Homing in on the 10-clip anniversary of offensive sexual acts among a global pandemic, and yet I remain hopeful. I mean hopeful that people in quarantine will continue to produce more reprehensible content than a Harvey Weinstein video library, not the Covid stuff - we're fucked. Like the guy in the first clip: Fap until it goes dark.
Today we go on a spirited journey to a time forgotten; Behind the scenes of your average 2004 porn shoot. Special shoutout to Julian for being a role model during my college years. That man's lust for turning fallopian tubes into tier-3 tuna casserole should have earned the Martha Stewart seal of approval.
Pork sword bros break the first rule in Ghostbusters 101, clown horn honking gets a new identity and whatever the fuck fight the girl at 1:12 is practicing for is something I feel should be featured on this site in the future. Somebody fetch my finest Walmart polyester linen, I wish to ejaculate.
Flattery was never my strong point... and it still isn't. Half the decisions here look like they were made by a person that smokes wet Newports, and yet everyone is chowin down like it's grandma's old fashion applesauce. Your fellow Walmartians will be hearing about this.
Farted on, finger banged, told he looks like fuckin Robin Williams - this dude endures pain you can't even imagine. Fortunately he's a Sum 41 mosh pit survivor and holds a blackbelt in making Terminator-esque sound effects whilst flailing his arms like a fucking idiot, so it's all good.
Someone somewhere thought it would be really great to make a 70 minute porn film set in the Victorian era about a guy with a dick for a nose. Today we honor men like that and the amazing master-pieces of shit they produce.
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.
Consider this an open letter to the content creators out there: I will donate the $13.75 I made trading Krypto Kittys with down syndrome to a charity of your choosing, in exchange for promising to never use condiments on your wiener ever again. The balls are in your courts.
There's a very thin [blood]line between what's acceptable and what isn't in the world of semi-professionally produced porn. I'm not telling you I know where that line is. But I do know Fujisan Ned Flanders just fucking diddly doodly crossed it.
There's a lot to digest here. But nothing is as concerning as whatever rodeo clown, double-wide uncle sister bullshit is going on around the 3:11 mark. Axe body wash isn't going to clean this feeling off me tonight. Time to dip into the disaster emergency kit.
Volume #5 in a collection of videos that Charlie Sheen would be ashamed to attach his name to. And without even a single appearance from a graduate of the Woodman School of Rectology, that's saying something.
