Beauty campaigns

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    85 Responses to Beauty campaigns

    1. Well to me Victoria’s done a better job

      Reply

      • Of what, failing to have any self awareness? Having a campaign called “Love My Body” and promoting it with a bunch of stick figure supermodels is patently stupid.

        Reply

        • derp
          Mind blower:
          Both ads are objectifying women and in doing so boosting sales.
          Dove is letting you know you can be a fat pig. They support you. btw there’s a new cream for your fat from your good pals at Dove.
          VS is selling underwear. Sexy underwear women with nice bodies can wear to show off their efforts.
          1 rewards effort.
          1 validates sloth and pushes the notion that you can fix anything with the right cream or pill even fat and age.
          So get on board, stupids. You all just supported the team that tells women they can be unsightly because Dove will protect them with false advertising aimed at pandering to lazy fat women just before raping their wallets with empty promises.
          Good job! lol

          Reply

          • HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            Reply

      • Of course they did.

        VC is selling underwear.

        Dove is selling bullshit.

        Reply

        • Sorry VS.

          I wouldn’t want the faggot or retard pouncing on another typo or anything lol

          Reply

          • HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

            “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

            DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

            GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

            Reply

          • There’s a difference between just hitting the wrong key and not knowing what word to use or how to properly construct a sentence. Everyone hits the wrong key every once in a while, but a person claiming advanced higher education should certainly have the appropriate language skills.

            Reply

            • Your assertion that my grammar is bad means nothing. You’re a fucking idiot who can’t properly navigate English to save his life. Why would you be in a position to judge or criticize anyone? lol

              lol
              I just did some digging
              Most of the ‘downvotes’ are from the same 4 IP addresses
              DID YOU ACTUALLY GO TO ANOTHER COMPUTER JUST TO VISIT THIS SITE 5 PAGES BACK TO CLICK ON A THUMBS DOWN OVER AND OVER????????
              olololOLOLolOlOloLoLolOloOLooLoLOoLlOLolOlOLoOlOL

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        • HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

