This is a fair and accurate rebuttle which provides evidence to the contrary concerning the existance of "planet Pluto":
The occurrance of a false-scientific conspiracy is rare. What am I referring to, you ask? I refer to the existance (or, lack of) the "Planet Pluto." Supposedly "discovered" in 1930 by Astronomer Clyde Tombaugh by accident, was merely a clever story to claim credit for a "new planet" and scientific precedence. The pure and simple truth is the FACT that the planet Pluto does not exist. The reason for orbital disturbances beyond the planet Neptune are explained in a rather simple non-planetoid manner. Rather than a planet-sized mass made mostly of frozen water, methane and carbon-oxygen compounds, a more plausable suggestion is a mobile gravity well or dark matter pocket of comperable space-distortion magnitude. Contrary to popular belief and physical evidence, the Oort cloud does not possess any other masses similar in magnitude to "Pluto." In fact, the second largest Oort fragment is all but.00012% in mass magnitude, compared to what is known as "The Planet Pluto." The assertion that a mysterious ball of ice exists by itself beyond a real gas planet [Neptune] with no subsequent balls of ice similar size-magnitude beyond this supposed "planet."
As far as optical "evidence" is concerned, Oort fragments aligning in a per-chance optical arrangement distorts sunlight in a manner that appears planetoid, but is really rather faint to be considered a "planet." Reconsider your universe: Pluto does not exist.
Rare is the occurance of a false-scientific conspiracy. What am I referring to, you ask? I refer to the existance (or, lack of) the "Planet Pluto." Supposedly "discovered" in 1930 by Astronomer Clyde Tombaugh by accident, was merely a clever story to claim credit for a "new planet" and scientific presidence. The pure and simple truth is the FACT that the planet Pluto does not exist. The reason for orbital disturbances beyond the planet Neptune are explained in a rather simple non-planetoid manner. Rather than a planet-sized mass made mostly of frozen water, methane and carbon-oxygen compounds, a more plausable suggestion is a mobile gravity well or dark matter pocket of comperable space-distortion magnitude. Contrary to popular belief and physical evidence, the Oort cloud does not possess any other masses similar in magnitude to "Pluto." In fact, the second largest Oort fragment is all but.00012% in mass magnitude, compared to what is known as "The Planet Pluto." The assertion that a mysterious ball of ice exists by itself beyond a real gas planet [Neptune] with no subsequent balls of ice similar size-magnitude beyond this supposed "planet."
As far as optical "evidence" is concerned, Oort fragments aligning in a per-chance optical arrangement distort sunlight in a manner that appears planetoid, but is really rather faint to be considered a "planet." Reconsider your universe: Pluto does not exist.
The Matrix, excellent special effects aside was only mediocre at best. A laughable heroic epic with bad science, having excellent slow-motion bullet scenes are now generic as hell and have been parodied twice already (Kung Pow and Deuce Bigalow) in major motion pictures. It is time to remove your brain from the Wachowski mindfuck machine, because the movie simply isn't as excellent as some would have you believe. "Ww-w-w-w-hy do I have to wait until 2003 piss piss moan," I'll tell you why, fruitcake. Alliyah or however the fuck you spell her hame died in a stupid private plane crash with several of her fat-ass bodyguard cronies. Good riddance, her acting skillz were crap (proven by her roles in Romeo Must Die and that crap Queen of the Damned movie.)
So Star Wars Episode II comes out May 16
on
The Magic Box Hoax
·
· Score: -1
And what do I have to say about it? Well, although the CG in the previews is fucking pretty as hell, that fag Anakin Skywalker goes from a little melon-headed kid (because he's supposed to be oh-so-fucking-cute) to a thin-faced prettyboy who's ready to fuck the limber white spandex-clad Natalie Portman, bearing no resemblance to his former self. Having grown that faggoty little braid of hair in the meantime just like his boyfriend Obi-Wan, I'm convinced this movie will suck more dick than CmdrTaco and Hemos combined. And what is this shit about Jar-Jar Binks making another appearance? Fuck that shit. The only merits to this film will be Jango Fett and his tiny Boba son. So, if you're out camping in front of a movie theatre to see this, you should probably suicide ASAP.
only linux fags waste their time on shit like this, because their OS sucks dick and will only run on stupid old embedded crap processors. *Linux is Dying.
A few years ago, while browsing around the library downtown, I had to take a piss. As I entered the john a big beautiful all-
American football hero type, about twenty-five, came out of one of the booths. I stood at the urinal looking at him out of the
corner of my eye as he washed his hands. He didn't once look at me. He was "straight" and married -- and in any case I was sure
I wouldn't have a chance with him.
As soon as he left I darted into the booth he'd vacated, hoping there might be a lingering smell of shit and even a
seat still warm from his sturdy young ass. I found not only the smell but the shit itself. He'd forgotten to flush. And what a
treasure he had left behind. Three or four beautiful specimens floated in the bowl. It apparently had been a fairly dry,
constipated shit, for all were fat, stiff, and ruggedly textured. The real prize was a great feast of turd -- a nine inch
gastrointestinal triumph as thick as a man's wrist.
