lived happily together in a beautiful cottage.  The woods were a bright and cheerful place to live, there were many fruit trees and the rivers were teeming with delicious fish.  The bears had just awoken from a pleasant slumber and were going to take a stroll through the woods while their yummy breakfast porridge was cooling. 

Daddy Bear put on his suspenders and said to Mama Bear “That porridge smells delicious dear, I can’t wait to get home from our walk and eat it.”

“Let’s not walk too fast” said Mama Bear “I love spending time with my wonderful family on these beautiful strolls.”

“Anything for my beautiful bear wife.” Said Daddy Bear.

“Can we stop and see the baby bluebirds at Mama Bluebird’s nest on our walk?”  Asked Baby Bear.

“Of course son, Mama Bluebird is expecting us.” replied Daddy Bear.

“Yay!  I get to see baby bluebirds” sang Baby Bear.

Mama Bear filled the Bear’s breakfast bowls with steaming hot porridge.  “The porridge will be the perfect temperature to eat when we get back from our lovely family stroll.”

With that, the three happy bears started their daily walk around the woods, visiting with all of their woodland friends.

Moments later, a man in a camel hair sport coat carrying a duffel bag full of carpet supplies approached the Bears Cottage.  The man, his face a patchwork of skin grafts banged on the cottage door.  “Shamford’s Quality Carpets!”  The man continued to slam his dry, calloused fist on the door.  “Shamford’s Quality Carpets!  Did you people order some fucking carpets or what?!” 

The man pulled a suitcase out of his duffle bag and opened it.  There was a name engraved below the handle of the suitcase, it read “Dick Scustin”.  Dick rummaged in his suitcase and removed a soiled piece of paper. 
The smeared paper read “Carpet installation at 752 Whimsical Lane, Enchanted Wood, Magic Kingdom. 

Dick Scustin stared at the carpet installation work order and then glanced up at the address posted on the front of the cottage.  The address on the cottage read 527 Whimsical Lane.  “This is the Goddamn place all right.”  Dick continued to bang on the front door.  “I don’t have all day you fucks!  Do you want this carpet or not?!”  With the final pound of his fist, the cottage door swung open. 

Dick shambled into the cottage, dragging his duffel bag with him.  Dick surveyed the interior of the cottage.  “Are you kidding me?!  Goddammit!  I have to move all of the furniture myself?!” 

Dick Scustin, normally just a carpet salesman, was asked by his boss to do a couple of carpet installations.  The normal carpet installer was gifted with a goose that shits diamonds and no longer needed a carpet installation job.  “Come on Dick, be a team player.  It is only until we hire a new carpet installer.”  Dick’s boss had said to him.  Dick responded with a stern middle finger and a tirade of slur laced profanity.  Dick ended up taking the job, his carpet sales job was not always enough to pay for his necessary skin grafts. 

Dick's brittle bones audibly creaked as he moved every piece of furniture on the ground floor out the front door of the cottage and into the yard.  The kitchen table gave him special trouble.  On the table were three varying size bowls of porridge.  "What kind of asshole leaves good food just sitting out?!"  Dick shouted as he dumped the bowls of porridge into the sink.  

Once the kitchen table was successfully shoved into the yard, Dick headed upstairs.  There were three beds.  A small bed, a medium bed and a large bed.  "Goddammit!  Three beds!" Dick shouted as he started dragging the largest bed to the stairway.  

The bed frames were made of hardwood logs and were very heavy.  Dick got in front of the bed and started dragging it down the stairs.  With several jerking tugs, the bed was firmly lodged in the stairway with Dick stuck downstairs.  "Goddammit!  Now how the fuck am I supposed to re-carpet the upstairs!?"

The Three Bears wandered down a flower lined, cobblestone path.  The path ran along a babbling brook that led straight back to their lovely cottage.  Baby Bear giggled and skipped down the road, his smiling parents following close behind.  As they rounded a corner they saw their cottage.  

