Tripling down on a sub-culture that has defied all odds and normalized paying for content less interesting than giving Betty White 15 unsupervised minutes with a lawn sprinkler. These hype machines never seem to deliver. But the ones that come up really short? These might get a nut or 5 out of you. [PART I] [PART II]
For fuck sakes, these dorks could've thrown a dart at any billboard in Las Vegas and found better ideas to attach to their bodies permanently. I haven't seen people this far out of their comfort zones since the launch of Burger King's ultimate breakfast platter.
Yeah uh... so is this what studio porn has evolved into? Because if I've lived to the point where people are actually spending money on producing cleverly disguised Cialis commercials we may have finally reached the bottom...
Today's episode isn't about the money. It's about sending a message. Specifically to the derelicts that have used the Riemann hypothesis and Swinnerton-Dyer conjecture to justify paying for what you're about to see: Stop it. Get some help.
The insane story of an emotionally disabled prostitute/pornstar/sugar baby/urinal-for-hire with HPV and herpes that literally wrote the book - 9 times. She claims her dead sugar daddy made her a millionaire and now haunts her... wow.
A rousing assembly of women that don't believe teh night is over until their clout levels have reached unmeasurable proportions. Reminiscent of a reoccurring dream I keep having involving Brock Lesnar and Long John Silver’s Cocktail Sauce.
Much like Robocop 1-3, this goes from mildly erotic to fucking horrible pretty darn fast. Tipping point involves a Cambodian that apparently tried to high-five a weed wacker.
Alright fellas, [-take a memo on your Newton-]: If girls aren't flocking to your Levi's like 1 star reviews to the newest Disney remake, then this might be in your future. Just keep track of those subscription fees so reality doesn't hit harder than 1996 did to Robert Downey Jr.
Epic poker face @ .57 mark. I call this one the 'i totally just nutted in my own mouth but i dont even give a fuck cause i have a 6.7 inch penis and listen to Rage Against The Machine on vinyl' look. Dude's got that shit mastered.
It's not even the fact that these fetishes exist. It's that some of these creaturas are banking a yearly salary after swimming through an Arby's dumpster for 3 minutes so Jungle Jack in Frogdick Mississippi can have beat off material for the week. We might not be in end times. But intermission was a long time ago.
The 70's were a special time in history where no one gave a fuck. Smoking in hospitals, untamed pubes, sexually harassing midgets at the workplace, and faking a cum shot with a limp penis and shampoo? No problem. Nothing was sacred.
