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.
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.
1. Put a Friend in Low Places.
It’s a shame I already took care of my gigantic FuckMan needs around Easter. Otherwise Big John would be taking up the 1/3rd of my King-Sized bed not occupied by myself, my wife, and Monsieur Huge, a little number I picked up at the local Goodwill. One thing to keep in mind: Astroglide or Bust with M. Huge… my buttocks looked like Nosferatu’s Slaughterhouse that first week.
But this Big John chap. Aces…
I mean, read the sales pitch:
“Mister Big John only wants to satisfy you [1.]. If
you wish, Big John also offers his behind [2.]. Or you can extract his penis
which becomes an vibrating suction dildo [3.]. Mind you, Big John has dark
hair and wears a moustache [4.]. Soft reinforced plastic material. With a
17.5cm long and 3.5cm wide removable penis. Variable speed.“
Let’s break this down.
[1.] I never settle on plastic sex men who have their own wants. If he comes to the relationship with demands I expect Big John to pick up some of the tab on Big John.
[2.] Then again, he offers his behind as if some delicacy from the Orient. Which it is…
[3.] Well, then he’s just like a REAL Cowboy!
- High tech 3-D rendering, cutting edge virtua cell animation, and a series of glitterballs create two-dimensional boots to always hover over Mr. Big John’s Big Johnson.
- With the optional flaccid penis feature, Big John can fit in perfectly at the local roller rink, transmission shop, or race riot.
- For half the price of Big John, you can have real-life Kenji or possibly [ransom payment pending] Jordan-Trevor.
- Don’t panic if you wake up to find Ryan Gosling inside your humunguos fuck puppet.
- Big John’s speeds include: “You Back There, Tiger?”, “O.K. Corral”, “Westworld Happens!”, and “”Dale Earnhardt Just Died!”.
The Playmobil Factory is often a haven for great things. I own more Playmobil toys than I care to mention for fear of having my scrotum repossessed [by Pazuzu I hope, I hope!].
But they have released an “African American Family” package that might not be the best thing ever. This is how a pre-eminent toymaker views the melanin enhanced cradle of lifers who we are more closely related to than David Dukes wants?
This may have been pulled from a secret interoffice memorandum at Playmobil HQ:
Mom is either a nurse, a BINGO enthusiast, or a recovering miraclewhipaholic. Her glazed over eyes convey a history of missed chances, scratch-off lottery tickets that yielded only more free losing tickets, and a short stint as a backup dancer for Me’shell Ndegéocello. She doesn’t want her kids, isn’t even sure if they’re hers. She smiles because she’s high on life. And drugs.
The eldest child is a basketball prodigy at first glance, but upon further inspection is revealed to be a sufferer of the birth defect Spherehand and unable to make use of a full set of mittens. He idolizes the family dog, Hawmps, but is assailed nightly by its ferocious jaws and pink protrusion. He one day hopes to open the world’s first 24 hour Fashion Bug but will happily settle for dying alone in his car at 17.
Hawmps is feral, rabid, and agoraphobic. He is the only member of the family the Playmobil Company feels has a future.
Dad has forgotten everything that happened between The Jeffersons and this afternoon.
The daughter is an avid collector of butterflies but has been given a net with holes bigger than every butterfly ever born. She will be bottoming for one of the Indigo Girls before nightfall.
- 20% of the sales of this product go towards the “Playmobil Employees Miniature Golf Outing” charity.
- 10% of the sales of this product go towards the “Playmobil Employees Miniature Swimming” charity.
- Works well with the new “There Goes The Neighborhood” playset.
- Joss Ackland does not approve of these figures.
- We’re not real sure if that’s the baby’s real daddy.
Tired of peanut buttering your Batch and turning K-9 into 69?
Maybe a bone shaped oddly like a hard-on will help move the day along a little more swimmingly. Maybe. Or, maybe your dog will turn the corner and want to gnash anything prick-shaped into a pile of brittle and impoverished pieces.
How’s about that, asshole?
I call bullshit on the Nylabone folks. What the fuck does a skywatching ancient have to do with putting a hard cock in your maw?
Use the link below to buy this delicacy.
- This product replaces the bone shaped like the top of your newborn son’s soft and malleable head.
- Everyone knows why Galileo is smiling.
- This will keep your mutt from chewing your cock away for about 15 extra minutes.
- Modeled after Hollywood legend Fred Ward’s Nose/Penis.
- Leave this in an orphanage and it’ll look like Nosferatu’s Slaughterhouse in seventeen minutes!
Going hunting? Well you’re a dick.
But, if you are going hunting then why not take with you a whole bag of stiff birds? Decoys make it easier [unless you’re Matt Hastings] to fake animals out you see. They see a totally immobile member of their own species who doesn’t respond to calls or body language and they immediately think they’ve found a lifelong friend.
You shoot them and their body ends. Feathers shoot out in all directions. Excrement seeps into the morning soil. Bird blood happens.
In essense, SPORT!
Fuck this bag and any bag like it.
- It’s like a cute little nest of birds except the nest is a haven for avian holocausts.
- Look, they’re looking up as if for food from their mothers except there’s no mother and there’s no food. Only soulless plastic existence as they await their moment to lure their fleshy brethren into an assured and total avian holocaust.
- When zipped up and closed this could be simply a bag for carrying books or perhaps assorted garments. When opened, it is revealed that the only thing this bag can contain is a recipe for the bodily destruction of numerous avians. A holocaust, if you will.
- At $40 this bag is not cheep cheep.