All of their personal possessions were strewn about their yard.  "What's happening Daddy?" asked the Baby Bear.

"I'm not sure son."  Responded Daddy Bear.

As the drew closer to the house they could hear a constant stream of cursing.  Suddenly a man in a camel hair sport coat with a face like a patchwork doll rushed out of their doorway flinging an armload of cut up carpet into the yard.
"What are you doing?!"  Shouted Daddy Bear.  

"What's it look like I'm doing?  Shamford’s Quality Carpets!  I am installing the new Goddamn carpets!"  Shouted Dick

"We did not order any carpets!" Yelled Daddy Bear.  "What are you doing to our house?!"

"For your information asshole, I was going to rip it out on a Friday and install on a Monday.  It gives the floor underneath time to breath!  And I don't work on weekends!"  Shouted Dick.
"No!  You are going to fix this right now!"  Screamed Mommy Bear.

"Wait, did you say you didn't order new carpets?  questioned Dick.

"NO!"  Yelled the Bears

"So this is some sort of prank!  You people are just wasting my time!"  Dick stuck out his middle finger and waved it in the Bear's faces.  "I don't have time for Goddamn Bear practical jokes!"  

Dick scooped up his duffel bag and briefcase and promptly stomped away from the cottage.  "Fuck you!"  Dick shouted one last time.

The Bears, shocked, stood motionless for several seconds.  The violent crying of Baby Bear woke Daddy Bear out of his stunned stupor.  "Where is that little monster!?" Shouted Daddy Bear.
But Dick was already off, banging on doors, swearing at the elderly, screaming at children and selling his carpets.  They are quality carpets.

Monday, September 26, 2011

Surviving the Apocalypse Made Easy

We all know it is bound to happen some day, maybe ten thousand years from now, maybe even a million or two.  But if we are all lucky it might happen within our lifetime!  This guide is a quick reference to surviving the apocalypse.  Whether it be catastrophic meteor impact, widespread disease and famine, or global warfare, these tips are invaluable.  .This could even work for a zombie outbreak, or something less likely such as the rapture.  So sit back and absorb the knowledge.  It might save your life one day.

Firstly, regardless of the cause of the mass extinction you are going to need the big three:  Food and water, shelter, and defense.  Remember to keep an eye out for renewable food an water when scavenging, since a sure thing prairie dog hunt beats a single gourmet meal in the long run. 

One clever way to recycle urine into a small scale renewable water source is accomplished in any warm or hot climate.  Gather some plastic sheeting (a trash bag will do, the darker colored, the better!) and a small cup or can to gather the payload.  Simply dig a hole, piss in it and place the can in the dead center of the hole.  By stretching the plastic over the hole and placing a small stone in the center you can guide the resulting condensation to an apex, causing the pure water to drip into the container.  Don't be shy, after all, Gandhi drank his own urine everyday!
Got urine?


Recycling solid waste is a more difficult and less appetizing proposition, but will make perfect sense when times are desperate enough.  One little known fact is that human feces is rich in nutrients that are improperly or incompletely digested in the body, and can sustain life in a starvation situation.  The living fauna component of the waste is both dangerous, and a nice nutritional bonus to the vegetable and meat makeup of most colon material.  To make the emergency rations safe to eat simply boil the feces to kill all living parasites and bacteria.  Season liberally, for obvious reasons.
Strain through cheesecloth after boiling



When it comes to shelter in the apocalyptic landscape of terror and misfortune, survivors will be confronted with a plethora of available real estate for the taking.  Before occupying the nearest mansion in your city you should take a few things into consideration.  First you will want to be near a food and water source, since you won't want to be dining on your feces quite yet.  And choose something strong and impenetrable, considering human invasion as well as other environmental forces that could expose you to certain death.  Avoid a rookie mistake:  Cinderblocks seem to make a great fortress, but one man with a sledgehammer can end it all.


