Good mawning bishes.

First of all I’d like to say,

Fuck Monday and everyone that is glad it’s here. For every smile I receive, I shed a salty tear.

How Was Your Weekend?

“I’m gonna have to shave my bush, you look like fucking Groucho Marx when you’re going down on me….”

Pope Benedict Don’t Use Rubbers

Look at that demon. I like the old Pope. He looked so…”popey.” This motherfucker looks like someone that locks little kids in his wine cellar and sodomizes them with freshly killed chicken heads.

Pope Paul VI’s 1968 “Humanae vitae” (“On Human Life”) encyclical prohibits Catholics from using artificial birth control.

“The teaching laid out in the ‘Humanae vitae’ encyclical isn’t easy,” Benedict said.

“What was true yesterday remains true even today. The truth expressed in ‘Humanae vitae’ doesn’t change; on the contrary, in the light of new scientific discoveries, it is ever more up to date,” the pope added.

He said it was ever more up to date, now, in the light of new scientific discoveries? This shit was written in 1968. It says that we shouldn’t use artificial birth control. That’s like telling people to not drive with their fucking hands. You stupid bastards.
The truth expressed in my own version of this called “Humanae Fuckae Usae Birthae Controlae”, I declare that we use any means necessary to NOT get pregnant. If you get pregnant, the child should be canceled. Why? Because it’s Monday and I hope you burn in hell. Every fucking one of you. And apparently, The New Pedorass Pope thinks so too.

Here’s the best part of this story though.

Benedict expressed concern that human life risks losing its value in today’s culture and worried that sex could “transform itself into a drug” that one partner had to have even against the will of the other.

Why in the fuck is anyone listening to a bunch of assholes who supposedly don’t have sex…about sex?

He thinks sex could transform itself into a drug. I hate to tell you, brother, but it doesn’t transform. It is a drug. And in my bed, it’s the best kind of stoned you can be. If I could eat every woman’s pussy in America, then the economy would be better than when Bill Clinton got some head from a fattie and got her off with a cigar before smoking it. I don’t care how cool you think you are. Bill Clinton is cooler. That is all. And the Pope? Needs to shut the fuck up about sex and stick to what he knows. Masturbation’s a drug too, man. Trust me. Too bad, I couldn’t jack off right now if I wanted to. My dick’s in rehab at the moment. He has to be ready for the game, so PT(penis therapy) is being implemented in order to guarantee a steady performance for my candidate for Penis Of The Year.

For The Hell Of It

A three-headed bee. And no it’s not photoshopped. Some dude took a picture of it after he killed it. Karma’s a bitch, though. His kid will probably have three dicks. And use them in a violent manner. Gives a new meaning to helicopter.

Why I Should Never Be Put In A Nursing Home

POLICE were called to a shamed nursing home when boozed-up pensioners went on a vodka-fuelled rampage.

Four OAPs ran wild at Burnfoot Coach House, near Dumfries, after a boozy session downing bottles of vodka.

And one of them caused alarm by offering free sex to other care home residents.


The only sad part of this story is that the police were called and not a professional video crew. This shit could’ve went platinum in regards to DVD sales. I hope these fucking reality tv assholes are paying attention. Nursing home orgies is where it’s at bishes. My dick’s throwing himself against the penis therapy room door right now.

Weather

Today,

A high of genuine smiles when thinking of the many miles….of circles I tongue painted on your thighs and my body feels like I’ve finished first in a triathlon in which nobody really kept up with the time. If you find me after the rapture, which is the same as when my orgasm’s captured, then I won’t talk….just motion and smile like a freshly fucked mime.

Tonight,

A low of lonely with a massive withdrawal from the weekend’s overhaul of saliva, sweat, and other magical bodily fluids to help when turning all my clues in when it comes to how to put a human fuse in after it’s been blown….minds melt, but never roam.

Freeball

i talk incessantly
about things that don’t matter
which would cover everything
i only shut up
when my tongue is tied up
effortlessly
a bed battle between us
ends so messily.
sex is not a drug,
it’s paraphernalia
for the perfect relationship
that i was sure didn’t exist
until we both couldn’t resist-

walked to work heavily,
as i held the door open
and told some chick
how much i hated monday-
out of habit,
checked out her ass
which made me miss you
terribly,
used to happen rarely,
now i must tread carefully,
ready for the fall
that i’ve already fell
ready for the fall
that i’ve already fell
in your tiny hands i felt.
96 hours until i can loosen my belt-

fuck monday,
clint