Saying “Let Me Let You Go” Is Fucking Lame

One of My Best Friends from High School, and only one of a few People I kept in Touch Sporadically through out the Years was Bluejetski (Sad to Say Bluejetski Passed Fairly Recently). Something We had in common was We both were in Agreement People do Absurd Shit without even thinking, or at Least Thinking it Through. A Prime Example was that on of the Most Common Absurd things that People do is End Phone Conversations by Saying “Well Let Me Let You Go…..” which is Utterly Ridiculous.

If I’m the one Ending the fucking Phone Call then Why am I acting like the Person I’m talking to said They had to Go?! Also whenever Someone says “Let Me Let You Go…..” They explain what it is They have to Do Now, and that’s the Reason They’re Ending the Call. If You think about it for a Second it makes Much more Sense to say the Alternative “I Have To Go…..” since it’s Far more Accurate a Statement.

            

Luckily on of the Reasons Bluejetski and I were Friends in the First Place was We shared the same Absurdly Bizarre and Extremely Dark sense of Humor. So in this Case We decided as Far as We were Concerned We would always Opt for “I have to Go” over “Let Me Let You Go”, but that wasn’t all Not by a Long Shot. Next We Launch an Unofficially Official Who can Top Who with the Reason We had to Go. Since Blujetski’s Untimely Demise I’ve reflected on Our Unique Friendship to say the Least. Thus I decided to Type up a Mock List as an Example(s) of the Weird Shit We Said to Each other over Our 27 Year Friendship.

Here We Go: “I Have To Go…..”

  • I Just Farted Blood.
  • I shit so hard I Prolapsed My Rectum.
  • My Grandfather just Spontaneously Combusted.
  • My Cat Just Ate My Dog.
  • I got my Dick stuck in My Bong.
  • My Grandmother just Transformed into My Grandfather.
  • The Aliens are Here and want to get on with the Probing.
  • I was holding a Seance and Now all My Dead Relatives are here.
  • I just made Jam out of a Jellyfish.
  • A Bear is raping a Rabbit in My back Yard.

 

  • I accidentally Disemboweled  Myself.
  • The Acid I took just Kicked and I being chased by French Fries.
  • A Dingo Ate My Baby. (Hats off to You if You get That Reference)
  • Satan is Calling.
  • Just started a New Crack Addiction.
  • I have to Pawn My Great Grandfather’s Gold Teeth.
  • I have to call 911 I was Masturbating and the Cock Ring is Stuck.
  • I was reading a Porn Magazine and got a Paper cut on My Cock.
  • I have to put a VooDoo curse on My Neighbors thats gives them all Herpies.
  • Jesus is calling Me Home I’m running Late.

  • I have to go watch Debbie does Nova Scotia (Hats Off if You get that Reference.
  • Stepped on a Needle at the Jersey Shore and Now am Addicted to Heroin.
  • I have to Jump Up My own Butt and Die.
  • I’m having a Way to Near Near Death Experience.
  • My Pet Hamster got Aids.
  • I have to Lobotomize a Stray Cat.
  • Drive the Sheep to the Sheep Fuckers Union Meeting.
  • I’m going to a Circle Jerk Hosted by an Octopus.
  • I have to Call Cthulhu (Hots off again if You get That Reference)
  • I have to find a Hooker with Grabs because I want Seafood, but I’m Broke.

 

  • I have to Impale My Boss.
  • I just Passed Go and Didn’t Collect $200.
  • Because a Riot Doesn’t start on its own.
  • A chicken thinks My Balls are Eggs and Won’t get off My Lap.
  • Have to Eat Pork’n Beans in Hell.
  • To Prove I’m a Real Man by Wiping My Ass with Barbwire.
  • I’m gonna try jerking off with Sandpaper.
  • I didn’t look both ways before crossing the Street.
  • A Bus Full of Nuns just Exploded Outside My House.
  • Forgot to Buy Fertilizer for My Mom’s Garden so I have to go Shit in It.

            

  • Going to Populate Antartica.
  • I fucked My Girlfriends brains Out and Now I have to figure out how to put them back in.
  • I have to figure out what to do with all these Dead Ninjas.
  • I have to Wax on Wax Off.
  • Join a Boy Band and Kill Myself.
  • I have to Eat Shit.
  • I have to get My Fuck Flying because I don’t give One.
  • I was scratching My ass and Accidentally Fisted Myself.
  • Have to Gargle with Broken Glass.
  • See about Aborting My Uncle.

           

  • I just went completely Deaf.
  • I give a Shit, But I don’t give a fuck.
  • Chuck Norris is here and wants to throw down.
  • Need to hold onto a blade of Grass to keep from falling off the Planet.
  • I have to go throw Airplane Liquor Bottles at My Alcoholic Aunt.
  • Have to get going on a Old Fashioned Bender.
  • I just turned inside Out.
  • ME, Myself, and I are in a Fight.
  • Swallow a Sword and shit a Dagger.
  • My head wasn’t fastened On so I Lost it.

  • My Brain fell out of My Ear and Rolled under the Refrigerator.
  • I have to train My Flea Circus because We’re going on a Tour.
  • Breed My Captive Platypuses.
  • I bought Guam so I have to Fill out a shit ton of Paperwork.
  • My Tapeworm is Hungry.
  • I got so High (aka Stoned) I can see My House from Here.
  • My brother is on PCP in the Backyard Kicking the shit out of a Squirrel.
  • I have to Try Bud Dry. (Hots off if You get that Reference)
  • Get in a Shouting Match with a Mute.
  • There Nazis on the Moon and Someone has to Stop them.

  • Moving to Chernobyl to see if I gain any Super Powers.
  • I have an Appointment to Pierce and Tattoo My Taint.
  • My 4th Cousin Removed needs an Exorcism.
  • I ate Shit and will Now Die.
  • Hack My Robots Brain to see what it’s Thinking.
  • Spear Fish in the Pond at the Local Golf Course.
  • Go to the Community Pool and Throw Rocks at People.
  • About to get into a Knife Fight with a Homicidal Hobo.
  • I’m converting to Cannibalism and a Tasty looking Jogger just went by.
  • I have to Just Say No. (Yup Hats Off if  You got that Reference)

           

  • I have to go fuck Myself.
  • I got to start cooking a Rack of Spam.
  • I’ve gone Temporarily Insane, But I’ll Be Ok by Monday.
  • I got High on My own Supply.
  • I’m going to Start Some Anarchy in the UK (Hots off Reference)
  • Because I have something I need to do The Day After Yesterday.
  • I lost My fucking Marbles so I replaced them with Tiddly Winks and its not working out well.
  • I Assumed and made an Ass out of You and Me.
  • Disgraced My Family and am going to Commit Ritual Suicide as Penance.
  • I have to go See a Man about a Widget.

           

  • I just got Confirmation I’m going to be on Jerry Springer.
  • My Trailer Park is on Fire.
  • I’m upgrading from Double to Triple Wide.
  • My Government Cheese Just Arrived.
  • I’m throwing a Red Roof Party.
  • I just went on the Deep Web and Drowned.
  • I have to Pick My Teeth with a Razor Blade.
  • I’m not going Grave Robbing I’m Grave Spelunking.
  • Death comes to those who Wait and I’ve been on Hold Forever.
  • I just Projectile Vomited so I need to make sure I’m not Possessed.

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober  

Quiz’s Quintessential Answer Key

Do to the insanely rigorous, highly detailed, and labor intensive nature of said Quiz only the TOP 20 Answers are Listed.

For the Rest of the Answer Key Results just shoot Us a Email at fyourblog404@gmail.com that simply says “DECODER RING”.

The Grading System is Strait Forward: Each Alphabetical Letter has been assigned a Numerical Value. Once You answered ALL 25 Questions You simply add up Your answers. Then check the Total against The Answer Key Located Below.

A. = 1,  B.=2,  C=3,  D=4,  E=5 and So On and So Forth.

      

The Top 25 Answers:

  • If You answers are ALL ODD: Your a fucking Wild Card. You deal in the Unconventional, and Unorthodox which leads some People to call You an Innovative Genius or Batshit Crazy. Your intensity drives Your Creativity, but if left unchecked it spiral out of Control words Self Destruction. Your walking an EXTREMEly thin line between Your own Personal Utopia or Your own Personal Hell on Earth. Remember Swords only have Two Sides.

      

  • If Your Answers were ALL EVEN: Your a walking talking Text Book Personality. Your Bland and Mundane the equivalent of a Blank piece of Copier Paper .You never allowed Yourself to Be Yourself, and thus suffocated  your Personality under Your own self implemented Restrictions. Break The Cookie Cutter that Molded You and Find Yourself before its TOO LATE. DOn’t let Your fucking disappointment drive You into the Grave of Regret.

      

  • If You Scored 1-24: Your indecisive I bet You take fucking forever to make a discussion. STOP ANALYZING EVERY ASPECT OF YOUR LIFE! Rock The Fucking Boat and Live DON’T JUST EXIST.

      

  • If Your Scored a 25: Break out the Tin Foil and Start making Hats, and Hanging Coat Hangers from Your Ceiling because Your about to be ABDUCTED BY MOTHERFUCKING ALIENS.

      

  • If You Scored 26-29: You will Travel to The Land of the Rising Sun more commonly known as Japan. You will go to Climb to the Summit of Mount Fuji. Unfortunately for You You hike through the Northwestern Flank of Mt. Fuji through Aokigahara Forrest or as its more commonly known The Suicide Forrest. Aokigahara is Notoriously known as the  WORLD’S SECOND MOST POPULAR SUICIDE LOCATION. You like so many others will simply Vanish never to be seen again. NO SWIMMING IN THE SEA OF TREES KIDS.

  • If You Scored a 30: Your a Trendy Hipster. Commercialism Defines You, YOU ARE YOUR POSSESSIONS. Your a fucking Sheep moseying to the Slaughter as it were. You should seriously think about doing the ENTIRE WORLD a fucking Favor and Hurry up and Die. Sorry You just SUCK that BAD.

      

  • If  You Scored a 31-39: Your Genetically Prone to Bear Attack so watch Your ass in the Woods. Smokey is NO Friend of Yours I assure You of that. He too is a Bear and will maul You possibly to Death just like Yogi or Boo Boo.

      

  • If You Scored a 35: You Have Genital Herpies, but hey thats better than fucking AIDS. Best You Stock up on Valtex now before its TOO LATE.

      

  • If You Scored a 36-39: You Will Be Killed By Spontaneous Combustion. Wish We had some advice unfortunately there is NO RESEARCH or Reliable Available Data on the Phenomenon.

   

  • If You Scored a 40: You will be part of the Colonization of Mars so Set Phasers to Stun, and Have a Safe Trip. Happy Travels and God Speed You Black Emperor.

      

  • If You Scored 41-44: We hate to be the ones to break this to You. Your Guardian Angel is a Demon in Disguise. We Recommend You See The Catholic’s about a Exorcism or Seek out a Reki Master to rid You of this certain Divinity Based issue. Tell Linda Blair Hi For Us.

