The boy took 5 whole shipments of Enzyte mixed into a can of beer. The carbonation and alcohol quickened the absorption of certain chemicals found in the herbal supplement which caused such an enormous rush of blood to the boys genitals that they literally burst open.
Kay S. Hymowitz may have you believe that there is a new generation of “Child Men” out there to make women’s job of trapping men into their idea of a happy and “adult” life very hard. Here’s what she has to say in a nutshell. And a link to her article, which I did actually read. Her ideas of women sound like snippets out of an idealized version of “Sex and the City.” And every guy out there is just like “Fry” from Futurama, just so you get the gist of things.
With women, you could argue that adulthood is in fact emergent. Single women in their twenties and early thirties are joining an international New Girl Order, hyperachieving in both school and an increasingly female-friendly workplace, while packing leisure hours with shopping, traveling, and dining with friends [see “The New Girl Order,” Autumn 2007]. Single Young Males, or SYMs, by contrast, often seem to hang out in a playground of drinking, hooking up, playing Halo 3, and, in many cases, underachieving. With them, adulthood looks as though it’s receding.
She then lays into every single comedic act from Dave Chappelle, Jon Stewart, the creators of South Park, Adam Sandler, Jim Carrey, Will Ferrell, Ben Stiller, Vince Vaughn, Owen Wilson, Luke Wilson, Jack Black, Steve Carell, and Matt Groening, the creator of the Simpsons and Futurama. She moans about Sci-Fi, and sports that “simulate war” like football, and all martial arts. She also attacks video games. With all the talk of child-men she never even mentions Andy Milonakis or Peewee Herman. Granted she does bring up more misogynistic entertainment icons like Tucker Max and George Ouzounian (Maddox) of “The Greatest Website in the Universe,” but come on. What kind of dipshit still reads that shit after they turn 17?
The fact is they are no part of “the media.” They’re just guys like me who can figure out how to post things on the internet. Everyone has that power, Kay, I think you know. If it wasn’t for the internet, maybe people with rotten-to-the-core ideas like Maddox would not corrupt our boys into permanent childhood (happiness). The difference though, is that Maddox is joking, and you are dead serious. Kay’s point is now obvious.
Not only is no one asking that today’s twenty- or thirtysomething become a responsible husband and father—that is, grow up—but a freewheeling marketplace gives him everything that he needs to settle down in pig’s heaven indefinitely.
This is what I have to say in response Ms. Hymowitz:
FUCK THAT! GROWING UP HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH BECOMING A HUSBAND OR A FATHER. YOU ARE THE ONE WITH THE WRONG MESSAGE.
Do not blame the free market for the fact that women want to find a husband and men just don’t give a fuck. I am not a pig for being who I am, but you are a TRUE BITCH for suggesting that marriage to a woman is the only way a man can ever grow up. That is totally false and offensive to both men AND women of any intelligence. All I have to say is I hope your type fades away. Stop watching TV so much if you’re so fucking smart. It gives you the wrong idea about the real world.
Elf Wax, your #1 trustworthy news source for Marinoid news.
The following is a list of the most awesome uses of the simile this article gets its title from. Also, everyone’s favorite tragedy, except for Cole Hogan. A bad week in Queercasting, or Heath Ledger’s death? That’s practically 9/11, ‘dude.’ Look at the animation to the left carefully if you don’t understand.
“That cockpit eject shit is crazed. It’s like the 9/11 of explosions, with less laughs.” – Wayne Moss.
- Jewish Lesbian Podcaster: Just this week was the 9/11 of podcasting? I wonder why the fact that no one listened to you is so tragic that it must have something to do with 9/11? I look at it the opposite way. She is obviously a part of the faked WTC attacks. Jewish Homosexual agenda conspiracy theorists ya fuckin dropped the ball on this one, eh?
- Idiotic Lobotomy Patient: Oh wait, this is a 29 year old attorney, had me fooled. The quilts are nice, but you know, this just goes to show you how smart your average college educated suit is. I could have her blog wrong, but the excerpt clearly reads verbatim: “not the OMG heath ledger died what a hunk kind but the more like the 9-11 of OMG anyone can die at anytime sort of panic attack?” I know Heath Ledgers death really made me think of 9/11. What does she care? Her favorite movies are “Easter 86” and “Prom 95.” I don’t think Heath Ledger were in those ones, but I can’t find them on IMDB.
- Tori Spelling Has a Disastrously Tragic Photo Set: This one might approach the ugliness of 9/11, minus the gore, death, fear, and rivers of Asbestos dust flowing through the streets of New York. She’s wearing a nice army uniform, so hey, fuck her support for our boys. She’s ugly, she’s like, so 9/11. I answer this with the usual WHO THE FUCK CARES ANYWAY? You’re not funny for bringing up 9/11 to bring down someone no one cares about. For the record I don’t know who she is or why she is famous, and couldn’t fucking care less, she is an ugly hound-wench dressed looking like a soldier in drag. Hey, wait, did i just come up with a better insult than the most overused simile permeating the Internet? LOL 9/11 LOLOCAUST!
- Sports Writer Invokes 9/11: So an NBA player freaks out on the crowd. Someone compares it to 9/11 and guess what, it ends up in my hometown newspaper! You know what… Reading it over again, that really does remind me of 9/11. There really is a crisis in sports and sportsmanship today. We should declare a war on it, and use it as reason to invade North Korea. It’d make as much sense.
So to recap, being ignored, celebrity death, celebrity ugliness, and unsportsmanlike conduct in the NBA: 9/11. 9/11…eh, that’s like a small VT Massacre.