I knelt before the bowl, inhaling the rich brown fragrance and wondered if I should obey the impulse building up
inside me. I'd always been a heavy rimmer and had lapped up more than one little clump of shit, but that had been just an
inevitable part of eating ass and not an end in itself. Of course I'd had jerkoff fantasies of devouring great loads of it (what
rimmer hasn't), but I had never done it. Now, here I was, confronted with the most beautiful five-pound turd I'd ever feasted my
eyes on, a sausage fit to star in any fantasy and one I knew to have been hatched from the asshole of the world's handsomest
young stud.
Why not? I plucked it from the bowl, holding it with both hands to keep it from breaking. I lifted it to my nose. It
smelled like rich, ripe limburger (horrid, but thrilling), yet had the consistency of cheddar. What is cheese anyway but milk
turning to shit without the benefit of a digestive tract?
I gave it a lick and found that it tasted better then it smelled. I've found since then that shit nearly almost does.
I hesitated no longer. I shoved the fucking thing as far into my mouth as I could get it and sucked on it like a big
brown cock, beating my meat like a madman. I wanted to completely engulf it and bit off a large chunk, flooding my mouth with the
intense, bittersweet flavor. To my delight I found that while the water in the bowl had chilled the outside of the turd, it was
still warm inside. As I chewed I discovered that it was filled with hard little bits of something I soon identified as peanuts. He
hadn't chewed them carefully and they'd passed through his body virtually unchanged. I ate it greedily, sending lump after
peanutty lump sliding scratchily down my throat. My only regret was the donor of this feast wasn't there to wash it down with his
piss.
I soon reached a terrific climax. I caught my cum in the cupped palm of my hand and drank it down. Believe me, there
is no more delightful combination of flavors than the hot sweetness of cum with the rich bitterness of shit.
Afterwards I was sorry that I hadn't made it last longer. But then I realized that I still had a lot of fun in store
for me. There was still a clutch of virile turds left in the bowl. I tenderly fished them out, rolled them into my handkerchief,
and stashed them in my briefcase. In the week to come I found all kinds of ways to eat the shit without bolting it right down.
Once eaten it's gone forever unless you want to filch it third hand out of your own asshole. Not an unreasonable recourse in
moments of desperation or simple boredom.
I stored the turds in the refrigerator when I was not using them but within a week they were all gone. The last one I
held in my mouth without chewing, letting it slowly dissolve. I had liquid shit trickling down my throat for nearly four hours. I
must have had six orgasms in the process.
I often think of that lovely young guy dropping solid gold out of his sweet, pink asshole every day, never knowing what
joy it could, and at least once did, bring to a grateful shiteater.
A few years ago, while browsing around the library downtown, I had to take a piss. As I entered the john a big beautiful all-American football hero type, about twenty-five, came out of one of the booths. I stood at the urinal looking at him out of the corner of my eye as he washed his hands. He didn't once look at me. He was "straight" and married -- and in any case I was sure I wouldn't have a chance with him.
As soon as he left I darted into the booth he'd vacated, hoping there might be a lingering smell of shit and even a seat still warm from his sturdy young ass. I found not only the smell but the shit itself. He'd forgotten to flush. And what a treasure he had left behind. Three or four beautiful specimens floated in the bowl. It apparently had been a fairly dry, constipated shit, for all were fat, stiff, and ruggedly textured. The real prize was a great feast of turd -- a nine inch gastrointestinal triumph as thick as a man's wrist.
I knelt before the bowl, inhaling the rich brown fragrance and wondered if I should obey the impulse building up inside me. I'd always been a heavy rimmer and had lapped up more than one little clump of shit, but that had been just an inevitable part of eating ass and not an end in itself. Of course I'd had jerkoff fantasies of devouring great loads of it (what rimmer hasn't), but I had never done it. Now, here I was, confronted with the most beautiful five-pound turd I'd ever feasted my eyes on, a sausage fit to star in any fantasy and one I knew to have been hatched from the asshole of the world's handsomest young stud.
Why not? I plucked it from the bowl, holding it with both hands to keep it from breaking. I lifted it to my nose. It smelled like rich, ripe limburger (horrid, but thrilling), yet had the consistency of cheddar. What is cheese anyway but milk turning to shit without the benefit of a digestive tract?
I gave it a lick and found that it tasted better then it smelled. I've found since then that shit nearly almost does.
I hesitated no longer. I shoved the fucking thing as far into my mouth as I could get it and sucked on it like a big brown cock, beating my meat like a madman. I wanted to completely engulf it and bit off a large chunk, flooding my mouth with the intense, bittersweet flavor. To my delight I found that while the water in the bowl had chilled the outside of the turd, it was still warm inside. As I chewed I discovered that it was filled with hard little bits of something I soon identified as peanuts. He hadn't chewed them carefully and they'd passed through his body virtually unchanged. I ate it greedily, sending lump after peanutty lump sliding scratchily down my throat. My only regret was the donor of this feast wasn't there to wash it down with his piss.
I soon reached a terrific climax. I caught my cum in the cupped palm of my hand and drank it down. Believe me, there is no more delightful combination of flavors than the hot sweetness of cum with the rich bitterness of shit.
