FANCY GENTLEMEN OF YORE WITH PORNO DICKS IN THEIR FACES
Just like the riots that erupted after the debut of Debussy’s “The Rite Of Spring” because the world wasn’t ready for such artistic brilliance, the series of works I am about to present may be way ahead of its time. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the first piece in a series I am calling “Fancy Gentlemen Of Yore With Porno Dicks In Their Faces.”
MY ART SHOW!
Fans of FINE ART get excited! I have been working on a series of “works” over the last few months, and I am planning to unveil them right here on my blog! Stay tuned! Oh, and OTHER ARTISTS, pack up your shit, this is gonna be the last art the world will ever need.
I’m sure you’ve heard this story about the guy using a Teddy Bear to masturbate in public. Well, in any other situation I would blame the guy, but I know the bear he used and he’s a total scumbag. That innocent, non-crazy man was FRAMED! I mean look at his photo, he’s probably a family man with a mid-level management job at Lockheed-Martin or something. Trust me, the bear is to blame here, his name is “Jizzly Bear” for godsakes! (I would just like to say in Jizzly Bear’s defense, he was molested by Teddy Fuxpin and “Balown” by Baloo from “The jungle Book” as a cub.)
I’M WEARING 5 UGLY HATS TOMORROW. I JUST AM.
Sometimes when I’m walking down the street and I see one of those Brinks trucks unloading money into a bank, I very subtly fuck with the guards. I know they’re trained to look for certain cues that a robbery is about to take place, so I’ll make a really obvious sneaky facial expression and walk right towards the truck like I’m one of a crack team of robbers who is about to cause a distraction so the other guys can rob the truck, right? Then, at the last minute, when I get close to the truck I turn away and start walking normal again and continue on my way. I never look at the guard’s faces, but I bet they get nervous every time. I fuck the shit out of life!
Dear FUCKING RACCOON that keeps taking my 5th Avenue Bars from my fire escape lounge area when I go inside to refill my Yoo-Hoo and rums:
First of all, 5th Avenue Bars are not cheap (hence the swanky name).
Second, those candy bars helped with the war effort during WWII, so you’re fucking with that whole 1940’s Hairy American Knuckle Punch In The Face!
Third, your version of “Goldfinger” is no way better than Shirley Bassey’s so stop saying that! Your delusional self-regard in this matter vexes me greatly.
Fourth, don’t think I don’t see you “Brokeback Mountaining” that other tough raccoon. You guys really need to pull it back a little or you’re gonna kill each other with your dicks and headlocks.
Fifth, I have video of the above-mentioned activity and will fuck your ass up on Raccoon YouTube if you do not STOP TAKING MY 5TH AVENUE BARS!
I hope you explode somehow,
I feel like if smoking were called “smorking” it wouldn’t have such a stigma. Also, there’s no way that something called “smorking” could cause cancer. The cells in your body would be like, “should we turn cancerous? This guy’s smorking a lot?” and then all the cells would burst out laughing and everything would be fine like it is when you smork a ton of pot.
I have no idea what this Russian movie poster says, but I bet it’s something like this:
“Here is impractical talking bear and man who are crazy drinking coffee as bear makes funny times with simple thinking. Also there is peasant-footed woman who does calculation of her times with them.”