The Women’s March

4 Feb

photo-210

The Women’s March worked. Trump was deposed. A pink pussy hat now president. Horny killers from Damascus welcomed at LAX by your girlfriend. Schools teach in Mexican. New Chief Usury Officer of Goldman Sachs is trans. Brianna Wu on the $100. Eye in the pyramid now Lena Dunham’s asshole. All pregnancies terminated; late term abortions turn babies into pugs. Ploughshares beat into social media brand management. All workers sponsored content ambassadors for Huffington Post. Doritos knows Black Lives Matter. New twins in Beyonce’s cunt brought to you by Audi. Lyft pledges allegiance to Sharia. Hadiths mandate polyandrous slavery to blue haired genders that OKCupid knows no word for. Something to do with My Little Pony. All porn now clips of Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Sheryl Sandberg merges with flesh NSA servers like an anglerfish, stares back at you from the place you dare not look. Honey Boo Boo’s Mom Lost 200 Pounds You Won’t Believe How Gorgeous She Is, she says in your inner voice. Like This. Justin Trudeau’s hot soft hand on your back like your gym teacher who drank before noon; his robust yoga pants package crawling and awake. Angela Merkel’s spindly tendons twitch as she palpates your Soylent incubation sac. We won, you guys. Pepsi stands against racism.

Protected: Catherine from the Gym

29 Jan

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Protected: No One Else Gets Laid Either

26 Jan

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I Haven’t Had an Intelligent Thought in Five Years

15 Jan

muscovy-duck

Jesus Christ I’m a middle aged man living alone in a one bedroom apartment with no door on the oven. I used to say a dirty toilet but you can eat off it now. I have an app where a different maid comes every month. Never anyone you’d fuck. Nowhere is there ever anyone you’d fuck. Life is work, AA meetings… the gym. Well there are girls at the gym and why don’t you talk to them. Because I’m a pitiful insect. Not rich not famous. I have saddlebags now. Double digit body fat; not fully visible obliques– I’m a hog, in other words. Occasionally a decent writer but that just means girls who don’t live near me want to fuck an imaginary version of me. Who do I have– a married woman in SF, college professor back East. A Chinese girl who lives in Switzerland now because she’s rich. Various red state types. Actually there’s a lot of girls who would fuck me from my stupid web site. So this paragraph that was meant to be a complaint actually makes things look pretty good. 1500 die hard fans contains at least 15 girls who are good looking. I’m pissed none of them has sucked me off this morning. Continue reading →

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Protected: Recent Complaints

15 Jan

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The Unicorn

8 Jan
unicorn-with-flowers

image stolen from the unicorn gallery at http://piecesofmyheart.org/

He lived alone. It had been years now. Women liked him once but these days he couldn’t get a Tinder match.

One night he went to smoke a cigarette in the park. There was rustling in the sumac bushes. Something screaming; he ran to see what it was. Three coyotes had something pinned. It looked like a white pony, or maybe a giant goat. Some slave animal for Mexican kids’ outdoor birthday parties. Whatever it was it was terrified. The coyotes had clocked him but they were intent enough that he could get close to the big one. Give it a hard boot in the ribs. It was something he’d always dreamed of. Just as he’d dreamed, he felt a rib crack and the thing squealed and ran. The other two, toadies that they were, did too. Continue reading →

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Finally, Some Good News (Part 3)

24 Dec

Previously

Second Date

I want to suck your cock, she said. They were in her son’s bedroom. The boy was about 12 and he was sleeping. And I want you to suck my cock, he said. But he didn’t. They’d been doing coke for 90 minutes. It was cold in her house. He could feel his dick like a slimy canned mushroom.

He let her kneel down and take it out from his too tight pants and his day glo pink American Apparel underwear. There it was: a blue acorn. Her mouth was warm but there was a little coke in her spit and it made him feel like her tongue was wearing a medical glove. Listen, he said. let’s wait for this bump to wear off. We can talk. Continue reading →

Protected: Weekend Journal: Your Pussy Your Problem

11 Dec

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Protected: You Should Message Me If Part 5

1 Dec

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Election

20 Nov
money-seal

image stolen from edwardmd.wordpress.com

At least people I hate are miserable. At least Amanda Marcotte cried. As for the bad news: this will solve nothing. This will not collapse society. There will not be mass rapes. Life will continue to get incrementally worse. It would have happened under Hillary. It will happen under Trump. Every American must be annihilated with atomic weapons. Land given back to the coyotes. It’s the only solution.

I felt bad for her. Read about her too wracked with sobs to talk on the phone. Trying to tell a friend through her shuddering snot-cry that it was Comey… Comey… Too emotional for a concession speech. She had to send out Podesta, the squirelly jizz guzzling hustler who rapes babies then eats them for Satan. I felt bad. She has $300 million from telling the board of Goldman Sachs that the Rothschilds have it too hard in this world. She kills children. I wanted to hold her while she cried. Because she’s a woman. Continue reading →

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