Mister Pickles wears women's undies

Something has been wrong with me the last few days, I worry that I'm losing a big part of my better nature.

When I look at a woman, I no longer see an assortment of tits and ass. I no longer look at boobs and wonder what size the nipples are or if they are perky or sag. Not that I mind sagging boobs, I love all boobs. I'm a boobologist.

I no longer look at hips and see my hands on them, pulling that ass into me.

I'm a man who has lost his faith and now wonders what it is about the world that makes sense.

I now look at a woman and think to myself, she is a person just like you with dreams and hopes and is more than just an object of lust.

I hope I'm not developing some kind of retard disease. Or even worse...the homo disease.

ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMM

I wonder what stupid people think about when they walk around town. For me, I have a thousand nifty ideas racing around in my head like tiny, fun race cars. Funcars as I like to refer to them.

Oh, sure, the funcars are filled with vaginas and zombies and the synthesis of the two but there are lots of them and they're fast! They travel at very high speeds and they shoot the bird at each other lots, but giggle at that bird shooting.

I'll bet stupid people have donkey carts instead of race cars. And there's a slow donkey who has never had sex with a real woman and the driver is saying...That was rill fun, yesterday.

Or maybe he's saying... Fire gets rill hot. It's helpful but damn...it can burn ya.

I hope I'll never know the answer to this question.

Away in a manger, no crib for a babe

I am puting together my newest screenplay and I want to drop it down here for general comment before I send it over to those jackals at the Query Letter blog.

Picture this, a Muslim man (Jerry) in a long trenchcoat walking down the dusty streets of Palestine.

Suddenly, one of the Jews (Randy) sees that Jerry is holding a rip cord. Frightened nigh unto death Randy yells out in Hebrew, or whatever it is they speak over there, "Look out! He's gonna blow!"

Just then, Jerry pulls the cord and off comes the raincoat! BLAM! Underneath is a totally naked Jerry who is totally ripped.

Cue pron music: whocka whocka whok whok.

Jerry goes around the dusty square and sucks off every Jew there!

I think I'll call it, We Will Suck Your Dick For Golan Heights or something like that. Names aren't important.

Maybe I can get Arafat to play the role of Jerry. That'd be sweet.

PostSecret OMG POSTSECRET FOR ME

I have two things that have been gnawing on my soul for the last several years. I'm going to draw it out and sent it to Post Secret but I'm also going to first spill them here so as to lighten my daily load... and also get some ideas for how to actually draw them on the postcard.

I don't know how to say this, so I'm just going to come right out and say it. I intentionally disregard the message on my toaster that says to use a particular slot when making only one piece of toast. I specifically and with malice of intent use the exact opposite toaster slot. I also give a smug smile when no one's around so as to show the toaster that I know I'm supposed to be using the one slot but I'm sticking my bread into the other slot. The wrong slot. Slot B.

That feels good to have that confessed.

Secondarily, I wash more than just my face, pits, crotch and ass when taking a shower. I wash my arms and legs with a puffy purple loufa covered in a fine scented coconut shower gel. I also take baths and not showers. I loll around in the bath for hours commanding my children to fetch me toast and shower gel.

I think on the postcard I'll draw a 5/8ths erect penis and hope that they will infer my meaning. It's surely self-evident.

Fair, not balanced though

I'm very jealous of the Mexicans for their ability to wear those sombreros and panchos and their fine affection for frijoles and beer.

I'm jealous of the Mexicans who can steal anything they want because of their deftness of hand and slightly oily skin and super fast speeding ability when "los puercos" show up to the scene.

I'm sad that I have to pay for things and go into debt...and toil away in college and day jobs while they watch Univision and go to bull fights in the Toreo and cheer on the valiant matador.

I can't even be on welfare because only the Mexicans can be on welfare, I'm told.

By the liberal media and the fair and balanced Fox news.

Dear Mexicans, please make me a member so I can get one of those trucks and put panels and tools in it and drive around as if going to mow lawns but really just whistle at the white women.

