This is the Honey Daryl. He’s pretty badass. Ew he’s got a snake? Honey Daryl is nasty, he don’t give a fuck. Honey Daryl is just crazy! The Honey Daryl has been described as the highest man in all of Canada. He really doesn’t give a shit. The Honey Daryl has no regard for any other animal whatsoever. Look he’s just grunting and fucking your mom. Honey Daryl don’t give a fuck he takes what he wants! Oh look he’s chasing things and eating them.

Now what’s interesting is that other animals just like to wait around until the Honey Daryl is done eating or fucking and then they run in to get his sloppy seconds. They say you just do what you want to her, Honey Daryl, and we’ll use one of the other holes. I ruined all the holes says the Honey Daryl.

At night time the Honey Daryl goes raiding cuz he wants legendaries. Look! Here comes a fierce battle between Deathwing and the Honey Daryl. I wonder what’ll happen. Get away from me, says Deathwing, get away from me! Honey Daryl don’t care. Honey Daryl smacks the shit out of him. Little does the Honey Daryl know, fyi, he’s been smoking all day. The smoke fills his lungs and he passes out. Look at that sleepy fuck. Now the Honey Daryl’s just gonna pass out for a few minutes. And he’s gonna get right back up and start raiding again!

Honey Daryl. Fucking crazy!

Yesterday marked the first annual McKenna Fest, a celebration of our favorite little tool Mckenna. And what a day it was! The server’s finest banded together to fill a middle aged man’s in game mail box with assorted turtle based goods and cryptic words such as the chemical properties of glass and ‘hot pockets!’

The History

For those of you who don’t know or don’t play warcraft (well aren’t you fancy, having a life and knowing the warmth of a woman) Mckenna is a human Mage famous for attacking you once or twice while with a group and then running away like an alter boy in a particularly frisky church setting. He’ll do anything to get away from a fight he started.

Once the fight is through and the trail of piss leading to his frightened body has dried he will send you messages in game about how superior he is and how you can’t beat him. He has short term memory issues apparently. When he does come on to talk shit there is but one response: I like turtles. It drives him crazy. It’s like telling a child with turrets that there is no santa clause or like telling a jew that there is no holocaust. Holoclause? Anyway, it’s awesome.

To honor this shell of a man, McKenna Fest was born. He annoyed us with his antics, now it’s our turn.

The Event

This is a three part event. There’s the Running of the Deez, the Sending of the Meat, and the Raping of the Land. The idea is to send Mckenna turtle meat or other turtle related items in game, thus flooding his mailbox with a stream of mail that must be addressed. There are some simple guidelines to be followed to ensure proper meat insertion.

• Only use turtle meat, with other turtle based items as a supplement.
• All meat insertion is done from a newly formed alliance character which is to be deleted after the mail is sent.
• Text must be added to the mail, otherwise a mail program could easily breeze through the mess. Text could include ASCII art of turtles, tooltip text for attacks Mckenna should be using but doesn’t, the chemical properties of things, etc. Be creative!
• Items must be attached to messages one at a time. If you have 20 items, you’re sending 20 messages.

The Running of the Deez

The event starts with a friendly game of cat and mouse. And by friendly I mean fucking creepy. There was Deez, a balding dwarf and me, a glistening naked black man. Magnificence in human form. For 20 minutes I chased his un-willing hole from Stormwind to Ironforge. “I will fuck that dwarf!’ the only thought running through my mind.

Next year it doesn’t have to be anywhere near this weird, but there will be a chase. We will all get naked and run him down, making the streets of Stormwind as moist with desire as our dirty bodies. Or you guys can all prepare for the event responsibly while I do creepy things with Deez. Whatever floats your boat.

The Sending of the Meat

Once I got what I wanted out of that tiny, now worn out ass, it was time to pound some meat in Mckenna’s mail hole. Over 500 turtle meat was collected for the event along with 40 turtle bisques, 50+ giant turtle tongues, and a selection of other turtle named items. All together we must have sent around 800+ items. The game takes an hour to send mail to someone, we had an hour to do the dirty and get deleted. I personally had the added bonus of CT’s female Night Elf dancing for me the whole time. The man has a problem.

The Raping of the Land

After we forced the meat in there we get on our mains to attack Theramore in the hopes ol Mckenna will be fucked up on Hot Pockets and Red Bull, making him too strung out to ignore us. The idea is to have him arrive and start fighting right as he gets the mail. Unfortunately it didn’t work out that way. He didn’t come out. I guess no one cares about Theramore anymore. Or he was busy with his mail who knows. Next year we’ll have to attack a better city.

Join us next year on February 4th for McKenna Fest 2013. There will be more meat and we will get banned for sure this time! None of this polite warning bullshit.

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.

Snickerdoodle

The standard rape cookie. The name is absurd and sounds like a sex move. The cookie is delicious though. There’s nothing fancy to the rape that comes with a snickerdoodle. It’s simple and performed by only one attacker. Both the victim and the rapist can be either male or female.

Chcolate chip

The cookie is a little more basic and mainstream than the snickerdoodle and is not used with full on rape. The chocolate chip cookie is used when you are blown, fingered, jerked off, or any other method of bad touched in an Arby’s bathroom. Like the snickerdoodle, the chocolate chip cookie is gender neutral.