          “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

          DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

          GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

          HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

          “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

          DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

          GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

          HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

          “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

          DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

          GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

          HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

          “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

          DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

          GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

          HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

          “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

          DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

          GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

          HI, I’M GEORGE ZIMMER, FOUNDER AND CEO OF THE MEN’S WEARHOUSE. 9/11 WAS A LIE. THERE WERE NO TOWEL HEADS. THERE WAS NO AIRPLANE. IN TRUTH I WAS VISITING THE BIG APPLE, SO AS TO COMPARE MY GARGANTUAN MEAT TRAIN TO IT AND LAUGH AT THE GASPING NEW YORKERS AS I POUNDED THEIR BELOVED NAMESAKE INTO BIG APPLE SAUCE. HAVING NOT GOTTEN RELEASE FROM MY CULINARY EXERCISE, I MEANDERED DOWN THE STREET WITH MY VITAL BLOOD ENGORGED SEWER PIPE OUT IN FRONT OF ME LIKE A BLIND MAN’S CANE, LOOKING FOR A HOLE IN THE BACKSIDE OF A WOMAN WHICH I WOULD STRETCH BEYOND HUMAN LIMITS. I SPOTTED AT THAT VERY MOMENT AN ATTRACTIVE FEMALE IN A MINISKIRT WAVING AT ME. I SLAPPED HER TO THE GROUND WITH MY ENORMOUS PHALLUS AND QUICKLY RAVISHED HER SKIRT LIKE A STARVED DOG ON A BABY MADE OF STEAK. THE SIGHT THAT AWAITED BOTH SHOCKED AND ENRAGED ME. AFTER SEEING THIS “WOMAN’S” RAISIN-SIZED WINKY WINKLER, I VOMITED DOWN HIS THROAT AND PENETRATED HIS ESOPHAGUS, RIPPED OUT HIS SPINE AND PEELED HIS CORPSE FROM MY MONEYMAKER. TO TEACH ALL OF NEW YORK A LESSON FOR LETTING THIS FLAMING FAG BAG LIVE, I LET LOOSE A SEMENAL FLOOD OF BIBLICAL PROPORTIONS UPON THE TOWERS OF TWO (AT WHOM’S SMALL SIZE I LAUGHED LIKE A CLOWN RAPING AN 8 YEAR OLD), WHICH CAUSED THEM TO COME CRASHING DOWN LIKE ME AFTER A WEEKEND METH BINGE. I MOCKED THE NEW YORKERS AND MADE NIGGER JOKES AS THEY RAN FROM MY EVER EXPANDING CLOUD OF SPERMAZOA, MASTURBATING TO THE LOOKS OF HORROR ON THEIR FACES. THE GOVERNMENT, IN AN ATTEMPT TO SAVE FACE AND BECAUSE THEY HATE ARABS MORE THAN JEWS, PAINTED A BOEING 767 ON MY GIGANTIC COCK AND CALLED IT A TERRORIST ATTACK. THE FEELING OF PAINTBRUSHES ON MY DICK MADE ME COME AGAIN, AND PRESIDENT BUSH SNORTED UP EVERY LAST DROP BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS COKE. SUDDENLY, HE CRIED OUT, “WHAT’S THAT AMAZING SMELL?” THEN A GROSSLY OBESE NEGRO POPPED OUT FROM BEHIND THE BURNING, TWISTED WRECKAGE OF THE WORLD TRADE CENTERS AND QUIPPED, “THAT’S THE POWER OF PINE-SOL!” DISPLEASED AT HER INTERRUPTION OF MY DEVASTATING SODOMY CONQUEST, YET SIMULTANEOUSLY ODDLY AROUSED BY A SUB-HUMANS DEFIANCE IN THE FACE OF MY TITANIC MEAT MONOLITH, I GRABBED THE NEGRESS BY HER ARMS AND INSERTED MY BATTLE CRUISER OF PASSION INTO THE ROILING WAVES OF FAT WHICH OBSCURED HER VAGINAL CLEFT. SHE SCREAMED INDECHIPHERABLY IN EBONICS, SO TO SHUT HER UP I POURED ALL THE CONTENTS OF THE PINE-SOL BOTTLE DOWN HER THROAT. UNFORTUNATELY, THE CHEMICALS IN THE LIQUID COMBINED WITH MY UNEARTHLY SUPER-SEMEN TO FORM A HIGHLY UNSTABLE AND EXPLOSIVE MIXTURE OF PURE POWER. JUST BEFORE THE FAT NEGRESS BLEW APART AS A RESULT OF THE INCREDIBLE CHEMICAL REACTION, MY MOTHER GOT SCARED AND SAID, “YOU’RE MOVING WITH YOUR AUNTIE AND UNCLE IN BEL-AIR.” I WHISTLED FOR A CAB AND WHEN IT CAME NEAR, THE LICENSE PLATE SAID ‘FRESH’ AND IT HAD DICE IN THE MIRROR. IF ANYTHING I COULD SAY THAT THIS CAB WAS RARE, BUT I THOUGHT, ‘NAH, FORGET IT, YOU HOLMES, TO BEL-AIR!” I PULLED UP TO THE HOUSE ABOUT SEVEN OR EIGHT AND I YELLED TO THE CABBY, YO HOLMES, SMELL YA LATER!” I LOOKED AT MY KINGDOM, I WAS FINALLY THERE, TO SIT ON MY THRONE AS THE PRINCE OF BEL-AIR. ONCE I ENTERED MY NEW, PALATIAL ABODE (ALMOST, BUT NOT QUITE, WORTHY OF MY INCALCULABLY HUGE MEAT MISSILE) I IMMEDIATELY SWEPT MY NEW FOSTER PARENTS ASIDE AND HEADED FOR THE ROOM OF THEIR YOUNG NIECE. YOU SEE, I JUST SPENT THE LAST TWENTY MINUTES RUBBING A TWELVE YEAR OLD GIRL’S BARE CHEST. “HOW?” YOU ASK. WELL APPARENTLY THERE ARE A SELECT FEW CONTEXTS WITHIN WHICH SUCH AN ACTION IS ACCEPTABLE. FOR INSTANCE, IF YOUR NIECE HAS A HACKING COUGH AND YOUR SISTER ASKS YOU TO “PUT SOME OF THIS ON HER” WHILE SHE CALLS THE DOCTOR.

          “PUTTING SOME OF THIS ON HEAR” MEANT USING MY BARE HANDS TO RUB THIS VAPOR OINTMENT SHIT ALL OVER HER BARE NAKED CHEST. MY HEARTBEAT IS STILL ALL ERRATIC FROM IT. I HAD A BONER THE SIZE OF MANHATTAN THE ENTIRE TIME. SHE’S SLEEPING NOW AND I GUESS SHE FEELS BETTER BECAUSE SHE STOPPED COUGHING.

