Big Borscht Friday

Russia, Russia, Russia! If I rolled my eyes like I want to, I would be able to see into my brain. It occurred to me a few days ago that my father in law insisted on joining me on a walk last November and started talking about the election. His theory was that Hillary had been harassed for 20 years and there has never been any evidence of a crime so all of the allegations must be bullshit. After I collected my jaw from the ground I muttered something like, ‘so what you’re saying is you have just eaten 10 space cakes and didn’t share any of them?’ Not true, I actually didn’t say anything because I don’t really talk about politics with anyone but my lovable internet family. But I can’t wait to use that line this Thanksgiving–he’ll tell me it doesn’t matter, Trump is actually a Russian spy, and I’ll say something like, ‘so what you’re saying is you’ve just eaten 10 sputnik cakes and didn’t share any of them?’

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Little Known Fact…Stalone invented Zumba

Keeping with our Russian theme, today’s model is from a former Eastern Bloc country or possibly Mother Russia herself. I mean, just look at her. She’s like 5″11, weighs 120 pounds, has tatas bigger than Red Square, and looks like Mr Bean. Please give a warm, stern looking nod of approval to Karin Spalnikova!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!!!!!11!!!!!1!!!

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!!!

Bill Clinton’s Weenus

 

This will be an exploration of my long held theory that Bill will not allow Pickles McParkinsons to win the election so that he can continue to dick bimbos for the short remainder of his life.

Have you seen the first dude lately? He looks like he hasn’t had a decent meal in ten years or that his alleged syphilis is finally winning the war on women. I kid, I kid. He’s a vegan so you know he has syphilis.

So here’s the theory, in case you missed it in my survey class taught at Muppet U, or if you forgot what was written in the first paragraph: Bill will do anything to prevent Smiley McOpenmouth from getting in the oval office. Way too important to keep his little Gore wet. Yes, for those of you scoring at home, he calls his blank shooter Al Gore.

I bet you’re thinking I’m totally wrong. That the allure of being half of the first ever male/female presidential couple is just too, er, alluring. Consider this: whenever things get good for her, he trots out some sorry statement that even he, a veritable Da Vinci of lying can’t clean up.

Man, that’s gonna sting. Don’t get me wrong, no one cares what he said…except for the only man that might actually make a difference in the election: Golfy McOkieDoke. St Trayvon’s Dad is notoriously thin skinned and its well known that Obama and Bill already hate each other. Bill once told Obama that he should be getting him coffee rather than schlonging his wife (that’s Web Hubble’s job) and Obama’s black half never got over it. If you locked these two in a bedroom closet only one would emerge–probably Bill with panties on his head, wearing high heels, but that’s besides the point.  The hate is real my groovy babies, the hate is real.

Weenus + Viagra >Husband + Most Powerful Woman in the World

Its math, and therefore indisputable, although its probably racist.

FIN

 

 

Tushar is sick of your bullshit

And frankly, so am I. You’ve become a bunch of lazy, slothful pieces of shit. I mean, I can excuse people like Hotspur and MCPO who have worked hard all their lives and are enjoying their Golden Years, but what excuse do the rest of you have?

I mean, for God’s sake, we’re almost at the end of the weekend and everyone’s still commenting on a Saturday poat while waiting to get motivated by trannies tomorrow. It’s no wonder this country is going straight to hell.

Okay, now that I’m done calling you assholes, I’m going to hopefully provide you with some motivation before tomorrow with a photo of Cal alum and insanely-hot pole vaulter Allison Stokke:

I have likely touched several surfaces that her ass has also touched.

Thursday Poat: Hot Sauce Edition

The other day, when asked what something she always carries with her, HRC answered unhesitatingly “hot sauce“. Apparently, carrying hot sauce around with you, is a black people thing. And she needs the votes of Obama’s biggest voting bloc percentage-wise, to win. This election cycle has been very educational for me. 8+ years of SCOAMF inhabiting the airwaves and I just heard about CPT last week. Honestly. And here I am, the definition of a racist by virtue of my ethnicity, gender, age and prior service. Yet, Hillary and De Blasio needed to educate me on this important terminology. That got me thinking, what would my answer be to that question? People who know me would answer: knife, wallet, cash, maybe a little flashlight for trans-illuminating (not cis-) ganglion cysts. That would be a great thread: “What is in various Hostages pockets?”

This song is from a show called True Blood that I’ve only seen because Paula tried watching it on Netflix and eventually gave up on it. This song, which sounds like it was sung by a local bar band, will not inspire me to try watching it again.

Sunday Longie

[Impotent Update/Cyn:]

SECRET SANTA GIFT OPENING TO–NIGHT AT 9:00 pm NEC-Time!!

Email a pic: TheH2SecretSanta%gmail.comb; I’ll add to a special post.

MMM 201: Working on my dad bod

I’m getting fat. Not making/getting time for the gym, barely eating right, not getting enough sleep, and I turn 40 next week. Fatherhood and this whole “driving to work” thing is killing me. The former is worth it, the latter is not. I need motivation this week, and lots of it.

Also sleep. And some steak. And less alcohol. And like a hundred pullups.

Stones fan?

TUKREY

Man, I hate Adam Sandler.

A Crazy Ride

Bliss