What happens when modern technology moves too quickly for humans to predict the next catastrophe? Porn. The answer is and always will be porn. Today's flavor is what might as well be an alpha version of Skynet attempting to end human population via suicidal gooning. We're fucked.
Let me formally introduce you to GM. aka Grandpa Merrick. aka Wrinkle Rocker. aka Mr. Steal Yo Girl. Rather than live out his twilight years chasing dusty jellyfish, he wakes up every day and chooses violence. And intravenous Cialis.
Today's spread: a.) Famous fucktwats trying to cope with lack of attention b.) Historical tone deaf unawareness c.) Whatever final form Madonna has decided to mutate into. In other words - Three things to make your quarantine just a little bit worse.
Meet Scott Taylor. Today Scott is a well respected porn mogul, but that wasn't always the case. Flashback to the glory years of 1985 and witness the Billy Mays of penis pump salesmen.
99.99% of men will never experience this man's life. He's got the negotiating skills of Elon Musk, the aura of a baconator and they've got no other options. It's a sexual combination you never knew you wanted until today.
What weighs 95 pounds, likes the look of cock, and gets messy at the Arizona glory hole? Yeah, that chick. Personally she annoys me to death, but some of you fukr's can't get enough.
Kinda want to emphasize those gravity bags reaching maximum velocity around the 5:00 minute mark. Jell-o has spent over 100 years trying to market physics like this and have failed miserably in comparison. Turns out all you need is a 1-bedroom apartment in Latvia and a c-section scar to make math fun again.
A baffling assortment of eccentric freaks so confusing out of place, you'll think you're watching the new Scream movie. There's a time and place for everything... except tag teaming a $1,000 dollar Queen's Blade figurine. That's a permanent no from me dawg.
If the first chick doesn't have the look of a girl that's admitted to losing her virginity to a mailbox, I don't know what is. A moment that was probably about as unintentional as me using Cowabunga Bay Water's wave pool as my own personal porta potty. Apologies to visitors between years of 1998 - 2013.
Listen: If you delinquents keep spamming your entire loadouts before the first checkpoint is captured, I'm gonna have to turn this into an official series. That kind of uncontrollable pressure reminds me of a romantic moment involving myself, a $20.00 bill and the McRib. Let's just say mom's Plymouth Vista got a new interior paint job that night. [PART I] [PART II]
