Some weird people about, perhaps more witches from SLC
A dozen eggs is about $5.00 … for basic eggs … up to $7.00 for premium
If you can afford to donate, please do: I need to buy a lot of cocaine for my trip back to Seattle
Poison …
Are you feeling tired, distressed?
Do you have chest pains and bloody stool?
Do you leave a puddle of drool on your bed, a shame pond that haunts you in the morning time?
Is your wife or husband cheating on you?
Do you have terrible kids and dogs that do stupid shit and this infuriates you?
A lot of people have seen positive results trying POISON (xl).
It’s an extended release poison designed to help you deal with these common health and psychological problems caused from consuming too much POISON …
Disclaimer tho:
Don’t use poison if you are pregnant, trying to get pregnant, or while having sex in a car going 200 MPH.
If you have heart disease, cancer, liver disease, scabies, autoimmune, diabetes, COPD, or any other rudding issue that is rotting your insides and driving you crazy? – then poison might not be right for you.
If you are taking any other kinds of poison, you might not want to take poison.
Stop using poison if your eyes turn green or you get an uncontrollable twitch in your left eye.
If you are over 50 and are at risk for common over 50 shit? – you can take poison.
Poison is best taken while drinking or getting high on cocaine …
If poison isn’t working, you can try taking more poison …
Fuck you and eat your poison.
“What if there is no hammer?” – a potential, from The Matrix
I’m close to calling BS on two things:
– that Paul was injured at all
and linked
– that he had any “brain surgery”
This all looks like a COPS episode that never gets aired.
(same thing you’d find at any trailer park on Friday night)
The “hammer” part of this story is becoming progressively harder to believe … Depending on what kind of hammer, one whack would have knocked out Paul … probably killed him … So what? – limp wristed swing? (perhaps) Or, as stated, there was no “hammer” at all …
Here’s what MIGHT have happened:
someone who was part of the Pelosi security team OR security for a nearby residence believed something untoward was happening at the Pelosi residence. Could have been a private detective hired by Nancy or some other operative.
The cops show up, Paul is in his underwear, Depape is in his underwear, and they’re NOT cooking meth … so something weird is happening.
Cops manufacture story about a “hammer” and an injury … perhaps there was some kind of blood, on the scene, that could be used to do this.
The “brain surgery” was more bullshit to garner sympathy/support.
And MAYBE there was a “hammer”, but its purpose was as a prop, to be used in case the cops showed up to a Paul-Party and Paul needed a good alibi … “hey, that dude attacked me with a hammer …”
Depape, being a transient type gay hobo, will likely end up dead soon.
This is looking more and more like “The Jussie Smolett Story, Part 2: Old Dude Gay Sex” ..(and why not release the camera footage?)
“Let a liar talk long enough, he’ll speak the truth.” – Dr. Freckles
Sted Master Gurgen … (a lord of Boblimptock)
Following the 5th Atomic War, Fuer-Master Gurgen lay stricken on the battlefield. His urine was bloody and cold, his heart filled with monkey-mold. His mind a parasite village, a “head full of bees” as the old folks would say … he was dying of brostimpus-deels disorder, and a new FUER-MASTER would need to be chosen …
In the time of the black moon and the wolf-squirrel …
A young lad good with a spike and a whip and a steel chain, he would hurl himself at the inside-out bears and achieve total victory during the GREAT CONFLICT of YAB.
A young brute, with silvery hair and greenish skin, armed only with his wit and the muskul oils of Thwarntoz, where the high priestess women massage themselves with joob-bile and cundrom-sauce.
His name was STED … but he would soon be the NEW FUER-MASTER …
When STED was 8, 4 dingus-merchants visited his parents. They had gold and spices and hookers and cocaine … they offered to buy young STED for 5 pounds of gold, and his parents, being poor and addicted to crack, took the gold.