Afterwards I was sorry that I hadn't made it last longer. But then I realized that I still had a lot of fun in store for me. There was still a clutch of virile turds left in the bowl. I tenderly fished them out, rolled them into my handkerchief, and stashed them in my briefcase. In the week to come I found all kinds of ways to eat the shit without bolting it right down. Once eaten it's gone forever unless you want to filch it third hand out of your own asshole. Not an unreasonable recourse in moments of desperation or simple boredom.
I stored the turds in the refrigerator when I was not using them but within a week they were all gone. The last one I held in my mouth without chewing, letting it slowly dissolve. I had liquid shit trickling down my throat for nearly four hours. I must have had six orgasms in the process.
I often think of that lovely young guy dropping solid gold out of his sweet, pink asshole every day, never knowing what joy it could, and at least once did, bring to a grateful shiteater.
Monday: Suck off Malda
Tuesday: Suck off Homos
Wednesday: Suck off Cliff's tiny black cock
Thursday: Fellatiate michael
Friday: Suckle on Krow's penis
Saturday: First day of the weekend at the tip of roblimo's cock
Sunday: chrisd gets the honor of getting his hog sucked on the weekend.
Behead and debone foetus then brown meat in an open saucepan. After draining the fat, add the diced onion and peppers and saute. Add the tomato soup and the remaining spices and simmer for 30 minutes. Add the can of beer and the kidney beens. Cover and boil for 1 hour. The meal will serve 6 and should be served hot.
Prior to serving place foetal head on a stake and mount in your front lawn so your neighbors know you're having our chili.
A few years ago, while browsing around the library
downtown, I had to take a piss. As I entered the john a
big beautiful all-American football hero type, about
twenty-five, came out of one of the booths. I stood at
the urinal looking at him out of the corner of my eye as
he washed his hands. He didn't once look at me. He was
"straight" and married -- and in any case I was sure I
wouldn't have a chance with him.
As soon as he left I darted into the booth
he'd vacated, hoping there might be a lingering smell of
shit and even a seat still warm from his sturdy young
ass. I found not only the smell but the shit itself. He'd
forgotten to flush. And what a treasure he had left
behind. Three or four beautiful specimens floated in the
bowl. It apparently had been a fairly dry, constipated
shit, for all were fat, stiff, and ruggedly textured. The
real prize was a great feast of turd -- a nine inch
gastrointestinal triumph as thick as a man's wrist.
I knelt before the bowl, inhaling the rich
brown fragrance and wondered if I should obey the
impulse building up inside me. I'd always been a heavy
rimmer and had lapped up more than one little clump of
shit, but that had been just an inevitable part of eating
ass and not an end in itself. Of course I'd had jerkoff
fantasies of devouring great loads of it (what rimmer
hasn't), but I had never done it. Now, here I was,
confronted with the most beautiful five-pound turd I'd
ever feasted my eyes on, a sausage fit to star in any
fantasy and one I knew to have been hatched from the
asshole of the world's handsomest young stud.
Why not? I plucked it from the bowl, holding
it with both hands to keep it from breaking. I lifted it
to my nose. It smelled like rich, ripe limburger
(horrid, but thrilling), yet had the consistency of
cheddar. What is cheese anyway but milk turning to shit
without the benefit of a digestive tract?
I gave it a lick and found that it tasted
better then it smelled. I've found since then that shit
nearly almost does.
I hesitated no longer. I shoved the fucking
thing as far into my mouth as I could get it and sucked
on it like a big brown cock, beating my meat like a
madman. I wanted to completely engulf it and bit off a
large chunk, flooding my mouth with the intense,
bittersweet flavor. To my delight I found that while the
water in the bowl had chilled the outside of the turd,
it was still warm inside. As I chewed I discovered that
it was filled with hard little bits of something I soon
identified as peanuts. He hadn't chewed them carefully
and they'd passed through his body virtually unchanged.
I ate it greedily, sending lump after peanutty lump
sliding scratchily down my throat. My only regret was
the donor of this feast wasn't there to wash it down
with his piss.
I soon reached a terrific climax. I caught my
cum in the cupped palm of my hand and drank it down.
Believe me, there is no more delightful combination of
flavors than the hot sweetness of cum with the rich
bitterness of shit.
Afterwards I was sorry that I hadn't made it
last longer. But then I realized that I still had a lot
of fun in store for me. There was still a clutch of
virile turds left in the bowl. I tenderly fished them
out, rolled them into my handkerchief, and stashed them
in my briefcase. In the week to come I found all kinds
of ways to eat the shit without bolting it right down.
Once eaten it's gone forever unless you want to filch it
third hand out of your own asshole. Not an unreasonable
recourse in moments of desperation or simple boredom.
I stored the turds in the refrigerator when I
was not using them but within a week they were all gone.
The last one I held in my mouth without chewing, letting
it slowly dissolve. I had liquid shit trickling down my
throat for nearly four hours. I must have had six
orgasms in the process.
I often think of that lovely young guy
dropping solid gold out of his sweet, pink asshole every
day, never knowing what joy it could, and at least once
did, bring to a grateful shiteater.