Being prepared for the apocalypse also means becoming a gun owner.  No matter how you feel about them politically, you are going to want one when shit goes down.  A .22 rifle is probably the single best choice, since you carry more ammo than any other weapon.  But it doesn't end there.  You are going to need some hand to hand weaponry and tools.  Make your next paycheck a shopping spree at the hardware store.  The essentials are a hatchet and axe, machete, three foot heavy chain with padlock, and a crowbar.  Bring lots of cash, because you will be inspired by the variety.

Preparedness can be sexy!

So take this advice to heart, dear reader, and I will see you at EDEN 2.  I will be the fat guy doing all the fornicating... er, I mean repopulating.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

David and Delilah

Father Dunson Gramalazzo
Hey everybody, we still doing this thing?  I thought we were taking football season off from church, like we have since the season started.  You were all here the last 2 weeks?  .... Oh Shit.  Sorry folks, I forgot to tell you about that idea didn't I? 

Well, let's take a vote.  All in favor of leaving now and watching some football, raise your hands.  All in favor of doing the normal boring Catholic thing, raise your hands.  Really!?  Come on folks, I've got a few bills riding on Michael Vick. 

Fine, fine!!  Calm down Mrs. Rashton, you will not go to hell for not going to church, whoever told you that is full of shit.. . . . .  Bishop Donnely told you that?  Well, if anyone asks, it didn't come from me but, Bishop Donnely enjoys the company of men a little too much, if you know what I am saying...?  No?  Well how about, he likes to lay his healing hands on wayward lads a little too aggressively...?   Still not getting it huh?   He's a Dick-Taster!  . . . . . . . . Whaaat?!  Whaaaat!?     You people have not fucking sense of humor.

As you can see, the pink-eye is still sticking around, and now I have this lovely cold sore.  I would advise against handshakes on the way out of here today.  I have been touching my face a lot.  The doctor says I might have some rare case of Pink-Eye, some new strain or something.  The Lord sure can be a prick in mysterious ways.

Let's see here.  Have I ever told you folks the one about David and Delilah?  No smart ass, not Samson and Delilah, no not David and Goliath!   Are you people even fucking listening to me?  David and Delilah!

It was a few years after Delilah did that whole "hair cut murder plot" and she was still swimming in Philistine riches for her work.  She opened several successful brothels and was quickly cornering the skin-trade market.  She would have been fine if not for her secret addiction.  Since her adventure with Samson, she has developed a serious hair fetish.

But when you are the richest Madame in Sorek Valley, hair is easy to obtain.  Delilah has a sprawling palatial estate with many rooms.  One of the rooms is well hidden and well locked.  Inside of the windowless stone room is heap after heap of human hair.  She spends her evening balled up, sleeping in the human rats nest.

She thought she had everything she could ever want.  That was until she saw David, David and his giant's head.  Several years earlier, David had killed Goliath with a single rock hurled from a sling.  Ever since then, the diminutive David has carried his gristly prize with him everywhere.  He carries Goliath's head by it's hair.  The head is very well preserved.  The scalp of the giant's head is still filled with thick, luscious, giant Philistine hair.  David loved it, it was a great ice breaker at parties.

David decided to wander through Sorek valley and see the sites.  With his giant, decapitated head slung over his shoulder by the hair, David strode confidently down the street.  Not a single person has been brave enough to start shit with David since the whole "giant killing" business, so David was surprised to find himself knocked to the ground, his trophy ripped from his hands.

David rolled over in the dust to face his attacker.  He was shocked to find a well dressed woman clutching Goliath's head and breathing deeply on it's scalp.  "Ma'am that is my decapitated head!  I demand that you give it back this instant!" shouted David.

"Or what?"  Cackled Delilah. 

"Bitch, do you know who I am?!" Retorted David.

"Some asshole who is too much of a pussy to hold onto such a lovely head of hair."  Cooed Delilah.