          DETAILS: SHE’S ABOUT 5 FEET TALL, HAS LONG BROWN HAIR, A CUTE FACE, A THIN WAIST AND LONG SKINNY LEGS. SHE’S IN JAMMIES I THINK BECAUSE ALTHOUGH I’M PRETTY SHAKEN UP RIGHT NOW I KNOW I UNBUTTONED SOMETHING BEFORE I WENT AT IT.

          GOD I FEEL SO GREAT. I JUST RUBBED MY HANDS LAL OVER HER FUCKING TITS, YOU GUYS. WELL THE PUFFY PARTS OF HER CHEST ANYWAY. HER NIPPLES GOT HARD. I JUST ABOUT WEPT TEARS OF JOY. OBVIOUSLY, THERE ARE VERY FEW THINGS IN THIS UNIVERSE WHICH CAN BRING ME TO SUCH A STATE, AND COMBINED WITH MY INCREDIBLE STATE OF AROUSAL, I WAS UNABLE TO HOLD BACK THE STORM BREWING IN MY COLOSSAL PUDDING BLASTER. MY STEAMING-HOT SILVER LAVA BLASTED OUT FURIOUSLY, INSTANTLY KILLING MY UNFORTUNATE YOUNG COUSIN AND REDUCING MY NEW HOME TO BLASTED BITS AND PIECES OF WOODEN DETRITUS. I GUARANTEE IT.

          Reply

    2. Hmm, if I had to compare:
      Top:
      All of them are very thin. All of them have the same kind of hairstyle. All of them are near the same height. None of them are smiling. If I met them on the street, I would assume they were bitchy and arrogant.
      Bottom:
      All of them are smiling. All kinds of different hairstyles. All are different heights. All of them are curvy. If I met them on the street, I would assume they were fun and approachable.
      Dove wins this round.

      Reply

    3. The Dove campaign is just promoting women who are too lazy to exercise and eat healthy, then say they are real women and they are empowering. Give me the Victoria’s Secret any day, they are the better of the two, but not by much, too skeletal for my taste.

      Reply

      • The Dove campaign is NOT promoting women who are to lazy to exercise or eat healthy, it’s promoting self esteem and loving your body for what it is, because not everyone is the same in this world, every persons body is made differently in so many ways and I know plenty of women who eat as healthy as possible and exercise and are still “thicker” despite it, but they try just so they can be accepted by DOUCHEBAGS like you, which is fucking sad! I’d rather have some woman or man for that matter who actually eats food, rather than starve or purge themselves everyday to look so called “HOT” as this day in time would considering those anorexic super models. I am sick of seeing woman who look like little boys because of bastard men! DISGUSTING what this world has become. Ignorant thinkers like you make me sick! Go die in a fire.

        Reply

        • stfu fatass

          lol

          fatty dont like that nobody wants her fat.

          real women are like the Vic Secret campaign. Go look around. They’re everywhere.

          Nobody likes fat women because they’re useless.

          you fat useless disgusting pig

          Reply

          • Our male perception is that many of the women around us are like that, because we find a great percentage of them attractive (it kinda helps us propogate the species).
            However, if you look at objective measurements and the photoshopped perfection of those models versus the real, fit women that you find attractive, you will discover that real women are more like the Dove campaign than the 5’8″, 102 lb, 32-26-30 models in most every other advertisement out there.
            Women, however, see the ads and are lead to believe that perfection is the only form men think is attractive (thanks to comments like yours), which takes a serious toll on their self-perception and health.

            Reply

            • no that’s bullshit

              you’ve been lied to

              sorry.

              fit women are not blubbering fatasses

              you have simply been fed some lies. look at objective reality. fat women are just useless and the notion that it’s men’s fault that they’re fat or unhappy about being fat is just a few fat women congregating and making up some bullshit to make themselves feel better about being no use to anyone and difficult to look at clothed let alone naked

              that dove ad feeds into bullshit to justify laziness. you think you’re the informed one and are above the standard when in fact you’re the one who is devouring the media’s messages instead of analysing the intent and reason and understanding that it is in contrast to reality. Beauty is subjective to a point. That point is a body fat index

              Reply

            • Obviously a woman talking here.

              Look, you can’t fool us, honey.

              We know what we like.

              We don’t like lazy fat ass bitches.

              Now make me a goddamn sandwich.

              Reply

            • Hi Demon you fat disgusting eye sore!

              How’s poverty?

              Oh I don’t post anonymously.

              Also…lol at everyone who is championing the unhealthy as a solution to the unhealthy.

              I have long been a proponent of exercise and the women I like and the effort they put it illicit the response from you that their effort is too much for fatties they don’t look what you and your fellow blobs of sad have termed ‘womanly’.