The merchants took STED to the EASTERN PROVINCE, where the GURU STEVE lived. Steve made knives out of old chainsaw chain … he was a blacksmith and a farmer and a hunter and a lover … he had wives in every crevice of the world, anywhere he fell there was some young busty maiden to rub oils on his wounds and yank is zuby-pipe.
STED grew bold and strong. STED learned the ways of CHIEF DIGGLER and joined the ranks of the hobo-shaman. He cast spells and sold bogus lottery tickets to the Mexican-Irish in TEXAS. His masters feared him, so they let him follow the jaded and jagged side roads, they let him feast upon the monkey-paste and dine with the queens of V’ygsoon.
STED was 17 when he met the witch of VAROOM. She told him he was the NEW FUER-MASTER to replace FEUR-MASTER GURGEN. “The lands have been without a FUER-MASTER for too long, the soil grows hard again, the water glows with radiological fury, the children do not read or write good, and the women have given in to HARLOTRY!”, the witch told STED he needed to choose the throne, if only for the lifetime supply of cocaine.
The ceremony was complete, and STED became FUER-MASTER STED and the guardian of the last Nalley’s Tamale factory that still supplied this nutritious treat to all the scrumbly folk and wandering tramps …
STED would reveal prophecies while drinking and smoking crack:
“There’s a 200 gigaton bomb being launched from the moon, it will be here real soon, it will go kaboom …”
“Freeze-dried elephant monkey poop pie, it’s on sale at SAFEWAY, we’re all gonna die …”
“She drives a GM truck, she’s a country girl she’ll take for a whirl …”
“We all love corrugated monkey meat, it gives our lives a special treat, it’s always on sale.”
weird paranoid thought: is there less oxygen in the air than there used to be
I need money for my trip back to Seattle to buy emergency cocaine
The site is becoming unstable the way the site did a year ago at GoDaddy before those fucks ripped me off
Tried to create an account on Twitter, it remained stable and unlocked for 45 minutes
Denmark …
If you MUST hate some people and some place …
“Denmark is a shitty place, with crappy people living in it.” – Shakespeare (revised)
Prophecy concerning WW3 …
When it begins …
Ching-Chong forces under the command of General CHANG-CHING will invade Alaska, WA and CA …
They will sneak in using container ships … and pour out into the port cities, hunting the street wench, eating roaches and rats, ravaging the countryside, opening new Panda Express locations …
Russian forces will invade from Canada …
Biden will wonder what kind of ice cream they’re serving that day …
When it begins …
Claivan-volk will arm themselves with tooglin-swords and mug-grease. They will wear uniforms made from dead cats and carry baseball bats with large carpentry nails driven through them. The younger ones will carry pillow cases filled with rocks and nuts and bolts and other rusty pieces of metal they can find near the old abandoned library …
Nurg-tergler, the STENIC PRINCE, will form an army of castro-wenches. They will roam the countryside near Scompton, not far from where those nuns were murdered by the CIA last year …
There will be another crispy chicken sandwich war … KFC will lose bigly.
Psychotherapy over the INTERNET: nope …
“Don’t ever do therapy over the internet.” – Dr. Freckles
JINGHIZ-LOHR … (a lesser known LORD of BOBLIMPTOCK)
He walked in the sunshine with the 44 gods, when the world was new and the earth was still fresh. He hunted skylark-pony on the plains of T’ybek, and among the FRUNG people he led a revolution of total satisfaction, spreading dingo-crabs to every hooker and having an 8-ball of cocaine ready at EVERY party …
Jinghiz-Lohr ruled the 21 realms following the atomic wars … his lands were vast and filled with dead. He would ride his shark-eagle across the territories of YOD – and nothing could stop his throng. He fed on whale-perch and wore a codpiece made of iron and pain. In the age of BOBLIMPTOCK, he was the RADIOACTIVE COMMANDER ELITE and women sought his man juice.
