The .t.urn. Drunk Tauniaia

Im coming back people... so WATCH OUT! Yes, its just minutes past 6:30 a.m. and I m. Drunk taunia. Welcome to my show. Just imagine how actually helarious E A Poe's life might have been up to his horrendous death. He was a drunk of a different kind, possibly due to a brain tumor. He was wearing old mismatched clothing. He was poor and destitute.... A thing to be punished for. Impuities of the products and excretions from industrialization to produce such quietly hostile pruducts for consumption destroys Poe's system. Or perhaps he was born with such deformities that did not adapt to the new pollutions... But, the corporate mantra is soldier on.

Like Jewish

I was talking to a friend, telling him all about how this sahopping app ripped me off and that rental property ripped me off and the state and county short change me on benefits and how they nickel and dime you at the doctors office and keep you alive artificially just to weasle insurance benefits out of your healthcare plan for their shareholder meetings... and he turns and smiles, "What, are you like Jewish or something? Because all I hear is someone complaining non stop about being the chosen. What exactly did you think you were chosen for again?" It's gotta be suffering. "Uh, yeah. It's time to acccept it and move on." "Is it? That would be apocolyptic."

Love And other kinks

My Dad use to sing to me when I was a babe...into his hairbrush...before karaoke. I realized what he meant when he would gaze dreamingly at me and sing :Cant take my eyes off of you" Of course, this backfired on him during church sermon on Sundays ... I would not need any introduction or accompaniment ... the speaker may have actually been too boring. Who knows. I would just burst into song.... Forrest justton gooby booby tooby... P bb jay offa oooh Tooby hairz i luf zyu I did not need a choir. I preffered to sing solo, to my Dad as i held his neck , standing on my tip toes directly on his crotch...

Carl’s Adventures: Pringle Man’s Introduction

Ryan n shane

'That's a triumphant dick!' Hang on theres gotta be a pic. Pic of drawing on wall of big dick by grafetti artist Inside the spposedly haunted Penthurst hospital...during a ghost hunt... Leave your rendition in comments...

whats for lunch

Imagine that your a wild animal and from the moment that you wake to the time you fall back to sleep your main goal in life is to find food. That's it. You have no other responsibilities, there is nothing else more important. So that's your life. Now, recognize that you are human living in an advanced society on a plentiful planet and you really only spend a few hours a day thinking, preparing, retreiving or setting food down to eat it. But, it clearly is a resource that if not readily available, attainable and accessible, you would also be on the hunt morning, noon and night. It would soon be something you have to focus on in order to function at all. You might even consider or kill a competitor for it. That's how ugly things could get if we had to. Looking at historical patterns, there might surface some Evidence suggesting that humans resorted to cannibalistic means in dire circumstances. Some theologins might even suggest that child sacrifices happened due to foreseeable failures in food supply. Particular sacrifice involving human mortification was often a resort of the financially or domestically ruined, whom along with their mass victims also sacrifices him or herself out to correct a malfashioned picture. But we are not animals living on the edge of survival coping with scarcity of any nature other than the scarcity that industry sometimes creates fictisciously to obtain control of a revenue stream. I somehow am inclined to think that the pandemic may have been used to amass these streams ... destroy the old and buy up the rest...the buy it or bury it handbook asuddenly appears more obvious now that I'm older. Wiser. Too wise for my own good. In a shithole covered partician buried deep in the heart of the crowded marketplace where temps average about 20 degrees hotter with no ventilation, anywhere in the penisula, a fury beast of a man and a small vendor move down a swollen corrider to one side of a curtain. The vendor lifts the curtain and reveals to the beast a frail naked parcel of a girl lying curled up in a ball on a blanket. She can barely look back before he slips under the curtain and sticks his hard dick into her face, gripping her tightly around the back of the neck. she mutters barely a wimper that suddenly shreiks at the drop of the curtain becoming somewhat louder as a growl....The sound of sucking and moaning. Her jaw becomes over extended. Suddenly sharp teeth appear and the beast is shreiking in pain. There is blood spewing all over her gdostorted facial expressions...Her face is morphed from an innocent girl to a furious demon and only the death of the man who meant to abuse her will satisfy. His bloody dick falls to the ground. She breaths deeply, slowly gaining the strength to stand over the dead beast and pull his shirt off his body and wrap the beast up in the tattered blanket and tie it in a knot. She scutters to the doorway, waiting. Hearing no sound. She slips the tshirt on and peeks out under the blnaket where she sees a quiet, empty corridor. She slips through and moves like a floating vapor down the tight spaces. Her hand brushes against a hanging belt and it drops to the ground, alerting an old woman with a broom. She darts across the corridor into another room and struggles to open a winow before the old woma n arrives. She hears a tustle outside, but she breaks the window and climbs out with her dirty feet and face perspiring and her teeth clinched. She somehow makes it....to the busy street where she suddenly blends in with the heated over crowded activity. She realizes no one sees her, no one caeres, so she turns and runs away from the shacks, as far as her breath and bare feet will take her. fThe writer returns.

OBIT

I want my obituary to say, "We don't know what killed her. She died from an overdose of life. Life killed her..." As it will kill all of us eventually. I hate it that some deaths are pinned to some shameful lifstyle choice and others are deserving of sainthood, like any really have authority to place one over another. All experience death and that is final. STOP Judging or acting like you have a secret passcode to every escape from your permanent exit. Death is not a sin. We all know the numerous ways it can happen. One is by living full on life, no holds barred. Wise or not you will be reaped.