Popular Irony Halloween Costume Contest

Welcome everyone to our first annual Popular Irony Halloween Costume Contest!  We have accepted submissions from hundreds of readers and narrowed the choices down to three men's costumes and three women's costumes, with the winner taking home an official Popular Irony embroidered t-shirt!  So without further ado, here are the contestants.

#1.) Here is our first male contestant, dressed up as an army man using duct tape and green paint.  This one is pretty good, but I think the color is a bit off.  Not to sound harsh, but that rifle is also very undersized compared to a real M16.  Also, you can't see his eyes, so I have to assume he doesn't have painted eyelids. In short, this guy probably needs to step it up for next year.  But good effort!

#2.) Wow!  I must say this is an amazing nurse costume!  It looks very professionally made, has the authentic pin stripes and red cross, and the hat matches perfectly.  She has mastered the empathetic and nurturing look to the point that you almost feel like an injured hospital patient just by looking at her.  Bravo.  This one is going to be hard to beat, but I'm sure the rest of our contestants are up to the challenge!

#3.) Here we have a rather mediocre attempt at a skull, but it's not without it's charm.  I admit that the makeup work is pretty solid, but it's pretty clear he applied it himself in the mirror if you look at the brush strokes and the slightly asymmetrical application.  If I were him I would have used a white paint base to make it look a little more realistic (I mean, who ever saw a skintone skull?).  B+ for effort, but a C- for application.

#4.)  Holy fucking shit!  Just look at this Supergirl outfit!  You can tell that she was working on this costume for months in advance, and her effort shows.  Bonus points have to be awarded for the forethought that must have went into this costume idea so she has to be up near first place, although it is pretty close.  Way to step up the effort this year, ladies!

#5.)  Come on guys, are you even trying?  It is obvious this guy just rolled out of bed this morning and thought "Oh shit!  I need a halloween costume for the party tonight!  I guess I'll just roll in some paint and tell everyone I'm Venom from the Spiderman comics!"  Pretty much everything went wrong here, from the undefined lines in the paint job to the total lack of professional polish.  I'm sorry you had to see this, people.  Utter shit.

#6.)  Now this is what I'm talking about!  Here we have a truly professional finish on a halloween classic, the... uh... topless blue girl costume.  It really is a treat to see someone putting their heart and soul into a costume they will only ever wear probably once in their lifetime.  She has a picture-perfect halloween memory that is really something to be proud about.  Kudos to her!



So who wins?  Damn, this is a really hard one.  But after reviewing the merits of each costume, and factoring in creativity and originality, I guess we have to say it's...  a three-way tie!  That's right, folks, we just couldn't decide between three of the costumes, so we decided to reach deep into the Popular Irony coffers to pony up three t-shirts for contestants #2, #4, and #6.  One of our interns just pointed out that it was a sweep by the ladies this year.  What a coincidence!  Well, I guess the men have something to shoot for next year, and hopefully they can be inspired to put an equal amount of production value into their costumes for the second annual Popular Irony Halloween Costume Contest.  See you next year!


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COMING SOON!!

Coming soon to Popular Irony!  A new Tekkit Youtube series!  Holy Fuck!  Join Terlet and Hamtackle as they drunkenly stumble through the wonderful Minecraft game, Tekkit!

STEAMING PILE O' TEKKIT

Keep your eyes peeled... It's coming....... and Hard!!

Zombie Survival Challenge

In honor of halloween I elected to participate in the zombie survival challenge. You are given five minutes to grab everything that you may find useful should you learn of an impending zombie outbreak. You will need to leave your home in just five minutes, so make every item count.

Here I have some basic medical supplies. There are some vitamins, toothbrush and toothpaste (to fend off trenchmouth), adhesive bandages with antibiotic ointment and hydrogen peroxide, soap, an ace bandage in case of joint injury, some sweatproof sun protection (for my lilly-white irish skin), and a bottle of corn syrup. Why corn syrup? It is pure sugar and packs a major energy boost. Plus you can make prison wine with it.

Next I grabbed a sturdy military ammo box to carry my first aid and basic tools. Then a pack of fresh razor blades, a mess tool utility knife, a bic lighter, one led maglight, one russian military issue hand-pump flashlight, and 100 feet of military grade paracord. Any self-respecting man should have most of these items at their disposal in time of need. If you don't have paracord, buy some. It is cheap, has a 550 lb test, and can be disassembled for emergency fiahing line or suture thread.