Jinghiz-LOHR took the lands east of GRINKEN. He managed to topple governments and take their hookers as his wives … following the 12th Atomic War, all the scunglin-folk were covered in keester-oil sores. They would drain these sores and put the pus and munctus into a large pot … they would add crickets and rat parts and old style Nalley’s Tamales … Jinghiz would look upon this as a man with an appetite to swallow a landfill. Ching-Chong warriors dug their tunnels, and the world prepared for the 13th Atomic War.
Jinghiz once pondered … “how many more atomic wars will there be?”
And the Demon X’inder said in response: “as many are as necessary for you monkeys to learn …”
Jinghiz or “Jing” as his friends called him, had 3 mothers and 9 fathers. Their gumbo-grease was mixed into a great vat, and they would spoon out gobs of this stuff with an old rusty soup ladle and pour it into the mother’s xig-caves, where the mixture incooblerated and festered and formed strange long compounds, minerals, vitamins and formed a breeding matrix for the clap. The women then de-cloaked their busty bodies and wrestled each other, in the busty sauces of TOR, where meagen-priests made sacrifices and the priestess-guardians grew hungry for the flesh … After 5 months, the child would spring forth, randomly, from one of the 3 women’s mester-pools, and at that moment they would scream and wail and welcome the next LOHR, or ruler of the NUGGEN-VOLK.
Jing could build a home out of sand and blood. He could transfer his thoughts, into a bat, and then have that bat do some wild shit …
Jing had the power of Ourox, his hands glowed white hot, and his fists were made of titanium. With every karate chop, he could split a man in half – he didn’t cry … his sadness took the form of knives.
Jing journeyed, when he was young, to the land of Vod, where the mad monk of S’compton lived, among coyote strippers and old frail harlots. He learned to scoop and move, he learned the way of CLOG. The mad monk taught Jing the power of 9 perceptions, and the middle world between the paint and the wall. This was Jing’s new style destiny, and he could sense a weird feeling in his man-rod.
… the 9 perceptions or SOUL-LEVELS are as follows …
T’lib: this happens upon awaking into the MEAT-WORLD. You feel a tingle in your dinctus, and your butt quivers. Your body demands the EXPULSION of waste – but analyzes this experience, determining HARD-SOFT conditions for poo and the kinds of Indian vindaloo that produce the most satisfying body screams, or bowel movements. To be in harmony with your sphincter is to achieve LEVEL ONE perception or T’lib.
Aagen: … it’s like you’re up late watching PornHub videos, mainly Ava Adams. And you feel as if you know her, that you’re connected. You massage your own booge-horg and feel and great power-pull into the region of love-grease and oil expansion. And at that moment you are with Ava Adams, and she is rubbing coconut grease on her ample orbs, and groaning and moaning your name … and as she groans and moans you notice a substance dripping from her underwear, and this is golden and buttery so you make popcorn and collect the stuff and put it ON the popcorn. You finish the popcorn and awaken, realizing it WAS ALL a DREAM … and then Kurt Cobain’s ghost shows up, and you play a set.
Turino: this is the sensation of soul-oneness with small furry animals, cats, dogs, sometimes hamsters. Your minds are synchronized: if they feel pain, you feel pain. If they are sad, the sadness grows in you … if they feel like pooping on the neighbor’s lawn? – you see where this is going.
Zipzomatic: this is the feeling you get when you look at your paycheck and think “fuck, I don’t get paid enough”. This usually results in visiting some bar after work and developing some kind of unhealthy relationship with the bartender there, with visible herpes. You end up leaving your wife and kids and moving in with the herpes woman and life seems grand … until a random stranger offers you a map to a goldmine in UTAH, not far from VERNAL, near that mass grave where the Mormons killed them injuns in 1896 … you can’t find your way home, and that’s the KEY.