I routinely commute between Bangor, Maine and Washington D.C. once every week for work. The drive is long and uneventful usually, yes I know, but the scratch is decent. To keep myself from going insane, I'll usually catch some tunes on the radio stations that I like along the way or even listen to something out of my CD collection if I'm really bored. I-95 gets pretty dull once you're several hours into the drive, so I like to stop every four hours or so to stretch my legs, fill the car up with gas, and grab a bite to eat. I'm particularly fond of Friendly's, and stop there quite often as my company picks up the tab for all travel related expenses, plus compensation.
I decided to stop there one evening on the way back up to Bangor. The patty melt is usually pretty good and I mostly get that combo platter, but this time I decided to try the pastrami melt. It was generally satisfying. However, an hour into my resumed trip, I entered the Boston area and started to get a bit of rumbling in the bowels. I broke wind several times, but the gastrointestinal rumbling was getting so unbearable along with the stench, that I had to pull over at a Buck Horn Truck Stop. It was so bad,that I was barely able to hold the runny shit inside my bowels before I took down my boxers and let loose. The first wave of semi-solid feces was forced out by an explosive fire hose of runny turds and watery diarrhea, and I screamed in agony; butthole stinging from the festering shit water that was splashing back up onto my ass.
I recovered after several minutes of dabbing at my asshole with that crappy cheap non-quilted toilet paper, and eased my ass back into my pants as to buy some pepto bismol from the gift shop. The beast in my lower abdomen needed to be calmed before I got on the road again.
It's common for me to leave unflushed shit in the toilets that I use, as to make the life of whatever minimum wage loser that has to clean it up that much worse. This was a special occasion! The toilet was nearly ready to spill over. Perfection had been achieved, or so I thought.
Mere seconds after my retreat from the stinking commode, a rather stalky man with a huge beer gut barged into the bathroom like some drunken vagrant, stinking almost as badly as my unflushed Cosby Kids. Sporting a rather unkept greasy beard, he butted his half-smoked joint onto the piss soaked floor and crept up behind me while I was washing my hands. I did not get a decent look at what he had contained in his other hand, but no sooner did he rush up behind me and jammed what felt like the barrel of a pistol into the lower of my back. "Don't move unless I tell you to." he blurted out messily. "I'll kill you if you move, now drop your pants." "Look, man, you can have my wallet, I don't care. I won't report you, just don't kill me," I replied. The stalky man responded in a gruff "That ain't gonna cut it, drop your pants now." So I did as he asked. "Now take down the boxers too," he remarked.
"Oh god!" I thought to myself "I'm going to get raped in the ass at a fucking truck stop" and I did just as he asked. He prodded my already tender and sore asshole several times with the object he had jammed into my back, presumably the barrel of a pistol. I winced in pain, but dared not make noise. "Bend over, you're gonna take it hard like Linus does. Right in the sweet buttery cornhole. You're going to take it from me! The great RMS! AHAHAHAHAH!!!!!"
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" I thought over and over again while I proceeded to bend over the sink, when I finally caught a glimpse of my assailant in the sink mirror. The son of a bitch was jamming the mouthpiece end of a fucking flute into my back and asshole. A FUCKING FLUTE! I quickly pulled my pants back up, and shoved the greasy fuck away from me. I quickly pulled my 4.5" serrated Gerber lockback knife out of my right pocket while the madman tooted away on the mouthpiece end of the defiled flute. Quickly dashing at him, I was able to subdue the rapist son of a bitch and grip him firmly by his long hippie scalp.
I held the knife to his throat and yelled "You fuck! It's time to eat shit!" I forced his fat head and person into the stall, down into the shit I had left in the commode minutes earlier. I recall the warmth of the shitbath being about lukewarm as I plunged his head multiple times into the crapper. "Nobody fucks with me on my fucking commute, you piece of shit!" I screamed at him as I kept dunking his head into the spoiled chunks and bacteria and finally applied a hefty blow to the base of his skull; leaving him passed out face down in my feces.
I left the truck stop after calmly purchasing a travel size bottle of pepto, downed the sucker, and eventually made it home in time to watch the conclusion of CHiPS.
If you have any further information on my assailant, I've included an artist's rendering of him here
Anime fans are fucking fat smelly dipshits with B.O. who never wash their asscracks, armpits and crotches. The kind of people that wait a week before shaving their grotesque greasy faces and are constipated all of the time. These sons 'a bitches need to get a fucking job and stop wasting their parents' college touition staying up all night playing Quake 3 in a dorm room and watching Samurai X like it's the holy grail.
Slashdot Mirror
The Michael Richards show 4 ever!
careless people deserve what they get.
.. _ ..| | ..| |
__| |
||||||||||
meh
This is a fair and accurate rebuttle which provides evidence to the contrary
.00012% in mass
concerning the existance of "planet Pluto":
The occurrance of a false-scientific conspiracy is rare. What am I referring to, you
ask? I refer to the existance (or, lack of) the "Planet Pluto." Supposedly "discovered"
in 1930 by Astronomer Clyde Tombaugh by accident, was merely a clever story to claim
credit for a "new planet" and scientific precedence. The pure and simple truth is the
FACT that the planet Pluto does not exist. The reason for orbital disturbances beyond
the planet Neptune are explained in a rather simple non-planetoid manner. Rather than
a planet-sized mass made mostly of frozen water, methane and carbon-oxygen compounds,
a more plausable suggestion is a mobile gravity well or dark matter pocket of
comperable space-distortion magnitude. Contrary to popular belief and physical
evidence, the Oort cloud does not possess any other masses similar in magnitude to
"Pluto." In fact, the second largest Oort fragment is all but
magnitude, compared to what is known as "The Planet Pluto." The assertion that a
mysterious ball of ice exists by itself beyond a real gas planet [Neptune] with no
subsequent balls of ice similar size-magnitude beyond this supposed "planet."