              Top pic: little thin but at least fuckable
              Bottom pic: bottom of the barrel below average blubber that none of you would consider fucking if you didn’t have to.

              “Let’s all pretend we so high standards that we would turn down normal girls.”
              Retard

              There it is. You WOULD have have standards if you could and this statement readily admits the top pic holds the more attractive bunch but since the fat and the sad of this board couldn’t ever in their lives even hope to get laid with an actually beautiful woman they fall back on fatties and claim it’s a choice.

              Exactly what I’ve always said.

              Thanks for saying hi, cunt! I hope some day you can make half as much as a man. You instead of 1/8 like you do now.

              Go look for some more gross pictures, fat. You need some attention and your fat disgusting ass sure as shit ain’t getting it in real life.

              Reply

            • Rabble rabble! Let’s all get mad at the guy trying too hard to be offensive.

              Reply

            • Hi Demon you fat disgusting eye sore!
              How’s poverty?
              Oh I don’t post anonymously.
              Also…lol at everyone who is championing the unhealthy as a solution to the unhealthy.
              I have long been a proponent of exercise and the women I like and the effort they put it illicit the response from you that their effort is too much for fatties they don’t look what you and your fellow blobs of sad have termed ‘womanly’.
              Top pic: little thin but at least fuckable
              Bottom pic: bottom of the barrel below average blubber that none of you would consider fucking if you didn’t have to.
              “Let’s all pretend we so high standards that we would turn down normal girls.”
              Retard
              There it is. You WOULD have have standards if you could and this statement readily admits the top pic holds the more attractive bunch but since the fat and the sad of this board couldn’t ever in their lives even hope to get laid with an actually beautiful woman they fall back on fatties and claim it’s a choice.
              Exactly what I’ve always said.
              Thanks for saying hi, cunt! I hope some day you can make half as much as a man. You instead of 1/8 like you do now.
              Go look for some more gross pictures, fat. You need some attention and your fat disgusting ass sure as shit ain’t getting it in real life.

              Reply

            • wicca wicca remix

              Hi Demon you fat disgusting eye sore!
              How’s poverty?
              Oh I don’t post anonymously.
              Also…lol at everyone who is championing the unhealthy as a solution to the unhealthy.
              I have long been a proponent of exercise and the women I like and the effort they put it illicit the response from you that their effort is too much for fatties they don’t look what you and your fellow blobs of sad have termed ‘womanly’.
              Top pic: little thin but at least fuckable
              Bottom pic: bottom of the barrel below average blubber that none of you would consider fucking if you didn’t have to.
              “Let’s all pretend we so high standards that we would turn down normal girls.”
              Retard
              There it is. You WOULD have have standards if you could and this statement readily admits the top pic holds the more attractive bunch but since the fat and the sad of this board couldn’t ever in their lives even hope to get laid with an actually beautiful woman they fall back on fatties and claim it’s a choice.
              Exactly what I’ve always said.
              Thanks for saying hi, cunt! I hope some day you can make half as much as a man. You instead of 1/8 like you do now.
              Go look for some more gross pictures, fat. You need some attention and your fat disgusting ass sure as shit ain’t getting it in real life.

              Reply

            • AH SID REE MIX

              Hi Demon you fat disgusting eye sore!
              How’s poverty?
              Oh I don’t post anonymously.
              Also…lol at everyone who is championing the unhealthy as a solution to the unhealthy.
              I have long been a proponent of exercise and the women I like and the effort they put it illicit the response from you that their effort is too much for fatties they don’t look what you and your fellow blobs of sad have termed ‘womanly’.
              Top pic: little thin but at least fuckable
              Bottom pic: bottom of the barrel below average blubber that none of you would consider fucking if you didn’t have to.
              “Let’s all pretend we so high standards that we would turn down normal girls.”
              Retard
              There it is. You WOULD have have standards if you could and this statement readily admits the top pic holds the more attractive bunch but since the fat and the sad of this board couldn’t ever in their lives even hope to get laid with an actually beautiful woman they fall back on fatties and claim it’s a choice.
              Exactly what I’ve always said.
              Thanks for saying hi, cunt! I hope some day you can make half as much as a man. You instead of 1/8 like you do now.
              Go look for some more gross pictures, fat. You need some attention and your fat disgusting ass sure as shit ain’t getting it in real life.

              Reply

      • None of the girls in the dove advert are overweight.

