Tuesday, October 24, 2006

Hookers are legal, IF you tape it!

I've recently discovered that, although my state and county have harsh laws to keep my from paying a women to please my sex organs, I can easily pay a twensky ($20) to get a blow as long as I film it.

That's right, thanks to a loophole in our law system I'm pretty sure prostitution is legal as long has you have a video tape of it running and sell it later as pornography. But as I like to say you don't pay a prostitute for sex anyway, you pay her to leave afterwords. So next time you're cuddling up to your insignificant other, by which I mean dirty, dirty whore, hide a camera behind a two way mirror just in case.

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

That Girl is Going to be Someone's Mother Someday!!!!

As the number of girls whose mouths I have pasted with my sexstacular man-cream continues to rise (I'm up to over 0, counting in prime numbers). The questions are raised in my head "Hey, one day these girls are going to be someone's mother?", "Is it ethical to treat this drunken slut like a piece of meat sucking meat?", "Does she have an STD that can go through her mouth?". All of these questions are important to me, a man of great ethical questioning and a ponderer of lifes great questions.

I have come to the conclusion that roughly 75 percent of our mom's have been nailed from behind, 80 percent have givin drunken blowjobs, and 90 percent were just plain dirt sluts at one point in their life.

Monday, October 10, 2005

Harold Bloom’s critical essays: “Poetry about Wolves”

Some would say that all poetry, at its heart, is about wolves. The primal desire of man to suck at the eight teats of some beastial she-wolf is inherent in all masterful works. From T.S. Elliot’s wasteland to Dickenson’s moors, the wolf roams free and proud, bringing inspiration as though from the heavens, even as fear of the fanged beast clinches one’s bowels in a sick, sloppy desperation.
But still, man’s fascination with those wild creatures has manifested itself in far less subtle ways. The great works of such poets as Manfred Mann, and Pete W. Ishingwell Jr. masterfully capture the essences of the wolf by direct confrontation with the piercing gaze of that which has horrified cave men.

By Manfred Mann

The Wolf
Who’s piercing gaze has horrified
I confront you directly.

By Pete W. Ishingwelle

Oh great she wolf,
How I long to suckle from
Your eight teats
Sweet honey milk.

Their short form is direct and to the point, just like a wolf lunging for the jugular of some wild elk they grab you with their language as to never let go.

(Hey Lenard)

By Brad Paris

At night
The wolf visits my dreams
As arbor and snow scents fill
My nostrils
The wolf is sleeping with my wife
Damn you, wolf bastard.

Paris is torn between the wolf and his love for it. How can he manage to survive with out the beast? It tortures him by his dreams, then slips in and bangs his wife. Paris cannot confront the creature whose great wolf penis is pleasuring his love with only the light of his dreams; he is too paralyzed by its magnificence. He goes on in later verses to confront both the wolf and his father, revealing what is probably the greatest surprise in all of western literature.

(verse 5)

Oh, great wolf
Tell me who my father was
Was he a great man?
He Was a Wolf!?!?!?

It is a heartbreaking analogy to the quest of every man to seek out where he is from. As Paris correctly tells us; Look to the wild.

Saturday, September 10, 2005

Guess Who's Now A Freemason?!?!?! PART 1

Hola, guys! I know it's been awhile but I've been doing something really important. I've become a freemason! The application went through without a hitch, and, thanks to a great essay if I might add, I was accepted into the primary initiation rights. Little did I know, they had a surprise in store for me.

The day started out inconspicuously. I was sitting at home watching TV when I got a call. It was The Masons!!!!!!

After letting Mrs. Mason borrow a cup of sugar, I went back home to watch the HBO free preview weekend and relax. But, before I got to my front door, two hooded men came out of the bushes, jumped me, covered my mouth with chloroform soaked rag, and bludgeoned me in the back of the head with a 2-by-4.