"I am warning you Ma'am.  Don't make me use force"  David's hand reached for his belt, where he removed his sling.  David's other hand went to his pouch where he retrieved a stone.  "I can kill you with a single sto-" 

Before David could finish his sentence, Delilah swung Goliaths head by the hair and brutally connected with the side of David's head.  It literally sounded like two coconuts being smashed together. 

Delilah stood over the unconscious David and spit directly into his gaping mouth.  "I've taken down men bigger than you."  Delilah took another deep snort through her sinuses and again, hocked into the unconscious David's mouth.

Delilah joyfully skipped home and spent the next few nights locked inside of her hair room.  She mounted Goliath's head on a pole so it is easier to brush the hair.  She now knows for a fact that Goliath is a better kisser than Samson.  Samson always put too much tongue into it.  Goliath is more ....... demure.

What about David??   Well, David eventually woke up with all of his clothing having been stolen.  He cried a little bit and shambled home without his prized human head.  He lived the rest of his life, sad and wanting.  Well, that's it!  I hope you folks enjoyed that tale.

What's the moral of the story??  Well, um. . . .   How about...

Don't know what you got till it's gone
Don't know what it is I did so wrong
Now I know what I got
It's just this song
And it ain't easy to get back
Takes so long

Now are you all still sure that you want to meet next week?  Why don't we all meet at the stadium and we can tailgate a service?  Come on!!   You people are no fucking fun.  It's because of you that Catholicism is fucking dying. 


*AMEN*

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Popular Irony Journal of Medicine: Adult Industry Conditions

A catalog of sex industry maladies as confirmed through medical scrutiny according to the strict standards of the Popular Irony Journal of Medicine. All patients continue with regular treatments to minimize exposure to irritants and repetitive motions than can degrade their respective conditions.



Practice does not always make perfect
 Wanker's Wrist This injury is caused by frequent masturbation by men and women within the industry and within the pornography consumer audience. Many industry-related injuries are shared between producers and consumers, much like venereal diseases. The obvious warp in wrist alignment is obtained gradually by the afflicted, and embarrassment can lead to a tragic delay in treatment. Splinting and muscle relaxants can be implemented to positive results.




I hope it was worth the extra $5
 Stripperitis This very dramatic ocular condition is contracted commonly in gentleman's clubs that serve shellfish. Cross contamination from filthy hands to exposed genitalia leads to tertiary exposure to the faces of particularly demanding strip club clientele. This is often prompted in a rather foolish manner by the afflicted by placing a $5 bill across their nose while laying prone on the dance floor. Buyer beware, this condition can lead to blindness and permanent skin discoloration.




Time to become ambidextrous
 Fluffer's Elbow This most infamous of adult industry occupations comes with an obvious risk for repetitive motion injury. Unsuccessfully alternating stroking arms can cause a serious buildup of inflammatory fluid that can distend the skin, forming a "balloon" of throbbing flesh that gives off a startling amount of heat. A numbing effect that dulls the pain can lead some afflicted to attempt a dangerous home remedy by lancing the mass without professional medical supervision. Application of cortisone and a saline flush can resolve the condition within a few days.

Please report any unknown conditions or suspicious medical anomalies to the Journal at PopularIrony@gmail.com

Any medical submissions will be handled with the utmost care to patient security.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Basil the Seahorse

Deep, deep down at the bottom of the ocean is a magical place called Seahorse Valley.  In Seahorse Valley lives hundreds of happy seahorses.  The seahorses spend their seahorsey days swimming, laughing, singing and playing in the ocean currents.  The song  of the seahorses is quite intoxicating, once you hear them singing and laughing you can't help but feel happy.

All the creatures of the sea love to visit the seahorses.  The joyous sounds can calm the most aggressive sharks and could make the grumpiest urchin smile warmly.  Seahorse Valley is the safest place in the entire ocean.

Every predatory instinct is extinguished in the presence of the beautiful seahorse sounds.  Seals and sharks swim paw in fin, clams use otter bellies as fuzzy undersea pillows, swarms of krill playfully tickle whales.  Every animal is smiling in it's own way.

