Finally! “I Lost My Job”, the interactive comicbook for Android by yours truly is out. Get it now before it’s eaten by wolves!
Finally! “I Lost My Job”, the interactive comicbook for Android by yours truly is out. Get it now before it’s eaten by wolves!
While shaving my genitals during preparation for the early morning brothel scavaging I had planned today (always catch a prostitute after her breakfast crackaïne shot, that way you have a higher chance to get more STDs (Sex, Tits & Dick-in-anus)), I managed to cut off nearly 24 inches of forehead skin off my mutantly gigantic penis. The reason for the slip up, was the unexpected announcement on the radio I stole from an orphanage last christmass, that none other than Mariah Carey was found dead in a bath tub at age 48! While inspecting the nearly-unnoticeable red laceration on my mammoth penis, the thought occured to me it might have being a prank played by Jesus, who had been standing infront of my bathroom door for the past two hours making whining noises and wanting to use my can, so I waited for the newscaster to continue his story in the hopes of distinguishing the voice as coming from the radio, or from Jesus, who now was surprisingly silent. The silence broke as I noticed a viscous yellow liquid coming from under the bathroom door, and heared Jesus mumble “never mind, you vain fuck!”. It was quite clear to me that the voice was distinctly different from the newscaster’s, who continued his story; “Whitney Houston was found dead earlier today, soaking in a hotelroom bathtub. A bottle of Alprazolam, also known as Xanax, was found inserted in her hand, or possibly vaginal cavity. I’m sorry, I… I… Ok Mr. Kyle, Thank you, Xanax was *not* found near Whitney, but an inferior competing product our sponsor Glaxo Smith Klein did not in any way endorse, sell or manufacture. The actress and singer was 48 years of age. Paramedics attempted to revive her, but to no avail. Afterwards they proceeded to secretely take pictures of the body, while masturbating. This was John Frederick for ABD news.” I was outraged by the blatant utterance of tripe once again spewed out by a major news agency. Mariah Carey was not dead! I know for a fact that she is not, and I can prove it by employing shoehorning, after-the-fact speculation, and other unscientific methods, which will prove without a doubt, in a 100% scientific manner, that she is still alive!
Reasons Mariah (or Whitney Houston, who gives a shit…) Carey is still alive;
- According to statistical analyses conducted by a British think-tank, 87% of people bathe without clothes!
- Most cool people (like me) do various drugs while in the bath tub, and in lesser cases while in the shower. In fact, when I don’t have any drugs at hand because someone (I’m looking at you Jesus) has being stealing from my stash, it is January, and I’m in the bath tub (I only bathe in January), I secretely squirt various bathing liquids up every orrifice because the act of bathing is hard-wired in my brain to an expectancy of a narcotic rush, allways resulting in a temporary cardiac arrest due to toxic shock syndrome.
- In over 12 occasions I have been found naked, irresponsive, under the influence, and usualy with a foreign object inserted in the anus for some obscure reason. One time it was a baby pidgeon.
And last but not least: I have seen Mariah Carrey with my own eyes, today, AFTER HER ANNOUNCED DEATH!
