The Super Trumper next to me blabs idiocy at his buddy while I wait for coffee. He’s regurgitating the shit the TV News Shouters told him last night. It’s odd because the guy seems like a regular person, but he’s trying to explain (loudly to everyone in here) just how great of a dude ol’ Donald J Dipshit is.

If you want to talk policy, go for it. At least that would seem somewhat reasonable, but just saying he’s “great” over and over only proves your own buffoonery. Well, that and makes you sound a little like Tony The Tiger.

Get ready to thrash with the monster mash and tell your street team to put up a ton of flyers ‘cause The Beast is gonna attempt a front side, back side, flim-flam to fakie 720 off a 4 foot cul-de-sac launch ramp. [Image for this process video]

50s men’s adventure magazine author style: Her ass had dropped out of the race four or five years ago but in tight jeans it still cut a pleasing shape. Mine, on the other hand, has never been pleasing– a straight line from head to heels. And now, bumping the underbelly of fifty, it looks more like two pounds of road grime stuck to a mudflap.

The dark ages got even darker the night Helena Ramsdóttir was born under the final Wolf Moon. The revered queen of seven kingdoms, she never took a king– but was known to have pillaged more than her fair share of Norwegian wood. [Image for this process video]


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