Stick It:
Twatted
Error: Twitter did not respond. Please wait a few minutes and refresh this page.
Tag Archives: pregnant
Thank God That’s Over
(Oh, no! He caught the Bono Disease down there. That is the face of abject suffering.) “Gosh, wasn’t the situation in the Chilean mines such a tragedy? I mean it was so tragic, you know? God, they were in my prayers and my Facebook status, one hundred and ten per cent. Really, I just thank GAWD they’re alright.” Wear a fucking rubber bracelet. Jeezus. I’m glad the miners are safe so I can stop listening to people be so fucking fake about it. I’ve never seen more Americans take credit for something they had nothing to do with in my life. Like it was Katie from Long Island’s prayers that rescued the trapped miners and not, you know, the people that got them out. And the Facebook statuses! “21 of 23 miners are out!” Thanks? We all have basic cable, we could know that if we cared. You act like you were personally Rapunzeling them up with a ladder made of your own pubic hair. Thanks for the societal contribution, Mary, get back to your Farmville. NASA can take it from here. In its most devious trick yet, FOX News pissed me off more than usual by showing nothing else while the miners were being rescued. As if they might not make it out if the cameras weren’t catching every breathtaking moment of… people milling around. How am I supposed to bitch and whine about every word you say if you don’t say anything, FOX News? I hate you so much, FOX News. Seriously, though? This was the emergency we’re all going to rally around and trend on Twitter? There are genocides and clitorectomies in Africa, pregnant women are being fucking stoned in the Middle East! People are getting stoned and paying for sex legally in Amsterdam, and we can’t! … Finish reading this sumbitch!
Gah! Put It Away! (Part One)
Here’s today’s soundtrack. Old school blues, y’all. Open in a new tab and listen while you read! To reiterate the mission statement of Scumbag Style penned some two and a half years ago: “Scumbag Style seeks to permanently eliminate the language of the sex scandal, whether a media personality has an affair, lets some grainy cell phone mirror pics for her boyfriend slip, or a sex tape is released. Nay, these are not scandals, but fodder for general happiness. Call them ‘sexyrific’ or ‘nakedpicture-bations,’ but never an outrage.” Scandal is usually too negative a word for these blessed events, and it insinuates that, while we’ll be happy to capitalize on them, we normies are above such things. As if anyone wanted to spread naked pictures of you on the internet. Remember when Vaneesa Hudgens sent Zach Effron those nudey pics (some of them have disappeared), and ‘somehow’ they ended up on all our desktops? Was anybody scandalized? Or did we all silently thank whoever was treacherous enough to betray the trust of two Disney stars, and save them for viewing later where our wives couldn’t find them? Well, we at SBS will be the first to admit that every philosophy has its downside. For instance, just recently, a pregnant Jessica Simpson did what weird people call a tasteful nudey cover for Elle. Shortly thereafter, Atlantic Wire’s Jen Doll did the unthinkable by criticizing the decision. “What?” your liberal media brainwashed brain might say. “But she’s pregnant. She’s beautiful! DON’T YOU THINK SHE’S BEAUTIFUL? What kind of monster would not want to look at her totally nude?” Really, all Ms Doll wanted to know was if anyone else thought this shit was getting old. As a woman, it has to burn when you pose nude in the same fashion as hundreds … Finish reading this sumbitch!
Hardcore Hypotheticals
When I cast my vote for Barack Obama, I admit to a certain amount of bandwagoning, and not a little political masturbation. I imagined our fresh, young, muscly president mounting the podium in Congress on his first day and proceeding to rip assholes left and right, like a blind Incredible Hulk at an orgy. Against gay marriage? “You’re a curmudgeonly old bigot,” Barry would lay it out, street like, and fix the bullshit laws. Slave to lobbyists? “You’re a friggin’ traitor, and your votes won’t count until you shed the corporate weight.” Just firing off the shocker left and right with his other two arms. Are you drafting laws in the face of scientific fact like global warming and evolution? “Hey, from now on, asshole, we listen to experts, and not greedy dumbfucks with something to gain.” Spewing hyperbolic, partisan doomsday language on either side of the isle? “I order you to smoke two joints a day until you learn to calm the fuck down.” The big climax would come when he said, “Just because you have an opinion doesn’t mean it deserves any credence.” Just splooging rationalism all over the front rows of the gallery like the sexiest Gallagher show ever. Money shot. Sometimes, if I had trouble getting to philosophical nirvana, I’d have him throw in something about how European Socialism is pretty neat, and that, no, in fact, he’s not a Muslim, he’s an atheist. “Can’t do nothin’ about it now, sucka. I already got the keys!” Since then, even though pundits love to call Obama a radical secular leftist with no concern for process, he’s been everything but what we elected him to be. If you seriously think Obama is radical, you should see the alternate universe where he actually did what we hired him to … 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!