      

  • If You Scored 45: Congratulations Your Related to Caligula one of the Sickest and Twisted Roman Emperors in all of Human History. Sorry not everyone can be related to Tom fucking Cruise or some other Famous Asshole.

      

  • If You Scored 46-49: You are Destined to be killed prematurely by a Tragic and Freak Colonic Accident. Talk about the Shit Hitting the Fan.

      

  • If You Scored a 50: WINNER, WINNER CHICKEN DINNER & GIVE YOURSELF A CIGAR. Make it a Fidel Castro Turn in His Grave.

  • If You Scored a 51-54: You will make Your Fortune by Buying Pork Belly Stocks and Selling Gold (Stocks). Just ask Mortimer I’ll bet You a Dollar He’s Trade Places with You in a fucking Heart Beat baby.

      

  • If You Scored a 55: Live Like An Angel, Die Like a Demon because You will certainly be Killed By Death. We’re NOT just spitting Venom are We Lemmy.

      

  • If You Scored a 56-59: You will be the First Person in History to Invent an ACTUAL WIDGET. You can use Economics to bring it to Reality.

      

  • If You Scored a 60: Your Not Real. You Believed Yourself into Existence. You Imagined Your Fiction into Fact. Keep the Faith or Literally Fade Away.

      

  • If You Scored 61-64: Your Your Own Doppelgänger a Non Biological related look a like Double (often considered Evil or Supernatural by Nature) of a Living Person. Technically You shouldn’t even still Exist. The belief goes if One meets Their Doppelgänger They BOTH WILL CEASE TO EXIST. You see  They cancel Each other Out of Existence like adding a Positive and a Negative Number. Well at Least Germany is Nice this Time of Year.

  • If You Scored a 65: Break Out the Spandex because You will be joining an 80’s Hair Metal Cover Band destined to become Local Legends. Just be sure to Remember along the way That Every Rose Has Its Thorn.

   

  • If You Scored 66-69: Get ready You’ll be Heading to Ozzy Osbourne’s Final Final Tour when it comes to your particular Town/City. You will have seats in the First Row Front and Center, BUT OZZY will be Tripping His Balls Off on a cocktail of Hallucinogens. Under the Influence Ozzy will Hallucinate that Your a Giant Fruit Bat, and will Bite Your fucking Head Off. At Least You won’t need to get Rabies Shots.

  • If You Scored a 70: You will have an illustrious Career as a Glu Sniffing Rhine Stony Professional Line Dancing Disco Cowboy. So Break Out the BeDazzler and Go fucking Nuts!

      

  • If You Scored a 71-74: You will become The World’s First BITCOIN MULTI BILLIONAIRE, The King of Crypto Currency. Unfortunately its NOT a RECOGNIZED CURRENCY by the Rest of the World so Spending it will be impossible. At least You can treat Yourself to one hell of a Dark Web Shopping Spree.

      

  • If You Scored a 75: You will be the One to Find Jimmy Hoffa who then union discovery will make You Disappear. At least its better than finding The Infamous  Bum Farto (and YES Bum Farto is/was a Actual Real Life Person, He’s good for a Google.)

      

  • If You Scored a 76-79: You will Win a Noble Prize for Your Research and Development of Robotics. Then You will venture into Fringe Robotic Sciences and start Experimenting on Yourself. Eventually You will become a Certified Cyborg, BUT You’ll have become Addicted to Robotic Body Modification. You will keep going until You in the end are 100% Robot. Look on the bright side Perhaps SkyNet is Hiring.

      

  • If You Scored an 80: You will Abandon Your current life, Home, Friends, Family, and Possessions for a Life as a Carnie bouncing From County Fair to County Fair, and Traveling Circus to Traveling Circus. You’ll become a Functional Alcoholic with a growing Meth and Pain Killer Addiction. You will Die leaving a 90 Pound, Toothless, Jaundice Ridden, Sickly Yellow Colored Corpse. You should have Listened to Nancy fucking Regan and just said NO.

  • If You Scored a 81-84: You will get Married and have a large Family. You will still live close to Your Parents and Siblings. You will have a successful enough career in Your Profession of Choice, and as so You will want to Care for Them incase You Die suddenly. So You get a Hefty Life Insurance Policy. 6 Months Later on One of Your Family Members (possibly working with One or More additional Family Accomplices)  will Murder You for the Life Insurance Money. Remember kiddies One of the FASTEST way to get Yourself Killed is Buying Life Insurance.

      

  • If You Scored a 85: You will become hopelessly Addicted to Hardcore Fetish Pornography and as a Result You will for Go Sleep and Food until You’ve Literally Masturbate Yourself to Death. Remember Kiddies TOO MUCH of a GOOD thing can fucking kill Your ass.

  • If You Scored a 86-89: You will meet Your Idol, Murder Them, and Take Their Place. DYI Bodysnatchers.

      

  • If You Scored a 90: You will be the First and Only Person to Navigate down to the VERY BOTTOM of The Maritime Trench more than 36,201 feet Below Sea Level. You will see Wonders that No other Human has ever laid eyes on. You’ll see Aquatic Sea Creatures No One even knew Existed. You will see the Secrets Beneath The Sea no one has been able to See, but not due to a lack of trying mind You. Sad to say You will never be able to tell a single Soul what You saw as You will Be Devoured by a Undiscovered Species of Giant Predatory and Deadly Jellyfish.

      

  • If You Scored a 91: Your Fate is Sealed. You one Day take a Tour of the Distillery where Your Favorite Alcoholic Beverage is Made. During the Tour some impatient Asshole will shove His/Her way forward from the Back of the Group to the Front. Inevitably this Unknown Asshole will invariantly push You into a MASSIVE Fermentation Tank where You will Drink Yourself to a Euphoric Death while waiting to be fished out. So much for Drinking Responsibly.

      

  • If You Scored a 92: Well We’re not sure what the fuck to say really. 92 is obviously a PERFECT Score, Yet NOBODY IS IN FACT PERFECT. As far as We can tell You must be an Inter Dimensional Entity or Being from a Parallel Universe. Thats It. Thats all We got.

Thanks for Reading,

  By Les Sober

1,001 Words of Insanity

The Maggots dance in the Rancid, Rotting Flesh of a Damned Nation showered in Shit. Fuck Monkeys run amok fucking each other to STD ridden DEATH! Anger blazing into rage as I fuck the world silly with a rubber spoon, FUCK YOU BUDDY, FUUUUUUUUCK YOU BUDDY!

Eating hot shit sandwiches in Hell as Satan sucks Donnie’s tiny dick in a lake of fucking fire, towering fucking flames engulfing THE CITY OF FECES! Look up for no god shall be looking back just your own fucking demise. PLUNGED IN THE PIT ETERNAL ABYSS OF FILTH AND LIES!

The animals devour each other in fine dining restaurants, pleasantly popping pill after pill until their are Pharmaceutically FUCKED, BIG PHARMA IS NOW YOUR PIMP YOU PAIN KILLING PILL POPPERS!!

Commanding all Rapists to Rape their fellow Rapists to DEATH AND BEYOND! There is no power of man, of woman, of Human ITS A BULLSHIT COATED LIE! Pay me or Die, Pay Me or Suffer, Pay Me OR FUCK YOU.

 

Decapitate Hate watch the ruling Elite assholes dragged through the dirty streets being beaten mercilessly by the Enraged Citizens until they reach the GLORIOUS GORE of the GUILLOTINE. Hail the Queen of Hearts for OFF WITH THEIR SHIT FILLED HEADS! Lets the kids kick them for fun.

Frolicing in the BLOOD of Traitors, kicking the Corpses of the Corrupt King and his crooked court of conniving criminal cunts.

Fuck all the ignorance, fuck the unjust laws, your rules are broken as your fucking souls, the leaders failed to lead and thus shall decay in the shit filled swamp. FUCK AUTHORITY, FUCK THEM ALL!

Dirty Bastards battling Sons of Bitches for the vile victory over the brow beaten patriots, TREASON EQUALS DEATH its the ONLY JUSTICE for TRAITORS! Eat the Elite, Cannibalize their Capitalism, DEVOUR THE RICH ALIVE! Burn the mansions, sink the Yatchs, Reclaim their lands, remove them from their blood money, and watch them die before you begging for forgiveness while they gave NONE.

Horny Hypocrites consuming scandalous sex molesting each others children while drunk on shitty champagne and burn crosses on the lawn, THEY ALL DESERVE DEATH and its all they should be GIVEN.

6 feet under for their sin, let them suffer, let them squirm in anguish, their misery delights me, I smile wider the more of the corrupt get killed. Place their severed heads on Pikes and HOLD THEM HIGH!

Money molests the minds of man and excites their malicious malevolence, Capitalism is a death sentence FUCK LIFE WE ALL DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE! I can’t witness this monstrosity of monstrous madmen, I GAUGE OUT MY EYES ITS PROVIDES RELIEF I can no longer see the Tragedy of Terror, the shit show of hanious horror, the demise of mankind is in itself BLIND!

Ignorant asholes wax poetic about shit they know nothing about the pompous pricks, the wannabe intellectuals hails the  PRETENTIOUS HIPSTER HOLOCAUSTS!! Trendy twats coveting their tech addiction and bullshit beards. Your Mustache ISN’T ART ITS JUST HAIR THAT GROWS ON YOUR UPPER LIP ASSFUCK.

Computers are pieces of overpriced, over used SHIT, ISO is the endless Anti-Christ, Amazon Ate America, Fuck Zuckerberg the millennial Motherfucker, Vacant minded Silicon Vally Vixens whoring Apps inlet of ass, Computers are flawed as the people who use or create the fucking vile stack of hot fucking shitcakes.

Your diploma is a SCAM, a piece of paper that is ultimately just that A LOWLY PEICE OF PAPER. Your no better or smarter than anyone you just paid for the info and that doesn’t make you smarter than others it makes YOU A FUCKING MORON who spent 4 years doling out fistfuls of cash for a diploma and NO FUCKING JOBS when you graduate.

        

Music IS SHIT, FILM IS FUCKED, ART IS DEAD. Books are Bastardized digitally. LEAVE ME CUNTS, LEAVE ME ALONE TO DETEST YOU, MOCK YOU, SHIT ON YOU. I HATE YOUR EXISTENCE.

Save the World by Killing Yourself, Mankind are glorified fucking parasites, eating, fucking and shitting our way through existence. Humans are MORONS masquerading as Educated assclowns.  WE DON’T ACTUALLY KNOW A GODDAMN THING DO WE, DO WE?!!!

Its all a “educated” guess, calculated risk, smoke and mirrors in a piece of shit Pony Show. There is no Fate, fate fucked us all. Destiny is a Dumbass. The Universe is a giant cosmic Vagina that birthed the bastard Mankind to destroy it all.

Power is nothing, control is an outdated concept, DO YOUR FUCKING JOB, is that too much too ask for fucking fuck’s sake. Your just another sack of fucking flesh filled with various organs and a nervous system SO FUCKING WHAT, WHATS SO FUCK SPLENDID ABOUT THAT EXACTLY?

Oh what fucking fun it is no to be a goddamn Jelly -fucking -Fish theres an scientific biological accomplishment WHAT A LOAD OF HORSESHIT. FUCK THE END, I EMBRACE THE NEW OF BEGINNING!