Xoog-Roy: once you have an ONLY-FANS account, you can tap into this juice. There’s an electric connection between yourself and some rando-stranger peaking at your johnson from across the WWW. You sense the frustration and anger, from some bogo-freak living in a basement, eating dongo-fries and breathing lyre-fumes. And when the strungis becomes peaked and firm, the coop-gas gets released and the freaks stop paying their credit card bills. This is the sensation of total bleakness, Xoog-Roy.
Playidas: Yoog-hounds can trace their way home, no matter how far away they are abandoned. They can find their owners, asleep in their beds, and visit upon them great abuses and harm … as if loneliness is manifest in all consciousness and these dogs feel it all and the worst parts of being left alone, in the dark, no food, no love. This is Playidas …
Wey-hor: it’s the FRINGE-CONNECT on your email account that sifts through player minds-sets and finds true ONE-SHIP … when you are one with the other and the other is connected to your loorg-pipe or man-tube. That moment she decides to pull a knife out from under the pillow and cut off your cock? – that’s when you can perceive Wey-hor and the great GROIN agony.
Lurg: after the age of DOOM, when COL SANDERS 6 armies are beaten at the Battle of Denver? – there comes an APE-GURU connected to all chimps and gorillas. His name will be Brogas the Immense. He would tower over his contemporaries, never revealing to them the horrible truth … that he was WOOKIE … MAN BEAST … BIG FOOT … SWAMP APE … he was the thing that screamed in the Louisiana bayou demanding justice for the dolphin. In the fragile vibration of this life, you can connect to toads … this is LURG …
Codaroomaboomalapa: Once you achieved the 8 corner stone perceptions, and mastered oneness with small furry animals, you are ready for SOUL TRIUMPH vis-a-vis MIND WORTHYNESS … and this is exemplar of CHRONIC-SUNDRY moog-viss or dingus of Saab. In the time of Grinken, the whale-beasts will roam the old town and the mistress will inguzzlelate herself with cister-wine and troog-worms. As if all this undulating sin were not enough, there is the tremor of TROOG … and when you’ve incorporated all of this, you can state definitely you are ready to split people in half with one karate chop, and then do some coke.
“WHERE ARE THE HARBINGERS?!?”, Jing yelled at the great mountain, the cliffs, the rocks and the river.
He was seeking the balance of ZINDER-REALM, and his own codpiece was covered in fire ants … and this was uncomfortable.
“WHY HAVE YOU ABANDONED THE SWAMP APES AND THE NUGGEN-VOLK?”, but only silence followed, as Jing laid down his head and the sun dipped behind the great mountain.
As night fell, so Jing fell into a deep sleep …
He went to a dream world, where frog-sailors built ships of weed and old time’y town squares were inhabited by rat-soldiers and dusty old munge-whores.
He dreamed he was SLUNGIS, the MAN-LORD, the one of many hooker wives …
He dreamed his hooker wives were all laid out on a gigantic bed, a bed that shook and shake’d and sprayed sexual greases all over the place, ancient oils of lusty boovulus.
He dreamed of battling the old dragon of D’ig, where COONDRAK the FIRE RAIDER held sway, and the several armies of Wug stood fast against the ORCA ZONE and the coming raccoon storm …
And as the sun rose, and dawn broke upon the plains of G’OGGEN … Jing himself awoke with new insights and a vision to lead his tribe …
Life’s strange dynamic …
“Don’t be afraid to stand your ground, don’t be afraid to pack your bags, because life has this strange dynamic.” – Dr. Freckles
They were playing “banksy”, as they shoved newspaper up each other’s butts and then lit the stuff on fire …
They had a third unidentified guy, eating chili in the corner, who would get up periodically and fart and pee on them …
And it just went sideways.