When I awoke I was naked and chained down in the center of a pentagram shaped cage that was suspended in the air. I looked around me and noticed several others in the same situation: afraid, naked, not knowing why they were chained face down and greased up. After we were BUFUed by all of the members of the lodge I was promptly informed that I alone had passed the first rite of initiation--the tight asshole test. But, the second rite would be much harder than the first. I was doomed to live thirty days in hell; A hell specifically created to be ironic when matched up with my name. Such as William Shakespeare being impaled on a spear repeatedly, or George Washington having to wash a ton of clothes.

"What is your name?" The elder shaman asked, shaking his rain stick.

"Jon Hughes." I replied, timid and fearful.

The elders circled in a huddle, their soft, inaudible whispers echoing the chamber.

I scratched my sore asshole.

Hours past by.

Finally the elders spoke, "Your test has been decided."

I felt the hard blow of a 2-by-4 on the back of my head and chloroform soaked rag placed over my face. I blanked out.

Saturday, August 20, 2005

A transcription of my arguments with my clever posters: THE SERIES

Poster of the 50's Guy: "..."

Me: Yeah, that's right, You're nothing but a rumor-spreading, AIDS infected, faggoty little miscarriage that can suck my cock! Who you think you are, Andy Kauffman? Do you think you're funny or something? It wasn't funny and you knew it. You think you can go around and embarrass me like that in front of my girlfriend and nothings going to happen? Well, I got news for you, 50's guy: the shit's hit the fan, and you're itchin' for an ass-kickin'.

P50g: "..."

Me: No, I don't care if you were drunk. You knew I liked Sandy and you still went off and ran your mouth like a little bitch anyway. You're just about the most crappy poster a dude could have! I hope you're proud of yourself, because you made both of us look like ass-holes and ruined my chances of getting pussy until this thing blows over--if this thing blows over.


Me: You know what, I don't even want to be roommates with you anymore. No one thinks you're funny, but you always say racist, mean shit that you know no one agrees with, and all you do you sit there on the wall next to my Jack Johnson posters and act like you're all #1 and shit. You're almost as worthless as that John Belushi "College" poster we kicked out.

Me: Yes, I will bring him into this. You know what, you're more worthless than that John Belushi poster. You're probably the most worthless poster I've ever owned, and that includes my Star Wars and Soundgarden posters. You've gotten me less pussy than my Soundgarden poster!

P50g: "..."

Me: Yes, that is the way I feel about it.You know what, you're going straight in to the garbage, and I don't care what you say. You're the cities problem now.

P50g: "..."

Me: Begging is not going to save you now. You did it, now you're just going to have to face the consequences.

P50g: "..."

(crumples poster, and sadly throws it away. A friendship ends)

On next weeks episode I get upset when my Dave Matthews Band poster spills gin on my prom dress...stay tuned!

Friday, July 22, 2005


Episode 1: Old People on Myspace.

Welcome to the first ever edition of "INTERNESTRONAUTS" the posting series devoted to cataloguing strange things I've found on the Internet. An entire collection of stupid shit compiled for posterity, and masturbatory sarcasm fits.

First, a little background information. You see, I used to be an engineer at NASA, but thanks to budget shortfalls, I was forced into early retirement at the ripe young age of 15. Now, using my super genius NASA powers I search the Internet for trivialities using google, a lot like I used to search the stars for life using a big telescope and microwaves.

Also, like a lot of you faggots out there on the Internet, I've been drawn into setting up a Myspace.com account. Knowing full well the emo, boyfriend/girlfriend loving and/or hating, and general ickiness that goes on on said website, but not wanting to miss out on the hardcore titty exposing sections, and loose chicks, I decided to put up a joke account instead of my original plan: black and white photos of my eyes to hide my fatness, a picture of Paris Hilton's head on a spinning hypnoticotist's wheel background, and poetry.

I set about making my Myspace account, finally settling on Ernest Hemingway as my Internet persona. Tons of chicks are friends with Godzilla, so Ernest has to get some action, right? Wrong.

After finding people I already knew and friending them, I sat back a waited for the pussy to come rolling through the door. Needless to say nothing happened. What I did find out though was that I am very popular with what I believe may be the saddest Internet demographic on the planet;Old people who consider themselves "trendy".