As far as optical "evidence" is concerned, Oort fragments aligning in a per-chance
optical arrangement distorts sunlight in a manner that appears planetoid, but is really
rather faint to be considered a "planet." Reconsider your universe: Pluto does not
exist.
Rare is the occurance of a false-scientific conspiracy. What am I referring to, you ask? I refer to the existance (or, lack of) the "Planet Pluto." Supposedly "discovered" in 1930 by Astronomer Clyde Tombaugh by accident, was merely a clever story to claim credit for a "new planet" and scientific presidence. The pure and simple truth is the FACT that the planet Pluto does not exist. The reason for orbital disturbances beyond the planet Neptune are explained in a rather simple non-planetoid manner. Rather than a planet-sized mass made mostly of frozen water, methane and carbon-oxygen compounds, a more plausable suggestion is a mobile gravity well or dark matter pocket of comperable space-distortion magnitude. Contrary to popular belief and physical evidence, the Oort cloud does not possess any other masses similar in magnitude to "Pluto." In fact, the second largest Oort fragment is all but .00012% in mass magnitude, compared to what is known as "The Planet Pluto." The assertion that a mysterious ball of ice exists by itself beyond a real gas planet [Neptune] with no subsequent balls of ice similar size-magnitude beyond this supposed "planet."
As far as optical "evidence" is concerned, Oort fragments aligning in a per-chance optical arrangement distort sunlight in a manner that appears planetoid, but is really rather faint to be considered a "planet." Reconsider your universe: Pluto does not exist.
The Matrix, excellent special effects aside was only mediocre at best. A laughable heroic epic with bad science, having excellent slow-motion bullet scenes are now generic as hell and have been parodied twice already (Kung Pow and Deuce Bigalow) in major motion pictures. It is time to remove your brain from the Wachowski mindfuck machine, because the movie simply isn't as excellent as some would have you believe. "Ww-w-w-w-hy do I have to wait until 2003 piss piss moan," I'll tell you why, fruitcake. Alliyah or however the fuck you spell her hame died in a stupid private plane crash with several of her fat-ass bodyguard cronies. Good riddance, her acting skillz were crap (proven by her roles in Romeo Must Die and that crap Queen of the Damned movie.)
And what do I have to say about it? Well, although the CG in the previews is fucking pretty as hell, that fag Anakin Skywalker goes from a little melon-headed kid (because he's supposed to be oh-so-fucking-cute) to a thin-faced prettyboy who's ready to fuck the limber white spandex-clad Natalie Portman, bearing no resemblance to his former self. Having grown that faggoty little braid of hair in the meantime just like his boyfriend Obi-Wan, I'm convinced this movie will suck more dick than CmdrTaco and Hemos combined. And what is this shit about Jar-Jar Binks making another appearance? Fuck that shit. The only merits to this film will be Jango Fett and his tiny Boba son. So, if you're out camping in front of a movie theatre to see this, you should probably suicide ASAP.
only linux fags waste their time on shit like this, because their OS sucks dick and will only run on stupid old embedded crap processors. *Linux is Dying.
It sucks penis!
Major film studio Dreamworks switches to Linux and goes bankrupt in a month.
A few years ago, while browsing around the library downtown, I had to take a piss. As I entered the john a big beautiful all- American football hero type, about twenty-five, came out of one of the booths. I stood at the urinal looking at him out of the corner of my eye as he washed his hands. He didn't once look at me. He was "straight" and married -- and in any case I was sure I wouldn't have a chance with him.
As soon as he left I darted into the booth he'd vacated, hoping there might be a lingering smell of shit and even a seat still warm from his sturdy young ass. I found not only the smell but the shit itself. He'd forgotten to flush. And what a treasure he had left behind. Three or four beautiful specimens floated in the bowl. It apparently had been a fairly dry, constipated shit, for all were fat, stiff, and ruggedly textured. The real prize was a great feast of turd -- a nine inch gastrointestinal triumph as thick as a man's wrist.
I knelt before the bowl, inhaling the rich brown fragrance and wondered if I should obey the impulse building up inside me. I'd always been a heavy rimmer and had lapped up more than one little clump of shit, but that had been just an inevitable part of eating ass and not an end in itself. Of course I'd had jerkoff fantasies of devouring great loads of it (what rimmer hasn't), but I had never done it. Now, here I was, confronted with the most beautiful five-pound turd I'd ever feasted my eyes on, a sausage fit to star in any fantasy and one I knew to have been hatched from the asshole of the world's handsomest young stud.
Why not? I plucked it from the bowl, holding it with both hands to keep it from breaking. I lifted it to my nose. It smelled like rich, ripe limburger (horrid, but thrilling), yet had the consistency of cheddar. What is cheese anyway but milk turning to shit without the benefit of a digestive tract?