Paul and his twink may have been doing “MC HAMMER” or “hammer time” …
Take the handle of the hammer and shove it up the twink’s butt, you then give him oral highway or British tiramisu … all of which can lead to head injury, especially if you’re doing it MEXICAN STYLE …
His sexual partner pushed it too far …
Paul and his lover Levi Ballz were playing “village people” …
Paul was dressed as a NAVY admiral, Levi was the “carpenter” …
And it just got crazy …
it’s known as “making french fries” in the gay community …
sometimes “steak fries” … or playing “sweet potato”
Interestingly enough: when you play “sweet potato” in LA, you usually use zucchini …
… he and his sex-slave were doing poppers, and using penile-digglers and rasp-wazzles …. and shoving potatoes up each other’s butts … stuff got out of control.
And NANCY … ?????
He married her BECAUSE she’s a nasty drunk …
He can have his SIDE SHOW, and things got messy …
He ordered off the local menu, Nancy caught them, and she flew into an alcoholic rage …
This will get buried, some black-mexican will be blamed.
But the real story man …
Depape and PAUL were playing “two bag boys for Miss Gibonsy …”
It’s a dangerous game involving WD-40 and PVC tubing and large charge capacitors that you charge up and then insert into your yurgen-tunnel. And one of the dudes dresses like a bird and poops on your head … and then you kum in some biscuit sauce and get wasted off crack cocaine …
And surprisingly … something went wrong.
The “SISTEEEN CHAPEL” is a common trope in Castro, SF. You pay some poor dude money and crack and you buy him a tunic … you hand him some kind of carpenter hammer and say “now, build upon this rock” … as you arch your back, the young greaser twink inserts a volcanic stone into your sphincter, and then begins bashing it in with his hammer …
And maybe … this was too much …
“october surprise” is also very popular in San Fran …
You start with a “denver omelette”, that’s great but you need about 3 pounds of metal shavings mixed with wood chips and diesel fuel …
After you’re done massaging the junctus … you relieve pressure for the man-wand …
And something terrible occurred …
And if they were making a “denver omelette”, then something was haywire …
BTW: I believe the “brain surgery” is Smolett style sympathy-mining …
It’s kind of tragic, because PAUL was probably wanting play “Sister Mary”, while Depape was in the mood for “Old Man and the Pee” …
SOME DUDE ON ZH:
Ok let me get this story straight: the “intruder” breaks into the house, finds Paul in his underwear, the intruder slips off his clothing, the cops show up, the intruder rips a hammer out of Paul’s hands and then beats him with it in front of cops. Nice story.
Yes – every real life porn film starts that way
Me?
I think they were playing “Dirty Hairy”, and Depape, who was supposed to be the bungo-freak, brought too much nitrous … they probably overloaded and then Paul shot his load into the fondue set, and that’s when things got rough …
It’s possible they were playing “Mormon night out”, and the third guy didn’t show up or showed up late. They were in a kind of special love-nest-rope-trap, and it got bad …
The Mormon showed up and started pouring chocolate sauce all over the place … and this was the TRIGGER.
They were playing “Shelly Long”, and Nancy’s gape got filled with popcorn butter but the electrical outlet was way too close to the reverberating-anal-spreader … it was bad.
I think Paul was hoping for the “Tennessee Cowboy”, but instead he ended up with the “old fashioned Kentucky ass kicking” …
That’s $2,000/hour …
They used to call it the “San Francisco Treat”, but it’s where the top and his twink tie telephone wire around their glinctus, while they’re wearing adult diapers and tossing lumps of rotten horse meat at each other. This is done in preparation for the coup de grace of playing anal sculptor and then lighting off fire crackers in each other’s dinctus holes.
Of course they could have been playing “Queen of England”. This is dangerous, and does involve hammers and hatchets and lumps of coal. You have to have a keen eye for detail, because the rope play is intricate and if you pull on the wrong knot you can cause bodily harm.
Some freaks in SF think the old queen was playing “hot and moist”, while Depape was likely the “old squire boy from the village” and Paul was the brown dragon.