Seahorse Valley is ruled by a kindly King,  King Waterspout.  King Waterspout is a stout and happy seahorse king gifted with the most melodious voice in the entire ocean.  Every year, thousands of creatures gather to listen to the King sing on his royal birthday.

This year is no different.  The aquatic critters gather in the valley outside of the seahorse palace.  Actually, this year is different.  King Waterspout is about to announce his retirement and hand his crown to his son, Basil.

Like all the others, Basil is a happy seahorse.  Except Basil holds a dark secret.  Basil has Tourette Syndrome.  He normally has it under control but stressful situations make him lose his concentration and he could blurt out words unintentionally.  Unbeknownst to himself, Basil is about to become king.

The King's birthday is always an easy day for Basil.  He never has anything to worry about.  He just has to sit back, snack on delicious snacks and observe the happy animals watching his father preform.  

Basil sits on a comfortable cushion and watches his father walk out onto the royal balcony.  "My friends," says the King.  "Thank you all for joining us once again to help us celebrate my birthday."  The crowd erupts into joyous applause.  "But I have to announce that I will not be singing this year."  The crowd gasps audibly.  "I am getting old and it is time for me to step down as King."

As realization hit Basil's brain, his eyes shoot from the hor dourves to his father in an instant of panic.  Basil grumbles under his breath *titty cunt pussy balls* and puts his fin over his mouth.

His father continues, "But fret not my friends, for the NEW KING has a wonderful singing voice."  

Which is true, Basil has one of the most gorgeous seahorse voices in generations.  But Basil has never sang before a crowd before, only for his family and friends.  He has controlled his Tourettes so well over the years that his father must have forgotten.  *shitty titty testicle torture*.

The King's voice rises in volume.  "I present to you, the new King of Seahorse Valley, my son, King Basil the 1st!!"  The sound of thousands of pairs of fins, paws, claws and shells clapping is deafening.

Basil stands, mouth agape for several seconds.  Gaining control of his fins he propels himself the the front of the balcony, urinating slightly.

"I am so proud of you" the king whispers to Basil.  "Take it away, your Majesty"  

Trembling and unprepared, Basil faces the crowd and surveys his kingdom.  He breaths deeply several times and begins singing "The Lobster's Tulip".  

The miraculous sound of Basil's voice sweeps over the valley.  Every animal sways in unison to the beautiful song.  As Basil approaches the crescendo of the song a familiar feeling starts happening in the back of his brain.  "oh no, not now" thinks Basil.  

His voice rises to an incredibly high pitch but instead of the next lyric of the song concerning the lost and once again found lover of a lobster, a slew of the foulest profanity ever uttered is sung at high volume.

*Hairy pussy tits slimy stinking cunt cunt cunt hamburger enema asshole fist fucker shit eater ball biting poon-swaggler eat my dick eat my horsey dickhole cock sucker*

The magic spell of the valley is shattered. The elder king topples over backwards, dead.  The crowd, silent for several seconds, explodes with screams.  Every predator lashes out in every direction, snapping and biting any creature unlucky enough to be within jaw-reach.  Crabs jump on starfish and clip off legs, sea turtles vomit and convulse, eels force entry into any available animal orifice, clown fish float toward the surface dead from shock and the seahorses weep.

Moments later, the water muted dark red, the only animals left in the valley are the dead and dying.  Basil untouched by the carnage stands alone on the balcony.  

Basil lives alone in the shattered palace for the rest of his days.  A king of a dead kingdom.  Some say that if you listen carefully on a full moon, you can still hear Basil swearing. *Shitty tits* 

All Hail King Basil the 1st
 

Thursday, September 22, 2011

Pessimism and Apathy: The Twin Tools of Success


SUCCESS!!!
 Tonight I share some of the insider knowledge of life and philosophy, designed to make you a more relaxed and successful person. But before we can outline the path to personal betterment we must define the goal. A traveller without a destination is pointless, like a six-dollar prostitute that can't break a $10.

