Fucking camper…
Trundle
joined 1 year ago
These boners… I mean, I’d love to meet the dude who came back to the KKK HQ Doublewide and was like:
“Okay boss, I done gave out all them memership papers. We’ll have new recruits in no time. Yeet.”
“Great, Randy, where did you take them? The gun shop, VFW hall, and golf course?”
“Nope, I took ‘em to the churches.”
“Which churches, Randy?”
“The BLACK ones! Hahahahaha!”
“Jesus fucking CHRIST, Randy! Do you know how much those things cost to print? I mean fuck, Randy…”
Okay, hear me out on this one. I know it’s a little off-kilter from the main topic of the post, buuuuuuut…
If the Sky Homies really wanted to convince us that Jesus was the son of god, why didn’t Joseph have him? You know? It’s one thing to say, “Right, so here’s what happened: a goddamn mothman flew into my room, knocked me up without banging me, I totally didn’t cheat, and this kid’s gonna be the shiiiit someday.”
It would be a whole other irrefutable, indisputable, holy fucking titballs buckle up Nancy type of situation if it went like this: “Hey, my name’s Joseph. You can call me Joe. Anyways, I just shat out a kid, pretty sure that’s a miracle.”
The End. Fin. Salute.
But nope, people are supposed to believe the first one. Swing and a miss, I’d say.
I honestly just came across it while browsing “All”, and it wasn’t that far of a scroll. Didn’t even realize how old the post was when I crafted my tomfoolery. I wonder if one person commenting brought it back to life?
Tell ya what I’d do. I’d be like “Yo, Ukraine, let’s finish this shit.” And Ukraine would be all like, “Oh yeah? Why don’t you finish deez nutz?!” I’d probably laugh a little bit at that, but I wouldn’t let Ukraine see me. Then I’d go “Nah man, for real. Let’s square up at Chuck E. Cheese.”
Ukraine probably thinks we’re in for a parking lot fight, or some shit like that, but nope. I’d challenge Ukraine to a fucking winner-takes-all ski ball match. And you know what? Ukraine would goddamn accept.
I’d intentionally be a little bit late, so Ukraine would be all hanging out in the parking lot and shit, getting hyped up and rowdy. Then, I’d roll up in that glorious janky-ass bitch with the curved up deck.
I know what’s up. Ukraine knows what’s up. We do this thing.
It’s goddamn savage. I’m not just hitting the middle hole, no… I’m fucking sinking shots into those little corner holes that are worth, like, 10,000 points a goddamn piece.
It’s merciless. Unrelenting. Ukraine loses epically, and collect their casualties as they slink into the darkness on the edge of the parking lot.
Fuck me, though, because I gotta deal with this goddamn aircraft carrier in a Chuck E. Cheese situation now.
So, anyway, that’s how I’d do it.
Okay, hold up. If those figures are accurate, according to my calculations Sniffignoli Bonaduce there would be smelling 66.66666667 (repeating, of course) hams per hour, IF he worked a 12 hour day.
Goddamn, ham man.
I’m posting from Memmy for Lemmy on iOS, but flip between it and Mlem as they out-update each other. Glorious days, these are.
Poop Juice, I’m glad you recognized, and seized the opportunity to secure a proper username while they were ripe for the picking. I salute you.
Also, this guy showers.
I’m confused as to why the administrator of feline-to-ass torture is holding two cats. Certainly a man’s cavity is incapable of accepting multiple cats, right?
In related news, 100% of scientists who have ever died are dead today.
Stop trying to make Beams happen. It’s never gonna happen.
Betcha still updooted and laughed. I mean, I did.