Too Many Female Superheros (heroes?)

Chemically, the world has set up enough danger to mint a new bill.  If we were all heroes, there would have to be more than half women (lesbian shows,  duh!).  That brings me to my thingy:  Would we be able to make up that many female superhero names?  Help me as I try…





Murder Mermaid

Endless Menses

Bumpy Torso


Hillary Clinton

Pink Devil


Rainbow Fright

Ninja Bitch


Bride of Damnation

Meat Hooker

June Cleaver!

Sister Sinister

Killy Ripa

Daughter Slaughter

Sister Dark Fang

Shiny Smells Nice Stabber

Hairdo Fire

Electric PMS

G-Spot A-Bomb


Google Analysis For The Search Term “Sex”

Wow, the world loves sex! Google, being the detailed mega that it is, breaks down each search term in excruciating detail. I often look at these terms as I manage my marketing company (in my other life). Today I impulsively checked on the breakdown of the search term “sex”. I expected a huge turnout. What I got was a worldwide OBSESSION! Especially unusual during the Christmas season. I figured more people would be searching “gift” or “Jesus”. I’ll let you look at all three. The links are below:



I Wrote A Poem For Britney Spears – Look!

Please note that I am completely serious and not apologizing for my screwed up opinion here.  This was inspired by Britney, I will not hide, but I will try sauerkraut later this evening.  Enjoy!

She’s So Dead

I told you so, she boldly
Lies before her fans now cold and moldy
Makeup artists making their last stand
A swan song for the ugly duckling
She didn’t ever care who she was fuckling
So now why should we care now that she’s dead and gone
I rue the day that these shallow blondes who are propped up
By fanfare and media throngs
Become the woman’s idea of an empowered femme
Little growing girlies way to small to flaunt their
Short and curlies, same to me as little common slutttt

The trash we love and the glitter we praise
Has a leader who’s so toxic she’ll soon autograph her grave
And when she’s dead she’ll beat this eager press that turned against her
And she’ll die into legend, like a soft bed of relief afloat in silken water
She’s so dead, can’t you see?  I think you see just fine.
You just choose to be simple, boring, and blind.

But I think we know we’ve hit a new low
With the new pop slut superstar glow
When we see that now children and their parents are hurt
By the influence of intoxicating, glittering dirt
And the desire of teenies to do just the same
As what their favorite stars sell them tattooed with their name.

From heretoforth let it be clear
She’s so dead just a walking veneer
Of all that will embarrass us and shame us
In retrospect, a future to be lived


After she’s dead so maybe we can
Start over again..

“Kiss Me Honey, Kiss Me Where It Smells Funny”

I want to make a commercial.  Man, woman, picnic, sun, dog, tag, you’re it, and all of the other parts of an idyllic Summer’s day.  Laughing.  Food being inserted into cranial orifice.  Chewing, rolling on green fluffy grass and not a stain or meadow muffin to dampen the glorious horizontal pirouette.  Now with woman a distance away from rolling with such zeal, he turns to the camera and says,

“This may look like a picnic.  But when my doctor told me I had Penile Excrement Evanescence , there were to be no more picnics.

I was always wondering, ‘can they see?’  ‘does my wife worry when I am at work?’ or “Does my Chad smell like a hammer?”  It was not easy.

That is until my doctor told me about a new pill called Peninoscos.  Peninoscos lets me live the life I’ve always missed due to PEE (Penile Excrement Evanescence).   Now, in a wide range of flavors and potencies, Peninoscos had redefined our sex life.  No longer will my wife vomit on my nipples and tell the dog to lick it off.  She will not have to dig up a doody from the toilet in order to kill the smell of my penis.  Neighbors will stop calling the police to report a dead body only to find me and my wife naked holding a shit with the dog licking vomit off my nipples.  That can be quite embarrassing.

(wife finds a pogo stick and pogos into the dirt beside them, getting it stuck, falling off, and falling on the bottle of wine, smashing it and slicing her face, filling a wine glass with blood from her eviscerated noggin.  Man turns his head back to face the scene and excuses himself from the “interview sequence”.

Couple Scene Resumes)

Man dabs at her bloody wound with the picnic blanket when the wife says:

“Mark, I smell it again.  Did you –

(man cuts her off)

“No honey, I did not take my peninoscos.”

“Well take it so our picnic can be magical again!”

(man takes the pill and passionately kisses his wife)

“Kiss me honey, Kiss me where it smells funny”

Now a chorus sings the tag line as the commercial ends.  A passionate chorus repeats:

“Kiss me Honey, Kiss me where it smells funny.”

(Fade Out)

Voiceover: “Use only as directed”

Hello world!

I feel like declaring my love for bad girls.  I passionately love strippers, porn stars, and rockers.  I am aware that they only date drug-addled wife beaters, so I HAVE SOME WORK TO DO SINCE I AM NEITHER OF THESE.  Sorry for the caps.  I accidentally hit the caps lock.  I’ve been know to do that since I type with my penis.

Here’s a poem:

Up the stairs you’ll find a place to unbuckle these shoesies

and when you do you’ll see my dog.  His name is Buckley.  Your name is Chad!  Hang Chad Hang!

Never let them tell you than your brave endeavor to learn my secret was in vain.

I left you with strong goody(ie?) bag and the sun is mightly on the plain.

HAVe you no idea what this subtle yet growing noise is from the lair.

Geez, you reached this second landing, from this aforementioned parade of stairs.

It’s me and Beckie, the girl you paid for at the club last night.  I told her I loved her and she spent the night

arguing the benefits of vegetarianism and a platonic relationship between lumps of penis in her mouth.

We have no relationship so don’t scream HEY!

Hey is for horses, so gallop down those stairs and ramble on to your white jacket.  Super gay.

I want to take a nap.  My life is spicy, you are a lonely nice guy with no feet of his own

just a leash and a wheel below allowing the powers of C’Mon AMERICA! to

steel you where they may.

Just a note they told me so

they’d make me under the mask in sight, a living spot of reduction, a date, a lapse

the dog indecisive.  Beckie is hungry

your lamp is sweet.  My life is lonely so I pepper it with flesh.

Fleeting and mysetrious

like the path of the tide when it runs away to an opulent sea

never to be recombined in that manner

ever again.