        Reply

    4. The Victoria’s girls are going to look like the Dove girls as soon as the cocaine runs out, anyway –

      Reply

      • You’re a fag
        Mind blower:
        Both ads are objectifying women and in doing so boosting sales.
        Dove is letting you know you can be a fat pig. They support you. btw there’s a new cream for your fat from your good pals at Dove.
        VS is selling underwear. Sexy underwear women with nice bodies can wear to show off their efforts.
        1 rewards effort.
        1 validates sloth and pushes the notion that you can fix anything with the right cream or pill even fat and age.
        So get on board, stupids. You all just supported the team that tells women they can be unsightly because Dove will protect them with false advertising aimed at pandering to lazy fat women just before raping their wallets with empty promises.
        Good job! lol

        Reply

    5. Let’s all pretend we so high standards that we would turn down normal girls.

      Reply

      • Dove, 5th from the left…Gusto mio 😉

        Reply

        • lol

          ya…that’s who you would ogle in real life. Not the VC models.

          suuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrre

          Mind blower:
          Both ads are objectifying women and in doing so boosting sales.
          Dove is letting you know you can be a fat pig. They support you. btw there’s a new cream for your fat from your good pals at Dove.
          VS is selling underwear. Sexy underwear women with nice bodies can wear to show off their efforts.
          1 rewards effort.
          1 validates sloth and pushes the notion that you can fix anything with the right cream or pill even fat and age.
          So get on board, stupids. You all just supported the team that tells women they can be unsightly because Dove will protect them with false advertising aimed at pandering to lazy fat women just before raping their wallets with empty promises.
          Good job! lol

          Reply

    6. Victoria’s Secret Covet-My-Body-which-is-Only-Attainable-for-Half-a-Percent-of-Women-on-the-Planet-and-Even-Then-Only-for-Maybe-Ten-Years-Max Campaign

      Reply

    7. Victoria’s Secret went a little crazy when they went looking for thin models. Those girls look dangerously malnourished.

      Dove is indeed representative of what a lot of women look like. That doesn’t mean that that average should be our ultimate standard of beauty, nor does it mean that these women are automatically hideous.

      Reply

    8. Big surprise of the week, most of the guys like real women, Magnus goes for the cocaine addicted anorexic call girls.

      My whole world has been shaken to the core –

      Reply

      • Big surprise of the week: you again prove you can’t understand what you read.

        I say: both parties suck but the leftist lunatics are FAR worse and do nothing but cry.
        You say: you one of dem wepubwicanth aint you? I hate you cas ma TV toldy me tyoo

        I say: both women are unhealthy but at least the thin ones are fuckable.
        You say: oh tho you like doth den? You like cocan girth.

        Basically If someone doesn’t agree with you you just jump to completely made up assumptions based on people you’ve never met but have been conditioned to hate.

        You’re a drone and a serious victim of media crybaby brainwashing. Do you hate Iran yet? You will. Then you’ll love them. Then you’ll protest.

        You should get your cable and internet for free with all the free guerilla advertising you do for your provider with your crying and whining. Sorry…fighting lol.

        The only thing that will shake your world to the core is when it falls apart and the real world walks up and punches you repeatedly in your pussy ass little face, closet fag.

        Oh wait you have a gf. Let me guess she looks like one of the “real women” in the bottom pic? She’s a heffer! Zoooooooie!

        Know how I know you’re gay?

        Reply

        • “oh tho you like doth den? You like cocan girth”
          What exactly does that mean, Magnus? You’ve taken illiteracy to a new level – call me anything you like, it means nothing if it’s just mindless drivel.

          Reply

          • It’s obviously an imitation of you, you fucking tard.

            Oh so you like those then? You like cocaine girls?

            You see the s is replaced with a th to properly convey how retarded you are. It’s to show how juvenile and stupid your comments are.

            Understand yet?

            No?

            Well just pretend then and nod along.

            Reply

          • Big surprise of the week: you again prove you can’t understand what you read.
            I say: both parties suck but the leftist lunatics are FAR worse and do nothing but cry.
            You say: you one of dem wepubwicanth aint you? I hate you cas ma TV toldy me tyoo
            I say: both women are unhealthy but at least the thin ones are fuckable.
            You say: oh tho you like doth den? You like cocan girth.
            Basically If someone doesn’t agree with you you just jump to completely made up assumptions based on people you’ve never met but have been conditioned to hate.
            You’re a drone and a serious victim of media crybaby brainwashing. Do you hate Iran yet? You will. Then you’ll love them. Then you’ll protest.
            You should get your cable and internet for free with all the free guerilla advertising you do for your provider with your crying and whining. Sorry…fighting lol.
            The only thing that will shake your world to the core is when it falls apart and the real world walks up and punches you repeatedly in your pussy ass little face, closet fag.
            Oh wait you have a gf. Let me guess she looks like one of the “real women” in the bottom pic? She’s a heffer! Zoooooooie!
            Know how I know you’re gay?