I gave it a lick and found that it tasted better then it smelled. I've found since then that shit nearly almost does.
I hesitated no longer. I shoved the fucking thing as far into my mouth as I could get it and sucked on it like a big brown cock, beating my meat like a madman. I wanted to completely engulf it and bit off a large chunk, flooding my mouth with the intense, bittersweet flavor. To my delight I found that while the water in the bowl had chilled the outside of the turd, it was still warm inside. As I chewed I discovered that it was filled with hard little bits of something I soon identified as peanuts. He hadn't chewed them carefully and they'd passed through his body virtually unchanged. I ate it greedily, sending lump after peanutty lump sliding scratchily down my throat. My only regret was the donor of this feast wasn't there to wash it down with his piss.
I soon reached a terrific climax. I caught my cum in the cupped palm of my hand and drank it down. Believe me, there is no more delightful combination of flavors than the hot sweetness of cum with the rich bitterness of shit.
Afterwards I was sorry that I hadn't made it last longer. But then I realized that I still had a lot of fun in store for me. There was still a clutch of virile turds left in the bowl. I tenderly fished them out, rolled them into my handkerchief, and stashed them in my briefcase. In the week to come I found all kinds of ways to eat the shit without bolting it right down. Once eaten it's gone forever unless you want to filch it third hand out of your own asshole. Not an unreasonable recourse in moments of desperation or simple boredom.
I stored the turds in the refrigerator when I was not using them but within a week they were all gone. The last one I held in my mouth without chewing, letting it slowly dissolve. I had liquid shit trickling down my throat for nearly four hours. I must have had six orgasms in the process.
I often think of that lovely young guy dropping solid gold out of his sweet, pink asshole every day, never knowing what joy it could, and at least once did, bring to a grateful shiteater.
A few years ago, while browsing around the library downtown, I had to take a piss. As I entered the john a big beautiful all-American football hero type, about twenty-five, came out of one of the booths. I stood at the urinal looking at him out of the corner of my eye as he washed his hands. He didn't once look at me. He was "straight" and married -- and in any case I was sure I wouldn't have a chance with him.
As soon as he left I darted into the booth he'd vacated, hoping there might be a lingering smell of shit and even a seat still warm from his sturdy young ass. I found not only the smell but the shit itself. He'd forgotten to flush. And what a treasure he had left behind. Three or four beautiful specimens floated in the bowl. It apparently had been a fairly dry, constipated shit, for all were fat, stiff, and ruggedly textured. The real prize was a great feast of turd -- a nine inch gastrointestinal triumph as thick as a man's wrist.
I knelt before the bowl, inhaling the rich brown fragrance and wondered if I should obey the impulse building up inside me. I'd always been a heavy rimmer and had lapped up more than one little clump of shit, but that had been just an inevitable part of eating ass and not an end in
itself. Of course I'd had jerkoff fantasies of devouring great loads of it (what rimmer hasn't), but I had never done it. Now, here I was, confronted with the most beautiful five-pound turd I'd ever feasted my eyes on, a sausage fit to star in any fantasy and one I knew to have been hatched from the asshole of the world's handsomest young stud.
Why not? I plucked it from the bowl, holding it with both hands to keep it from breaking. I lifted it to my nose. It smelled like rich, ripe limburger (horrid, but thrilling), yet had the consistency of cheddar. What is cheese anyway but milk turning to shit without the benefit of a digestive tract?
I gave it a lick and found that it tasted better then it smelled. I've found since then that shit nearly almost does.
I hesitated no longer. I shoved the fucking thing as far into my mouth as I could get it and sucked on it like a big brown cock, beating my meat like a madman. I wanted to completely engulf it and bit off a large chunk, flooding my mouth with the intense, bittersweet flavor. To my delight I found that while the water in the bowl had chilled the outside of the turd, it was still warm inside. As I chewed I discovered that it was filled with hard little bits of something I soon identified as peanuts. He hadn't chewed them carefully and they'd passed through his body virtually unchanged. I ate it greedily, sending lump after peanutty lump sliding scratchily down my throat. My only regret was the donor of this feast wasn't there to wash it down with his piss.
I soon reached a terrific climax. I caught my cum in the cupped palm of my hand and drank it down. Believe me, there is no more delightful combination of flavors than the hot sweetness of cum with the rich bitterness of shit.
Afterwards I was sorry that I hadn't made it last longer. But then I realized that I still had a lot of fun in store for me. There was still a clutch of virile turds left in the bowl. I tenderly fished them out, rolled them into my handkerchief, and stashed them in my briefcase. In the week to come I found all kinds of ways to eat the shit without bolting it right down. Once eaten it's gone forever unless you want to filch it third hand out of your own asshole. Not an unreasonable recourse in moments of desperation or simple boredom.
I stored the turds in the refrigerator when I was not using them but within a week they were all gone. The last one I held in my mouth without chewing, letting it slowly dissolve. I had liquid shit trickling down my throat for nearly four hours. I must have had six orgasms in the process.
I often think of that lovely young guy dropping solid gold out of his sweet, pink asshole
every day, never knowing what joy it could, and at least once did, bring to a grateful shiteater.