And for some close range weapons I included a trusty and rusty combat dagger (affectionately known as a "rib tickler"), a three foot length of heavy chain with a massive padlock to act as a flail, and an adorable little half axe for breaking through wooden doors or stubborn heads. This is the holy trinity of melee weapons: bludgeoning, piercing, and chopping.

And finally, no good zombie survival kit is complete without it's essential centerpiece, the firearm. I elected not to include my AK-74 due to my limited ammo at the moment, and the sparse nature of 5.45x39 ammo here in the US. It would be dead weight without a few hundred rounds. But I did grab my Smith&Wesson .357 magnum revolver with 100 rounds of hollow point ammunition. A revolver like this will never jam, needs minimal upkeep, and will blow the roof off any zombie or hostile survivor I come across.  God bless 'mericuh.



So there you have it. My five minute zombie survival challenge. In these uncertain times it is vital that you know what resources you have at your disposal, so make sure to give it a try. If after five minutes have passes you realize there are more things you would have gone for, then maybe it is time to consolidate your toolkit. After all, your life may depend on it! Happy halloween!



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Scum City Avengers - Dr. Neptune

Once upon a time there was a band, or still is... I don't know.. called Dr. Neptune.  They were very rude to the Scum City Avengers so the Scum City Avengers wrote a song about them.  Then Dr. Neptune was very nice to them and said they liked the song and wanted to start playing it themselves.  Then somebody pulled out a box cutter and started shouting obscenities.  Funny how things work out, eh?

Touch here for penis.... or for an MP3 download. 

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Diary Of A Degenerate 21

I climbed off the whore an unsatisfied man. Sure, I came. But she had fulfilled the lowest possible expectation of the contract, from the lazy head to the disinterested fucking which ended silently and prompted her to immediately request to use my shower. Oh yeah, that's exactly what I want. A prostitute washing off a day's worth of semen shellac in my shower. But I was a gentleman and gave her the go-ahead.

I wished I hadn't. She robbed me of any delusion that she had even a sliver of feminine sexuality when she took out her teeth and removed her wig, placing them both on my kitchen table with more care than they appeared to warrant, then retiring to the bathroom. "Don't use my fucking soap!" I yelled after her, thoughts of a brown primordial soup pouring down the drain like blood in the title scene of "Psycho" playing through my head.


She stomped into the room with my towel buried in her armpit, still scrubbing away, every ounce of her ample frame shuddering with each heavy step. After pulling on her dress she reached into her purse and lit up a cigar. I shit you not, a BIG cigar like some prohibition-era bootlegger gangster, which she gummed away at without any shame. I was almost ready to swear off women forever, but thankfully she gathered up her gear and got ready to leave. "Twenty bucks, mister." She said. I handed her a ten dollar bill and she gave me a disapproving look. "Discount for the shower and the towel I have to burn." She didn't argue.


The brand new door I had installed by management had a massive deadbolt this time, and I was happy to have it as I locked the door behind her. I grabbed a trash bag off the floor and tossed my towel into it and checked the bathroom, where I found two fake eyelashes and a wet bar of soap, and tossed both. Whores never listen.


I opened all my windows to let the stink of sex waft out and couldn't help but think about Vanessa. She was a beautiful girl... better than I deserved anyway, and she took care of me. She cleaned, plied me with daily bottles of top shelf, and paid my bills. How did I ever fuck that one up? Putting up with her craziness and the occasional violent outburst didn't seem so bad after a few encounters with the pasty gutter-trash I was pulling these days. I felt like driving back to our home, knocking on the door and sweeping her off her feet, then drowning out the sound of the radio with her screams. But I had never come back to any of the women. Once I walked out the door they were ghosts to me. But I still had questions for her. I wanted to know the full story behind her letter. Maybe I could justify going back after all.


 

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Scenic Las Vegas - God's Ashtray

Hello loyal readers! As you may have noticed, the last five posts were all by Hamtackle.  I, Terlet was on vacation all week in Las Vegas!  I greatly appreciate Hamtackle covering my two days of posting.  He is an adorable angel baby. 

We saw Cirque du Soleil - KA.  Simply amazing!  A marvel to behold.  We went to Madame Tussauds Wax Museum.  I'll cover that later.  I won some moneys.  Good times.  Delicious food, with the exception of the Todai Sushi buffet in Planet Hollywood.  I had never spit out a piece of sushi before eating there.  Those scum.

With all the fun and marvels of Las Vegas come the obvious downsides.  Gorgeous hotel lobbies packed with chain smokers, scooter fatties clogging the hallways, the mandatory smell of raw sewage every half block, the over aggressive prostitute trading card merchant, that bitch who refused to put our scoops of gelato into separate cups and strangest of all, the random jar of Vaseline that housekeeping left next to our dresser.

