One summer in a family pizza shop it was discovered that the gift of freshly baked cookies could affect a victim’s perception of what just happened after getting raped. There are two disciplines: cookies before the rape and cookies after. Both techniques fuck with the mind in very different ways.
Cookies before the rape
The rapist offers you a basket of freshly baked, still warm from the oven cookies. You’re given the opportunity to eat the cookies and upon finishing you’re spun around and viciously sodomized. Throughout the entire experience you’re not thinking “holy shit I’m getting raped”. You’re thinking “Mmmm those were some tasty…what the fuck? Ow! God dammit why!? Those cookies were good but…fuck this sucks!” You effectively divide the thinking of your victim, forever changing the way they think about cookies. Use this method to maximize the harm inflicted.
Cookies after the rape
The rapist does terrible things to your unwilling body and once he’s found no more use for you, you’re presented with a basket of freshly baked, still warm from the oven cookies. You’re left laying there in a puddle of your own anus blood but all you can think about is “damn those cookies smell good!” The last thing you remember from the experience isn’t the fact that a guy in a Star Trek t-shirt just finished inside of you. You remember the cookies. The rape was just a small hurdle on the way to them. Use this method to remain on speaking terms with your victim.
With this my brother and I revolutionized forced sex. But our work was not done. Just as there is not one type of rape, there is not one type of cookie. In some circumstances other foods may be more appropriate. Continue reading →
I type this now on a display that is only dimly lit. I turned it on at 10:00 and with any luck it’ll be fully lit by 11:30 or so. My trusty old Samsung display is suffering. It’s a slow death which grips her. The tubes which offer light to guide pictures of cats with captions are slowly dying out. I no can haz comfort right now.
But you will not go gentle into that good night. You will not be put down as we would an ailing pet. You will have a warriors death. A death on the battle field doing your duty until your duty rends you in twain that is the end I would wish for you. And together we will meet such an end! My noble widescreen display you have served me well these past 4 years. You’ve given light to the most wonderful and most horrible parts of the internet. Everything from cats to singing fat men to guys getting fucked to death by horses. We’re not done yet. There is still much to see. You and I will continue to view the horrid spectacles of the world. We’ll continue to make websites with the grace of a Stephen Hawking ballet dancer. We’ll continue to use pictures of boobs to fill the empty void in my heart in the next 10 minutes.
So rage, dear Samsung display. Rage against the dying of your light.
This will mark the first year in quite a long time where I’m not dreading the coming holiday. I’m typically used to heaping amounts of arguing and other such drama. Memories of gifts flying down stairs come to mind. Being yelled at for having fun and laughing is a pretty solid Walsh family tradition too. I think my favorite so far was last year where my brother, dad, and I were talking and laughing and having as good a time as could be had in that house just to have dear old mother put some irish people singing Christmas songs on tv and then act like we’re ruining Christmas because she can’t hear the potato farmers croon the holidays in style. For the record, the combo of my mother and the irish guy with the mullet singing comes second to my desire to watch someone use Danny Devito as a condom and viciously fuck the shit out of a T-rex display at a museum. Just to be fair, that’s a hard one to beat. I dare any of you to look me in the eye and tell me that wouldn’t earn itself at least one curious glance from you.
But this year will be different. I’ve escaped the mess and I actually woke up today without having to prep myself for stress. I can’t really come up with a scenario for the next few days that involves getting yelled at for having a good time. Fucking weird, right? I didn’t have money for gifts again this year and I wasn’t made to feel like shit because of it. That blew my mind I didn’t think you could do that. Sure there’s still noise but this year it’s because people are having fun, not because someone had the audacity to spend Christmas with their spouses family this year. I think the need to see Danny Devito forced into a dinosaur is sort of lower on my list for once. I don’t know how I feel about that.
So anyway, Merry Christmas, or Kwanzaa, or Hanukkah, or whatever your skin color tells you you’re supposed to call this.
So much oddity here. Boy bands still exist and I watched one of their videos. Nothing in the world is right. But this video is worth the watch. If you don’t feel like watching it skip ahead to the cliff notes version I have for you. If you do watch it, watch the entire thing to fully grasp just how amazing it is.
Yeah my brain hurts too. I’m really hoping this is an April fools thing. Whether it is or not, read all about it here, here, here, and here.
Google this phenomenon and you’ll find several sites talking about it. The mind fuck here is it’s mostly posted on good ol April fools day. I really want to believe it’s an April fools prank truly I do. But I went to a college where more money was spent on pez dispensers and little frightened dogs than the always broken printers and whatever it costs to make sure illustration teachers stay in the room and are awake at all times. Joke or not something like this disgustingly possible. Continue reading →
Some say it’s a myth, others say it’s a housewife. I say it’s the winds giving us messages from the future. And there’s seven of those things so listen up!
The mystical shaman was born during the Dance of the Laughing Fire in the year 5. It was the largest gathering of Indians who wanted to fuck each other to date. And fuck they did. Piles of red skinned naked people writhing around a fire bigger than God. The impassioned blaze cackled in the night under a moon that wished it could look away. But it could not. Fate happened this day and god damn it moon you’re going to watch. You’ll watch and you’ll take notes for tonight a soothsayer is being pounded into existence. Continue reading →