Love, Fair and Balanced Ho.

Hacksaws don't suck but Sucksaws do

I think a fun variation of Quick, Pull my Finger would be to saw your finger until it was just barely hanging there, then when they pulled they'd be all, OH MY GOD!!!! And you'd sit there and laugh because what a great prank that would be!

The sad thing about that prank is that you could only play it 10 times...and toward the last time they'd probly figure out what you were going to do based on the fact that all your fingers were missing.

This reminds me that I was at the store the other day and the cashier only had a small nub for a finger.

I could tell that he wanted to rub his little disgusting nub all over my hand. I let him and was inwardly revolted but outwardly I smiled and said, "Thanks." Then inwardly I added...Nub-Boy.

Physical deformaties are disgusting but I think it's cool that grocery stores hire crippled retards.

Did you happen to see?

I would never have sex with the cutest sixteen year old girl in Omaha because it is against the law and I fear painful judiciary consequence.

If I were to defrock the cutest sixteen year old girl in Omaha it would always be from the back so that I wouldn't have to look into those hopeful eyes asking for marriage and care and interest and future and all of the fine material things. Those are eyes that paralyze.

The frivolity would be from the back where the craned neck would hopefully suggest to me, is that all there is? Is this the sum of the game and when does it end for my knees are scratched and my arms are sore.

When all was said and done I would certainly repress the suggestion that she not tell her mom about this because that's not how the suave man operates.

The suave man accepts that there is sometimes pain at the end of every fun ride.

Jacking off to all trades

The fucking internet broke again, today and they called me to fix it. I'm getting so sick of that.

I first jacked into the net via the AOL paradigm quadrent one. I tested all of the ethernets for any disparity in space/time flux but that was fine. Often it's space/time turbulence which I can tune with a highly configured tuning fork.

So then I went to the subnet mask. Can you believe it was 255.0.0.0? I was all. WTF, SUBNET MASK, LOL? Are you trying to let out the entire internet?

So I patched up the subnet mask with glue and a liberal dose of vaseline. Some use KY but not me. K-Y is for amatures. I really like the bacteria that builds up in animal petroleum. It makes a man out of you.

If the internet is broken tomorrow please fix it.

If you wanna do it, do it right

I feel sorry for the obvious farting fish whose flatulent blasts fill the salty brine with effervescence.

The other fish stare on with their one eye glare and judge the farter harshly and there is no way for him to say, "But it wasn't me, it was the dogfish or the nasty shark or the sneaky ray with the stinging tail."

All are aware and all hate the farter as we hate the man who poops in the community well.

Thanks for fouling up our air, farting Thomas, I hope your distended guts swell and we see you floating upside down by morning.

All despise the farting fish and in that recognition despise themselves.

Phil Connors will learn to love

If I had a time machine I would watch Groundhog Day over and over like a million times. As soon as it ended I would quickly reverse time one hour and forty seven minutes and watch the entire thing again until I really got a feel for how Phil Connors felt being trapped in an endless time loop.

After I felt confident that I understood the predicament I'd beam myself into the show and confront Phil. I would say one of two things, either: "Come with me if you want to live." I've always wanted to say that to someone but ... the situation has never come up.

If not Come with me if you want to live then something like, "Phil, can't you see that this is a lesson to teach you that you're selfish and need to change your ways? Can't you understand that you're hurting those around you, especially Larry the camera guy? Look at the lovely producer. She could make a super wife!"

Then I'd beam to that movie Out of Africa and tell the Glen Close character to stop being so smug. Oh, all the darkies love me! I'm such a good bwana to them. Fuck off, Glen.

Then? Of course. Some anal loving pron.

Monday Funday.

When I'm rich I'll still write

I just had the best idea ever!

Some women have very heavy periods. I have gleaned this fact from the commercials on television.

Well, it seems to me that the solution to the heavy periods is get more cotton up in there! Lots more! Way up in there!

But how? That's the question, isn't it. HOW!!!??