I will cover Las Vegas in greater detail in a future post.  For now, I am going to relax.  The plane ride home smelled like old lady diarrhea........ because of the old lady diarrhea.

Our view... Suck it.

Great art.  Booby Squeeze.

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King Of The Virgins

All rise! Be humble in the shadow of his greatness! It is he, the one who has been chosen as the most involuntarily chaste among us, he who hath not experienced the touch of the feminine kind. Bow to the regally rotund one, the leader of all who require assistance bathing, the champion of them that have little need of their squishy bits, and protector of those which claim no desires that cannot be quenched by mountain dew or cool ranch doritos.



Behold his unkempt girth in all it's pimply glory! Be modest in the presence of the hermitage of his unseen penis, for it knows not but of the darkness and the dampness... You must submit to the whims of his ample fancy, for you also know not the pleasures of the reproductively active. In the light of his greatness your inexperience in the commencement of buggery knows no kinship, for the only other to behold his genitalia was, in no doubt, the duo of his parentage and the midwife which received him.



Receive him. For he is the glorious unloved, the bearer of the genitalia of perpetual shadows, the exalted King Of The Virgins!

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Diary Of A Degenerate 20

It was morning again, and I had managed to avoid getting raped and robbed despite my lack of security, but I still had my suspicions that my gambling partners were behind the break in. I put on a pair of pants but didn't bother with the shirt, and left the magnum by the door on the window sill as I went out to express my grievance. Diggs and Bucky were there as always, and pretended everything was normal despite my obviously destroyed door plainly in their line of sight. I told the boys they were a pair of motherfuckers, and suggested they were sore losers on the dice and probably a pair of enthusiastic homosexuals. Diggs reminded me that if he wanted my money he would just walk up to me and take it, and explained that he was off banging his old lady yesterday evening so Bucky was at home. Besides, he said, he only ever kicked down doors for cash on the other end of town to avoid the hassle

I should have walked away. I knew he was probably telling the truth, and that the two of them sitting out front was most likely the only thing that kept the unseen thieves that were certainly watching the goings-on in this motel everyday from robbing us blind, and starting shit with Diggs would only result in the revocation of my street pass and probable ass-kicking, but I've always been more stupid than cautious. I spit on the concrete between us and headed back to my room to get the magnum.


I wasn't going to shoot them, at least I didn't think I was going to, but either way I didn't get the chance. I heard two quick boot steps and saw a big flash, like when someone takes a photo of you when you aren't expecting it. I wanted to turn around and fight back, but that's when I realized I was laying face down on the pavement. I rolled over and then Diggs was on top of me. I put my arms up to try to defend myself, but I just flailed wildly with dead arms that felt like they belonged to someone else and I was unpracticed at controlling them. I took two big punches right in the jaw and started snoring with my face to the side, staring at the steel wheel of my car and unable to move for about five seconds. I could feel a giant hand raping the pockets of my jeans while Bucky was cackling like a retard with a puppy.


I regained the use of my arms and legs and managed to halfway get back up before falling down again and ultimately deciding to lay against my car until my head cleared up. I watched as Diggs pulled a handful of loose bills from my wallet and then threw it on the ground at my feet and said "That's the toll for being a bitch" then sat down on the steps next to Bucky and pulled out a deck of cards. "Now you want in on this? I'll spot your broke-ass the ante, unless you want to go cryin' to the po-lice..."


Looking down I saw that I was wearing a bib of my own blood, and guessed that I had at least one tooth knocked loose. That's when I realized he was telling the truth. He didn't know I still had a wad of cash back in my room. "I can pay it" I told him. "Just let me clean up a bit. Liquor's on me."


A qucik splash of filthy faucet water on my face and chest had me looking a little less fucked up, so I threw on a shirt and grabbed some cash and booze. Sometimes you take a beating in life, and I wasn't about to let it ruin my welcome in my new home. On the way out I thought about grabbing the magnum off the window sill and unloading on Bucky. I could still hear his annoying laughter ringing in my ears, but I didn't. We gambled like gentlemen for a good four hours, and I ended up bringing in another $45 bucks after being down over $200. I probably broke even from what Diggs took out of my wallet.


 

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Popular Irony Q&A

Recently we have been getting a lot of questions from readers at our popularirony@gmail.com account, and we have decided to answer a few of them to satisfy your curiosity. And in the spirit of this heated election cycle we opted to answer in the style of a presidential candidate, so please enjoy this very informative post.



