Gilding Your Mom’s Lily

This is that story

It could be all a lot worse if Hillary was in office. Go Donny Two Scoops!

What the ever living f*%^ is wrong with you people?

Pick One –

Make it yours –

You know you want to…

Acute Stress Disorder

Agoraphobia

Amnesia, Dissociative

Anorexia Nervosa

Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)

Bipolar Disorder

Body Dysmorphic Disorder

Brief Psychotic Disorder

Bulimia Nervosa

Conversion Disorder

Cyclothymic Disorder

Delusional Disorder

Depersonalization Disorder

Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID)

Dyspareunia

Dysthymic Disorder

Erectile Disorder, Male

Exhibitionism

Fetishism

Frotteurism

Fugue, Dissociative

Gambling, Pathological

Gender Identity Disorder

Generalized Anxiety Disorder

Hypoactive Sexual Desire Disorder

Hypochondriasis

Impotence

Intermittent Explosive Disorder

Kleptomania

Masochism, Sexual

Major Depressive Disorder

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

Orgasmic Disorder, Female

Orgasmic Disorder, Male

Pain Disorder

Panic Disorder

Pedophilia

Phobias

Posttraumatic Stress Disorder

Premature Ejaculation

Pyromania

Sadism, Sexual

Schizophrenia

Schizoaffective Disorder

Schizophreniform

Sexual Arousal Disorder, Female

Sexual Aversion Disorder

Shared Psychotic Disorder

Somatization Disorder

Substance Abuse

Substance Dependence

Transvestic Fetishism

Trichotillomania

Vaginismus

Voyeurism

 

In Which Sean Holds Himself Up to Ridicule

You know, I used to absolutely hate poetry.  Hated reading it, hated writing it, just generally hated everything about it.  I was a prose guy, and I thought there was something silly and frivolous about scribbling thoughts into stanzas and trying to get them to scan and rhyme and all that crap.

Then, something changed.  Maybe it was getting sober, though I have no idea why that would have any bearing on this.  But over the past few years, I’ve found that there are certain instances where I can best put my thoughts in order by taking up quill and scroll and just churning out some of the old doggerel.

Before we go any further, let’s just get this out of the way here and now:

 

Okay, now that we’ve dispensed with that (yeah), allow me if you will to emote all over you below:

Artistry – POS Mardi Gras Edition

Remember when Chumpo used to post really interesting things about art? This isn’t it –

So Your Boyfriend BO & Your Girlfriend Mooshel had their pictures done; no offense to the skanky (insert Hotspur word)/ wenches that did them, but DAAAAAAMMMMMn!

So I tried my hand at a truly befitting preznitz-dental portrait :

I think it captures the essence of the oblah-blah years.

Mental Problems – POS Ponderings

Sometimes I’d like to start out a conversation with Fuck You!! I’ve been told that that’s rude and I need to moderate my tone. That’s like only having one drink when you’re out with the boyz trying to get crunk.

Proof That God Loves Trump: The Women in His Life

I don’t care how fat, purple haired, and poorly tattooed you are…if you don’t think Melania Trump is beautiful, there’s something wrong with your brain. Everyone pretended to love and was eerily forced to affirm that Moochelle was radiant and smart while neither were really true. She’s a dog and everyone  knows it. Melania, on the other paw, is intelligent, well spoken, and fiercely protective of her family. She has class, which we sorely need.

Proof that god loves Trump: Melania

 

A sarcastic or vengeful god would have given Trump a more Chelsea-esque daughter to mock his obvious love of himself. But instead, our benevolent creator granted him with not one, but two lovely female offspring. Ivanka and Tiffany are warm, funny, intelligent, and dedicated to their families. They don’t need a PR campaign or obviously fake attempts to appear as insert-consultant-generated-words-to-convey-humanity-here to their fellow countrymen. And they both look good in leather pants, which is more than we can say for Chubble.

Proof that God loves Trump: His daughters

And lastly, there is no greater gift to a politician than a good foil. As I’ve often said, there’s only one person that Trump could have beaten to become President, and there’s only one person that Hillary could have lost to. No matter the situation, she appears robotic, tone deaf, scripted, and always attempts to lie when the simple truth will do. Dropped something on your foot or stubbed a toe? Nope! She was running down the stairs, coffee cup in hand, shouting important orders to an unnamed underling. Pass out and get chucked into van like a side of beef? She’s just fine! It’s a lovely Spring day and why look here! A random child to hug which will make a splashy picture! She’s so strong and brave to stand upright in this unrelenting 68 degree heat!

Hillary is a Christmas nightmare. The terrible gift that just keeps giving.

Proof that God loves Trump: Hillary Rodham Clinton

Enemies of the State

Last Few Days At Camp

In Maine I discovered early on that quite a few people have a camp they migrate to in the summer. “Camp” is a term with a wide latitude. It may mean a shack with an outhouse out in the williwacks or an oceanfront mansion next to the Bush clan down in Kennebunkport. Ours is a worn out place built in the 60’s with a living room floor that’s uneven, a plumbing / septic system that gives us fits and hideous wallpaper in the bedrooms. The main attraction? The screened in porch is 10 feet from the water’s edge. It really is beautiful. There are a lot of PITA things we deal with given that our neighbors are just 30 feet away on either side of us but I’ve grown to like the change of pace that our summers give us now. Once the kids head back to school it becomes a challenge to head up for the weekend or even a day. By the time we pack everyone’s crap up, two dogs and their food, buy groceries, etc we’re all frazzled. We’ll see what happens after the kids are moved out.

HHD – Monkey Style

So – it’s an honor to be allowed to fill in for teh Rocket Chick; i’ll try not to fail to launch this bitch in an appropriate manner (one that your mom would like).

I went the extra mile and commissioned a song to be written specifically for this poat – leon’s pricing was a bit high but he promised that he wouldn’t eat too many ‘shrooms whilst composing this amazing journey of musical  majesty –

What do you think?

Enjoy:

 

now onward to the hunky humps that the hostagettes and jewstin have been waiting for:

Holding Poat – Bad Trip part ducks

that’s french you ignant bastards –

Anus Lickers

What a nasty title –

One of you reprobates make sure you stomp this POS poat ASAP – it’s your calling in life.

Oh & anyone that’s stupid enough to open the following links at work needs to be self employed, or fired… or both – fair warning.

I guess some people will do anything given the right circumstances.