Time is a TOOL used to deprive Humans of their fucking LIVES, make money to pay bullshit bills and tyrannical taxes, they monetize your life to CONTROL YOU, MONEY YA CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT IT, and they designed it that fucking way, FOR THEIR LUXURIOUS LEISURE dancing on the broken backs of a Society of SHIT, FUCK RESISTANCE! CHAMPION REVOLUTION!

Its broken so BURN IT and BUILD ANEW! The unknown is NOT to be FEARED for change can save this sinking shit ship. OUT WITH THE OLD ASSHOLE WAYS! Welcome in THE NEW WAY.

Scrape the Shit System, Destruction of all Institutions, Kill the Courts, Punish the piece of shit Politicians, CRUCIFY THEM ON HE FRONT LAWN watch their putrid carcasses picked clean by Blasphemous Buzzards and Vulgar Vultures circling above.

        

The Old Way leads only to damnation no salvation in DEATH. Evolution will elevate humanity up from the steaming pile of scummy shit that We ARE FUCKING DROWNING IN as the uneducated cocksuckers wallow in their own filth satisfied to stay fucked because if its not affecting them then FUCK IT THEY SAY and FUCK THEM I SAY.

Thanks for Enduring,

 By Les  Sober 

Text Poetry That No One Should Read

WARNING DEAR READER:

Even though We here at f-yourblog.com have an open letter statement posted that has a section pertaining to content. The Following Post is the reason We have said section. THIS IS THE MOST OFFENSIVE and OBSCENE Post to date. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

In the past I have posted a couple of SpaceDog’s and my Late Night Text Conversations. I was recently on a road trip that had me headed into SpaceDog’s neck f the Woods. So I texted Him a short 4 line limerick that then gave birth to an entire poem written on spontaneously on the spot while stuck in a real bumper fucker of a traffic jam. A few minutes later SpaceDog hit me back with a Nasty bit of Poetry of His own also pertaining to the same person. See one of the things SpaceDog and I have in common are a bunch of people we both Hate and Despise to NO END WHATSOEVER. To handle this deep disgust We mock these people viciously in an arena where NOTHING IS OFF LIMITS EVER.

Here is My Poem I sent SpaceDog:

THE BAD ASS BALLAD OF BRITTANY:

People laugh and people scoff,

But Brittany cut her pussy off,

She’d have Wild Fetish fits,

While Strange Men shit on her Tits,

She used so much lube She bought Stock,

While sucking on an Old Man’s Cock,

She’d fuck you till you bounced off the Walls,

She’d Swallow, Eat Ass, and Gargle Balls,

When She heard of Bukaki,

She said “thats for ME!”,

She always had problems with her legging,

When some Dude’s Ass She was Furiously Pegging,

No Secret Brittany Licked some Slit,

Nibbled on Crackhead Clit,

She Shot Heroin that was Top Notch,

She injected into her stank Crotch,

Filled with Pervert’s Jizz,

She Loves The Biz,

Now She has Lost All Hope,

She’s Sucking Dick for Dope,

Made Her money on her Back,

Spent it all Smoking Crack,

Her Vag is riddled with STDs of Every Kind,

She’s Drinking Mad Dog 20/20 to unwind,

She’s Pregnant again and She Knows the Institution,

She’ll go back to The Free Clinic for her 100th Abortion,

She’s a 3 Hole Super Slut,

Mouth, Vag, and The Butt,

She sits on the corner smoking a PCP Laced Blunt,

While Passerby’s on the Street gag at the smell of Her Cunt,

It looked like a sloppy Hot Roast Beef between Her legs,

As Her Live In Gimp Grovels, Moans, and Begs,

She can Cream Pie like no other,

She once even fucked Her own Mother,

Started a Porno Web Cam,

Where She’d eat Her Sister’s Clam,

She’ll fuck every last one of the 42 of us,

As Long You don’t mind Her Pussy Puss,

Her Scab covered Genitalia,

Just the Smell Could Kill Ya,

She’d let you Tittie fuck Her for just a Dollar,

You could finish on her face and its No Bother,

She would go insane if you wanted to run a train,

Just as Her Baby was Aborted so was Her Feeble Brain,

Gang Bangs made Her Wet,

Bath Salt Abuse made Her Forget,

Molested by Her Step Brother,

Preformed Oral sex on her Mother,

A Homeless Alcoholic Hooker,

As a D-List Stripper No One would Book Her,

She loved taking Golden Showers,

She’d sell Her body at all hours,

She can really go to town taking on a Taint,

She does shit that makes Hardcore Porn Stars Faint,

She has to be to remain the Rim Job Queen,

She was a regular at The No Tell Motel,

In Her Own Ejaculation Soaked Hell,

She was a truly Bitter a real  Bitch,

Who’s pounded out pussy tended to Itch,

Her Vaginal fuck Flaps hung down by Her dirt covered Knees,

A Vile of Crack would pop out of Her Ass when She would sneeze,

Track Marks under Her Muff,

Taking 56 cocks a day can be rough,

She would Masturbate in a Fury,

Behind the Dumpster in the Ally,

She’s fuck you for Food,

She’ll fuck a Girl, a Sheep, and a Dude,

She was a Donkey Show Star,

At the Sleaziest Bar,

So absolutely fucked up and utterly Dumb,

No wonder The Stupid Slut is coated in Cum,

She  used to shoot Golf Balls out of Her Snatch,

And Golf Tee’s out Her Ass just to Match,

She’s Dirty, disease ridden Prostitute,

There is NO Dispute,,

She used to run through Police Barricades,

While Screaming “I have FULL BLOWN AIDS!”,

She constantly Battled the Clap,

Under a Bridge SHe’d take a Nap,

She was a Tramp among Tramps,

She’d take Cash, Drugs, or Food Stamps,

She just a low rent junkie,

a Drug Mule Flunky,

A rotten, scummy Hell of a Gutter Whore,

I hit the Road, I could stand Her NO MORE.

 

What? You were Warned So if your Offended in any way…..

For those Reader’s who are around I will be posting SpaceDog’s Reply Poem Tomorrow without Fail Friends.

Thanks For Reading,

Les Sober 

Heavy Metal March Madness: Malice The Band That Almost Killed Us All Part 3

March 1st, 1988 Malice entered Rancor Studio psyched to record their first record. Unfortunately March 1st, 1988 became known as “Sue Us Sunday” in the Malice camp. The reason was Malice was served papers several times through out the day precluding them from recording a single note. There were being sued by the Promoter from their show at Peoria Illinois Mental Metal Festival for Failure to Complete their contractual agreement by ending their set early. They were also being sued by Rock Out – Cock Out concert Promoters for missing their show scheduled at the Salt Lake City’s “SLC Metal Mayhem” for being a no show again violating their contract.

Alas that wasn’t all as Malice was simultaneously being sued by Lost Soul Productions who sponsored the Alaskan “Madmen of Metal” Festival. Lost Soul had a slew of charges Animal Abuse (for the Von Dire’s accidentally kicking a stray Penguin), Destruction of Personal Property, Desecration of Sacred Soil (The show was on Tribal Lands), Hate Crimes Against the Indigenous Inuits, Failure to complete contractual obligations, Inappropriate and unauthorized use of a Dog Sled, Grand Theft of 2 Dog Sled packs, Trespassing, impeding Tribal Practices, Drunk and Disorderly, Driving under the influence, possession of dangerous controlled substances, possession of Dangerous and Controlled Substance with intent to distribute, Contraband items (ex. Hardcore Porn), Child Endangerment (majority of fans in attendance were under the age of 18), Public Obscenity (for the bands prolific use of foul language on stage, Vandalism, Unpaid bar tab, Possession of unlicensed firearms, and Violation of the Indigenous Tribes Act of 1888, 1889,1909,1911, and 1938.

Yet Malice wasn’t out of the Legal forrest just yet. Malice’s troubles from the Master’s of Metal Festival in Oregon who were suing Malice for Public Intoxication, Drunk and Disorderly, 17 Counts of Assault (resulting from Sleaze and Ulrich impromptu fist fight, and the Security Guards who were also involved in breaking up the fight.), and for violation of contractual obligations. Oregon’s Wall was suing Malice for violation of contract when they showed up and instantly cancelled that nights show due to inflated egos (Malice at that time was heavily in the Media which garnered more and more attention from the music industry. Last but not least Malice was being sued by WhoreMonger Records for breaking their contract when the band opted to sign with Razorback Records.

The Sum Total of All the Law Suits combined came to a Heart Stopping $376,978,763,329.18:

March 2, 1988: Malice started interviewing for a new Manager, and ended up going with Harold Slickmann who had been in the industry for 47 years. Slickmann had managed such Legendary Bands like DTF, The Screaming Cocks, Diver Down, Suicidal Species, and The Drug War Rejects to name a few. Slickmann’s first order of business was to hire All Star Hollywood Lawyer TR McCoy who had made a career, and an art of getting his clients off  on obscure technicalities. Malice spent the rest of the day in the studio binge drinking and smoking Crystal Meth, and recorded only the intro to one song.

March 3, 1988  Rage returned from a visit to the Emergency Room, and called a band meeting. Rage announced he was leaving the band, and took a moment to explain. Rage had gotten a rather toothy blow job from a heavily intoxicated Groupie resulting in Rage receiving several cuts on his cock. Rage had thought nothing of it until some of the cuts became infected, but was so freaked out that he was too scared to go to the doctor.

When Rage did finally panic enough to finally seek medical attention he was informed the infected cuts had succumbed to gangrene. In fact the gangrene was so sever at that point there was nothing the doctor could do but amputate the gangrenous penis. Rage’s medical issue didn’t end there as the gangrene had spread to include Rage’s balls which too would need to be amputated, and then he would need several skin grafts to rehabilitate his gangrene affected taint. Faced with the dire situation Rage had decided to decline further treatment, and was going to Iceland where he’d wait to die. Malice entered the Rancor Studio and finished recording their album which wasn’t hard since Malice had been playing their own songs for ages.

March 4, 1988 Malice placed an add for a new Drummer because they wanted Rage to pick his successor before he departed to Iceland and into the Grave. Rage after endless interviews and several hours of deliberation in isolation told the band he was going to hire Mitch Furry. Mitch Fury was the ex-Drummer for The Dolts, The Tools, and The Dullards all of which Rage was a fan so it seemed to make the most sense. Now While Malice had completed their first album and brainstorming a title they decided to record some Cover Tunes or B-Sides on which Fury could/would play on.

March 5, 1988 Rage boarded his flight to Iceland never to be seen again. Malice decided to dedicate their first album to Rage and settled on the name Ragearrhea (a combination of Rage and Diarrhea because Rage always got a kick out of the GG Allin Song “Eat My Diarrhea” for being so absurdly over the top) Malice spent the rest of the day editing Ragearrhea over and over never quite all agreeing it was ready for release.