I have been checking your blog daily since the beginning, and I was curious about how Hamtackle and Terlet got to know each other. So how did you guys become friends? - goldyboy222@yahoo.com

First goldyboy222, I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for your loyal readership. It's readers like you that make this country great. And thank you for asking such an insightful question, as I am certain this is an important issue for our readers everywhere. The fact is, Terlet and I have a very strong partnership that has been a fruitful collaboration since the inception of our blog just over a year ago, and such a symbiotic union is absolutely vital to the daily creation of original content that our readership has come to expect from us. In the beginning of the blog we dedicated ourselves to exceptional quality that would set the standard for humorous internet blogging, and I believe we have delivered on that commitment.



I enjoy all of your posts, but I have a few favorites. Do you have any plans on continuing Masturbation Enthusiast Monthly or Federation Starship USS Hindenburg? - sluttypantsxxx@gmail.com

This question really gets to the heart of the debate over this issue in America. So we are very much dedicated, sluttypants... may I call you sluttypants? Ok. We are very much dedicated to the continuation of our efforts both domestically and abroad towards the conclusion of these very important matters. With your support this November you will be able to expect us to redouble our initiatives that will ensure a satisfactory result going forward. And it is our belief that this kind of commitment stands in stark contrast to our opposition. So when you are exercising you civic duty at the poll booth in just a few short weeks we hope you will remember which campaign has made the issues that are most important to you a priority, and support Popular Irony.



I love the vulgar humor that popular irony brings me everyday, but my girlfriend is easily offended. Do you have any plans to lighten up some of your content to attract a broader audience? Keep up the good work guys! - 2dollatugjobs@harvarduniveristy.edu

Well, this has been a point of contention among the public for some time, 2dollatugjobs, and I don't have to tell you how important this is for the future of our website. In the past our approach to this issue has been a measured one, and we have enjoyed great successes in the evolution of our policy. I am reminded by the words of a proud Ohio woman I met on the campaign trail just a few weeks ago named Wilma Crapburger. Wilma approached me after my stump speech there and said "I am a mother of five Mr Hamtackle, so what are you going to do to keep my children safe? They are all that I've got in this world!" And she was right. Not enough is being done to ensure that our youth have a safe haven in their communities to keep them focused on growing their opportunities and guaranteeing them a place in America's future. In the coming years we vow to uphold the values that made popularirony.com a voice of reason in this uncertain world, and every decision we make is agreed upon only after careful consideration of the sentiment of Wilma Crapburger and people like her all over this great country.



So there you have it, dear readers. If you have any questions that you feel might benefit from clarification in the future, please email them to us at popularirony@gmail.com and we will make sure your voice is heard.


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Weekend At Fidel's

Just a few days ago there were international reports of Fidel Castro suffering a catastrophic stroke, leaving him incapacitated indefinitely. It seemed certain that not only would he be unable to contribute to the policy making and everyday procedural decisions, but we may not even ever see him make a public appearance again! But in true communist fashion, Cuba released an image of Castro reading the newspaper that declared him to be in horrible medical condition. So who do we believe?


Well there are many possibilities that explain these opposing reports, not the least of which is photoshop, but lets be honest, Cuba isn't exactly well-known for their technological prowess. And if there's one thing I learned from my nearly obsessive and encyclopedic knowledge of 1980's slapstick comedy, it's that manipulating a corpse to comedic effect is quite easy!


So here you have it, the movie poster for the newest cadaver-marionette film to come charging out of hollywood: Weekend at Fidel's!


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Diary Of A Degenerate 19

For a week I drank like a king and ate like a pauper, and kept a low profile in my shithole room. It was getting to be brutally hot in the daytime and I had no air conditioning, so I spent most afternoons in the cool darkness of the bar. I had bought enough drinks for the locals that they had warmed up to me, and I was even putting the lean on a couple loose broads that frequented the place.

But despite my modest living I was burning through Vanessa's money fast. I was down to just over a grand, which was less than half of what I pinched from her purse, and there was no pot of gold on my horizon. I was going to have to get a job or start some sort of hustle. But I wasn't the type to put that kind of effort in unless my dick was on the chopping block, and I had at least a couple weeks if I slowed down on the booze consumption, so I started throwing dice against the bricks out front. I was laying down my dollars with the two black guys that seemed to never leave. The skinny one was called Bucky, since he had some serious dental problems that come with generational poverty, and the big guy with the afro was called Diggs. They never told me how he got his nickname, but I suspected it had something to do with filling holes in the local cemetery. He was hard but we got along fine since my money was good. I lost more games than I won, but I managed to lay bigger bets when I was winning. In two days of playing I was up by over four hundred bucks.


