Thursday New Poat

Good morning boys and girls and xbrads.

Here’s a fresh poat for everyone.

Scott and LauraW continue their vacation. Beasn continues the home improvement project from hell.

After five years out I’ve started to get recruitment letters asking me if I want to apply for a commission in the Army Reserve. They must be truly desperate for people.

Leon is busy denouncing the moral degredation of today’s youth.  Car in, meanwhile, has had enough of your shit.  Perhaps she shouldn’t have sent Ethan to Jimbro to get his surgery.  MJ’s busy trying to keep the spice in his marriage.

Wait… where the fuck is Xbrad?

Mare needs a little encouragement some mornings.

Shhhh… it’s going to be ok, Pupster.

Should we organize a 21-rep salute?

And now, some music:

This pretty much sums up how I feel most days. But then I realize that I have you assholes as my fake internet friends, and everything is going to be alright.

This one’s just plain fun. As is this one.

Go forth and take on the world. Remember, it’s Thursday night, so celebrate.

Obama II: Cockfacefuckaloo

That last word seems made up but it isn’t. If you search for it on the intertitty you’ll find a wealth of information.

So Obama is back, and this time going to kick ass and use cliches, and he’s all out of cliches. The world is stuck like a deer in the headlights of a sixteen wheel suck mobile, paralyzed at his magnificence–or so the media would have you believe.

The truth, harder than a diamond, and as difficult to swallow as a giant bitter pill is that only a few people actually care; rich old liberals and black women. The rest of us are just trying to get on with our lives. The days of our lives, even.

So please, do us a favor, oh God Emperor of the Early Release Television Series, go the fuck away. Obama could build a speech generator using the words, ‘world, future, change, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, I, let us, hope, and destiny,’ bridged together with terrible sentence formations and almost no one would notice. Just put up a cardboard cut out and play side A of the tape called ‘Flattering Rich Crackers’ then flip it over to side B, ‘I am Black Also, and Understand You.’

Save everyone else some time, dickface. If we wanted to be talked down to or bored to death we’d use bad grammar in a blog post and wait for Hotspur to show up.

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This man, right here, the one I’m pointing to…is a DICK!!!

Hostage Oscar Party (Now With 100% Fewer Slow-loading GIFs!)

Well, the Academy Awards are here again. Yay. If you think you’re sick of hearing about them, try living in Southern California. It’s all they talk about on the news for the next goddamn week.

Most of us aren’t big fans of Hollywood (or as one guy I heard one time called it, HollyWEIRD–delightful!) but maybe you saw a couple of the movies that are nominated this year. Are you rooting for La La Land? Hidden Fences? Something else?

Ah, who am I kidding? We’re all boycotting the Oscars. Not for the politics (okay, maybe a little bit because of the politics) but because the most deserving film of the year wasn’t nominated:

I’m just hoping John Wick 2: The Wick and The Dead gets nominated next year. Probably not, though.

Big Boob Friday

Hello weekday and weekend warriors. This has been a really interesting week for the MJ household. First, I found out that although interpuppet sex generally doesn’t end with procreation, we have succeeded. Second, wiser can suck a dick, nay a whole bag of them. And finally, the blog really misses Cyn. Whatever Jimbro, Pupster, and James did to run her off will requires punishment. I suggest that we each send them a flaming bag of gratitude.

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I wrote this song for Hotspur.

Cannon Wire

Kieth Shore

b. in the past,  Philadelphia.

 

Blue Wire

Well, let’s get fresh for the summer season.  Evidently zee Moronosphere is ablaze with real zeal for new art posts in America, and so in celebration of the new let us break from the past.

Check out:

Geoff McFetridge

b 1971 Canada

He’s a bright talent and prolific.

Watch for his shows in a metropolitan galleria near ye’ia.

(pro-tip.  Free wine.)

Taste the brainbow.

What would you buy with the Powerball jackpot?

We’ve all dreamed about it. What would you do if you had Fuck You Money? Would you invest it prudently? Start the business you’ve always dreamed about? Pay Obama to take a vow of silence for the rest of his term? No, we all know what you’d do with the money:
 

 
Anyway, there are some more things you could buy after the jump.

Fight the Power

Looks like Chumpo’s poat got misplaced so imma gonna fill in. ( I see the pictures all there in the media folder though …)

Today – on display – is a sampling of lefty mindset on facebook. Here are their “arguments”. Basically there is no discussion. Instead they post stupid memes that apparently are supposed to shut us up with ‘their truth to power’.

Here are a few which have appeared:

It doesn’t help to argue with any of the “facts” on any of these memes.

You’ll just get a text on your phone from saying “Please do not discuss things on my facebook posts”.

Whatever mom.

BBF–Old School Edition

Hi There. You have been selected to view Big Boob Friday!!!!!! Please to be scrolling down for crotchel tingles?

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You guys will all hate this, but I’m thinking of number between -1 and 1 that indicates the number of bowel movements I would offer you. If you look closely, the band, Yeasayer references Reagan so there’s a little something for you. ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED? Now get up, dance, and clap like seals.

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Today’s model emailed me a few minutes ago to inform me that she’s deeply, deeply, in love with this blog and honored to be featured here. Sure, it was mostly legal stuff about keeping a distance of 1000 feet, but I know how to read between the lines. Please smooth out your eyebrows, hitch up your overalls, and pick the tobacco from your teeth to welcome Viola Bailey!!!!!!!!!

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A poat which explores the Duality of Man™

What do you do with a problem like this?
 

 
I guess you’d have to go for some kind of Social Justice Rock Paper Scissors game. We could call it Rock Privilege Scissors.