Fear no more. I have the answer to how, I just need to get a patent going and some Asians to make my devices...

I'm getting ahead of myself.

The idea? Well, harpoons shoot things very far through dark, wet environs. So a harpoon mixed with a tampon would totally shoot giant wads of cotton "up in there" "real far."

The product name? Tampoon!

Shit, I'm rich just thinking about it.

My nipples are the size of plates

There aren't many gods I would fuck. But there is at least one. That blue Indian chick with the six arms. She's hot even though she's blue and has sharp toofs.

I'll bet when you lie down in her arms she wraps you up tight and rides you forever into eternity. The limitless ejaculation and constant and forever orgasm. That is godlike power right there.

I'll bet when you're done she eats your head off, though. That'd be a real drag. Those big fangs must be used for biting necks. I'm no stranger to the vampire mythos.

One god I seriously wouldn't fuck is the cow one. I saw this one video where a guy let a horse enter his anus. Terrible stuff. Before I saw that video I'd consider it. Not now.

Homility

Dear Jews,

I'm sorry for the bad things I said about you in the past. I know you killed our Savior but I know I should forgive you for that. So that's what I'm doing. Dear Jews, I forgive you for the evil thing you did that time in Bethlehem. It was shitty, but you did what you thought was right and now we can move on.

The thing is, I'm not so much a zealous Christian as ... a witch. A warlock if you want to get too technical about it. And my hair has been moving backwards on my scalp these last 2 years. Some would say receding. I hex those that say receding with my great witching powers.

The other thing is...I can make a potion to restore the hair growth but the ingredients are a bitch to get.

The main ingredient is baby Jew blood.

So since I've forgiven you, could you maybe hook me up on some of your baby Jew blood? I'll need about 8 gallons. And it needs to be fresh. Don't try and fuck me with old Jew blood, I'll recognize it and hex you.

Thanks, Jews.

Shalom.

For Latigo

Once there was a puppy who was so happy and he was named Checkers. Checkers was so happy that he was the happiest puppy in the world.

Checkers was born to a fat-cheeked young boy named Jamison.

One day while Checkers and Jamison were playing outside, a beautiful butterfly fluttered by. This butterfly enchanted Checkers and the happy puppy ran after the beautiful butterfly.

Right into the road where both were hit by a car. Oh, no! Checkers, you must look both ways! Naughty butterfly to lure the fun-loving Checkers! I hope your carapace was crushed into yellow goo!

When Checkers got to heaven, he frolicked around the robed Saint Peter. Checkers made to run into the pearly gates when Saint Peter stopped him.

"I'm sorry, Checkers, you were innocent and happy but you did not receive the sacrament of baptism so it's down to hell you go."

Then, as if it were some kind of miracle, the driver of the smashing car was also a vet! The vet saved Checkers and had him baptized a Catholic and also neutered so Checkers could never have the sin of sex!

And they all lived happily ever after. Except the butterfly.

Skankiest Snatch

Dear girls who don't swallow,

You suck.

But not long enough.

If the vagina discharged some fluid I would devour it! I am not squeamish. I would roll it around on my tongue even if it was the snatchiest stank, the stankiest snatch, the most noxious effluvium. Even if it were covered in fetid fetor I would eat it and then offer thanks to be allowed the opportunity to nibble such a nosh.

But not urine. And not babies. Ho don't eat babies. Except veal. Baby animals are so soft and tender and the fear of their death makes them so delicious!

Note to self: have sex, eat sausages.

Ho, out.

Rant, rant, eat a plant

If the homos and the Jews ever team up to take over the world the homosexual Jew will be king.

This is what the bible warns us about.

This is what the Koran says. Beware the uprising of the Gay-Jew army. They will nosh on you while they put the kabosh on you. (Nosh is a gay term that means sushi.)

This is why they tried to kill Salmon Rusthee. He is a gay Jew who lives in England. We see you, Salmon. You Gay Jew you. Hiding in London England.

Here's a poem for the Salmon Rushtees.