Fudge brownie (no nuts)

The brownie is for when you start to rape someone but part way through they start to enjoy it. And I mean really enjoy it. Like they just found their soul mate behind a dirty dumpster. This situation involves a lot of luck. You may not give the wrong cookie. The food must always match the act. In this situation you must give brownies with no nuts. You have to be confident enough that your rape is good enough to make the victim fall in love with you but you also have to be prepared to fail and just commit normal rape. Always bring snicker doodles along with you just in case.

Cannoli

The sex cannoli is very specific. Cannolis are awarded after forcing a blow job onto someone. This is not location specific like the chocolate chip cookie and if done in an Arby’s bathroom you must skip the cannoli and give chocolate chip cookies instead. The cannoli is slightly gender specific. The rapist can be either male or female but the victim has to have a dick. That’s how blow jobs work.

Lox and onion on bagel (not prepared)

This is given when three rabbis drag you into an ally and fill your three most prominent holes with jewish vengeance. The food is presented in parts with each rabbi giving you the lox, onion, and bagel separately. You must assemble it yourself, adding a slight sense of shame if the cookie after rape method was used.

Lox and onion on bagel (prepared)

You must be jewish for this but you do not have to be a rabbi. Also, you do this solo. The lox and onion on bagel works the same as the snickerdoodle with the only difference being you’re jewish. Simple.

Christmas cookies

The cookies used must resemble Christmas stuff. Santa, snowmen, candy canes, etc. Simple sugar cookies are not acceptable. The rape involves a man dressed as Santa Clause and you must be raped around Christmas. Unlike department stores, around Christmas does not mean the end of September. Anything within the two week period leading up to Christmas counts.

Sugar cookies

Use sugar cookies if you’re a diabetic or if you’re molesting one. If you give sugar cookies to a diabetic rape victim you add an extra layer of sadness onto their day. If you want it to end with happy memories you may default to snicker doodles.

Krispy Kream doughnut

Give a Krispy Kream when a bukake style gang bang takes place. At least five rapists must be present and the victim must have a body to cum ratio of 2:1. Add one doughnut for each additional grouping of five rapists.

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.

Cliff notes version

There’s a boy band in concert and there’s auto tune everywhere. Prepubescent girls are going crazy and everything is moist. In the back of the room there’s a light. The crowd turns to see a post chemo demi god floating and glowing and singing in a gentle lady voice. Everyone looks on him with horror as he floats to the stage. When he gets there the only thing that could possibly happen does happen: a dance off. And by dance off I mean the boys take turns dancing and then getting shot in the neck by a laser beam from chemo Jesus.

Now everyone’s eyes are closed. Probably praying because why not. Jesus is there and even though he’s clearly gone through cancer treatment he still has powers. He murdered a boy band with laser breath for fuck’s sake! Their prayers are answered because the band is alive again…and chemo Jesus is part of it and they’re all wearing white pants and jackets but no shirts. Because I was wondering what chemo Jesus’s ribs looked like.

Now everything is back to normal. There’s singing and dancing and moistness and a giant fat black guy’s head in the back of the room. Yes that’s right there’s a fat black head in the back of the room. Chemo God knows what’s about to go down so he runs while Carl Winslow’s severed head kills the entire room with eye lasers.

And that’s it.

You’re welcome!

Stop.

I could leave it at that but the internet is made for long-winded, self masturbatory dribble.

Do you guys have any success with your methods? Ever since I launched this blog the comments have been filled with “Great article, this helped a lot!” from “people” named Free College Degree, Nursing School Grants, Toshiba Battery, and Your Penis Just Isn’t Good Enough. My email tells a more harrowing tale. When I wake up and check my email each day I have 50 messages. On a busy work week three of those are genuine and the rest are about my penis. Don’t get me wrong, I’m deeply moved by your concern with my penis. I appreciate you letting me know there’s a pill that can essentially hurt women in horrible yet sensual ways. But you already told me about it once so the three thousandth attempt won’t make me think differently. I’ve already made a conscious decision not to go to law school or feed a pill to my dick…I think that’s how it works. That would make the most sense. Why does my mouth eat the pill if it’s for my weenis? Hey maybe you should spam my inbox with that explanation!

I don’t know if you’ve noticed but people spend more time deleting spam than clicking the links you sent them. Did you know people have been developing ways to block your shit? Crazy right? I know you’re having a hard time believing that’s true but it is. I’ve seen it. Hell I’m using some of it right now (nothing personal…sorry).

You might be thinking I don’t want to hear from you again. Don’t be that way spammer you got it all wrong! I’ve enjoyed some of your less successful attempts at making me buy bulk viagra online. Like the time the email subject was “You won’t believe what horses can do to people!” and the message was a three paragraph long story about a guy and his grandkid on a fishing trip. No one got fucked by a horse. No one’s dick grew. It was literally a story about fishing. On that day, spammer, you made me giggle. Do more of that. Tell me I’ll never find a government job unless I take a one week online course but also tell me about an old lady who accidentally went to Mexico and got a tattoo of another old lady on her thigh.

So please, gentle spammer, stop your shenanigans. Pretty please?

Yours in Christ,
All of the internet.