Monday: Suck off Malda
Tuesday: Suck off Homos
Wednesday: Suck off Cliff's tiny black cock
Thursday: Fellatiate michael
Friday: Suckle on Krow's penis
Saturday: First day of the weekend at the tip of roblimo's cock
Sunday: chrisd gets the honor of getting his hog sucked on the weekend.
You really are the scum of the earth, thought I'd let you know that.
Signed by Your Friend
--Bologna Tits.
--
DAYGLO ABORTION CHILI:
--
14 g chili powder
7 g dried red peppers
7 g cayenne pepper
13 fresh jalapeno peppers
1 large cooking onion
5 cloves garlic
1 can tomato soup
1 can red kidney beans
1 can beer
1 ripe human foetus
Behead and debone foetus then brown meat in an open saucepan. After draining the fat, add the diced onion and peppers and
saute. Add the tomato soup and the remaining spices and simmer for 30 minutes. Add the can of beer and the kidney beens.
Cover and boil for 1 hour. The meal will serve 6 and should be served hot.
Prior to serving place foetal head on a stake and mount in your front lawn so your neighbors know you're having our chili.
A few years ago, while browsing around the library downtown, I had to take a piss. As I entered the john a big beautiful all-American football hero type, about twenty-five, came out of one of the booths. I stood at the urinal looking at him out of the corner of my eye as he washed his hands. He didn't once look at me. He was "straight" and married -- and in any case I was sure I wouldn't have a chance with him.
As soon as he left I darted into the booth he'd vacated, hoping there might be a lingering smell of shit and even a seat still warm from his sturdy young ass. I found not only the smell but the shit itself. He'd forgotten to flush. And what a treasure he had left behind. Three or four beautiful specimens floated in the bowl. It apparently had been a fairly dry, constipated shit, for all were fat, stiff, and ruggedly textured. The real prize was a great feast of turd -- a nine inch gastrointestinal triumph as thick as a man's wrist.
I knelt before the bowl, inhaling the rich brown fragrance and wondered if I should obey the impulse building up inside me. I'd always been a heavy rimmer and had lapped up more than one little clump of shit, but that had been just an inevitable part of eating ass and not an end in itself. Of course I'd had jerkoff fantasies of devouring great loads of it (what rimmer hasn't), but I had never done it. Now, here I was, confronted with the most beautiful five-pound turd I'd ever feasted my eyes on, a sausage fit to star in any fantasy and one I knew to have been hatched from the asshole of the world's handsomest young stud.
Why not? I plucked it from the bowl, holding it with both hands to keep it from breaking. I lifted it to my nose. It smelled like rich, ripe limburger (horrid, but thrilling), yet had the consistency of cheddar. What is cheese anyway but milk turning to shit without the benefit of a digestive tract?
I gave it a lick and found that it tasted better then it smelled. I've found since then that shit nearly almost does.
I hesitated no longer. I shoved the fucking thing as far into my mouth as I could get it and sucked on it like a big brown cock, beating my meat like a madman. I wanted to completely engulf it and bit off a large chunk, flooding my mouth with the intense, bittersweet flavor. To my delight I found that while the water in the bowl had chilled the outside of the turd, it was still warm inside. As I chewed I discovered that it was filled with hard little bits of something I soon identified as peanuts. He hadn't chewed them carefully and they'd passed through his body virtually unchanged. I ate it greedily, sending lump after peanutty lump sliding scratchily down my throat. My only regret was the donor of this feast wasn't there to wash it down with his piss.
I soon reached a terrific climax. I caught my cum in the cupped palm of my hand and drank it down. Believe me, there is no more delightful combination of flavors than the hot sweetness of cum with the rich bitterness of shit.
Afterwards I was sorry that I hadn't made it last longer. But then I realized that I still had a lot of fun in store for me. There was still a clutch of virile turds left in the bowl. I tenderly fished them out, rolled them into my handkerchief, and stashed them in my briefcase. In the week to come I found all kinds of ways to eat the shit without bolting it right down. Once eaten it's gone forever unless you want to filch it third hand out of your own asshole. Not an unreasonable recourse in moments of desperation or simple boredom.
I stored the turds in the refrigerator when I was not using them but within a week they were all gone. The last one I held in my mouth without chewing, letting it slowly dissolve. I had liquid shit trickling down my throat for nearly four hours. I must have had six orgasms in the process.
I often think of that lovely young guy dropping solid gold out of his sweet, pink asshole every day, never knowing what joy it could, and at least once did, bring to a grateful shiteater.
I'm sure the military casualties are easy enough to research. These are deaths of non-military nature.
Note: Minimal Estimates
Dead:Year(s):Victim:Government
1 Million:1915-1917:Armenians:Ottoman Turkey
20 Million:1929-1945:Russian Kulak farmers and political opponents:USSR
20 Million:1933-1945:Jews, political opponents,ethnics:Nazi Germany
10 Million:1927-1949:Political opponents, army conscripts:Nationalist China
20 Million:1949-1976:Political opponents, enemies of state,rurals:Red China
100,000:1960-1981:politial enemies, Indians:Guatemala
300,000:1971-1979:political enemies, Christians:Uganda
2 Million:1975-1979:Educated pesons, political enemies:Cambodia
800,000:1994:Tutsi Peoples.:Rwanda
I Agree With This Post.