Some may say that success is living a healthy life, making sure your physical and mental needs are met before tending to professional matters. Some would argue that success is gaining influence and power, and the money that lifestyle provides. The point is that everyone has their own idea of success, and it can change based on personal experience and priorities. This fact is incredibly powerful, and if used properly it can transform a suicidal caterpillar into a confident butterfly overnight.

Much like Yin and Yang, success is also defined by it's contrast to failure. The two main characteristics of a loser is their propensity to be wrong, and to fail in their pursuits. So how do you avoid being a loser? Minimize your likelihood to be wrong and to fail. The key to being successful is to utilize pessimism and apathy to minimize your personal expectations.

First we can discuss the vast benefits of pessimism. Anyone over the age of thirteen can attest to the fact that all things being equal, the more terrible of two possible outcomes is the most likely to occur. We can exploit this truth to boost our odds of being correct on any various issue in our personal and professional lives. In addition to pessimism's probability benefits is the "silver lining" factor when it fails, as it will always be a pleasant surprise when something positive happens.

Apathy is also an important tool to true success. Every failure in history has one thing in common: They tried. The simple truth is that you cannot fail unless you try. The total indifference inherent to apathy is an excellent deterrent to attempting anything. The logic here is bulletproof, and anyone that wishes to argue should consider the Denver Broncos. The Denver Broncos have NEVER lost a baseball game. If their goal was the be undefeated in baseball, would they not be successful?

So I guess the lesson here is that the keys to success are to expect less, expect the worst, and don't give a shit about anything. Pass this knowledge on to your loved ones, especially your children. The sooner they know the sooner they will find happiness!

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

POPULAR IRONY COLORING CONTEST *RESULTS*

The long wait is over!!  I know you have all been chewing your nails to the fucking bone in anticipation.  Minutes after posting, our PopularIrony@gmail account was flooded with entries for the "COLOR ME MERCURY" coloring contest.  It has taken some time to wade through the thousands of, dare I say, immaculate pieces of art. You have all done a great service to the world at large.  


I present to you the Grand Champions of the 

POPULAR IRONY COLOR ME MERCURY
2011 LABOR DAY COLORING CONTEST
  
You, our beloved readers, were challenged to color the astounding interpretation of the great Freddie Mercury seen below.  The winner will receive a custom Popular Irony post written in their honor.  


Don't cry stupid, you can still color me!!


Here was my noble attempt.  I went with a ginger, Puerto Rican Freddie Mercury with the mildly offensive tank top who works at an old timey gas station.  Too bad I am not eligible to enter my own contest.

 
Ginger, Puerto Rican Freddie Mercury


 Now for the winners!!!

In Second Place:  Little Stevey Davis submitted this entry.  It is titled "Spread Your Wings". 

 
Don't you just want to climb onto my back and ride me into the fucking sunset?


Great work Stevey!  But not fucking great enough to compete with our 1st place winner!

Congratulations to Keegan Douglas with this "Color Me Mercury" coloring contest grand champion entry! It is title "Bill Cosby"  I think it captured Freddie Mercury in a new light and is a brave artistic choice.  


With a shoobity doo skippity bipple


HEY KEEGAN!!  YOU FUCKING WIN!!  An Adult Bedtime Story will be written and posted in your honor this Friday September 23rd!!  So keep your eyes pealed for that fucking mess.


From all of us at Popular Irony, a big thank you to all of our contestants!!

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Sergeant Murphy's Daycare Academy: A Personal Account

The first night's the toughest, no doubt about it. They march you in naked as the day you were born, skin burning and half blind from that delousing shit they throw on you, and when they put you in that cell... and those bars slam home... that's when you know it's for real. A whole weekend blown away in the blink of an eye. Nothing left but all the time in the world to think about it.  And just when you are contemplating the gravity of it all Sergeant Murphy pipes in, ready to make your life hell for missing the smallest detail of what he was saying.