It happened on my way to a Russian Prositute with whom I had made an appointment with last week. My morbidly obese wife was driving me towards the shipping docks where my old Red Army buddy Olaf now operates a floating brothel. I had decided to bring my wife along in the hopes that if she observed the act of sexual intercourse from up close, she might be able to satisfy me without the use of strangulation techniques, large doses of heroine laced with Viagra, or “another woman’s vagina”, when all off the sudden she hits the brakes hard, sending the car spinning to a stop, an inch from the egde of the Canal, spilling my breakfast tequila all over my pants, the worm at the bottom of the bottle slid from the side of my trouser into my shoe. Instinctively, I thrusted my elbow towards the driver’s seat, succesfully hitting my wife on her third chin, and sending her flying through the side window of the car down into the waters below. The car buckled at the shear force of impact, now toppling over the rim of the Canal in a dangerous action-movie-style fashion. When suddenly I saw what she had hit the brakes for; A rare albino Roborovski Hamster! And a female to boot! I had being searching for over 13 years for such a unique specimen, and couldn’t wait to make tons of cash selling my footage of satsifying her in various ways to all major Hamster Porn websites! But there was a problem, I was still in a limbo, and couldn’t move an inch without risking sending my car into the deep waters of the canal. I couldn’t let my eyes off the little fluffy sexbomb fate had thrown just narrowly within the limits my grasp, it seemed all I had to do was reach out and enclose my hands over its tiny sensual body, an act reminiscent of grasping the Holy Grail after a tiresome decade-long crusade filled with disapointments. I could allready feel the extasy of limitless erotic pleasure waiting for me if only I could manage to get out of the car in some way. Wait, what was it doing?! I noticed a towering stack of 50-pound rice bags 20 yards away from me, ready to be loaded into a ship for transport. One bag had a hole in a corner, and it seemed that the hamster’s presence here was to be explained by its consumption of rice grains that were spilled. It started moving closer and closer to the stack, and further away from me in a steady fashion. The shear thought of losing my only chance of experiencing perfect sex with Nature’s most sexy creature, sent adrenaline rushing from my adrenal glands into my blood-crackaïne-alcohol stream… I unbuckled my seatbelt, and was ready to dash out the front window, when I was interrupted by a paramedic knocking on the sidewindow of the car. “Sir, hang on in there! It is absolutely neccesary for you to not move an inch. We are looking at a way to secure the car. I have good news sir. We have located your wife further upstream, thanks to a ship equiped with a whaling radar. She is safe, and will be fine “. I couldn’t hold myself anylonger.. “NOOOOOOOOO!!!!” I yelled in response, and dashed out through the windshield, arms stretched out, and coming to a sliding stop on the asfalt. I had my eyes clenched, did I dare open them completely? Everything spinned around, it took a while for my brain to selfadjust after the violent shock it had received punching through the thick pane of glass. Luckely it was used to such abuse and recuperated quickly. I saw my hands infront of me, closed over the asfalt, and slowly dared to move my fingers apart… revealing a fluffy white butt!
“YESSS!!!!! IT’S HAMSTER PORN TIME!!!” I sprang to my feet, turned to the paramedic, and asked if he had any lubricant. He didn’t answer, but instead passed out mouth wide-open, rolled off the rim of the canal, and fell in the water just before a boat backed up and sliced him into pieces with the propeller. I was running, trying to make my way as fast as possible to the nearest hotel while inspecting the embodiment of Venus I held into my hands in unbearable anticipation, when I bumped into a person. I looked up, and saw a funny looking asshole. He spoke with a crappy ridiculous voice; “Mr. Fluffy!!!!” “No bitch, I’m Mike The Spike, now get the fuck out of my way” I tried to continue my journey, when I felt someone tapping me on the back. “Mr. Spike, I’m sorry, I’m Jim Carrey, the actor” “So what? I’m Mike The Spike, also the actor, and I ain’t never heared of the shit your were in. Now wipe that ‘The Mask’ grin off your face, and get the fuck out of my way before I beat your Man On The Moon ass back to breakfast, Ace!” Pissed, I continued my hasty pace towards a “Carlton Titz” sex-motel I saw in the distance, when I was tapped in the back again. While rushing towards the guy ready to headbut him, I exclaimed “Look here motherfuck….. OH DEAR GOD SEXUAL PERFECTION!!!” The guy held up a HUGE POSTER WITH A GIGANTIC ALBINO ROBOROVSKI HAMSTER DEPICTED ON IT!
“See? We are filming Ace Ventura 4: Pet Defective at the Manhattan Studios by the docks here in Belgium, as it’s the only studio in the world that fits the 4$ a day allocated budget for this shameless straight-to-internet rehash. The rare Albino Roborovski Hamster you hold there is Mr. Fluffy, the protagonist of the movie. He ran away during lunch, when a Grip dropped it into his underpants along with a piece of cheese as part of a bet, but unfortunately he had being wearing his girlfriend’s thong by accident today, causing the hamster to slide down his pants and run out the door.”
“Look here pal” I said, “I don’t know how you Hollywood faggots operate, but down here in Belgium, Finders Keepers is the law of the street.”
“I know your pain. You want to make love with her too, don’t you?”
“Hey pal, suck my white ass! I’m not gonna discuss my sexual habbits with you. You pale in comparison to me as an actor, let alone as a Don Juan. I don’t need to have some Hollywood loser bitching about what I do and don’t make love with”. He laughed, “Mr. Spike. You want to have sex with it, because you are an actor, as you say so yourself. Now, eversince the dawn of cinema, actors have being secretely known to make love with Hamsters as a way to get their creative juices flowing. Anal intercourse, S&M, bondage, all these deviations from normal sexual habits are expressed in a peculiar fashion in actors. We want to do those things with Hamsters, instead of underaged minors.”
