Bridge piercing, stomach tattoos and the occasional rush to the emergency room for soft tissue damage. May I be so bold to say I haven't seen this level of intensity since The Shining.
Based on a true story about a peanut butter sandwich, the dangers of masturbating, and how Aunt Opal made her nephew a man. A man with issues needing life long therapy, but a man none the less.
Today we're gonna look back into the history books. Our lesson includes everything from unadulterated violence, more than 5 flavors of that authentic shagged bush and even an appearance from an unlikely celebrity from day's past. A man that was taken way too soon.
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.
Terminator 2: Judgment Day returns to theaters nationwide for its 35th anniversary on August 28, 2026, available in 4K, RealD 3D, and premium formats. You should go see it again. And James Cameron should sponsor me.
Another quarter, another gaggle of beatniks that are one step closer to finding a way to fit more military equipment in their gravy cave than an aircraft carrier. Emphasis on the mini gorlock seen around the 5:45 mark. You'll never look at cave diving the same again.
For fuck sakes, there's only 2 things capable of further emasculating a man that is fantasy-banging his meth head relative. One is knowing you stuck your dick into a family classic, the other is whatever the shit is going on here.
The pharyngeal reflex AKA laryngeal spasm AKA gag reflex exists to prevent us from dying, but it also makes it much harder to shove dicks down our throats.
Another glaring example of the power of positivity. Maybe off camera she spends all day yappin like her defenses are impenetrable, but 1 goink to the wrinkled copper slot didn't make her hit windows_shutdown.wav and we should be proud of that. Reminds me of another [future diaper diva].
A couple of yahoos get caught mashin potatoes during happy hour. Not very conspicuous about it either. Remember that one weirdo in school that always dropped his pants to the floor in front of the urinal? This is what happens when he grows up.
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.
