To fully appreciate this, first watch [Part 1] + [Part 2]. This guy isn't just any mope. This is Corn - the likely autistic, positively virgin pornstar that partook in 114 bukkake shoots, 113 of which the beneficary of his cumshot was a cement wall. Starting to understand the significance of the title?
UPDATE: this girl actually emailed me, here's the background story - she lives in a KKK-laden town where 12 inch black wangs are the forbidden fruit. Undeterred, she sought salvation on blackplanet.com and ultimately bit off more BBC than her vagina could chew.
Every so often I come across an individual that makes me ask: How much tarantula fucking middle aged misguided trailer park moonshine did they drink before this became a good idea? It's like someone took Rosie O'Donnell and made it harder to see her naked.
First impressions are important. Unless of course your name is Kandi Baby and have access to more pharmaceuticals than Liver King. Whoever thought it was a good idea to release this pornographic lobotomy probably saw The Marvels on opening day too.
Nothing says reinventing a franchise quite like admitting to the world that you have a fetish even the truckers of America aren't paying for in Walmart parking lots. Now give this so many views, The Rock won't be able to turn down being in the sequel.
Most notable is the magician at the :34 second mark aka [Area51Freak] Not a common name you see around these parts. Probably because it sounds like she was knee deep in Runescape quests when she came up with it. And much like OSRS, you don't need a big rig to please her.
There's people that skirt along the edge of "normal". Then there's Carrot Top. And finally there's unfixable misfits like the 10 or so specimens you're about to witness on the other side of this click. For our non-American viewers: This is why Valium exists. [more]
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.
If the 1980's taught me something, it's that ANYthing goes as long as there's a killer soundtrack behind you. Except this. Not even the renaissance of crack will be held liable for this shit.
Honestly this one could have rolled credits right after Donatello got his tits greased with tomato sauce and you'd still have an unwanted memory to try eradicating for the foreseeable future. But where's the fun in that?