Sometimes things get messy … and a gay couple will try something really dangerous … like “the chunnel”. Sure, it seems exciting, but there are so many risks and so much KY jelly is used up in the process. “The Chunnel” is often followed up with “Al Pacino’s Secret” and then some kind of lazy reach around …
The “jungle book” is when things get really bad. Usually the twink brings the ants, hamsters, and other birds. These animals are coerced into entering the elder gay man’s mangina which is being held open by some surgical spreaders …
The hammer is typically used when playing “Ken Doll’s Surprise”, but I think Depape was wanting to play “lazy lumberjack” and Paul was confused.
I heard about this couple from Boy’s Town in Chicago that used to play “hide the penny”, but you need pliers for this … and maybe motor oil … but you would never use a hammer, would you?
People are asking what Nancy was up to …
But I heard Paul and Depape were on the “swing sets” and Nancy was on the “lazy susan”. They might have been doing “Cougar’s Revenge” when Depape failed to remove the shlig-pipe from Nancy’s nungis-hole. Nancy began convulsing, and that’s when the hammer slipped and hurled towards Paul’s anus-wax covered head.
This is probably what happened …
Paul was at the Blue Oyster tavern, drinking alone. Nancy was out with her friends, buying ice cream and anal swabs. Paul was at the bar, waiting for that special somebody.
Depape shows up and Paul can’t get stop looking at his package.
“Want to come back to my place?”, Paul asked.
Depape nodded, and they headed to the Uber …
Back at Paul’s, they began by playing “My Dear Uncle Jibbly”, but this quickly became a variant of “London Bridge” mixed with “Gin Rummy”. After about 45 minutes, Paul and Depape did a couple lines of coke and then got into the tool boxes in the garage.
Paul proposed the game of “find the robin’s hatch”, but Depape wanted to play “This Old House”, and that’s when things took a turn …. and stuff got real.
I think Paul wanted to play a game called “George Clooney”, and Depape was supposed to dress up like a woman and pull his C0CK back between his legs. Things got clinched up nearing the climax, and Paul grabbed the brazing torch while Depape took the crab leg crusher and smacked Paul across the face.
All of this happened so fast …
… Depape was going to dress up like “Patricia Anne Swallows”, and Paul was going to play “Lord Reardon”.
They stopped at Bartel’s to buy scotch tape and krazy glue and clam chowder.
After about 45 minutes of “Tim has the twitches”, Depape wanted to be on top and Paul said no. Depape saw a crab-shuck hammer on the floor next to Nancy’s heroin kit, and he just went for it …
Lifetime Movie coming out in 2023 …
“Secret Carpenter: the Paul Pelosi story”
It will be poignant and daring and magical … like some sleazy version of Brokeback Mountain …
(sleazier I mean)
There’s a good chance Paul was playing the “Island of Dr. Moreau” and Depape had dressed up like a crab, but then Paul set fire to the fondue set and spilled chocolate sex grease all over the french bulldog …
1 in every 3 accidents with a tool or appliance involves a gay sex act gone awry …
It used to be you couldn’t talk about gay sex …
It was secret MAN LOVE involving electrical wiring and broken glass and black nylon ropes and chuzzle-grease …
And you wouldn’t DARE ASK what two men in underwear were doing and why …
THEY WOULD INSKUZZLELATE THEMSELVES at every bathhouse, selling tinglies to the twink-lords and remembering the old times when all they had were the sewers and the rest areas and bowling alleys …
These lost dark loves, so fragile in the moonlight, trembling with fear as you insert the handle of the hammer into the goop-hole.
And this is love.
“circular saw”
“utility belt”
“dremel”
“sanding”
These all have different meanings in the gay man community …
“midnight basketball” also means something different in the gay-man community …
Paul wanted a cool-time Charley, but what he got was a wired twink looking for some dangerous action … Paul bought joob-oil and crisco and a frumbly-wand …
But Depape was wanting something darker …
They began, as Paul always did, with the “General’s Firing Squad”, but this quickly devolved into “Sarah’s Bunt Cake” and went further …
This was inevitable.