            There it is again for you

            Reply

      • double shot

        Big surprise of the week: you again prove you can’t understand what you read.
        I say: both parties suck but the leftist lunatics are FAR worse and do nothing but cry.
        You say: you one of dem wepubwicanth aint you? I hate you cas ma TV toldy me tyoo
        I say: both women are unhealthy but at least the thin ones are fuckable.
        You say: oh tho you like doth den? You like cocan girth.
        Basically If someone doesn’t agree with you you just jump to completely made up assumptions based on people you’ve never met but have been conditioned to hate.
        You’re a drone and a serious victim of media crybaby brainwashing. Do you hate Iran yet? You will. Then you’ll love them. Then you’ll protest.
        You should get your cable and internet for free with all the free guerilla advertising you do for your provider with your crying and whining. Sorry…fighting lol.
        The only thing that will shake your world to the core is when it falls apart and the real world walks up and punches you repeatedly in your pussy ass little face, closet fag.
        Oh wait you have a gf. Let me guess she looks like one of the “real women” in the bottom pic? She’s a heffer! Zoooooooie!
        Know how I know you’re gay?

        Reply

    9. Mind blower:

      Both ads are objectifying women and in doing so boosting sales.

      Dove is letting you know you can be a fat pig. They support you. btw there’s a new cream for your fat from your good pals at Dove.

      VS is selling underwear. Sexy underwear women with nice bodies can wear to show off their efforts.

      1 rewards effort.

      1 validates sloth and pushes the notion that you can fix anything with the right cream or pill even fat and age.

      So get on board, stupids. You all just supported the team that tells women they can be unsightly because Dove will protect them with false advertising aimed at pandering to lazy fat women just before raping their wallets with empty promises.

      Good job! lol

      Reply

      • Mind blower:
        Both ads are objectifying women and in doing so boosting sales.
        Dove is letting you know you can be a fat pig. They support you. btw there’s a new cream for your fat from your good pals at Dove.
        VS is selling underwear. Sexy underwear women with nice bodies can wear to show off their efforts.
        1 rewards effort.
        1 validates sloth and pushes the notion that you can fix anything with the right cream or pill even fat and age.
        So get on board, stupids. You all just supported the team that tells women they can be unsightly because Dove will protect them with false advertising aimed at pandering to lazy fat women just before raping their wallets with empty promises.
        Good job! lol

        Reply

    10. Well that’s my 5 minutes!

      eat a dick ya’ll

      Reply

    11. My[confined]Space
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      Beauty campaigns
      (7 votes, average: 4.43 out of 5, rated)
      Posted on August 28, 2012 by Demon | Add to favorites

      Disclaimer: Unless specifically mentioned in the post, we have no clue where this picture came from. Know where it came from? Post the link in the comments, and reap the glory! All comments are the sole possesion of the commenters and do not reflect the opinions or values of MCS.
      This entry was posted in Images. Bookmark the permalink.