I was getting a bit paranoid about keeping all that money around so I rarely left my room. And I didn't like to drive that much for fear that somehow Vanessa would somehow hunt me down and sic her crazy on me, so I got most of my food from the gas station or from the local food carts and I was starting to get sick of it. So I drove my car a couple blocks out and picked up some fresh bread and vegetables, some cans of chili and soup, and hit up the liquor store for a few gallons of cheap whiskey. I was preparing for lean times, especially if I ended up dropping a lot of cash on the dice in the next few days.


When I pulled back into the lot at the Burgess I could tell that something was up because Bucky and Diggs weren't out front. I left my bags in the car and walked up to my door to see it had been booted open, then carefully closed again. I ran inside and immediately went for my dirty clothes hamper where I left my cash, and found my wad securely nestled in a pair of shit-stained underwear, right where I left it. The room was normally so fucking trashed that no one would be able to tell it had been tossed, but the rat that lived in the filth knew it well, and I could see that my garbage was well out of order.


I ran over to the managers offices but no one was there. It seemed like the property owners were never anywhere to be found except on Sundays when they expected to get paid. So I went back to my car to get my bags and grabbed the magnum from under the seat. It was getting dark and if I was going to sleep without a locking door then I was going to sleep with a gun in my hand.


 

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What The Smurf!?

There are fucking thousands of Smurfs out there!  Dangerous fucking Smurfs!!  Did you know that shit?  It is fucking terrifying.  Sure there are those normal, cuddly Smurfs that are always roaming the surface, laughing and smiling.  They eat Smurf berries and live in cozy, warm mushroom houses.  Those are the PC face of the Smurfs, the normies.

Little do people know but there are horrors beneath Smurf village.  In the caverns beneath the village, deeper still than the gargantuan obesity that is the Smurf Queen , are the chambers of the lost.  The mutants, the deformed, the insane and violent Smurfs.  Any abnormalities sequestered away from public view.  Most of the time, they die as infants, feasted upon by the other starving rejects of Smurf society.  But occasionally a Smurf displays abilities beyond it's freakish brethren.

Take Aries Smurf for example.  A Smurf with Ram's horns growing out of his head.  A hateful, brutish beast.  A Smurf who's driving force in life is rape and murder.  A Smurf who is the bane of  all other Smurfs.  He exists to be feared.

I am telling you this now for your own safety.  Papa Smurf has been trying to keep this shit quiet but, Aries Smurf has fucking escaped!  This rape-machine is loose in our world and there is nothing anyone can do about it.  He is three apples high of pure murder.

So watch your step next time you are wandering through the forest.  Poop cautiously in unfamiliar port-o-potties.  Never go camping.  He is out there and he can end you.

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Fun With Photoshop!

I decided to take the easy way out on my post for tonight, so I whipped up some shitty presidential photoshop images for you!  I sure do hope you enjoy them, but if not, well fuck you!

Here we have the standard tiny face Obama.  It isn't very offensive, but if you want to get all political I guess you could say he has an inflated head to match the bloated deficit that he is drowning this country in!  Drill baby drill!  Go back to Kenya!  We DID build that! blah blah blah

And here we have the famous old photo of Mitt Romney in France professing his love for... ANAL?  Oh my gosh, what would the almighty Jesus think from atop his throne on the planet Kolob?  Mittens looks awkward just kissing his wife, so I can only imagine the scene of him jamming his pale, turgid member into her pooper!

And here we have the gaffmeister himself, smokin' Joe Biden!  He is well known for doing the most inappropriate things... like EATING BABIES!  Oh, dear lord!  What has Joe done this time?  For god's sake, this will certainly cost him the election!

And finally we have sweet little Paul Ryan.  He is so precious in his little hat, showing off his muscles!  But this one is absolutely ridiculous.  I mean, who would believe that a vice presidential running mate would EVER take these kinds of hilarious glamour shots and allow them to see the light of day!  Come on, no self respecting full grown man would pose for these shitty pictures.  Oh, wait.  I didn't photoshop these...


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Informative Joe - How To Find The Clitoris

Informative Joe

Hello.  FYI... I am Informative Joe, you have been informed.  Take that knowledge!  HHHRRRMM!!  It feels good to inform others with my knowledge.  Such pleasures.  I look at those who are not me, I can guess what they need to know.  What knowledge they lack.  I see, I see and I inform.  Inform them all night long.