New analysis of Mars rover imagery by the college-educated geniuses at NASA has revealed stunning new proof of life on Mars. The mysterious nature of the creature, as it looks back at the rover with its strange gait and human-like curiosity makes it 100% sure to Nasanauts that it is indeed Bigfoot. Could he be investigating the monuments of Cydonia? This much is true: Bigfoot must be much more clever than we are. The Bigfoot have made it to Mars, and probably have gotten as far as Jupiter, which begs the question: Jupitorians are definitely Bigfoot. Somehow they have overcome all physical limitations through some sort of “Mind Over Matter.” Next time you see Bigfoot disappear behind some trees, do not follow him, or you may end up walking out from a cave on Mars, and hell, if you don’t die instantly from the life-forbidding conditions, Bigfoot may kill you. That would make you the 3rd person to ever have been eaten by Bigfoot. Thank you for visiting Elf Wax, your Marinoia Depot.
Realizing that their product is no less than 100% pure ethanol, moonshiners in Franklin Co. Va have run gasoline out of town. They have perfected the process of producing ethanol on a scale that makes a happy drunken life with cheap renewable energy completely plausible. Usually commercially available ethanol is “denatured” or rendered poisonous, through introduction of gasoline or other poisons. Not straight moonshine. The fact is, if you grew your own corn, and made your own ethanol, you might not ever have to pay for gasoline, electricity, or alcoholic beverages. No wonder such self-sufficiency is illegal. It is a well known fact that the oil industry is the real reason moonshining has been cracked down upon. We should be up to our faces in corn, in every corner of every street, in every neighborhood and every alleyway. This would be a land where the power did not come from the people, who are unjust and prone to hate, but from the corn, who share up to 99.9% of our DNA anyway. Everyone should be encouraged to grow corn for the purpose of moonshining, to create something from nothing, for this is the only way an economy works. If ethanol is Jesus, those hacks with their cellulosic ethanol pipe-dream garbage super-genetically-enhanced bacteria that will probably kill us all is perhaps… the Anti-Jesus?
I awoke on New Years day to the usual yammering of Cartoon Network’s early morning programming. I stood up to deactivate the horrible noises, when I realized I was in the guest bedroom. How drunk had I been last night? I forgot. How’d I get home? Man, I had no answers, except I knew I was thirsty. Stumbling to the fridge, waves of nausea coarsed through my whole body. I found nothing but Orange Juice and quickly finished what was left of the container. I felt my brain inside my skull, screaming to get out. I threw the empty box across the room and missed the trash can completely. I returned to my room, and as I sat down, a second, much more intense wave of nausea came over me. Quickly thinking, I packed a gravity bong. Weed cures nausea, and maybe numb the throbbing inside my skull, at least that was what I was thinking. I was able to inhale half of the bong and then cough and puke into the water bucket at the same time. Of course I wasn’t done, all the OJ had to go. When the watery yellow vomit was all over the ground at the foot of my deck, I started to dry heave for about 10 minutes. Teary-eyed, half stoned, and worse off than I was before, it was all I could do to sip on a glass of water and watch the storyline of Pokemon 8 unfold before my eyes. At least vomiting off my deck made me feel relieved after the dry heaving.
It started in the distant past, with some sort of magic called Aura (get this…everyone has a slightly different Aura). I was able to halfway sleep through the first part. There’s this Pokemon named Lucario, and Ash unseals him or something, and Lucario’s a dick and doesn’t trust anybody after being sealed away for so long, even though he doesn’t even know why he was sealed away. Meanwhile, Mew, Meowth, and Pikachu are hanging out in the Tree of Beginning. Why? I don’t know. You find out later that Mew and the Tree actually share their consciousness, which is interesting. As Ash travels to the tree with Lucario and a band of friends, they gain eachothers trust. When they arrive, the tree begins attacking Lucario and Ash. Everyone is killed who is not a Pokemon. Good job, Mew. Mew then revives everyone back to life with no effort, since he controls the tree. But oops! The tree’s immune reaction was too strong, and will kill everyone unless someone saves it with the power of Aura. And to do that, apparently you have to be trapped in some sort of crystal or something forever. I felt no remorse for these Pokemon because every conflict in the movie was created solely by Mew’s complete negligence. I give the vomit splattering on the ground one star and Pokemon 8 a half of a star.
WARNING: Parental Discretion IS ADVISED. THE FOLLOWING IS EXTREMELY INSENSITIVE AND SHOULD NOT BE VIEWED BY ANYONE, EVER. Original Tragedy graphic is Copywright Cole Hogan, 2006. Modified graphic and animation are copyright Jesus Hubert Christ, 12 AD.
(So that’s what that H stands for!)
that little bastard bought guns from my home town…….Cavalier, Tarheel, Captian, Turpin…..we all gotta little hokie in us this right now.”if cops eat bacon is it considered canabalism?”
If cops got to the scene of the Virginia Tech massacre and ate all the dead corpses, is it considered ‘canabalism’? NO! There’s no such thing as ‘canabalism’.
gone to bed, pray for our hokies, pray that is well, and pray to god that cho’s rotting in hell……….yes I meant for that to rhyme.”if cops eat bacon is it considered canabalism?”
My favorite line in that wonderful poem is “Pray that is well.”
for all my fellow captains, I have a new profile image on facebook that contains captain chris and the hokie bird, I”m hoping it will catch on. If you want the original jpeg to upload to your own profile, email me and I will glad you send a copy.”if cops eat bacon is it considered canabalism?”
Wanna see it? Tragilicious!
“If cops ate bacon…” remained at the end of every single one of Cole’s away messages from March 4th to October 14th, a total of 7 months and 10 days. The precise amount of time that that joke is still funny. What a great joke.