That night the entire band ate Acid an downed it with 191 proof Moonshine that a fan had sent them. When the sun arose Slickmann received a phone call fro the Police from Plankton 3 towns over to come retrieve his clients. Slickmann drove directly to the Plankton Police Department assuming the boys were sitting in jail (or more likely the Drunk Tank), but when he arrived he was informed that in fact the Band hadn’t been jailed. Confused as fuck Slickmann asked then where exactly was he supposed to go to pick up his clients, and was told to drive to the So Sweet Citrus Farm just 14 miles down the road from the Police Station.

Once Slickmann arrived at So Sweet Citrus Farm Slickmann was led by a Police Officer into an Orange Grove. There looked up and saw the band, all buck naked, and sitting balled up in a rather large orange tree. The fire department was there and allowed Slickmann the use of one of their ladders to assigned up into the branches to retrieve his clients. Once Slickmann reached the first member being Von Dire reached out to grab his arm and demand what the hell was going on. Before a single finger touched Von Dire he uttered two words “Not Ripe.”

It was then Slickmann realized the band was tripping so hard they actually thought they were oranges. So Slickmann thinking fast on his feet told the band that if they weren’t safe in his car they would be picked,pulverized, and have their juice drained. Slickmann’s plan worked and one by one the band members dropped to the ground where Slickmann picked them up and carried each one to his awaiting car.

March 8, 1988 after 3 days of non stop hallucinating Malice came down and back into the studio to put the finishing touches on Ragearrhea. During the editing process Von Dire was manically twisting knobs and switching dial when he suddenly became sick and vomited bloody feces on the elaborate sound board, and then sharted out his entire liver. The Engineer flipped the fuck out and dialed 911 while trying not to vomit himself. The Coroner pronounced Von Dire Dead on Arrival (but not after stealing Von Dire’s liver which he later sold on EBay for $1.5 Million)  In Surprise and Sorrow Sleaze shot up heroin by piggy backing needles into his neck, and passed out in an ally, Vile got piss drunk and passed out under an bridge, and Fury sobered up and found himself inexplicably in Detroit.

March 9, 1988 Malice gave Von Dire the Authentic Viking Funeral he always wanted. They had a large wooden raft constructed from logs of trees nearby, placed Von Dire’s body on the raft, and then placed personal items of Dire’s such as his favorite microphone, Porno, and Bong. The band then took turns saying a few words of Dire’s behalf, and then they set the raft adrift. Once it was far enough out Von Dire’s brother Van Dire shot a flaming arrow out above the water where it found its mark hitting the raft dead on. The raft burst into flame and slowly floated off into the setting sun on the horizon.

March 10, 1988 Malice meets with Executives from Razorback Records where they gave them the completed Ragearrhea Album which they fell instantly in love with. They then tasked Malice to pick which track from the album would be their first single, and being extremely concerned over the fact their new hot band (with a new record hot of the presses) in fact had no lead singer instructed Malice to hire one ASAP Yesterday. Malice went to a downtown dive bar named The Drunkard to discuss their options as far as a new singer was concerned.

Fury had been in a band called Finger Fucker and suggested that they perhaps should consider trying to recruit their lead singer  Izzy Insane. The rest of the band agreed it wouldn’t be the worst idea to at least go check Izzy out, and as luck should have it they were playing a show later that night at The Leisure Club.

Vile and Sleaze were impressed enough that (along with Fury) they made Izzy an offer. It turned out Izzy was fighting with the other members of Finger Fucker because the band didn’t approve of Izzy getting engaged to Maxi Padd (the lead singer of all female hardcore punk band Slut City.) No member of Malice gave a shit about who Izzy was involved with in the least which Izzy found a breath fresh air. Izzy left that night with Malice not even bothering to mention he was quitting to his fellow band members in Finger Fucker.

March 11, 1988 Malice informed Razorback that they have indeed found themselves a new lead singer in Izzy Insane. A delighted Razorback informed Malice that they would start the Pre Album Release promotion machine,book numerous interviews, and would be scheduling a American as well as European Tour to also promote the Album. About 4 hours later Razorback called back and inform the band that They had announced the New Album and the supporting tour. Now this is were things started to get a bit insane.

Razorback then went on to tell the band that due to the unanticipated, but amazingly massive response towards the new Album  They were releasing the it early. Instead of sticking with the original release date of April 18th were in fact now going to release it tomorrow. That in turn meant the “Carnal Carnival” Tour would also be moved up too (when fans heard of the upcoming tour launched a berauge of demand for tickets upon any concert venue in their city desperately seeking tickets) The tour would now be starting off in the days on March 14th with the first show in Berwick-upon-Tweed Northumberland, England.

March 12, 1988 Malice headed to the International Air Port to catch their flight to England in preparation for their first show of their “Carnal Carnival” tour.  Meanwhile Razorback launched Malice’s debut Record now titled “Disputing The Charges” in America where the fans went buck wild. Record Stores sold out of the Album, Fans franticly flocked to score concert tickets like mad, and Malice sold out of all other merch (such as T-Shirts and Bumper Stickers) as well. Razorback was so overwhelmed buy the never seen before success of Malice the quickly dropped all of their other acts to solo focus on their Cash Cow. In response to the increasing demand for all things Malice Razorback also contracted 22 new factories to print as many Albums as the could with large cash bonuses for speed of production were also offered. Razorback then dealt with the Malice Concert tour issues by tripling all of Malice’s show American Concert dates (meaning if Malice was originally scheduled to play 1 show Friday they would now be playing additional shows on Saturday and Sunday), and then Razorback signed 11,314 exclusive contracts for Malice merchandising retail sales.

March 14, 1988 Razorback called Slickmann at 5 am to tell him Malice’s album had actually gone to the number one spot on the Billboard charts. Radio stations were playing 12 Malice songs an hour (an average of 3 per 15 minutes of air time), and MTV was beating down there door wanting to know when the band would be releasing a video. Based on that Razorback had booked an emergency video shoot for the very next day to capitalize on Malice’s first European Show and first show of their “Carnal Carnival”Tour.

Slickmann went to The Wellington House a lovely little British Bed and Breakfast that Razorback has mistakenly reserved for Malice’s stay while on tour. Slickmann arrived to find the Wellington trashed beyond recognition, the irate Owner screaming at the Police while his hysterical wife sat on the from lawn, and every member of the band laying about the grounds in various states of intoxication and undress. Slickmann snuck around the well distracted Police Officers and managed to collect both Vile and Fury literally dragging them by their ankles to the parked tour Van. Once Slickmann secured his first two clients (simply by buckling them into their seat, plus if they wriggled free of the seat belts the steering wheel being on the left would confuse them to no end) went back to retrieve Sane and Sleaze who were awkwardly positioned sprawled out on the front lawn.

Slickmann slithered up to the Owner’s Wife and proceeded to agitate her further into a complete tizzy. He then walked over to the Owner grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around like a top. Once the Owner and Slickmann were face to face Slickmann suggested the man’s time would be better spent calling his lawyer than screaming at the Police. The tactic worked like a charm and the Owner took off to call his lawyer. The Police thanked Slickmann and then turned their attention to the Owner’s Wife’s mental meltdown. At this point Slickmann snagged Sleaze and Sane, ushered them to the Van and sped off as fast as he could.

Right before they were headed to the stage Malice got a call from Razorback in their dressing room. Razorback wanted to let the band know that since they had failed to pick the first single for Ragearrhea they had. Razorback decided to go with “Its Easy Being Sleazy” followed by “Liquor, Ladies, and Lingerie”, and then “Beer Belly Blues”. Malice thought that was fine because it didn’t require them to do jack diddly shit, and that combined with the fact the band actually didn’t care which song was used as the single (Sleaze was on record in an interview with Metalhead Magazine that as far as he was concerned singles shitty singles as singles were complete shit.)

The Show that night was a massive success as the fans went fucking wild, and Malice ended up playing 4 encores  after their 3 1/2 hour set. The band was in and downing good spirits, and went out to the only Strip Club called The Lusty Lass for a post show party. There Vile met a pair of Siamese Twin Sisters (they shared a mutual pinky) who worked as contortionists in a traveling State Fair, and fell madly in love with them, we’re talking head over heels hallmark type shit here. Vile ended up marrying the Spinster Sisters in two individual ceremonies at the neighbor hood Pub by a drunken Minister, and the two Sisters (Una and Dosa) joined the band for the remainder of their tour.

March, 15th 1988 Malice showed up 6 hours and High off their asses for their video shoot.  The day was a total fucking shit show as the band was too intoxicated to follow any direction no matter how simple. Sleaze kept nodding off due to having shot up enough Heroin to kill a Horse while Vile kept walking off in search of any type Alcohol, and Fury just stood in place swaying slightly drooling on himself comatose. Sane was running around like a cracked out jack rabbit after snorting a quarter ounce of Crystal Meth that morning for breakfast. The original video director walked off set saying he couldn’t work with a group of untalented American drunks and druggies, the Assistant director took over only to quit half an hour later because he couldn’t handle the ongoing chaos. At this point Slickmann knew it was time to step up his game.

First Slickmann snatched the Bottle of RotGut Fortified Wine from his trunk he kept for emergencies such as this. Slickmann then flagged down Vile and gave him the bottle along with his Bass. Then Slickmann found a Camera man who happened to sell Cocaine to supplement his income, bought an 8 Ball, and gave it to Sleaze with the instructions to “Wake The Fuck Up”. Now Slickmann turned his attention to Sane, and managed to score a handful of pills (Valium, Vicodin, Xanax, and Oxycontin) which he handed to Sane telling him to grind them up and snort them ASAP (Snorting crushed up pills allows the user to feel the effects faster then swallowing them) Finally Slickmann had to deal with Fury which he injected with an EpiPen  (which is essential Adrenaline) he stole from a onsite first aid kit.

Once the members of Malice had balanced out their intoxicants the shoot was locked and loaded, but they still need a Director so once again Slickmann stepped in as Director. The video shoot went splendidly and the band was done Shooting in just under 30 minutes. Slickmann then immediately sent the video to Razorback Records, and a copy to MTV.

May 16, 1988 Nothing Eventful or Interesting occurred. Slickmann slipped Roofies into Malice’s morning Bloody Mary’s rendering them unconscious for 19 hours straight. Slickmann had a pleasant and restful day setting up interviews, talking to various companies about sponsorship/product endorsement/advertising deals and so on.

March 17, 1988 That morning Malice did a marathon session of magazine interviews with Revolver, RollingStone, Hit Parader, Mental For Metal, and  Circus just for starters. Malice also had done a ton of interviews via the phone with Radio Shows such as Bubba and BooYah in the Morning, The Howard Stern Show, and The Greaseman Morning Show. The Band went to The Booze Hound Bar and drank their lunch before heading over to a local High School where Slickmann had the AV Club ready and waiting to film an interview for MTV’s Headbanger’s Ball (MTV’s Saturday at Midnight Heavy Metal Show). After the MTV video interview was done Malice headed off to The Local Yokel Amphitheater in Swansea Wales a rough and tumble town plagued by poverty and drug addiction.

The Show was a raging success with the Highlight being Sane led the Audience in a sing-a-long of their Cock Rock Classic “Free Mustache Rides (All Day Long)” and pulled one lucky Fan on stage to sing the chorus for Malice’s impromptu  a cover of  The Eater’s of The Dead” by the Legendary Punk Band The Perv’s.

