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Tag Archives: porn
Afternoon Quickies: Oh, STFU! Edition, 4 Realz
These last couple of weeks I learned that one cannot live exclusively on the internet, that one must interact with human beings, maintain something resembling employment, and take legally mandatory vacations in Nicaragua. I shit you not. But it turns out that doesn’t really matter, because while I was gone, none of you motherfuckers did anything of any importance anyway. GOP Primaries, CISPA, John Edwards, Lindsay Lohan playing Liz Taylor (just because they both had addiction problems doesn’t mean a non-actress can play a great one) – – it’s all just one big holding pattern because for the last two weeks the world has been utterly uninteresting. How do I know? Because instead of going out and tossing the pigskin around, you were all bitching about things nobody would ever care about otherwise: No Tards On Facebook Didn’t think mental retardation was genetic? Check out this poor kid’s mom. Brought to my attention by my buddy Cait, there’s an actually retarded petition going around, which has already gotten more than its requisite signatures, demanding Facebook not censor pictures of children with disabilities. Seems some woman posted pictures of her 7 year old son, who has Down Syndrome and is participating in his first Special Olympics, and the pics got flagged and removed. Because ignorance of how the world works never seems to stop people from throwing drooling mongo-fits. This woman must envision some poor bastard sitting behind a FB super-computer, individually investigating each of the millions of flags received every week, and making moral judgment calls on behalf of the entire corporation. And not, you know, an algorithm built into the servers that, so as to not have yeasty twats all over Facebook, just aces most of the items flagged as offensive to be on the safe side. I’m sorry, … Finish reading this sumbitch!
Victoria´s Victim
Zombie Jesus has claimed another soul, and never is it so hard as when that soul belongs to a young, blond, white woman from America. Kylie Bisutti (pictured, duh) was doing some wonderful missionary work for Victoria’s Secret in malls and catalogues around the world when the worst happened. She found religion. She had always had religion, but it had apparently been lost in the couch cushions for some time. It was like when a cheerleader loses her car keys. She’ll spend a month looking for them, but don’t be fooled by the act: most of the time she can’t remember what it was she was looking for. It was only more than eight years into being super hot for money that Kylie noticed some of her work didn’t square with what the curmudgeonly old impotents that run her specific brand of Christianity told her Jesus wants. So she had to make a choice between religion and happiness. As is so often the case, the tragic choice was made. Bisutti, who began her modeling career at age 14, said she isn’t giving up modeling. She said she is just being more careful about what kinds of jobs she takes. (ABC) Careful? That’s the terminology we’re going with? So, up until this point you’ve just been stumbling into jobs and out of clothes like a drunken, be-helmeted retard? “Oops, I wandered onto the catwalk of a multi-million dollar international fashion show in my underwear and high heels again.” She just has to be less clumsy, is all. Her life since she was 14 has been one long dream-I-just-had, only she was paid rather handsomely. Show a little more vigilance, and you can entirely avoid falling into corsets, getting your makeup done, and posing for photo shoots. Kylie Bisutti got her shot … Finish reading this sumbitch!
Go To Towns: Indiana Edition
(If one can “Go to town” when doing something with gusto, should not the superlative increase be “going to towns”? These are articles about some of those people who merely went to town in their ridiculousness, but did not fully commit by going to towns.) “For the first time in years I felt sexually alive.” The headline reads: Indiana Grandmother Is Having A New Baby. With Her Grandson. It´s from yet another retarded “mom blog.” She is 72, he is 26. They didn´t know each other for most of his life (there was some kind of adoption scenario, who cares?), but when they met, it wasn´t even a matter of time before they were slapping pink wrinkly against gray wrinkly in the game of horizontal shuffleboard. “I called Phil into my bedroom, sat him on the bed, and then I leant over and kissed him.” They are in love, they make fulfilling, passionate, incredibly careful whoop, and they are going to be parents. “I never in a million years thought at 72 I’d be ‘pregnant’ and in love with my grandson.” The entire scenario is so deliciously groady, so horrifically and philosophically rank that it rolls around the mouth like well aged santorum (c´mon, catch up). In case we weren´t clear, Scumbag Style completely endorses this – – wait what? The pair paid $54,000 (£35,000) to find a surrogate mother and buy a donor egg to inseminate with Phil’s sperm. Let us get this straight, Phil. You went far enough to engage in a multi-generational incestuous…. nyehhh carnal relationship with your grandmother. You decided, against the very dictates of nature, to make a frigging baby with this woman who may not live to see the birth, let alone Junior Prom. You are able to describe, in graphic, hilariously nauseating detail, your … Finish reading this sumbitch!
No Porn???
A Classic, updated… Nothing is better than a wife that hasn’t grown so crusty, jaded, and complacent in her marriage that she can’t take a few minutes out of her busy schege to do something for her husband. A surprise dinner, a homemade card, a drink and slipper greeting, an asshole bleaching; dudes dig that shit, and it’s nice to remind him he hasn’t bought permanently into the life of ball mangling, future sapping, constant drunkitude Leah Ramini makes marriage out to be. Unfortunately (for the women at least), the more uncreative amongst the fairer sex are often left with constant sore-jaw for lack of any better ideas as to how to show their appreciation. If only there was a way to do that without actually doing anything. Enter Facebook, with a Group that firmly yanks our sacks out of the matrimonial Icy Hot with 31 ideas that allow a wife to indulge her narcissism and natural predilection toward condescension while pretending to do something sweet for her husband. Ladies, they’re all awesome, and they beat the bag out of giving that semi-annual “Relations With the Lights On” coupon he might actually grow the gumption to redeem one of these days. It’s called “31 Days of Prayer for Your Husband,” and it is even more preachy and self-serving (in a good way) than the title suggests. Contained in this set of solipsistic psalms is all the problem externalization and imagined solution outsourcing any pious Christian wife could possibly ask to put off the inevitable messy divorce for one whole month. Here’s one of my favorites: Day 1 – Lord, I pray that my husband will grow spiritually and consider his accountability before You. I pray that he will guard his heart by developing spiritual disciplines – Bible reading and study, … Finish reading this sumbitch!