"You are the lowest form of life on Earth. You are not even human, fucking beings. You are nothing but unorganized grabastic pieces of amphibian shit! You will not like me. But the more you hate me the more you will learn. I am hard but I am fair. There is no racial bigotry here. I do not look down on niggers, kikes, wops or greasers. Here you are all equally worthless. And my orders are to weed out all non-hackers who do not pack the gear to serve in my beloved Academy. Do you maggots understand that?"

Sergeant Murphy goes on...

"There are rules around here, and punishment for breaking them.  Listen up, children or you will wish you had.  Them clothes got laundry numbers on them. You remember your number and always wear the ones that has your number. Any child forgets their number spends a night in the box. These here spoons you keep with you. Any child loses their spoon spends a night in the box. There's no playing grab-ass or fighting in the building. You got a grudge against another child, you fight them Saturday afternoon. Any child playing grab-ass or fighting in the building spends a night in the box. First bell's at five minutes of eight when you will get in your bunk. Last bell is at eight. Any child not in their bunk at eight spends the night in the box. There is no smoking in the prone position in bed. To smoke you must have both legs over the side of your bunk. Any child caught smoking in the prone position in bed... spends a night in the box. You get two sheets. Every Saturday, you put the clean sheet on the top... the top sheet on the bottom... and the bottom sheet you turn in to the laundry boy. Any child turns in the wrong sheet spends a night in the box. No one'll sit in the bunks with dirty pants on. Any child with dirty pants on sitting on the bunks spends a night in the box. Any child don't bring back their empty milk bottle spends a night in the box. Any child loud talking spends a night in the box. You got questions, you come to me. I'm Carr, the floor walker. I'm responsible for order in here. Any child don't keep order spends a night in the box."

This is your reality until Mom returns from that business trip.  And if you make it out, you are not the same kid.  Suddenly cartoons and sugary snacks just don't make you happy anymore, and in the back of your mind you hear the Sergeant's voice in your head.  So I guess this is where I tell you what I learned - my conclusion, right? Well, my conclusion is: Playtime is important, but so is naptime.  Dora the Explorer says it's always good to end a paper with a quote. She says someone else has already said it best. So if you can't top it, steal from them and go out strong. So I picked a guy I thought you'd like. 'We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of memory will swell when again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Masturbation Enthusiast Monthly vol. 2

Welcome back for another double-fisted dose of the world's favorite passtime!  In this issue we discuss great moments in public wanking in "the Masturbation Hall of Fame",  and as always, we cover two new self-pleasure techniques in "Diff'rent Strokes"!  Everything a sexually conscious person without a shame complex could want!

The Masturbation Hall of Fame

Joe "Make it Rain" Lizura  This former San Diego weatherman plead guilty to charges stemming from a claim by a local woman that the 49 year old tv meteorologist was starting at her while masturbating behind a glass door at his office building, in full view of the public.  Joe resigned shortly after, claiming his choice had nothing to do with the unfortunate situation he was involved in.  This man gave up a lot for the activity we all collectively love.  We'd all like to shake your... er, I mean pat you on the back, Joe.


Grant "Hand of God" Storms This New Orleans Pastor was arrested early this year for public masturbation after a woman reported seeing him "unzipped and exposed" in his car at a public park.  That's right, it was in full view of a children's playground.  And in a completely unrelated and non-hypocritical twist, he is also an anti-gay and anti-masturbation advocate that uses a bullhorn to call people sinners.  But apparently God speaks to the man that can pray with one hand!


Sato "the Champ" Masanobu How could this list be complete without a mention of the world champion?  This man completed a marathon in 2010 to determine the most proficient masturbator.  His winning time clocked in at 9hrs 58min.  He credits his use of the Tenga, a device designed with 10 variations of use to keep him going for so long.  He also credits the wonderful support of his family, which isn't creepy at all...


Diff'rent Strokes!

