Frachitty fa la coonilio brifta garglyblast! Hoody-doo fgfarella noogy bliflepurst! Poodlynarf nikkywilling summatathng contesteo balla lalla ward wantingscarf, ammatty meany furble foo! Gartgledyblip pooly foonting voitvoid messanatilly hoomtoing.
Now that we’re clear.
Batteries not included, some assembly required, results not typical, bitches, so don’t think that swallowing a pill a day and sitting on your fat ass will make you look like a somethingteen girl. In order to get really hot, the only known solution is to get men really, really drunk, because BEER GOGGLES ACTUALLY WORK.
That’s right, fuck him while he’s drunk, fuck him till you’re preggers, and THAT MAN WILL BE YOURS! The SOUTH SHALL RISE AG — UM, SHALL CONTINUE TO RISE UNTIL — UM, SHALL CONSIDER THE POSSIBILITY OF — AH FUCK, THE SOUTH IS GOING TO SPEND MOST OF ITS WEEKEND LOOKING AT CHEERLEADER PORN AND MASTURBATING SADLY ON THE TOILET BOWL. BUT THE SOUTH SHALL DO IT AGAIN, IF IT DOESN’T HAVE A BAD CASE OF WHISKEYDICK!
Rated M for mature content.
(Oh, did I not mention that?)
Or C because someone somewhere in the mix says “cunt”, which is something our teen boys must never know about, nor our girls, and exesexespexialliay since it was Ani DiFranco who said it, well. C is for cunt which means Lesbian, boys and girls. Fear the cunt. Hate the cunt. Fuck the cunt.
[William Shatner says, “In every revolution there is one … uh, man with a vision” as InSOC tunes its keyboards.]
Or maybe it means Cookie Monster, that monomaniacal freak, but you know what “cookie” means, and aren’t we getting just a little bit tired of having mostly every word being turned into slang for pussy? I mean really, you can say something like “radio receiver” and have some puerile ass turn it into a sexually charged thing, and really, who needs all these neo-Freudians who just haven’t figured out yet that sometimes a cigar is IN FACT JUST A FUCKING CIGAR? You put the jack into the receiver and listen, like this, see, mm, isn’t that nice?
YOU! In the back row. Yes, you, radio boy. STOP JACKING IN!
W E C A N A L L S E E Y O U !
When you do it on camera it’s porn and you get paid for it. But when you do it in your own living room and “forget” to close the blinds, well, hell.
Turds float, but politicians stink, and long before it was a nuclear sub, the Nautilus was the invention of a nineteenth century writer who was also wrong about Martians invading Earth, and for that reason I don’t believe in steak tartare, which is clearly a Communist plot. In America, WE COOK OUR FUCKING BEEF, IVAN! AND THEN WE THROW PIG BELLIES OVER IT AND COVER IT WITH RANDOM SPICES, MONOSODIUM GLUTAMATE, CORN SYRUP AND WAY TOO MUCH GODDAMNED SALT! YEAH! THAT’S AN AMERICAN BURGER, YOU SOVIET SHITBALLS!
A penis is the same as a ski lift: Meaningless costly elevation for a few minutes of thrill, usually in special latex-filled costumes.
Our president is a genius. Note that I have not defined the words “our”, “president” or “genius”, and as we all know the definition of “is” is still in question. “a” is on its own. Sorry.
Hastur may be unspeakable, but XKCD redeems sins.
Eris died for your shit, and she wants it all back now, especially the pearl earrings, since she has a dance to go to this weekend. For now, her eunuch is just wondering if any random crap will turn itself into a fifty-reply post.
If I were a woman, I would be a lesbian. So I’m writing a book: “How can I get a sex change, will it get me more pussy, and does it mean I have to start driving like a stupid bitch?” Buy your copy of this sensitive, insightful tale of one woman’s courage to be herself tomorrow!
Radio is the opiate of the religious. Sundays are like sundaes, full of sweetness but lacking anything of real value unless you sacrificed the goat to Great Cthulhu.
FACT: If Hitler hadn’t reversed the swastika, we’d all be speaking German. It’s true! Try it yourself!
I took an antibiotic course in college, but flunked it.
Penises are overrated, except for the last 160,000 years of human evolution that somehow seemed to involve them.
If you can read this, you’re too far gone. Turn up at the next yellow light, then turnip at the following green. You’ll find me at the Radishon.
I have no regrets; I apologize for nothing.
Well, except, you know, 2002 till now. That thing, well, yeah.
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