Saturday, March 1, 2014

Flash Your High Beams

We here at the gabbin' cabin like to talk about the dogs we've murdered on our way to the championship of roof jumping. From roof to roof we frolic with the truth that our days are numbered but the number of the beast will never be branded upon our necks. Trek through the apartment complex and satisfy the lonely housewife that wears a turban filled with rubies and Judge Dredd stickers pasted to her titties. Get real close, but never get burned.

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How to Buy a Used Fridge


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- The wife of one of my acquaintances thinks she is a radiant goddess of class and erotic features that devastate the eyes and boners of all that look upon her. But in truth, and we're speaking strictly about facts here, she is a gross sack of shit. Her pale, fleshy folds of fat are being used as incubators for nests of bacteria and her breath smells like a chemo fart. Even though she is obese, she gets drunk on 2 drinks, at which point she demands to leave whatever party she's at. Oh, and she sucked a stripper's dick the night before her own wedding. Nearly forgot that detail.

- I don't trust anybody else's idea of clean. You all missed a spot.

- I don't think I'd buy a used car from an obese man. The suspension is probably all fucked up. Who knows what that guy's been eating in the car on the way home from work, hiding his food intake from his very patient wife.

He's going to Wendy's and he's getting a fucking Jr. Bacon Cheeseburger from the drive thru and he's shoving that shit into his fucking mouth in the parking lot. He feels that short rush and then the cannonball of self hatred right afterwards. But then he rationalizes his behavior, telling himself he deserves a treat because he works hard and life is hard. It's true, life is hard, but I'm not buying a car from that pig.

I used to be fat, and now I hate fat people. Actually, I've always hated fat people, including myself. But now I'm thin, baby! So suck a toaster strudel, ya porcine shit slurpers!  

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Sunday, February 23, 2014

Obama and His Secret Cat Food Addiction

Barack Obama eats cat food. It's all he eats, in fact. Sure, he'll pretend to eat a hot dog at the state fair for a photo-op, but as soon as the photos are taken, he spits that wiener out with violent force.

One of his aides brings him a spoonful of Meow Mix and he lets out a low moan of pleasure as the fishy slop hits his tongue. "That's what I'm talking about!" he screams at the sky and then rips his shirt off, revealing a large tattoo on his chest of Garfield getting butt-fucked by Tigger.

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His tongue extends to a superhuman length and he starts to lick where Tigger's cock meets Garfield's asshole. "Oh yeah, you like that, dontcha boys? That gets you all riled up, huh? Well, I'm riled up, too!" Brown liquid streams down his pant legs and into his socks. Diarrhea.

"I'm the luckiest motherfucker on this earth!" Obama declares, as he rips his pants off and sprays frothy diarrhea from his ass while spinning, creating a mighty fecal sprinkler.    

And then a old skeletal Japanese man in a shopping cart rolls up, using a hockey stick to propel himself. He points the stick accusingly at Obama, "Mr. President, why you squirt shit, sir?"

Obama shits out a shotgun and blows the old Japanese man's head off. The shitting stops to a trickle. "Bring me more cat food." he bellows.

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