I think Paul believed they were playing “Ann Margaret’s Debut”, but Depape was really playing “BILLY the Skid”.
Paul went into that place looking for something dangerous …
He’d been trolling Castro for a while, but he ended up near Haight/Ashbury with a broomstick handle shoved up his a-zone and a hangover from drinking ever clear with the mayor …
A young lad, covered in street grease, came up to him … “hey man, you wanna party …”
Paul took him home … but first they had to stop at Home Depot …
They bought plastic tubing and drop cloth and fire extinguishers and roofing hammers …
They bought jimbo-style cook grease and one of those plastic swimming pools for dogs …
Neither one understood how crazy this would get …
Paul thought he was playing “The King’s Knight”, but Depape was playing “Texas Oil Strike” …
And there will be blood.
Fun fact:
All Home Depot stores in the San Francisco area are required by STATUTE to have pamphlets and handouts on how to safely use gardening equipment in gay style man sex.
“garden weasel” …
In San Fran, this means something different …
Paul thought they were going to play a game called “The Graduate”, but Depape was “Good Will Hunting” and had all the maple syrup and rock salt …
The bottom or “twink” in this case would run maple syrup and rock salt on their splingus …
The TOP or ELITE SIM would tie rubber bands on his balls and shove three turnips up his yincter …
They would break dance and toss chocolate scrunge at each other …
They would laugh and kiss and feel the embrace of their disgrace …
Eventually, Depape would say … “can you shove THAT up my butt?”
And Paul said “the hammer”, which end?
In the time of gleemptus, Paul rode a hawk.
Paul said to Depape, “will you be my sparrow-prince?”
And Depape said to Paul, “only if you’ll be my queer-dear and we can live all special like in the clouds far away from the evil witch …”
Paul looked around the room …
He saw the marks of his evil wife, and her scribble-oils …
He could no longer look into her fetid gape …
But what to do, how do gay men in San Fran escape from such as Nancy?
What if this was a REALLY convoluted and coke fueled gay escape plan?
I mean: those old queens … it’s all 007 and shit with them … going to the park late at night …
So maybe in their coke fiend states they thought “shit, what if we get into some gay man mash up and embarrass the F out of Nancy … she’ll have to set us free to have gay man sex in Barbados …”
Just a slight variation on a theme …
GAY ESCAPE PLAN – the common “heroes journey” for most queers.
Gay men dream of GAY MAN ISLAND …
A place they can go to and have gay-man style sex, with no limits …
This is where they were trying to go …
(the hammer was their pink slipper)
These types of gay hookups gone bad are often referred to as “A night at the Roxbury” …
Usually, the top instigates by using too much windex on the twinks tool box, but then the chimpanzee is let outside and the kangaroo coke is over and done with …
There’s a lot of whiskey and farting and object insertion …
Pledges of love and regret …
As the last whiskey bottle is inserted into the buntis pipe …
And the dogs scream in the night.
We now know they were probably playing a game called “two apples for Miss America” …
They got tired and the amal nitrate poppers were running low …
Nancy injected KROKODIL into Paul’s vein, and Depape was in the corner, playing the role of “Little Bimbo” …
But the cables got all screwed up and they ended up doing a “Borgnine” instead of a “McQueen” …
And then Depape grabbed the hammer and that was it.
Nancy let him in, as she always did. She wore a vorg-suit made of tin and anguish …
She led the poor sap up to the master bedroom, where Paul, spread eagle, had his “unit” inserted into ROOMBA and was playing the game “Terminator” … or … maybe it was the “Forbin Project” …
Depape, stripped down and Nancy doused him in gumble-grease and ointment pus and then tied him up and tossed him on the bed with Paul …
After Nancy finished off a case of wine, she began burning them with a cigarette …
It got bad, real bad ….