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      46 Responses to Beauty campaigns
      (UID# ) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 5 18
      August 28, 2012 at 4:46 am
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      nurgen (UID# 177884) Well-loved. Like or Dislike: 12 3
      August 28, 2012 at 5:30 am
      Of what, failing to have any self awareness? Having a campaign called “Love My Body” and promoting it with a bunch of stick figure supermodels is patently stupid.
      Reply
      sleepyjoe256 (UID# 4500) Well-loved. Like or Dislike: 17 2
      August 28, 2012 at 6:38 am
      Hmm, if I had to compare:
      Top:
      All of them are very thin. All of them have the same kind of hairstyle. All of them are near the same height. None of them are smiling. If I met them on the street, I would assume they were bitchy and arrogant.
      Bottom:
      All of them are smiling. All kinds of different hairstyles. All are different heights. All of them are curvy. If I met them on the street, I would assume they were fun and approachable.
      Dove wins this round.
      Reply
      (UID# ) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 2 22
      August 28, 2012 at 8:38 am
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      (UID# ) Well-loved. Like or Dislike: 13 3
      August 28, 2012 at 9:09 am
      The Dove campaign is NOT promoting women who are to lazy to exercise or eat healthy, it’s promoting self esteem and loving your body for what it is, because not everyone is the same in this world, every persons body is made differently in so many ways and I know plenty of women who eat as healthy as possible and exercise and are still “thicker” despite it, but they try just so they can be accepted by DOUCHEBAGS like you, which is fucking sad! I’d rather have some woman or man for that matter who actually eats food, rather than starve or purge themselves everyday to look so called “HOT” as this day in time would considering those anorexic super models. I am sick of seeing woman who look like little boys because of bastard men! DISGUSTING what this world has become. Ignorant thinkers like you make me sick! Go die in a fire.
      Reply
      (UID# ) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 2 10
      August 28, 2012 at 6:20 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      austindav (UID# 3474) 1 1
      August 28, 2012 at 6:54 pm
      Our male perception is that many of the women around us are like that, because we find a great percentage of them attractive (it kinda helps us propogate the species).
      However, if you look at objective measurements and the photoshopped perfection of those models versus the real, fit women that you find attractive, you will discover that real women are more like the Dove campaign than the 5’8?, 102 lb, 32-26-30 models in most every other advertisement out there.
      Women, however, see the ads and are lead to believe that perfection is the only form men think is attractive (thanks to comments like yours), which takes a serious toll on their self-perception and health.
      Reply
      (UID# ) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 8
      August 28, 2012 at 7:32 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      skat1140 (UID# 9397) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 1 8
      August 28, 2012 at 11:51 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      (UID# ) Well-loved. Like or Dislike: 10 1
      August 28, 2012 at 9:33 pm
      Hi Fagnus!
      Reply
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 15
      August 29, 2012 at 5:25 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      hochunk (UID# 5604) Well-loved. Like or Dislike: 10 0
      August 29, 2012 at 5:30 pm

      korinthian (UID# 3174) Well-loved. Like or Dislike: 6 1
      August 29, 2012 at 5:36 pm
      Rabble rabble! Let’s all get mad at the guy trying too hard to be offensive.
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 8
      August 29, 2012 at 7:44 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 7
      August 29, 2012 at 7:57 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 7
      August 29, 2012 at 7:57 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      hochunk (UID# 5604) 3 1
      August 29, 2012 at 8:14 pm
      .
      (UID# ) Well-loved. Like or Dislike: 19 4
      August 28, 2012 at 11:56 am
      None of the girls in the dove advert are overweight.
      Reply
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 7
      August 29, 2012 at 7:51 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      outlanderssc (UID# 17653) Well-loved. Like or Dislike: 20 1
      August 28, 2012 at 1:48 pm
      The Victoria’s girls are going to look like the Dove girls as soon as the cocaine runs out, anyway –
      Reply
      korinthian (UID# 3174) Well-loved. Like or Dislike: 13 1
      August 28, 2012 at 2:33 pm
      Let’s all pretend we so high standards that we would turn down normal girls.
      Reply
      gx5000 (UID# 315) 2 1
      August 28, 2012 at 4:33 pm
      Dove, 5th from the left…Gusto mio
      Reply
      outlanderssc (UID# 17653) 4 3
      August 28, 2012 at 5:45 pm
      Buona scelta, il mio amico
      Reply
      austindav (UID# 3474) 3 1
      August 28, 2012 at 3:52 pm
      Victoria’s Secret Covet-My-Body-which-is-Only-Attainable-for-Half-a-Percent-of-Women-on-the-Planet-and-Even-Then-Only-for-Maybe-Ten-Years-Max Campaign
      Reply
      impaciente (UID# 3830) 1 1
      August 29, 2012 at 6:48 am
      Victoria’s Secret went a little crazy when they went looking for thin models. Those girls look dangerously malnourished.
      Dove is indeed representative of what a lot of women look like. That doesn’t mean that that average should be our ultimate standard of beauty, nor does it mean that these women are automatically hideous.
      Reply
      outlanderssc (UID# 17653) Well-loved. Like or Dislike: 10 1
      August 29, 2012 at 6:29 pm
      Big surprise of the week, most of the guys like real women, Magnus goes for the cocaine addicted anorexic call girls.
      My whole world has been shaken to the core –
      Reply
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 7
      August 29, 2012 at 7:49 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      outlanderssc (UID# 17653) 4 1
      August 29, 2012 at 7:53 pm
      “oh tho you like doth den? You like cocan girth”
      What exactly does that mean, Magnus? You’ve taken illiteracy to a new level – call me anything you like, it means nothing if it’s just mindless drivel.
      Reply
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 7
      August 29, 2012 at 7:59 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      outlanderssc (UID# 17653) 4 1
      August 29, 2012 at 8:06 pm
      Oh, I see – you have nothing intelligent to say so you pretend I write like you do!
      Very clever, Magnus – BTW “eyesore” is one word, not two. But I best you learned all about that in University, didn’t you?
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) 0 0
      August 31, 2012 at 5:51 pm
      TYPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
      I THAW A TYPOOOOOOOO
      YAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 5
      August 29, 2012 at 8:00 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      hochunk (UID# 5604) 4 1
      August 29, 2012 at 8:16 pm
      ,
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 5
      August 29, 2012 at 8:00 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      hochunk (UID# 5604) 4 1
      August 29, 2012 at 8:17 pm