Salmon Rushtees are not a fish
but instead is a Jew
infused with the gays
and Muhammod and Cat Stevens
want him dead and so do I
Poor Cat Stevens lost
his mind...fucking hippies

And here's a pome about England

London England
we see you hiding poor crazy
cat stevens and the sinner
Rushtees. Give him to us
so we may kill him
either one of them, frankly.

Listen to me...I HAVE NO SOCKS ON AND MY TOES ARE COLD

I have the most terrible medical condition to report! I may not be around for a few days because of this and I may even die from it. It has been known to happen.

I'm not sure how to deliver the news to everyone, so I'll just say it.

I'm pretty sure I have the West Nile.

Asymptomatic, so far, but I was bitten by an African looking mosquito in the ankle (which is how you get the west Nile).

The West Nile is from Africa and is similar to the aids (also from Africa) and the hiv (a good friend of the aids, both from Africa) and it can really kill you.

The West Nile is from the Nile area of Africa which seems to be in the African region. Africa is very big and I could not find a map of it but I happen to know the Nile is near there. No one ever goes to Africa because it's dangerous. Except the mosquitoes.

Dear Africa, please keep your sicknesses to yourself. We get very sick and tired of dying from your diseases. Especially me.

Wait, I'm not happy w/ that letter. It doesn't portray my anguish at dying from an African disease well enough.

Dear cunts in Africa, please keep your sicknesses to yourself. We get very sick and tired of dying from your diseases. Especially me.

Ok, that's a lot better.

Late, late, masturbate!

There are several ways I don't want to die.

One is to be hit in the head by a golf ball. Golf ball poisoning is what it's called in the biz. It's a euphemism to reassure the people that golfing isn't dangerous. I'm crying at how dangerous they are.

The second one is probably a sudden heart attack in the dead of night that kills me before I wake. I want to linger. I want to lay around and accuse people of not loving me enough. No sudden death, that's my motto.

Thirdly is Fetal alcohol Syndrome. I'm feeling good about my chances but I'm a worrier.

Fourthly is rabies. I've stopped touching my animals and children because they might have it. Anyone could have it. I know bats do. Bats and dogs. Bats bite dogs, dogs bite children. Rabies.

The fifthly is one that I'm dying from now. Conference call sickness. I have countered it with fatty granola but I fear I may die from it.

All other deaths are fine.

315 is divisible by 3, everyone!

Well, I have another book review. I just finished the book Prey by Chrichton and boy am I nervous about science.

Guess what, everyone? Technology is scary and quickly gets out of hand! There were these dinosaurs that were hatched and then started screwing in the jungle and they got out of hand...no, wrong book, sorry.

I mean there was this virus that was engineered in a lab and it escaped and almost destroyed soci...no, wait. I mean there is this theme park and Yule Brenner goes batshit crazy and kills all the...no...shit, which Chrichton book did I read?

Oh, I remember. Nanobots! Weeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

So these nanobots are very dangerous! They will cover up your body and take over your mind and body functions! How do they take over your mind and body? As near as I can tell it's because they're sneaky nanobots that have some "rogue code" put "in there" to make them "do stuff!"

The book is very thin on how the nanobots actually take over your body but they can sting you. That's for sure. And they're very tiny. But in a pack they can really...take over your body...somehow.

The good news? They blow away in the wind. They hate wind! Run to the wind if they get on you and you'll be fine.

Hey, Chrichton--your name is hard to spell and you need a new theme. Please work on these two things.

Tears for Clowns

Two things, today and I'll try to keep things brief because I know we're all busy people, especially me.

I think an apology is in order for the content of my last post and that apology is from you to me! A lot of people suggested that I was an anti-Semite and they were all wrong because I'm a Christian and we don't hate anyone except the abortionists, evolutionists and the dirty Democrat liberals who are ruining our great country with sin and lust! I'll pray for you Democrats but it won't do any good.

Secondarily, dear Honda Element drivers: we're all laughing at you. Even the ones who are driving Pintos. All of us. You suck. Officially. Big time.