March 18, 1988 At an early breakfast meeting Sleaze announced that he felt at home in Swansea’s nitty gritty and often shitty city life. Plus there was plenty of high grade Heroin to go around so Sleaze truly was in his element. With this sudden and new life choice Sleaze would be leaving the band to pursue his dream of being a washed up junkie has been. Before Malice’s Management shit the bed Sleaze informed the band he had already found his/their replacement guitarist. Sleaze’s replacement would his younger brother Davie Scum who already knew all of Malice’s songs by heart, and who’s last band The Dire had imploded over artistic differences. The other members of Malice didn’t object as they figured if Davie was Sleaze’s Little brother then he’d be bad ass enough for them.

That night’s show was a disaster of epic proportions. First off Malice missed sound check showing up while their opening act The Slags (a local band booked for that night) were in the middle of their set. The Slags were having a hell of a night and the crowd was on fucking fire so The Slags did a couple of encores to a roaring Audience. When the Slags announced they’d be playing yet another encore Malice lost their collective Mind. All Members of Malice ran out on stage and started pushing and shoving members of The Slag’s while trying to wrestle their instruments from them.

Gunther Gunner the lead Singers of The Slags head butted the shit out of Sane breaking his nose, Vile then kicked Gunner square in the balls so hard he vomited. Seeing this Roger Dodger (the Guitarist of The Slags) grabbed his guitar strap off his guitar and proceeded to whip Vile relentlessly with it like a dog. Fury came to Vile’s aid by smashing Dodger upside his head with a Microphone Stand which split Dodger’s head open like a ripened cantaloupe sending a torrent of blood exploding forth from a massive gash on Dodger’s forehead. Scum being the new kid on the block and not wanting to show band unity Started breaking beer bottles over the head of any The Slags band members. Security scrambled on stage to stop the brawl and became part of it instead, it was a may lay of fists and feet as the fight turned into every man for themselves.

The fans of each band in the front row started beating the hell out of each other which spread through out the Audience until the entire venue had erupted in a full blown Riot. The Police came speeding in with their lights blazing, and officers started jumping out of their patrol cars and strapping into their riot gear. The fans began vandalizing the Venue, and set fire to all of the concession booths as the first round of Tear Gas came raining down. By the time Law Enforcement had gotten the scene under control 227 Fans were treated for various injuries (ranging from small cuts to a gut who got kicked so hard in the head his eyes popped, and swung back end forth on the optic nerves), 379 Fans were arrested, and one Fan died (it was later corner listed the cause of death as a heart attack most likely caused by the extreme excitement of seeing his favorite band Malice Live). Malice was arrested, held over night, and released on $500,000 Bail with a new list of charges.

March 19, 1988 Malice Arrived in Italy for their show in the city of Urbino the next day, when they were stopped by customs. A Customs Agent led the band into a small detention room where they were met by The Polizia di Stato (The Italy’s State Police). The Polizia where there to inform the Band that they were there to Arrest Vic Vile on the charge of Polygamy. They stated that since Vile had married the Spinster Sister’s Una and Dosa individually meaning he was in fact married to two different women.

Slickmann sent for the Band’s high profile Lawyer TR McCoy who arrived a few hours later on his private sonic jet, and then jumped in a waiting Bentley Limo he had custom made (TR McCoy lived in Italy one month out of the year, and owned a spacious Mediterranean Villa in Venice) By the time TR McCoy arrived at the Police station he was told Vile had been taken to the Court House already to stand trial. McCoy then hauled ass over to the Court House only to discover Vile’s trial was already over, and he had been found guilty. McCoy then sped over to the County Prison to consult with Vile and see if he could bail him out, but once at the Prison the Warden told McCoy that since Vile had been found guilty he was then sentenced immediately. Now considering the Italy’s long and illustrious history of Christianity (and high concentration of Catholic’s )called for a Polygamist  be put to death. So for all his efforts and killer response time McCoy was too late to do a damn thing, but to arrange Vile’s body to be sent back to America for Burial.

Malice’s show that night fared no better. The Stadium that Malice was scheduled to play at was being protested and heavily picketed by the Catholic Coalition of Christ since Malice had been condemned as an abomination by the current Pope. That nights fill in bassist (for the newly deceased Vic Vile was strolling into the venue when the Protester’s spotted and attacked him pelting him mercilessly with Crucifixes, Whipping him with Rosaries, and beating him brutally with a various variety of Bibles. The poor guy ended up in a mock crucifixion in the middle of the parking lot.

The Protest was so heated that when Malice arrived they were trapped on their tour bus surrounded by religious fanatics with signs that said things like “Malice: The Sound Track To Hell” or “Malice is the Sinful Servants of SATAN” screaming scripture non stop yelling over each other. Malice decided the protest was a huge hassle and had agreed leaving was their only option, but not before Scum climbed out of the emergency exit on the roof off the bus to address the protesters.

Scum  repeatedly made the sign of the cross upside down, waving his “Devil Horns” (as the hand jester is referred too), and pelting people with copies of The Cult of Id’s “Hedonism Not Hell” inciting further rage against the group. Scum then attempted to shit on the Protesters, but to no avail as he was seriously constipated due to taking fist full of Opioid Pain Killers) Slickmann buckled down that night (while Malice retreated to Sex Club for its Annual All Anal Orgy, and tried to do all of the drugs in Italy) for the PR nightmare no doubt coming first thing in the morning.

March 20, 1988 The phone rang off the fucking hook starting at 6 am as a the Press blitzkrieg began. It seemed ever Media outlet was beating down Malice’s Hotel room door to get a piece of the impending Scandal steaming from last nights failed show. Scum went on record stating his official opinion was that the Protesters (as well as anyone else) were fanatical assholes who Weaponize the Bible for their own personal beliefs or agendas. Sane’s statement to the Press was simply that “I shoot Dope with The Pope.” Meanwhile Fury got so shitfaced that he just rambled incoherently about different conspiracy theories such as the Illuminati were behind the anti-Malice Protest.

Now while Malice manned the phones Slickmann had to deal with the shipping of Vile’s body Stateside which had happened to go from bad to worse. The Italian Government claimed they had sent the body via an International Cargo Ship, but Vile’s body had been somehow lost at sea along the voyage. Slickmann had to think fast and came up with the plan to call Vile’s Family (and as far as the Press was concerned) and tell them Vic wanted to be Buried at Sea. Next on Slickmann’s agenda was handling his fair share of the Press Onslaught that was still raging on with no sign of stopping. After several hours of dealing with the Press Slickmann realized in all the chaotic madness that no one had addressed the fact that Malice needed a replacement Bassist.

Slickmann thought up a Hail Mary, and had Sane contact his Fiancé Maxi Padd who was the Singer/Bassist of the All Female Punk Band Slut City. In a turn of good luck Slut City was on hideous so She was able to fill in for Vile until the end of the tour. Once again association with a Malice member was good enough to get the green light from the rest of the band making Maxi the official new Malice Bassist.

That nights show at the Benito de Soto Amphitheater was suddenly cancelled because apparently a gang of Soccer Hooligans at the previous night’s game between intense rivals The Matador ‘s versus The Revolucionaria de los Trabajadores Alliance got out of hand. Well in fact it turned into one giant fist fight between fan’s as bottles and Molotov Cocktails were tossed around like footballs. By the time the Police dispersed the Crowd, and arrested as many perpetrators as they could the Amphitheater was well on its way to burning to the ground.

March 22, 1988 Malice was detained at Ireland’s Kilkenny International Air Port under suspicion of Smuggling Exotic Animals. It only took about 15 minutes or so for the band to be cleared by Customs, and they headed straight to the Hotel accommodations. Slickmann had booked the band the Penthouse Suit to celebrate the tour success thus far a decision he’d later regret.

That nights show at The NewDublin Stadium went off without incident which was a relief to many. Back at the Penthouse Malice called in a small army of Escorts and Strippers up, and hired a professional camera crew to film their Rock Opera Porno Movie. For the next 3 days Malice barricaded themselves in the Penthouse running up a six figure room service tab as Pimps, Prostitutes, Porn Stars, and Associated Drug Dealers came and went  constantly in and out 24 hours a day in a seemingly endless procession. The Hotel Management was on the verge of calling the Police the entire 72 hours, but Slickmann threw enough money at them that held off. Slickmann had again contacted TR McCoy the band’s high powered Lawyer and had him fly in to assist with the legal issues of the absurd situation.

On the evening of the 3rd day Malice finally emerged from the Penthouse suit looking like cadavers with pale skin, sunken eyes, blank expressions, and in a drug induced haze. Skillmann checked every member of Malice into the closest Detox he could find to have the drugs pumped out of his half dead clients. While Malice was Detoxing Slickmann met up with TR McCoy back at the Hotel for a meeting at the infamous Rock Opera Porn suit as it was now being referred to by the staff. When the two walked into the Penthouse looked more like a Crack House.

The furniture for the most part had been smashed to pieces or had just seemed to have vanished into thin air. There were 4 bare mattresses laying randomly on the floor which was littered in a thick blanket of Beer and Booze Bottles. Over flowing ash trays were perched on every viable surface like little cancer landslides. The toilet was broken, the shower had been left running and there was a variety of drug paraphernalia stashed all over the place, Crack Pipes in the couch, empty Drug Baggies laying all about, mirrors coated with Cocaine residue, numerous syringes, Meth Pipes on and under the only remaining table, Heroin spoons in the kitchen lined the counter like from some Dope Shooting contest, and clusters of empty pill bottles were stacked up in the corners. Slickmann and McCoy instantly agreed to have their discussion out in the hall as they were sure they would contract every venlarial disease known to man.

McCoy said he would fend off any possible legal issues with the Hotel with a fat ass check, and any issues’s with local Law Enforcement McCoy would claim that due to the prolific drug/alcohol use were rendered temporarily insane due to drug induced psychosis. Slickmann’s job was to hunt down and confiscate every piece of footage of Malice or their movie from the past 72 hours and destroy it which somehow he managed to do by asking questions and writing a plethora of checks. Slickmann then picked up Malice at the Detox and escorted then directly to their private plane without a single moment to waste. As Malice’s plane was just taking off the Police showed up and stormed the Airport looking to arrest Malice for a Soliciting Prostitution, Soliciting Narcotics, Vandalism, Grand Theft (the missing Hotel Furniture), Illegal filming of Pornographic material, Bribery, Obstruction of Justice, and Obscenity. McCoy remained behind at the Air Port to deal with Police and Malice’s long list of assorted charges.

March 25, 1988 Malice’s arrival in Germany was met with a grand fanfare as hundreds of Fans had found out where and when Malice’s plane (usually kept as a well guarded secret to avoid Fan interference) was landing. Skillmann instructed the Pilot to take off and head for McMillan Air Strip immediately. After landing once again this time at a Fan free Airport Malice hurriedly made their way to the Concert Venue cancelling their Hotel reservation on the way (they figured if the mob at the Airport had found out when/where they were landing then they more than likely knew what Hotel they were staying at.)