I look at you now.  I see what knowledge you lack.  What gaping, glistening holes of information you have.  You can't find the clitoris.  I can see by your pupil dilation that this is correct.  Embarrassment is not required!  I will be discreet!  I will be discreet! 

First, I will show you a classic diagram of a lady's underbits, her between-meats.

I know, confusing right?  Just look at all those parts.  How are people to keep them straight?  The problem with a woman's soft-squish is that it looks like a map of a hostile alien planet.  Don't feel bad, most people have great difficulty traversing it's rugged terrain. 

There are really only two things you need to know....
1. Which hole is which.
2. The location of the clitoris.

The hole part is easy.  Most ladies will immediately inform you know if you chose incorrectly.  But the clitoris!  That is a mystery within a riddle wrapped in honey-ham.

Let's get this hot, learning session started and make it easy for you with some pictures you can relate to.  First we see something you probably have in your hand right now.  What if Women's Genitals were a Computer Mouse?  There is the clitoris!

 

HHHRRRMM!! You learn good, baby.  What if Women's Genitals were Steak?  MMMM  There it is!  I hope this is helping inform you because I am fully informed right now.

 

Food seems to be a good motivator for you.  Your genuine interest makes my teaching nice and rigid.  What if Women's Genitals were Pizza?

 

Aha!  I see you are inspired.  I see my knowledge is permeating your brain!  It permeated your brain then pulled out and blasted hot wisdom all in your hair.  More food examples.  What if Women's Genitals were a Raw Turkey?

 

Hmmm.  Not that one, eh?  Well, this information seems very informative to me.  I will skip the food examples, maybe dead animals is the wrong approach?  Eureka!  I know!  A cuddly bunny.  What if Women's Genitals were a Screaming Rabbit!?

Terrifying?  Terrifying?!  How could you call the soft, supple, pleasure plunge of a woman's sexual organs terrifying?  Oh, the rabbit is terrifying.  HA!  Well, let's abandon adorable animals and try a reflective approach to learning.  What if Women's Genitals were You?

HHHRRRMM!!  I see that my information has filled you fully.  My knowledge nuts have been drained.  I appreciate you taking my information so willingly.  I totally slammed you so full of my information, it was aaaall up in you.  My knowledge shaft was buried in your eager learning hole.  I taught you full of thick, slick, pounding information.  I informed you from behind and reached around to your tiny, pimply, knowledge nub and...... No need to run!


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Diary Of A Degenerate 18

It was roughly 7 am when I realized my "fully furnished" room came without curtains or blinds, and I staggered still drunk to the toilet and emptied myself, the fresh wound in my bicep burning like the knife was still there. I love waking up in an unfamiliar place. It gives me brief optimism that maybe I got laid last night and was in some anonymous woman's apartment. But no such luck. As I walked into the bedroom I focused my attention on Vanessa's purse, curious about what else was in there other than the money I already plundered. I dumped the whole bag of shit on the bed and wondered at the piles of candies, breath mints, tubes of lipstick, scraps of paper, and assorted jewelry that I didn't remember ever seeing her wear. She even had a pair of panties in there, I shit you not.

But after separating the jewelry from the garbage I noticed a thick envelope that had fallen to the ground, and recognized it as the letter that she had to sign for the other night. Normally I would never violate a person's privacy by opening their mail, but fuck it. The bitch stabbed me. So I tore it open. My eyes lit up when I saw the stack of 100 dollar bills tucked inside a one page letter. This must be it, the source of Vanessa's never-ending wads of cash!

My dearest Vanessa,

I suppose you will be wondering why I am including only two thousand in this month's letter. The short answer is that I don't trust that you went through with it this time. I sent Bartley over to your home and discovered that you no longer lived there, and it took some time and effort to find you in this new apartment. I give you more than enough money to afford a place in a much nicer neighborhood, so I can only assume you are "shacked up" with another hopeless vagrant.
I have no intention of rubbing salt in a sensitive wound, but must I remind you of our arrangement? You are living well on no small amount of my money, and I ask only for your discretion in return. I understand the physical and emotional toll that you are subjected to whenever you visit Dr. Paige, but that is why I have been sending an extra thousand for the last two months despite not hearing a word from you. And God help us both if you didn't go through with it this time.
Please drop by Bartley's offices to clear this matter up, and I assure you I will pay the extra thousand once he assures me you have been keeping up your end of the bargain.

P.S. I know you don't want to hear this, but I still love you.

Dad

"Jesus fucking Christ" I whispered as I read the last line. I may be an uneducated and drunken degenerate, but I could read between these lines. Vanessa wasn't a mother. She wasn't a formerly successful business woman. She wasn't even a fallen socialite widow. She was a three-time abortion patient with an incestuous past. Well, I guess this explained why she never showed me pictures of her kids...