      Reply
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 7
      August 29, 2012 at 7:55 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      hochunk (UID# 5604) 3 1
      August 29, 2012 at 8:17 pm
      `
      Reply
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 6
      August 29, 2012 at 8:01 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      hochunk (UID# 5604) Well-loved. Like or Dislike: 5 1
      August 29, 2012 at 8:17 pm
      :
      Reply
      sleepyjoe256 (UID# 4500) 0 1
      August 30, 2012 at 1:56 am
      I like what you’re doing, sir. May I ask how I may also embed this most excellent .gif?
      Reply
      magnus-buttfoorson (UID# 238) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 4
      August 30, 2012 at 7:38 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      outlanderssc (UID# 17653) 0 1
      August 30, 2012 at 7:44 pm
      To actually ANSWER your questions instead of rambling on like an old wino as Magnus is wan to do –
      The tags for this group are in the FAQ:
      www.myconfinedspace.com/about/
      20) How do I post Images and/or Video in the forums?
      Reply
      sleepyjoe256 (UID# 4500) 0 1
      August 31, 2012 at 3:14 am
      Thank you.
      (UID# ) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 4
      August 30, 2012 at 7:52 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      (UID# ) Poorly-rated. Like or Dislike: 0 4
      August 30, 2012 at 7:55 pm
      Hidden due to low comment rating. Click here to see.
      Reply
      outlanderssc (UID# 17653) 0 1
      August 30, 2012 at 8:13 pm
      That does seem to work better, but some people find that sort of thing really offensive so I suggest only using it on rare occasions.
      Leave a Reply

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    12. Mags- not only can’t you write, it seems you can’t count, either – some of these comments have as many as 20 downvotes, I saw at least one of yours with 16 – seems like a lot more than four people saying “STFU MAGNUS”

      Reply

        • NO NOT 17!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

          obviously tiki sustains this whole site on those 17 people who visit

          I’ve seen some of yours with 9 downvotes. dats wike thayin you goth peepo thayin “STFU FAGGOOT”

          This post is like 5 pages back. If you think anyone is bothering to read your shit you’re somehow dumber than I thought, faggot

          Reply

          • LOLOLOL
            lol
            I just did some digging
            Most of the ‘downvotes’ are from the same 4 IP addresses
            DID YOU ACTUALLY GO TO ANOTHER COMPUTER JUST TO VISIT THIS SITE 5 PAGES BACK TO CLICK ON A THUMBS DOWN OVER AND OVER????????
            olololOLOLolOlOloLoLolOloOLooLoLOoLlOLolOlOLoOlOL

            Reply

          • Why dont you go back to selling your ass for crack you dumb fuck, no one is interested in your pathetic ranting…oh and werent you leaving this site? Or is this the only social interaction you can get because youre too much of a jizz bucket in real life. Fucking cum gargler.

            Reply

    13. lol

      I just did some digging

      Most of the ‘downvotes’ are from the same 4 IP addresses

      DID YOU ACTUALLY GO TO ANOTHER COMPUTER JUST TO VISIT THIS SITE 5 PAGES BACK TO CLICK ON A THUMBS DOWN OVER AND OVER????????

      olololOLOLolOlOloLoLolOloOLooLoLOoLlOLolOlOLoOlOL

      Reply

    14. HHAhahahHAHHAH

      Next time look into open source WP plugins for comment voting before you actually go to different machines to downvote. The plugin restricts the voting based on the account but not the IP so faggooooot has been going to other computers and downvoting over and over

      God

      the fail

      you fucking loser

      you massive fucking loser

      Reply

    15. Mags youre trying to hard. Stop being a tit.

      Reply

    16. Every time I check this post I look at those fat fucking jokes in the Dove ad and laugh.

      Everyone crying about this post has fucked something that gross or even fatter.

      Hilarity thy name is reality.

      Reply

    17. OMFG! THIS is the 85th comment.

      Reply

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