That night Malice played to a record setting sold out crowd of Beer Fueled Fanatical Fans. During the guitar solo for Malice’s number one album chart topping song “Late Night Loving” Malice’s equipment over powered the Stadium’s electrical system causing it to explode, and shrouding the entire Stadium in a cloak of darkness. This prompted Scum to snag a Megaphone and invite everyone in attendance to join Malice for drinks at The Duggered Dog Pub down the street from the Stadium. Malice stayed to party with their adoring fans into the wee hours of the morning, and ended up going straight from The Duggered Dog to their Plane the next day.

On the way to the plane Slickmann noticed Fury was missing from the line up. Slickmann then interrogated the other members of Malice as to Fury’s whereabouts, but still being 16 times the legal limit none of them seemed to know. Sane volunteered that Fury had left the Pub in search of information on his German heritage. Slickmann breathed a sigh of relief, and couldn’t believe his luck that the answer to Fury’s exact location at this time was such an easy one. Slickmann told the chauffeur to drive to The National German Heritage Museum.

The scene that greeted Slickmann when he arrived at the National German Heritage Museum was right out of a TV Crime Drama. There were 2 Police cars parked with their light flashing but sirens off behind a Ambulance. On the sidewalk in front of the museum were two EMTs standing on either side of a man strapped to a stretcher, and that man was Mitch Fury naked covered head to toe in what looked like shit. Slickmann approached one of the EMTS to inquire to what the hell happened.

The EMT told him that when the staff of the museum had showed up to work that morning they noticed that one of the front windows had been smashed out. Initially they thought it was just some local high school vandals had gotten drunk and decided to raise hell. Upon entering the museum however they saw sign of an intruder leading from the broken window into the World War 2 Wing of the museum. It was at that point the concerned staff phoned the Police who arrived promptly to investigate the breaking and entering.

What the Police found was as disturbing as it was absurd. Fury was totally naked, covered in his own feces clutching the leg of a Mannequin dressed in a Nazi SS Uniform, swaying back and forth while muttering “I’m a Piece of Shit” over and over inconsolably. From what the Police had figured out at this point was an intoxicated Fury had broken into the museum to “research” his family tree as he was of German heritage, and had suffered a sudden phycological breakdown when he found out he was directly related to Adolf Hitler (via a bastard baby Hitler had with a Sausage Factory Worker in 1939) Slickmann called the Record Label as Fury was taken to Schietzer State Metal Hospital for further evaluation.

March 26, 1988 After hearing Slickmann’s update on Malice and their current tour instructed Skillmann to do the following. The first was get Malice on their plane and fly them State side immediately, and leave Fury in the care of the German Mental Health Professionals for now. Razorback wasn’t having Malice return because they were pissed off at the Band for their excessive on and off stage outrageous antics it was quite the opposite. Razorback had racked up so much money from having Malice as a client was truly monumental (example half of the current staff at Razorback got so rich that the retired early). Thus it was in Razorback’s best financial interests to have their Cash Cow back in the pasture. They set up a stay for Malice at the most secluded and private (not to mention government level security) Hawaiian’s Elite Spa where they were to go directly from the German Airport. Slickmann was then told to fly to Los Angeles to meet with the company heads at Razorback Records to talk shop and marketing strategies.

For the rest of the month of March Malice enjoyed the Coconut-Ketamine Coma Dream Therapy offered at Elite Spa, lounging by the poor downing Daiquiris, smoking high grade Marijuana, and chronically masturbating like Monkeys. Skillmann met with the Executives at Razorback for a 5 day all out marketing madman meeting holed up in the company’s Board Room surviving on Energy Drinks, Protein Bars, and a copious amount Gin.

Stay Tuned For Malice: The Band That Almost Killed Us All part 4 Coming Soon…..

Thanks for Reading,

Les Sober 

Chaos & The 2 Year Career: Malice The Band That Almost Killed Us All Part 2

NOTE: Alright Reader from now on I will be using a Time Line to keep this post entertaining and no longer than it needs to be.

Feb. 5th, 1988  “Mad as Hell” Tour ends, and Gar Fisch announces he is leaving the band due to the physical toll that the Stank Breath Years had taken on his body and health. For Example due to Gar’s firecracker anal oriented antics had left Gar with a permanently prolapsed asshole.

Feb. 7th, 1988 Von Dire calls an emergency band meeting, and after several rounds of Tequila Shots and Nitrous Whip Its decided to hire a manager. They settled on Marty Trundle who immediately terminated their contract with RatFuck Records and got them signed to WhoreMonger Records a major International label.

Feb. 9th, 1988 WhoreMonger books Malice on a 6 month Festival Tour across North America and Europe. Malice celebrates with a 72 hour drug binge ending in the band being arrested for Public Intoxication, Public Nudity, and Defecting in Public.

Feb. 13th, 1988 Trundle introduced Dire, Vile, and Rage to Ex-Sleaze guitarist Eddie Sleaze as a possible replacement for Gar Fisch. The band and Sleaze bond over countless beers and lines of Cocaine. Somewhere along the way Sleaze was officially hired as Malice’s replacement guitarist.

Feb. 15th, 1988 Malice hit the road for the start of the “WhoreMonger’s Whores” Tour with their first show in Peoria Illinois at The Mental Metal Festival. The show ended early because the Fire Marshall showed up and informed the Festival Promoter the amount of Pyrotechnics Malice planned to use were considered “A Hazardous Explosive Threat”. The Promotoer facing a massive fine as well as having his entire Festival shut down radioed the Stage Manager and told him to halt any future Pyrotechnics Malice was planning to use. When the Pyrotechnics didn’t go off during the drum solo Von Dire was infuriated beyond belief.

The rest of the band seeing something serious was going down stopped playing mid song. The confused Crowd was left standing in a muddy field wondering why the show they paid for suddenly stopped during the Headliner’s set. Von Dire grabbed the Promoter by the front of his shirt and dragged him on stage to confront him. Vile, Rage, and Sleazy abandoned their instruments as they walked over to see what the fuck the deal was. A now enraged Von Dire is screaming at the top of his lungs about how no bullshit is going to fuck up his show, Malice wanted to be financially compensated for the pyrotechnics not being used, and that the Promoter he was a sniveling, slippery little shit.

Sleaze decided he felt the same as Von Dire about the situation, and did nothing but piss gas on the fire by agitating Von Dire further and further. Rage left the stage pissed off, and not wanting to deal with this shit show so he was going to get shitfaced. Vile managed to get between Von Dire and the Promoter and was struggling to keep the two men apart as now the Promoter was angry as hell about being physically and verbally assaulted by Von Dire. With things utterly out of control Vile punched Von Dire in the balls and handed him off to a Roadie. Before Vile could explain himself  (hitting Von Dire in the balls was the only way for anyone to shut him down) was hit over the head with an empty beer bottled wielded by Sleaze.

The Stage crew, Festival Security, and the arrival of the Police combined managed to get things under control, but the Festival would be rescheduled for a later date due to the uproar that tonights show. Von Dire and Sleaze went to jail for Assault and Terroristic Threats, Vile went to the Emergency Room and received 19 stitches, and Rage ended up in the ER as well for Alcohol Poisoning later that night.

Feb. 18th, 1988 Malice plays the Wisconsin “Heavy Metal Massacre” Festival. The show goes well and without incident, but after the show things got pretty fucking crazy. After their set Malice retired to their dressing room for a pre celebration party celebration. They did so much Blow that they effectively snorted themselves into cocaine psychosis, ended up at the air for, barged through a line of people waiting to board their plane, and ended up on a flight to Albany NY. Luckily Trundle made it to the air port before the plane took off, but had to have the pilot to agree to taxi around the runway. This way Trundle argued he could convince the band they in fact had completed their impromptu plane ride.

Feb. 20th, 1988 Malice shows up a day early for Salt Lake City’s “SLC Metal Mayhem” Festival in Utah. Vile went to the Bauhaus Brewery (No relation to the post-punk band Bauhaus) and managed to get kicked out for being too drunk for the brewery tour. Trundle came and picked up the heavily intoxicated Vile and drove him to the Hotel Harrison to sleep it off.

Trundle then received a call that Rage was at The Pink Pussy also drunk off his ass and had jumped up on stage to preform his own strip tease. Though the Police had been called to the scene Trundle managed to convince them to let Rage go with a drunk and disorderly misdemeanor. While Trundle was running around like a mad man trying to keep his clients out of jail, the hospital or the Coroner’s Von Dire and Sleaze took a Ferrari for a test drive and traded it for $10,000 of Crack.

Now with a fat sack filled with high quality Crack Rocks walked to the nearest Shitty Corner Neighborhood Hellhole ran up a $379 tab before the two pulled a Booze-N-Bolt stiffing the elderly bartender who called the Cops. Fueled by a serious supply of Crack Von Dire and Sleaze picked up some $2 Hookers, and got a room at the nearest Flop House Motel (You know the kind where you pay by the hour and no one snitches)

After a STD ridden sexfest Von Dire and Sleazy had literally burned through their Crack Stash opted to inject Adderall into their necks. This is when all of a sudden Trundle burst into the room. He knew where the two were at because he had placed a GPS Tracker in one Vile’s many pieces of jewelry. Trundle had done this because after 12 years in the music business he had learned how to keep track off “High Risk” Talent. Trundle took Von Dire and Sleazy to a local 24 hour Drug Detox Center and had both their systems flushed free off Narcotics.

Feb 20th Malice misses their set at the “SLC Metal Mayhem” Festival due to the band was still recovering from the partying they did the night before. When the Crowd found out Malice was going to be a No Show they began to riot tearing the venue to pieces. In a last ditch effort to end the riot without incident or Police involvement the Festival’s Promoter announced that another fan favorite The Savage Savages would be taking Malice’s spot, and there would be a free meet-N-Greet after the show. This soothed the seething fans who stopped the destruction and celebrated in jubilation. The night ended with no one getting hurt or arrested, it was nothing short of a miracle.

Feb 21st Malice arrive at “Madmen of Metal” Festival in Hoonah Alaska population 740 (571 of which were rabid Malice Fans). The Show was one of Malice’s most notorious they ever preformed. As the band launched into their number one hit “Shit Sandwich” a rouge Penguin waddled on stage. Von Dire being lit as shit on LSD and Mushrooms was completely oblivious, and accidentally kicked the poor Penguin square in the face. What no one knew at the time that the Penguin was in actuality the prized pet of an Inuit Tribal Chief who took it as a gravest of insults. The still oblivious Von Dire instructed Malice to play their unit-authoritarian anthem “Fuck’em All” in response to the angry Inuit barrage. As the Inuits fought security Malice played on further infuriating the already anger Inuits who now where well aware they were being mocked by Malice’s music.

The Inuit’s at last had dispensed of every security guard and ran up on stage, grabbed Von Dire, Sleaze and Vile, tried a rope around their ankles, attached the other end of the rope to awaiting Dog Sleds, and then told the Sled Dogs to Mush dragging the 3 musicians off into the freezing pitch black of the Alaskan night. Von Dire, Vile, and Sleaze where found 8 hours later when the Sled Dogs stopped to take 5. All 3 were treated for frost bite and hypothermia and made a full recovery in a matter of days.