Let me introduce you to some of them, and make fun of them accordingly.

Old Man- Old man here is a professor at a small university in Wisconsin. Not only is he a professor, he is the walking stereotype of a professor. He's kind of like that black dude who actually does smokes crack and eat fried chicken. You see, Old Man's whole life is basically the back-story an uncreative TV method actor would make for a bit role professor character on Law and Orderz:SVU. Everything about Old Man could have been written by Matt Damon circa "Good Will Hunting", except for the anal beads around his neck. Honestly, there is really no point in this guy existing at all. The universe will get wind of his existence not covering any new ground and send him to his grave with a timely heart attack. His funeral will be attended byadorings co-ed's that he would have fucked if he could have kept up his wood.

Old Lady- I'll let here "about me" section speak for it's self.--"I love to dance, especially Latin dancing such as Cha-Cha, Merenge, Salsa! I can be shy and outgoing. I've been told I'm unpretentious, gullible, goofy, creative, logical and sometimes too serious though if you make me laugh I will stop. I am into elegant design (systems designer). I've seen program code as beautiful as poetry. I live for music and photography. I want to write as beautifully as Gabriel Garcia Marquez. Conversation, laughter, creativity, spontenaity and hands turn me on. I enjoy my solitude and respect yours. Have meditated off and on through the years, have recently discovered what tantric really means and I thrive in a romantic atmosphere. I appreciate the visual arts, performance arts and love people, cats, trees, water, greens, blues and purples."
This lady is bascally everything everyone hates about baby-boomers cramed into one steaming pile of shit. I've said my peace.

Crazy Old Man- Finally we come to "crazy old man". Crazy old man is just what his name implies. He's like Eric Rudolph if he hadn't bombed those "fag hideouts" and "baby killer resorts". He's still just as crazy, he just hasn't done anything to get the "feds" on his tail...Yet. I'll let his website do the rest of the talking.

So what have we learned. The internet is full of crazy motherfuckers who haven't had a word about them written down. If we don't start keeping track of them and writing down their stories, like WWII veterans, soon they'll be gone. And if they disappear all together then our children will not have to be annoyed by them.

Can you imagine what it'd be like growing up as a child without annoying veterans bugging you?

I don't know about you, but I can't stand by and watch that happen.

Saturday, July 16, 2005

I want my MTV propaganda free, Faggot!

As you all know, there are only two types of people who watch MTV on a regular basis; teenage girls, and assholes who are full enough of self loaving to hang themselves on a masochistic-irony noose. That being said, I'd like it to be brought to your attention that there is a growing number of army/marine recruitment commercials being aired during my weekly Laguna Beach recap marathon.

First, let me explain to you what Laguna Beach is. Laguna Beach is a teen drama that's shot like it's a reality series. The only reason I can figure for it being shot like this is either--
A-They are trying to trick people into thinking it's real.
B-This way they can avoid interesting plot or dialogue by passing it off under the guise of being realistic.

In all likelihood it is a 50-50 combination of both laziness and doubt of the MTV audience's ability to determine the difference between reality and fantasy because they threw in a slightly chubby one. This attempt is defeated by the fact that there's presumably heterosexual male named "Talon". Yeah, like a bird's foot; Talon.

This sets the basis for the main fault of logic in putting Army recruiting commercials on this channel. The only people watching this shit are 16 year old girls who'll blow any dude that identifies himself as Christian, and people who's highest aspiration in life is a 10 second comment on "Best Week Ever". Can anyone else see any use for an army of promiscuous teens and 35-year-old anti-hipsters? Are we going to "give'em the creepies" into submission by presenting them with a unified front of underage girls who have frighteningly low jeans? Can a sarcastic English major's beard serve as proper body armor to stop shrapnel from a car bomb?

If we had spent this money on buying more mercenaries from Puerto Rico and shit, we'd have already been done years ago. If you're going to put a recruiting commercial out, put it on some minority channel like BET and Telemundo, or send to some redneck motherfuckers on the country music station . For some god forsaken reason all of them love joining the the army and getting their ass shot at. Leave my MTV alone.