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Scum City Avengers - Gun Fuck Racist

I'm sorry Sir Chapsworth, but it's Scum City Avengers Time!!!  This song is about making sweet love to a racist person's bottom-hole with the cold metal barrel of a firearm.  Come on!  Every punk band needs either a pro or anti racism song.  I'm glad this one is anti.  At least, I think it is... I hope I've not been mishearing the lyrics all these years. 

I in no way endorse fucking anyone with a gun.  Just penises.  Well, penises and anything else but a gun.  Well, no guns and no spears, tigers, running chainsaws, stun guns, rusty sheet metal, baby's arms holding an apples or ..... hmmmm....  I guess there are a lot more things that you should not fuck than there are things that you should fuck.  Just make sure that, whatever it is, is of legal age, is willing or inanimate and will not pose a serious threat to your soft, pleasurable insides.  Use your own discretion when putting things into your butt and/or vagina.

Click here to listen or download or whatever.

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The Orgasm Formula

 

There seems to be some confusion about how a man reaches orgasm when copulating with a significant (or insignificant) other. But I have some valuable information to help clear up the situation. By my calculation there are four elements that, when mixed in equal proportions, lead to a prompt and satisfying male orgasm. So take a few moments to review and improve your sex life.

 

Friction - Never to be underestimated, friction is the most important of the four components to a perfect male orgasm. In fact, this element alone is responsible for 90% of all male orgasms as a whole! The focus of the friction effort should be dedicated to the tip of the man meat, but some shaft pressure makes a welcome accompaniment to the experience. But we aim for a higher standard, a ball-rattling geyser of manjoyment. So read on, because there is so much more to learn.

 

Pain - Ask any man if he enjoys a little pain in his sex life and you will learn a lot about him from the response. If he says yes, then he is a road hardened traveler, an orifice-spelunker of considerable experience, and a man who has crossed the line of vanilla sexual action, marked his territory, and returned for seconds. If he says no, then you can be assured he is a virginal and boring character, perhaps in the grip of a guilt-laden religious prison, and almost certainly an unadventurous lover. To the ladies, consider this question when speed dating to weed out the boys from the men. In application the method of pain is limited only by your imagination. But the scale of safety goes like this: leather>wood>steel>fire.

 

Humiliation - Perhaps even darker territory than pain, humiliation ups the ante of sexual transgression by including elements such as diapers, leashes, and cross-dressing to increase testicular tension and ensure a forceful release. There methods are in seldom traveled territory, and when considering a partner there are two schools of thought: someone you know and trust with your life, the type of person you love and will keep a secret, or a complete stranger that you will never see again. Personally I prefer the latter.

 

Emotion - I consider this the "retarded half-brother" of the orgasm formula. This element matters more for some than for others, and usually takes the form of love and affection. But a cheaper and often overlooked alternative is gut-wrenching sadness! It is my opinion that you haven't experienced a truly satisfying orgasm until you have ejaculated while dual streams of snot and tears burn trails down your face. But to each his own!

 

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Here is a Gif....That is all. - Freaked Puke

Express your opinion with this puking Gif from the classic movie, Freaked.

That is all.

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Prisoner Of Love

Callooh Calais, it's finally time for another Popular Irony original song!!  This song is about the kind of love you just can't escape, because it has you handcuffed in the basement.  Prisoner of Love.  The newest track from the eventual love album "Chocolate Banjo".  Enjoy!

CLICK HERE FOR MUSICAL ROMANCE!!

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Diary Of A Degenerate 17

I drove myself to the emergency room and they gave me the second set of stitches I had received in two months. Luckily they already had me on the books as indigent, so there was little argument about the bill. I told them I was stabbed by a mugger in the street, and they started to call the cops. I assured them I wanted nothing to do with filing a police report and checked myself out without incident. After the blood was cleaned off it didn't look so bad, and the bandages fit out of sight under my shirt. They said I was lucky the knife didn't sever any arteries or tendons, but I wasn't feeling very lucky as I left the hospital.

With my newfound freedom I immediately drove two towns over, found the most dangerous and offensive-looking ghetto, and checked into the first motel with weekly rates that featured a bar on the same block. The Burgess Motel was the kind of place that had seen more than a few bodies stashed in its walls, and judging by the crowd that seemed to perpetually play dice and dominoes next to the staircase it would see many more. They tried to set me up in a place on the second floor but I argued until they relented and offered me something on the ground floor. When they opened the door it was filled with garbage and dirty clothes, and clearly hadn't been touched since they booted out whatever deadbeat didn't pay the bill. I wasn't in a rush so I agreed to give them a few hours to clear it out. I could tell the guy was happy to clear a vacancy but pissed that he had to clean it up.