Malice was charged by the State of Alaska for Animal Abuse, Desecrating Sacred Tribal Soil, and Hate Crimes against the indigenous Inuits. None of these law suites was ever settled because Malice Self Destructed before the length court process was complete. To this day no one knows how Rage avoided capture including Rage who was blackout drunk before taking the stage.

Feb 23, 1988 Finally released from the Alaskan Hospital Von Dire, Vile, and Sleaze rejoined Rage and the band departed for the Oregan’s “Masters of Metal” Festival in the town of Ashland. Before the show Sleaze had an altercation with the opening band Pisser’s drummer. Apparently Sleaze was not a fan of Pisser’s music and considered them to be Punk Rock Wannabe’s. Sleaze had spent the day insulting the band, and talking mad shit to anyone who’d listen. Then Sleaze was approached by a reporter for “Heavy Metal Magazine” for a on the spot interview about the Festival Tour thus far, and how the band was handling it. During the interview of course Sleazy used the platform to further insult Pisser claiming their guitarist Ulrich “The Urinal” Upschicker was a shitty Eddie Sleaze imitation. Sleaze went on to further claim Pisser stole Stank Breath’s musical style in a lame attempt to capitalize on Malice’s wild success.

Later that night during Malice’s encore that night Ulrich made an unscheduled and unwanted appearance. Ulrich walked determinately onto the stage waiving a Giant, Double Headed, Neon Pink Dildo, and then walked over to Sleaze. Sleaze who was already striding across the stage to see what the fuck Ulrich was doing dropped his guitar and flipped Ulrich off with both hands. Ulrich then charged at Sleaze wailing the Dildo until he got face to face with Sleaze at which point he Pimp Slapped Sleaze across the face knocking him backwards.

Rage then threw his drum sticks at Ulrich who responded by ducking the drum sticks and laughing manically at Rages attempt to thwart him. Rage then came bolting out from behind his drums like a Bull in a china shop knocking his entire drum kit off the drum stage. Once Rage hit the stage he unceremoniously tripped over part of his drum kit and twisted his ankle sending him crashing down face first through his Bass Drum.

This amused Ulrich who now was being some what restrained by Security to no end, and further facilitating Ulrich’s maniacal Laughing. fit. Sleaze at the same time was distracted from Ulrich because he was busy battling Security to get off of him. Sleaze head butted several Security Guards before breaking free long enough to run across the stage, leap over the heads of the Security Guards surrounding Ulrich, and hit him with one hell of a Haymaker. The Punch hit Ulrich with such force it knocked out Ulrich’s two front teeth. Security consolidated their efforts on Sleaze at that point as Ulrich was distracted now looking for his teeth, and hollering for a Gallon of Milk.

Vile and Von Dire scrambled around avoiding Security as a couple of Roadies managed to retrieve Rage from amid the chaos to the on site EMT Tent. Von Dire spent his time dodging Security to rile the Crowd into a fit of frenzy until the Promoter cut the mic. This didn’t stop Von Dire who continued to scream at the Crowd inciting a violent relation against Pisser and any asshole who would hire them. Vile grabbed a bottle of Whiskey from the side of the stage (and downed the entire bottle) while ducking Security who were desperately trying to end the fight between Sleaze and Ulrich. The Police showed up in full Riot Gear and started using Tear Gas to disperse the unruly Crowd sending Malice fleeing the stage. Malice made it safely (aside from Rage’s self induced sprained ankle) to the waiting tour bus, and Trundle put the peddle to the metal speeding off down the Highway words the next show.

Feb. 26th 1988 Malice had spent the last couple of days on the way to South Dakota’s “Mega Metalfest” Festival in the town of Wall on the phone doing hundreds of interviews with the press in America, Asia, Canada, and Europe. Undoubtedly Malice was dominating the music scene across every medium Televisions, Newspapers, Magazines, and Word of Mouth. By the time Malice pulled into Wall their ego’s were so inflated they cancelled their performance, and announced it was due to the fact they had become too famous to play a town like Wall (whose a year round population of 800.)

Feb 28th 1988 The final day of the Festival Circuit Malice had fired Trundle and were actively looking for new representation. They had also terminated their deal with WhoreMonger and signed instead with Razorback Records who promised they could record their first album immediately. See up to this point though Malice’s success was sizable it was built sold on their live shows, they hadn’t even recorded a single song. That nights show was wild as Malice hit the stage in high spirits and ended up playing 4 encores before showering the audience with $250,000 worth of Champaine (the Band used the entire $250,000 signing bonus with Razorback on the extravagance) Malice spent the rest of the night driving around town partying with everyone who crossed their path.

Stay Tuned for the Next Installment Of Malice The Band Who Almost Killed Us All posting NEXT after this radically surreal piece by SpaceDog.

Thank for Reading,

Les Sober 

 

Enjoy the Silence?

Silence is cherished by many people in this world. Personally I cannot handle it one iota whatsoever. That awkward silence when you meet someone new and realize they completely suck balls. When there is nothing more to say, nothing more to do. When you try and make small talk with someone (which I hardly ever do) and they give you that dumbfounded look or just a nod of the head.

Even in non-social situations I absolutely cannot stand it. I suppose I like the song Silent Night, but truth be told, the only holy nights I am having these years involves far different holes then the original song and mainly mine getting penetrated.  I can grow a very poor beard so I’m definitely not Jesusy in the least unless you prescribe to the theory he was a homo.

I more or less go with the Trump theory. Jesus is fake news.

Silence is meant for death. Now that also does not mean I want you to never shut the fuck up either. Those people have a special place in hell and hopefully are not very chaste because a dick in their mouth is pretty much the only thing that will ever get them to be quiet. I’d prefer it be a nasty dick maybe they will get some disease of the mouth, but nothing fatal, I mean I’m not a total bitch. Most STDs have cures these days.

I cannot wake up in the morning without hearing some kind of music within the first 5 minutes of being awake. If it even takes that long. Today it took longer. I got into a massive fight with Alexa. She can be a real fickle bitch at times. After about 5 tries of having her fail miserable, she got thrown across the room. She is okay and said she will not press charges, so I am quite the happy camper.  She really just do not seem to like my using my Spotify or playing music anywhere except out of her sorry ass speaker. At least she beat boxes better then me.

When I try and read something I have a real lot of difficulty doing so when there is silence. I mean I cannot listen to metal and read though I haven’t really tried. Quite possibly with some pussy hair metal garbage from the 80s I could but legit death metal would put me to the test. Honestly the more layers, instruments, words that are not screams, the better.

I feel a bit odd that I can do this. It’s probably not exactly normal reading and listening to music. I also tend to have a whiteboard by me at the same moment, jotting down randomness. It’s the exact moment I wish I had some kind of music talent as well but maybe I will tap into that some day as well. Because even though I am no longer a teenager, when someone says no you can’t do that to me, all I hear is a big resounding “Yes.”

Silence when shopping is one of the worst things in the world too. Seriously if I do not have my earbuds with me at the store when I’m there alone, I will turn around and the shopping will happen another day. I don’t want to hear your child, your musak, your rascal shooter, or about your hard ass day. Just stop,stop, stop!!!!

Maybe this is the millennial side of me. I’m kinda like a frosted mini wheat generationally speaking.  I think the proper term for it according to the internet is the AOL generation. I prefer to think of myself as generation fuck you. As in most of the time you are more then likely an idiot and while I really want to tell you to go fuck yourself, I will show restraint but only because the Jameson hasn’t paid me a visit yet.

So now I will sleep with the music blaring, reading a book by the candlelight, and with the TV on with close captioning so just in case I happen to sneeze I will have something to keep me busy for those 5.9 seconds it takes me to blow my nose. Please silence stay away.

By SpaceDog

Intoxication or Insanity a Text Conversation with SpaceDog & Les Sober

 

LS: Ever feel the urge to ask a woman if her husband “wants to fuck her in the ass as the norm or REALLY into Pegging because he’s obviously gay and isn’t fooling anyone but you.

SD: What like a random ass woman? Like the cashier at ShopWrong I should just go up to and ask that? IDK I convinced some straight guy to finger himself once while rolling, but didn’t think he was all that gay. Sadly for me he did it in the bathroom and was not into exhibitionism.Idk don’t some straight guys prefer the ass? Isn’t that the preferred hole for all those evangelicals you got down there? Gotta save myself for jesus.

LS: Random or not. Lmfao Thats what Molly gets you fingering your own ass. The anti drug whores should put that in their Ads. Then what was the point? All bathroom, no exhibition?!Straight guy ass play is based on basic on a biological fact meets homophobia. The fact remains stimulating the prostate will make you cum hard.

SD: Idk I’m no Zac Efron I can’t get the whole world to get naked for me.

LS: Zac Efron can do that?

SD: Idk I’m just randomly throwing out a random guy on my top 10 list. I’m in a caffeine induced rage right now. The point of which to get so restless with everything I’m currently doing to be blown to smithereens.

LS: TOP 10 Casey Kasem. Oh shit that’s the top 40 Lmao. RIP HUGH HEFNER, RIP TOM PETTY, RIP CHUCK WOOLERY.

SD: Whose the last one the game show host?

LS: Yep game show guy way old school shit 70’s.

SD: I forget who was doing the top 40 now it was someone I thought you would find amusing. It wasn’t Ryan Seacrest it was a former celeb more along the lines of Screech. Bob Barker is the last of the game show glory days era and I guess you can count Betty White too, I remember seeing her a lot of reruns of shit.

LS: I heard Ryan Seacrest is producing high end fetish porno. Screech does gay porn he’s  the power bottom geek chic. God Bless Betty Fucking White!!

SD: He seems the type that would have a super hairy asshole riddled with dingleberries.  Also on a completely unrelated note if you don’t hear from me in a timely manner I’m likely dead. I just had a pork roll sandwich stuffed with bacon and mayo.

LS: 1970’s hairy buttcrack bush. Lmfao that sounds absolutely delicious. I think female ejaculation is a bullshit reason to piss on someone. Squirt in the dirt really.

SD: Is that what Wifey tells ya?

LS: Own observations, people watching is a hobby of mine. Sociology always interested me and shitty shit shit.

SD: Is it me or is there seriously like another 100 emojis more overtime my phone updates?!

LS: Its not you its true. Emojis are trending harder than a priests cock during Sunday  School, no emoji for that yet.

SD: I love people watching. But only wild people in their natural habitat like bars. In the wild I more enjoy watching wild animals.

LS: WTF is up with ball bag bleaching??! Bars are prime people watching spots for sure.

SD: I never heard of that. I’m surprised they don’t have carbon dioxide shots in your dick if you want it more pink and aryan. Kinda like how they inject beef with that whizz.

LS: 3rd Reich Erection. Ground Beef Injections?!

SD: I would get my anal bleaching, but no one has ever ate my ass and said you have a pitch black asshole or nothing.

LS: I heard saline solution administered to the scrotum for fetish purposes.

SD: That sounds like dick torture.

LS: Actual asshole racist! LMFAO! I heard of using snake poison extraction suction cups to enlarge nipples.

SD: Some guys have multi colored dicks. I heard of mayo for that, nipple enlargement.

