the author tells you of the many things out there that make him want to
become a master thief with an exceptionally large basement to hoard the
myriad material things worth owning and loving.
Message Board Discussion.
day. The love of consumption is a shameful yet glorious thing as
evidenced by the many odd and showy collections many of us have in our
homes whether it be things we now regret [my 40 long boxes of comic books I’d part with for a pittance] or the ones we wear as badges of pride [my neatly organized and alphabetized to a "T" DVD collection].
Some folks say that these kinds of material things ruin us and make us
slaves to pop culture and for many it does. For others like myself,
some stuff whether frivolous or not, simply must be gotten. For those
people, I present this new subcolumn.
Let’s say I had some spare change over from last week’s buying spree [in an act of synergistic irony, the breakway pants broke me] and wanted to dig deeper into oddities that are either unattainable, super-expensive, or ugly masks of ugly men… what would I purchase? Look no further, skinpots.
1. Silo Can You Go?
Real missile silos from yesteryear have gone up for sale and the initial goal of the sellers was to build places of recreation at the sites but I personally feel that’s far too demeaning and small-thinking of them.
Fucking missile silos.
I’d buy those bitches and film my long-delayed sci-fi masterwork Radioactive Assholes as well as its sequels Radioactive Assholes Ain’t Got Shit, Radioactive Assholes: Lost in Rhyme, and the rousing finale Radioactive Assholes vs. Tom Berenger in 6-D.
Then I’d do the only thing you CAN do with old ass missile silos. Put missiles in those bitches and fire them all around town. No one would be expecting an upstanding private citizen like myself to fuck America in the mouth with a melty blast from the Heartland. And that is why I’m a genius.
- Contrary to popular belief, by owning a missile silo you are not given the ability to launch your penis on command.
- Funny thing about missile silos. They shouldn’t be available to own.
- The silo that ended Danny Glover in Witness is not for sale so don’t get your hopes up.
- It’s a bad idea to go underground and hide in your missile silos until Battlefield: Earth happens.
- Donna Summer is still fucking alive. Damn it.
- From their ad: "Goes great with Hangar-18!".
I own Marc Bolan’s earthen remains but those huddled manbones are nothing compared to a piece of ancient mouth from one of the coolest devourers the world has ever known.
T-Rex jaw parts for sale!
Yes, you too can be the proud owner of one of the oldest mouths on the planet and that’s no small feat. The piece of chewing tenacity to the right is on sale for a ton of cash but it’s worth every red cent because who knows what the fuck that thing has laid tooth on during its ancient lifetime?
That may have been the dinosaur that bit Jesus for all you know.
- If the T-Rex existed today it’d be classified as a youandyourfathertarian.
- How pissed would science be if all these bones and fossils and facts were just a secret red herring planted by the Baptists to bring their enemies out into the open?
- When I was a kid I used to think all the T-Rex did was wait around for a Triceratops to show up and fight its ass. Now new evidence has been discovered which tells us that’s exactly how it went down.
- This jawbone would not be out of place in Gary Busey’s mouth.
We all wear masks.
That’s the human condition. We must put on faces to hide our true selves lest we look into the hourglass and see the abyss staring back at us on the road less traveled. That’s too deep for you I know, but I have to try and enable a stitch in time, lest the spell for chameleons be lost in focault’s pendulum. Superfudge.
Speaking of fucked masks. Look at this Don Post nightmare that easily eclipses the rotting heads, bat-people, and devilish fuckloks and suckwitches and shitfolk that comprise the bulk of the latex maskmaking retail world.
Is it the missing link? Is it the scuttled Bob Hoskins Wolverine design Alex Ross did? Is it the owner of Gino’s Pizzeria on Waveland Avenue?
Whatever it is, it’s a fucking crisis. I must have it.
"She Bop" – relative badass C. Lauper
- Put this on in Trenton, New Jersey and you are immediately made mayor.
- Like the Mona Lisa, his eyes follow you wherever you go. Unlike the Mona Lisa, his penis follows you too.
- I trick or trat [that’s the past tense, right] with this once. Huge mistake. The guy at the door gave me the candy, his wallet, and let me forcefully fuck his ass a while.
A lot of people don’t believe that the expensive penis in a jar that was sold for five figures is legendary "Mad Monk" Rasputin’s actual penis but rather some other huge inverted Russian dick.
That’s something to mull over at the coffee shop.
I’m going to take it on faith that the penis is the one we all know in our spirit hearts is ol’ Rassy’s. Look at it, the way it aims downward as if something great was below. A divining rod. It has to be the one true shaft. It could be no other.
Rasputin’s a character, having survived assassination attempts, charges of heresy, and having a huge goddamn shlong.
His legacy is cemented by the fact people pay to look at his nuts.
- The male Rasputin latches onto the female Rasputin, grasping the cloaca with its claspers before injecting the female with twenty-odd gallons of Rasputin spermshot.
- The woman in the picture above eventually got close enough to the Raspenis to bond telepathically with it. Her ESP was translated into the pickled sentient cock and balls’ psychic motto, which is "Rock On!" translated from Russian.
- Rasputin’s penis is 11 inches flaccid and 4 inches erect, which is weird.