She placed DePape’s rod in a metal clasp and tied this to a french bulldog nearby …
And Depape broke …
He picked up the silver hammer for shucking King Crab, mashed up Paul and went running for the door …
(and the cops were waiting, already paid off with hookers and get-out-of-jail rape cards)
Food …
“Food was NEVER supposed to be cheap.” – Dr. Freckles
(that thing about inferior goods)
The State Withering Away …
“The Marxists talk talk talk about the state withering away, but the anarchists KNOW HOW we get there.” – Dr. Freckles
Alienation …
“The real alienation was never from the means of production. The real alienation was from nature, by steps, by slices, until we became untetherered, separate from any healthy ecology.” – Dr. Freckles
From here …
“I wish I had a t-shirt that said ‘FROM HERE: IT GETS WORSE’.” – Dr. Freckles
People will eat “bologna surprise” for Thanks-Christmas … yeah, they merge the holiday into Thanks-Christmas … the two holidays were too expensive. They will add in BLACK FRIDAY and call it “BUY MONGO SHIT DAY … and maybe beat up some folks …” … It will be AWESOME.
And you eat a mongo-feast of gumbo-grease and other holy offerings. You find old dead cats and you hang them from the gambrels … and the old harlot demons sing songs of SMART TVs and CD-ROM chargers and cancer-cubes flavored with bacon and dingus …
On THANKS-CHRISTMAS DAY, following BUY MONGO SHIT? – Jolly-Jorgles the Clown goes around … delivering gifts … and sometimes having sex with your mom. He fucks your mom … he doesn’t care if she’s dead.
By the year 2029 …
The 8 scroblin clans of region-3 will form a Traagen-Army …
The TURKEY will be used as QUAG-FUEL for the brogglen-tanks and to feed the kepler-wolves.
Black Friday was replaced with Red Thursday … a time of burning and yearning.
Radioactivity will be everywhere …
(even in your crotch …)
By the year 2030 …
You will get a letter from an old friend about a metal tube and an alien race. You will be invited to an “old fashioned” Thanksgiving in New England, at some abandoned farm where a bunch of hookers were murdered during the Great Depression.
When you arrive, your friend cannot be found – there is simply a metal cylinder sitting on a kitchen table next to an intercom with a note next to it … “PRESS TO TALK” …
You press the button and speak, “hey man, where you at?” …
Out of the tinny speaker comes a crackling voice … “yo bud, my brain has been put into this old whiskey can by them there aliens called the FUNGI people … they are really nice, from Pluto, and want to put you and your family in Folgers cans ….”
And this is not the worst Thanksgiving that year, believe you me …
By the year 2035 ….
We will celebrate THANK-YOU-TUMORS day … a special day when you take a razor and cut the tumors and lesions from your body … you mix them into an iron pot or dutch oven … you add whatever stringoh-sauce or jergis-salt or other spice you can buy from the witch that lives in the old abandoned reactor.
You make a kind of burrito out of fiberglass and metal shavings, and you jam that infernal thing with as much of the special STEW defined above … and you shove that JOY-TACO into your shriveled and pain ridden mouth, covered in sores and open wounds and dripping with pus that you then use as a salsa …
TUMORs will be seen as gifts from the great fireball, the liberator, the POXY-CLIPSE …
By the year 2050 …
It’s gonna get nice an cozy. We’ll all sit around that Thanksgiving drinking pumpkin spice coffee and shoving potatoes up our butts. We’ll make meat soup and have troglan-parties. People will smile and slap each other and play grab ass … they’ll bleed into their urine.
HARVEST TIME will be the beginning the season, when the freaks and nerds and greasers and geeks form various unholy gangs of street fighters. They go out to gather up the street protein and the farmland boob milk. Women will make human cheese and sell these cheese sandwiches … and they’ll drink more pumpkin spice coffee.
Prayers …
“Sometimes the Lord answers prayers, sometimes he’s just there to listen.” – Dr. Freckles
