So what if his dick tip is trying to break free from the brown cords he's had on since 10th grade? So what if he thinks it's acceptable to dread and braid his crotch-length beard? So what if he wants to live among scraps outside of his best pals trailer? He's still like eight face scratches away from a serious meth problem, so lay off, you puritans.
Wow! How the tables have turned! In the olden days people with scarves were looked down on as subhuman, scum-of-the-earth degenerates, unfit for modern society. And now here we are, 2012, with the unscarfed shining their shoes. Scarf Power!
OK, let’s not jump to any conclusions here or make this poor hard-on bearer the victim of fecal profiling. I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for where this stain came from. One of his drivers probably accidentally left a Toblerone bar on the passenger seat of his BMW and then all that chocolate went up his butt and he passed out from sugar shock.
All right, almost there. All this tattoo needs now is a Tasmanian Devil and Bart Simpson wearing cowboy hats and blowing each other and we’ve got ourselves a DO.
If I knew that one day I would have a son who would grow up to be just like this, I would let that pregnancy come to full term. I wouldn’t regret every choice I’d made up to this point and book an appointment at my local Planned Parenthood. I wouldn’t sit in the waiting room all by myself and wish I was dead because of what you did to me
People who complain about grunge forget what an eye-gagging pizza pie of mishmashed politics and clashing aesthetics punk looked like before it came in and Alice-in-Chainsified us all into submission.
End of season’s a great time to hit the sales racks and stock up on what a fucking asshole you’re going to look like next winter.
Highly enjoyable stuff.