“Yeah?” I said incredulous “What about Michael Jackson and R. Kelly?”
“Those were singers, not actors. Allthough I know it can be hard to say there’s much difference between the two these days”.
He had a point. He continued, “Tell you what. My buddy operates “Ibanghamsters.org”, and he’s looking for a new star. After we shoot this movie, I will arrange for you to do a series with this unique specimen. Deal?”
In a bargaining tone, I said “Maybe deal, maybe no deal. I’m not realy a big fan of this Ibanghamsters.org site anyways”
Jim pulled up an eyebrow in an Ace venture fashion, glanced at my T-Shirt, and looking me straight into the eyes he whent “Reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaalllly????”.
I forgot I was wearing a T-Shirt that said “I am realy a big fan of IBANGHAMSTERS.ORG”. Having no more chance to better the deal in my favour, I agreed.
“But first, I wanna do one last thing.”
I stared at the tower of rice bags.
“Allright boys” Jim yelled at his crew which had being standing accross the street, witnessing our exchange the entire time, “Play that one song”.
I rushed behind the stack of ricebags, and now out of view and finally alone with my little fluffly sexmachine, I proceeded to take off my clothes. As various pieces of garnments were seen flying about from behind the stack of ricebags by curious onlookers, the crew played “In The Jungle” as I reached sexual Nirvana.
A week later I was called to a local hospital to identify my wife, who was still unable to speak as she had apparantly attempted to eat fish while in the process of drowning and still had a trout stuck in her troath, which couldn’t be removed surgically.
I said “I never saw this man in my life”, and went home.
And that is how I know for a fact that Jim Carrey is NOT DEAD!
By Mike The Spike
As his only surviving relative it is my duty to inform you that Justin Bieber has passed away an hour ago.
The cause of death was determined as “slipped in the shower”.
His narrow escape from death earlier today in a parachute accident had our dearest friend cheering and jumping around while washing himself, when tragedy apparantly struck in the form of a slippery used condom that wedged itself between his toes.
The funeral will be held on monday and everyone attending is required to bring their own shovel.
That is all.
Don’t Answer This Shit, It’s From The Archives
Aight. This one homo of mine (that’s what I call homeboys that haven’t had a fourteen-bitch gangbang with Junglewomen yet) be knowin that I can mod XBOXes and shit, and asked me if I could help out with a problem he be having with his PSP.
The problem is, I only briefly owned a PSP when I found it hidden in some guy’s ass (I was conducting a experiment on hobos. I had a theory that more than 98% of hobos have items of value hidden somewhere in their anal tract. I got the idea after remembering that I once found a rare shitake mushroom in my mother’s anus as a child by accident (my matchbox car flew up there while she was sleeping on the floor naked after, or possibly during work)). It was inoperable due to exuberant amounts of stale feces and baby mice that clung to it, so I never got to play around with it or mod it.
At any rate, the homo tells me that there be a problem. He had the shit modded to play backups, and the little whimp that did this downgraded his firmware to 1.5 to achieve it. However, now he is unable to play the latest PSP games for some obscure and possibly non-existant reason. What I wanna know is the algorithm I should follow to fix his PSP up so he can play backups, and every original UMD game there be out there. I believe upgrading to the latest firmware, and then doing the crack again but this time installing some shit like “eLoader” should do it, but I’d need a copy of Lumines for that, which I don’t have since a bird used it as nest material after I threw it out into the yard because I thought it carried an ancient Babylonian curse. I found the copy of Lumines in my own ass once, which is why I was positive something evil surrounded it (could be creap)
I’d look it all up myself, but the thing is I don’t have any internet access where I’m currently located (The Future). Even this very post is being made by dictating it to my younger self through a timeportal located in a public bathroom in front of the coloseum in Shinko Saku’s Glorious Bowelring (the new name for Rome in the future).
I’ll explain all that shit later, in a post about prostates (don’t worry, it’ll all make sense)
For now, if you could help me out, I promise I won’t go back in time and impregnate your mother to become your father and force you to tweeze out all the hairs between my analrift.
Thought I had died? Well, I do have cancer (of the dorsolateral Coolness Gland in the posterior hemisphere of my Awesomeness System) but other than that, I’m still alive (for now).