LS: Great name! Knock Knock. Who’s there? DETECTIVE DICK TORTURE SUCKER.

 

SD: It was on love phones though and it was like dr. Ruth it was some bitch calling in.

LS: I seen multi colored dicks in porn over the years and what the fuck is up with that shit?!

SD: My sister and I used to listen to that to learn about sex cuz its not like we were taught much in school.

LS: Alopecia of the Penis???

SD: Idk this Italian kid was friends with it was like half brown and half albino LOL.

LS: School was “Don’t touch each others crotches or you’ll get pregnant and contract every STD known to man.” How does that combo work exactly? Brown Vs. Albino in the War of the Weiner?!

Sd: Idk I didn’t sample the products just seen at nude beach. I was very proud of my body and blood of CHrist with a penis and xmas tree earlier.

LS: LMFAO! Brilliant!

SD: I think I’m gonna make a Twitter that uses only emojis if I get so bored after my game time runs out.

LS: I’m going to save this shit and consider posting it tomorrow. Not a shabby idea with time run out.

SD: No problem with me. As long as I don’t have to eat them mango hoagies I’m fresh.

LS: WAWA of the Damned, Hell’s Hoagies, Satan’s Sandwich, Demonic Deli Delights, Night of the Living Dead WAWA, Texas Chainsaw WAWA!!!!

SD: I’m gonna make a hoagie with prune spread for my enemies. Accept I’m gonna forget to buy the prunes and just spread my baker chocolate shit on them.

LS: Shit Sandwich! Enemies EAT SHIT! Rectal Revenge! Anal Apocalypse! Sphincter Slaughterama! Reconstructed Asshole 8?! It is what it is.

SD: The All Anal shopping network specializing in dildoes, laxatives, and small rodents.

LS: So if your a cannibal being told to eat a dick isn’t a bad thing? ASN Channel 976.

END TEXT TRANSMISSION.

This post is indicative of f-yourblog switching its format. We are going to be ourselves without pulling punches, biting tongues, beating around the bush or sugar coating shit.

We are by nature Obscene, Insane, offensive, insulting, Brutally Honest, In your face and up your ass, but most of all We don’t care about rules, limitations, regulations or codes of conduct, We embrace Anarchy not Assholes.

Thanks for The Read and Hope You Have the Balls To Come back.

Les Sober

The Deviant Detective Ep 3 : Looking For The Cock Rock King

Rock kicked his feet up onto his desk with a solid thud. Rock picked up a copy of the local paper “The Fanatic” because you’d be surprised what ideas one can come up with by just reading the paper.

Rock flipped through the pages casually until he reached the back of the paper.  At the back of “The Fanatic” was the local entertainment/art scene.

Rock never paid mind to the entertainment section it was all shit. Today though Rock realized he’d not only have to read the entertainment section, but also pay struck attention looking for any possible leads. His new client the underground self proclaimed Queen of Punk Ivy Savage had little patience and a huge fucking drug habit.

Rock scanned the concert section and found Ivy’s missing boyfriend Eddie Oi’s band The Fuck Me Pumps were scheduled to play that night down at a small hole in the wall called The Boozehound Lounge. The Boozehound was only a couple of blocks from The BarFly Bar which Ivy had mentioned as a possible hangout of Eddie’s.

Rock placed his feet back on the floor, downed 4 fingers of Kentucky White Whisky, lit a cigarette and exhaled with a labored sigh. Rock knew what he had to do. Rock called a cab and headed down to what was referred to as the dive district.

The dive district was a run down part of the city with abandoned factories, dive bars, shitty clubs, Soup kitchens, Hobo Haven (a tent city of sorts consisting of the cities many homeless), methadone clinics, the county mental health hospital, mom and pop liquor stores, Pawn shops, Strip clubs, Old school Porno theaters most converted into sex shops, the slums run by lecherous so called land lords, and the solid waste authority.

On the ride Rock decided it be best to pick the cabbies brain. Next to bartenders cabbies were the unofficial information sources of street knowledge the who’s, what’s, when’s and where’s the life blood of the city.

“Hey buddy how long you been driving the dive district route?,” inquired Rock

“22 years and thats 20 to damn many,” gripped the cabbie

“I’m looking for some punk rock guy named Eddie Oi. You know the prime punk scene hangouts and clubs?”

“Fuck that shit. The Fuck Me Pump’s aren’t punk rock, their fucking cock rock. your looking in the right neighborhood but wrong street if ya know what I’m saying pal.,”

“What in the name of Christ is Cock Rock?,” asked Rock as he reached for his trusty flask.

“Cock Rock,”said the cabbie “Its like punk rock, 3 chord shit played as fast as humanly possible. Instead of politics or social commentary Cock Rock is  essentially a shitty porno put to music. Think 2 Live Crew but with guitars and all that shit.”

“Shit and I thought Punk was the soundtrack of the gutter but damn just like always theres something worse than what you think. Wheres a good place to start the search?” Rock wondered aloud.

“Easy you go to The BarFly Bar. When you get there ask for Bloody Sod Bollocks he’s the godfather of underground hardcore scene. He used to be in some famous British hardcore punk band back in the day called Shit Out of Luck or something like that. He’s been here in the city so long he knows every-fucking-body. You looking for a musical you go talk to Bloody Sod.” claimed the cabbie in utter confidence as he pulled up to the curb outside of The BarFly Bar.

Well isn’t that convenient as hell thought Rock. All signs seemed to point to The BarFly Bar and that would be Rock’s jumping off point. Rock exited the cab making sure to give the cabbie a hefty tip not for the ride but the information. Any asshole can drive a car.

The BarFly Bar looked like the kind of establishment one would expect to get stabbed in. The bar smelled foul like a locker room and a well used port-o-potty combined. Jesus Christ Rock thought I’ve been in shitty bars before but this is by far the shittiest. It’s like every other shitty bar came to The BarFly and took a massive shit in it.

The windows where blacked out to spare the bottom dwelling patrons having to face the light of day. Cigarette smoke hung in the air wafting around the lights like restless spirits. The bar was located to the left of the main entrance. The bar itself was lined with decreped and wobbly stools patched together with duct tape.

The bartender/owner was a stout man in his early 60’s whose collection of tattoos had deteriorated into sloppy blurs over the decades. His large gnarled hands with thick calluses spoke hard life of manual labor and long hours. The wrinkles in his face where etched through time like the feordes  and ran just as deep.

The handful of patrons were spread through out the bar all of them alone. The exception being a middle aged couple who seemed oblivious to the world around them as the slobbered all over one another. It was the equivalent of watching a extremely shitty home made sex tape.

Rock saddled up to the bar preferring to stand over sitting on one of the STD ridden bar stools.

“Hey Bartender let me get 3 fingers of Westminster Whiskey and an ash tray while your at it,” Said Rock slowly rescanning the bar.

“I’m Gunny bartending is what I do.”replied Gunny as he angrily pulled the cork from the whiskey bottle “Ive got no problem letting you know that I don’t like dicks in my bar private or otherwise.”

“Well at least you didn’t say cop. I’m looking for Eddie Oi he owes my client money. Thats where I come in.”

“Who doesn’t that grimy little shit owe money to? I haven’t seen him since I 86ed his bar tab, and told him until he repays it all drinks will be on a cash transaction.”

“You have any idea where he might be Gunny?”

“Hell no. But Justin Sane the drummer in his little shit band is in the stock room.” said Gunny as he started to wipe down the warped bar top.

“What the hell is he doing in the stock room?” Rock asked downing his drink in one gulp before signaling for another.

“Some junkie groupie took him back there, sad the high light of this pitiful girls rough life will be sucking Justin’s baby dick in the back of a shitty bar.”

Rock downed his second drink in the same fashion as the first. Turned to face the stock room door at the back of the building. Rock steadily approached the stockroom door preparing for whatever maybe behind it. Rock stopped right in front of the door, grasped the greasy door knob firmly, and shoved it open like a steroid ridden line backer.

Stockroom more like storeroom is more like it Rock thought the instant the door gave way. None the less there was Justin propped up against a pallet of beer boxes with his red liberty spike mohawk, tattered leather vest infested with a collage of various band’s pins and patches, generic white t-shirt with a anarchy sign spray painted on it in a sickly green, slew of amateur India ink tattoos that gave way to the track marks beginning to establish themselves. His cut off jean shorts around his ankles while some skanky bleached blonde was on her knees in front of him her head bobbing like she’d been infected with a potent fast acting poison, and the only cure was located in Justin’s cock.

Before Rock had a chance to react all hell broke loose. Rock was grabbed from behind and thrown violently backward into the door frame . Ivy Savage came barreling past Rock in a goddamn flash, then she snatched the groupie by the hair and tossed her aside like a fucking rag doll. The instant the groupie was sent tumbling into a near by liquor rack Ivy dropped to her knees. She grabbed Justin’s massive member at the base with one hand and the tip with the other. What happened next defies logic. Ivy now with Justin’s huge lap hog in her hands bite down on it full force like she was rabidly attacking an ear of corn. Inspire of Gunny’s disparaging comments pertaining to the size of Justin’s “baby dick” Justin was hung like a goddamn donkey. The kid was 5′ 9″ and a 100 pounds soaking wet and 10 of those pounds were due to his dick Rock thought sarcastically. Justin’s porn star sized cock was inevitably too thick for Ivy to bite it clean in half which seemed to be her true intent.

In spite of Justin’s unforeseen girth Ivy earned her moniker of savage. Ivy gleefully started biting mouthfuls of Justin’s schlong spitting them out one after the other while screaming like a blood thirsty banshee “I’M IVY FUCKING SAVAGE! I’LL POISON YOU LIKE IVY AND BRUTALIZE YOU LIKE A FUCKING SAVAGE!!!!”

Rock had had enough of this bullshit for the day. The groupie cowering in a corner kicking and screaming, Ivy’s genital based cannibalism, and Justine guttural growls as blood splatter covered the entire room. Rock reached over and took a bottle of cheap rot gut booze and brought it crashing down upon Ivy’s head knocking out cold. Rock turned and exited the storeroom shutting the door behind him.

“Holy Hell what the fuck is going on in there?!!,” demanded Gunny scowling at Rock intensity.

“Gunny, your closed for the evening,” replied Rock with calculated calm before promptly leaving the confines of The BarFly for the soothing insanity of the city streets. Then it suddenly occurred he had failed to locate the so called underground godfather Bloody Sod Bolloks.

“Goddamn it! Shit,shit,shit!! Goddamn Bloody Sod!” Rock said aloud in utter frustration.

“You looking to find Bloody he’s at the Methadone Clinic everyday at 5pm to hook up his daily dose.” commented a disheveled homeless kid who was  lurking in a dark doorway like a ghost of society.

“Thanks for the tip,” Rock said handing the homeless kid a twenty “Buy some fucking food. Don’t spend all this on dope or drink.”

“Sure thing,” the homeless kid chirped excitedly at the sight of the twenty.

Sure thing my ass thought Rock as he turned away from the kid and headed off towards the City’s sole methadone clinic at a quick clip.

To Be Continued…

In

The Deviant Detective Ep.4 : Shit Sandwich Lunch Special