The Pressure Play This method uses a pleasurable but forceful squeeze to increase blood pressure in the head of the penis, resulting in a dramatic inflation and superficial "bruising".  If done intermittently for several minutes the method produces a violent discharge paired with temporary narcolepsy.  Do not use this method while operating motor vehicles or other heavy machinery.


The MacGyver Method  This method was developed by home masturbation enthusiasts in the 1980's that were inspired by the diy antics of mullet hero, MacGyver.  The application of a small dollop of lube at the base of the shaft acts as an electrical conduit for a simple 9 volt battery.  Advanced techniques include the substitution of lithium ion batteries and a steel rod to induce "head sparking".

Until next month, keep your head up!  And please send any masturbation topics of interest to popularirony@gmail.com

Sunday, September 18, 2011

COUNTDOWN

I miss the constant fear of nuclear annihilation.  It was something to worry about and take my mind off of these bed sores.

Here's to Mutually Assured Destruction!



A History of Portugal


Good Evening Friends,  

We at Popular Irony feel it is our obligation to inform and educate the public.  We present to you a short film on the tragic history of the Portugalian Slave Trade.


Friday, September 16, 2011

To Catch A Rapist (Vic Musket Part 7)

Through the lens of the binoculars Vic watched a modern day Sodom. Shirtless masses shuffled about, ranging from the emaciated to the scooter-bound obese. It was difficult to tell which were covered in tattoos and which were just filthy, but you could be certain they were all dangerous. Some were only dangerous to defenseless ten year olds, but dangerous nonetheless.

It was getting dark, but that didn't mean Pedo Park was closing down for the night. Not surprisingly there was no observed curfew among the convicted sex offenders and NAMBLA recruiting scouts. After all, shameful indulgences can be performed with confidence in the dark. Vic stumbled his way to one of the few trailers that did not have country music blaring from an open window, ensuring it was currently vacant. He was looking for a rapist Puerto Rican named "Benny", and judging by the volume of confederate flags being used as curtains he wouldn't be hard to spot in a crowd. He just needed a distraction to get everyone outside, and a bright light to see their faces...

Vic tore the redneck banner from the window above him and promptly vomited into it. By his estimation his stomach had nothing but liquor and pigeon meat inside it, and the concoction should be flammable. With a quick spark from his lighter the confederate flag burst into vomit-flames, a fitting tribute to it's honor. Vic tossed the rag through the open window of the trailer and it quickly went up.

Screams, shouts, and even cheers rang out as the mouth-breathing crowd assembled to watch the fire. In this kind of community no one comes rushing to help put the fire out, and there was NO chance anyone was calling 911. Vic peered out at the sea of Caucasian faces, but saw no Benny. Circling the crowd he turned his attention to the surrounding trailers and caught a glimpse of a dark skinned man sheepishly looking out of a window, clearly a paranoid outsider here.

Vic made a direct line to the trailer, carefully drawing his .38 as he opened the door. "What the fuck!" yelled the man, startled by the armed vagrant storming into his home. "Don't move, Benny. Killing rapists is one of my favorite passtimes, but it doesn't have to be that way." Vic shouted, his revolver punctuating his statement.

"You aren't from the Cangiani family, are you?" Benny asked, seeming relieved. "No I am not." Vic said as he pulled a half empty bottle of rum from a kitchen shelf. "Even worse. I was sent by the father of the teenage girl you raped. He wanted me to bring him an uncircumcised souvenir."

Benny burst into laughter. After a few moments he gathered himself. "You think I raped that girl? Mister, you are being lied to. Let me tell you what the fuck is going on, and then you will let me go." He seemed confident, like someone who was actually telling the truth. "This had better be good" Vic said doubtingly, "or else I swear, I will freeze one of my shits, stab you with it, and break it off. Now start talking, and remember that your neighbors wouldn't mind listening to your screams for hours at this time of night."

Vic was worried that he was about to learn more about this case than he wanted to. Good thing Benny only drank half of this bottle of booze.


To be continued...