Just a quick message to let y’all know.
I’ll disclose the details of my sudden disappearance later. It’s quite an interesting story actually, involving time travel, crackaïne junkies, and a mysterious foul-smelling creature I call a “Rasta Monkey”.
I wish I had some nice pictures to show you of the various sights I’ve seen during my quest, but believe it or not; Gastric Parasites ate my Memorycard. (I had previously swallowed it to conceal it from a satanic talking dog I didn’t quite trust because he claimed immigrants were ruining the country)
I can tell you this allready, however; I have learned from a very reliable source which I would trust with my life (the Satanic talking dog I just mentioned) that all politicians that have held power in this country for the past 50 years are not human. They only appear human to the eye, but in reality, they are Rectiles. Yes, Rectiles! So, before I get killed for saying this, spread the word that all politicians, especially those part of the Bush Dynasty, are Rectiles!
I didn’t believe it at first either, until I saw with my own two eyes how former President Bush spewed feces all over a crowd when he opened his mouth. (this is a definite sign that you’re a Rectile!!)
Untill then, I leave you with this poll and a riddle; Can YOU figure out the type of narcotic I accidentally abused before writing this post?
My girfriend is a tranny.
I can’t take pictures of her because she’s so ugly, she has no reflection.
It’s an evolutionary thing I guess – if she did have a reflection, mirrors would explode into a fine dust of glassparticles killing everyone in a 5-country radius.
Also, she has a bean-shaped purple thing between her legs. I think it is her Vagina.
Sometimes the simplest of answers enlighten the most complex of life riddles. After having worked for Micky’Ds, I finally learned the secret ingredient that makes their burgers taste like shit: feces. I know, it sounds hard to believe at first, but really, shit is an important ingredient in McDonald’s handburgers. Human shit to be precise. Some history; McDonalds once tried to sell frozen burgers to consumers in grocery stores back in the 70′s. They used the exact same ingredients as they would in their restaurants. But they never got past the taste-testing phase of the project. The reason for this was a slight difference in the taste of the burgers, regardless from the fact that the exact same ingredients and cooking times were used. A coalition of food experts investigated the problem and concluded that the answer lies in the fact that the frozen burgers were assembled by machines in a factory, and the restaurant burgers by immigrants, students too stupid to earn money dealing crackaïne on campus to gothic kids like every other regular person, and pregnant crackhoes that got past the point of being able to afford condoms and are now unemployed due to pregnancy of and from a hideous monstrosity. And what do students, crackhoes and immigrants have in common? That’s right; Shit! All these people shit as a way to evacuate their bowels from wastes, instead of holding it in indefinitely like *real* mofos! Now, you really think these people are gonna spend three seconds washing their hands after their daily crapminute? You think? Wrong! I know I wouldn’t, and didn’t. Not that I take craps like a wuss, but I do spend a lot of time with my fingers in the anuses of syphilis-riddled Russian Prostitutes.
Also, it seems that due to the vast amounts of Mono Sodium Glutamate modern man consumes, a human turd contains at least 75% MSG. This is all calculated in now, and they are correct to state that they don’t add MSG to their burgers. The shit stuck beneath the nails of their employees does. And that’s why their burgers are so addictive; crapfingers.
McDonalds: I’m Lovin’ Shit
Regardless of the fact that this post has as much to do with Super Mario as my mom has to do with self-esteem, I’d like to take this opportunity to announce that you are all free to add me to your Facebook. (Yes, I sold my soul a while back and switched over to the great Leviathan Zuckerberg unleashed upon the world to torment students) – I’m a very busy man and I can’t be caught dead talking to losers so I won’t hassle you much or reply to whatever insane crap you might think is important enough to bother me with on my busy brothel-scavenging days, but since I’m stuck at home half the time due to a conviction and have nothing remotely more important to do (now that my toilet flooded and I can’t throw toenail clippings in it from a distance for sports anymore)
Ya know, just in case I get arrested, deported or travel back in time again and all contact is lost.
My infamous Facebook;
Michele Rocco Smeets (My computer is currently located in Belgium for reasons exhibiting hypercomplexity so intricate, organic neurochemical-calculatory-based mammalian brains are incapable of even imagining the smallest aspect of it, so don’t ask.)
If you’re a Russian prostitute, or thinking of becoming one, you’re especially invited to add me. Also, if you own Roborovski hamsters, it’s best to remove your whereabouts from your profile.