I routinely commute between Bangor, Maine and Washington D.C. once every week for work. The drive is long and uneventful usually, yes I know, but the scratch is decent. To keep myself from going insane, I'll usually catch some tunes on the radio stations that I like along the way or even listen to something out of my CD collection if I'm really bored. I-95 gets pretty dull once you're several hours into the drive, so I like to stop every four hours or so to stretch my legs, fill the car up with gas, and grab a bite to eat. I'm particularly fond of Friendly's, and stop there quite often as my company picks up the tab for all travel related expenses, plus compensation.
I decided to stop there one evening on the way back up to Bangor. The patty melt is usually pretty good and I mostly get that combo platter, but this time I decided to try the pastrami melt. It was generally satisfying. However, an hour into my resumed trip, I entered the Boston area and started to get a bit of rumbling in the bowels. I broke wind several times, but the gastrointestinal rumbling was getting so unbearable along with the stench, that I had to pull over at a Buck Horn Truck Stop. It was so bad,that I was barely able to hold the runny shit inside my bowels before I took down my boxers and let loose. The first wave of semi-solid feces was forced out by an explosive fire hose of runny turds and watery diarrhea, and I screamed in agony; butthole stinging from the festering shit water that was splashing back up onto my ass.
I recovered after several minutes of dabbing at my asshole with that crappy cheap non-quilted toilet paper, and eased my ass back into my pants as to buy some pepto bismol from the gift shop. The beast in my lower abdomen needed to be calmed before I got on the road again.
It's common for me to leave unflushed shit in the toilets that I use, as to make the life of whatever minimum wage loser that has to clean it up that much worse. This was a special occasion! The toilet was nearly ready to spill over. Perfection had been achieved, or so I thought.
Mere seconds after my retreat from the stinking commode, a rather stalky man with a huge beer gut barged into the bathroom like some drunken vagrant, stinking almost as badly as my unflushed Cosby Kids. Sporting a rather unkept greasy beard, he butted his half-smoked joint onto the piss soaked floor and crept up behind me while I was washing my hands. I did not get a decent look at what he had contained in his other hand, but no sooner did he rush up behind me and jammed what felt like the barrel of a pistol into the lower of my back. "Don't move unless I tell you to." he blurted out messily. "I'll kill you if you move, now drop your pants." "Look, man, you can have my wallet, I don't care. I won't report you, just don't kill me," I replied. The stalky man responded in a gruff "That ain't gonna cut it, drop your pants now." So I did as he asked. "Now take down the boxers too," he remarked.
"Oh god!" I thought to myself "I'm going to get raped in the ass at a fucking truck stop" and I did just as he asked. He prodded my already tender and sore asshole several times with the object he had jammed into my back, presumably the barrel of a pistol. I winced in pain, but dared not make noise. "Bend over, you're gonna take it hard like Linus does. Right in the sweet buttery cornhole. You're going to take it from me! The great RMS! AHAHAHAHAH!!!!!"
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit" I thought over and over again while I proceeded to bend over the sink, when I finally caught a glimpse of my assailant in the sink mirror. The son of a bitch was jamming the mouthpiece end of a fucking flute into my back and asshole. A FUCKING FLUTE! I quickly pulled my pants back up, and shoved the greasy fuck away from me. I quickly pulled my 4.5" serrated Gerber lockback knife out of my right pocket while the madman tooted away on the mouthpiece end of the defiled flute. Quickly dashing at him, I was able to subdue the rapist son of a bitch and grip him firmly by his long hippie scalp.
I held the knife to his throat and yelled "You fuck! It's time to eat shit!" I forced his fat head and person into the stall, down into the shit I had left in the commode minutes earlier. I recall the warmth of the shitbath being about lukewarm as I plunged his head multiple times into the crapper. "Nobody fucks with me on my fucking commute, you piece of shit!" I screamed at him as I kept dunking his head into the spoiled chunks and bacteria and finally applied a hefty blow to the base of his skull; leaving him passed out face down in my feces.
I left the truck stop after calmly purchasing a travel size bottle of pepto, downed the sucker, and eventually made it home in time to watch the conclusion of CHiPS.
If you have any further information on my assailant, I've
included an artist's rendering of him here
who gives a shit, losers? michael suckles on Rob Malda's withered penis.
Accessable to Rob Malda for constant contact with his friends Homos and Koboi Kneel, #gay is mighly lonely without him, I'm sure.
Amazon fucking rules, and you know it. Faggot hippies! Take your mom 'n pop bookstores and cram 'em. Amazon is here to stay, and United We Will Stand!
all very tired and gay little cartoons drawn by 10,000 slave children. clean yourself with SOAP, fucker.
Anime fans are fucking fat smelly dipshits with B.O. who never wash their asscracks, armpits and crotches. The kind of people that wait a week before shaving their grotesque greasy faces and are constipated all of the time. These sons 'a bitches need to get a fucking job and stop wasting their parents' college touition staying up all night playing Quake 3 in a dorm room and watching Samurai X like it's the holy grail.
the more isolated OSS deveolpers become, the better. I am in favor of this move.