I left the car parked in front of my new place and walked over to the black guys that stared at me while playing three man on the concrete. "Can I leave my car here?" I asked. "Free country, man." The one with the biggest afro said. Maybe the size of your hair had something to do with your alpha status with these guys. "You know what I mean. Will I have problems?" I pulled a twenty out of my pocket and dropped it into the pile of ones he had collected in front of him. He grinned, showing off his gold tooth and said "Naw, man. You alright. Welcome to the Burgess!"


With some time to kill I decided to introduce myself to the bartender down the street. The bar door had a bell tied to it that rang when I entered, giving everyone inside a chance to look up from the horse races on tv to see who the intruder was. I had never been there before, but it was a familiar place. Lost souls and rust bucket poets lined the bar, and stale smoke filled the air. I ordered a well whiskey and drank it quickly out of a dirty glass. I gestured to the barman and told him my name. "Can I start a tab?" I asked. "A tab?" He laughed. "Mister, I never even fuckkin' SEEN you before! And you want a tab after your first drink?" I pulled a fifty dollar bill out of the roll I had gathered from Vanessa's purse and handed it to him. "I'm gonna be here a lot. This will cover tonight, but I'd be a damn fool to walk this street with enough cash to quench my thirst every night. Give me another." He knew better than to argue a cash deal with an obvious alcoholic and nodded while he opened a weathered bar book and scratched down my name.


After drinking myself into partial blindness I decided I had enough, and staggered back to the motel. My car was untouched and I nodded my thanks to the guys by the stairs before turning the key and entering my new home. I guess the owner's idea of "clean" had less to do with brooms and mops and more to do with shovels and garbage bags. But I didn't mind. After all, it saved me the time of trashing the place myself.


 

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VP DEBATE 2012

Official Footage

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Connect The Dots: Adult Edition Pt 2

Hello, daily Popular Irony readers!  Tonight we are revisiting one of our most notorious and successful posts, where we make brand new connect-the-dot games for you all to enjoy.  These next three are particularly difficult, so  you may have trouble guessing the picture until every dot has been connected!  But I'm here to offer some hints and guesses, so don't get discouraged, I promise they are worth all the effort!

Here is our first puzzle.  We left some of the image visible to keep the difficulty level down a bit, so we see there is a woman operating some sort of machinery.  Is it a giant drill press?  Maybe some sort of industrial lathe?  Either way she looks like she is proving that a little elbow grease builds character!

And here we have a lady that is clearly very pleased with herself...  I am not sure what is going on here, but it looks like she might be doing some instructional food preparation.  My guess is that she is stuffing a big old thanksgiving turkey!  You know the holidays are right around the corner, so maybe she is giving us all some tips to make the season an extra-special one!

Hmmm... This one is a real puzzler!  Clearly this lady is enjoying some refreshing beverage.  Boy, she looks thirsty!  Perhaps she just finished a vigorous workout and is demonstrating the importance of proper hydration.  You know, dehydration is a serious danger when you are physically active, so you should always take her lead and make regular trips to the drinking fountain at the gym!

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Good Deed For The Day

On my way home from work today, I stopped by my local butcher.  I just started frequenting this butcher.  I had no idea how bad the chain grocery store lunch meat was until I had the butcher's delicate delicacies. 

My local butcher has a very friendly, small town feel about it.  They are polite and accommodating.  At least the employees are... The customers are a bunch of hideous fucks.  Today there was a dirty, obese woman coughing constantly into her jacket... Her filthy, filthy jacket.  There was the crazy, loud, legless man, I think he just rolls in there to talk.  Then there was the mother and her brats. 

Though the dirty, obese woman stank, the brats were the worst of all.  There was a young mother and her two blond terrors.  Both kids were under five and over-sugared.  The little shits were running full speed throughout the butcher shop, even venturing behind the counter several times to the employee's annoyance.  They were opening the sliding door freezers, pulling items off the shelf, opening packages, disrobing and flinging clothing everywhere, squishing the fresh baked bread, screaming and ignoring the desperate pleading of their mother.

The mother was trying but I think she really gave up months ago.  Her kids are fucking monsters.  She kept threatening the kids with "their father".  Their father this, their father that, just wait until I tell your father.  After several minutes of idle threats, I learned that "their father" was actually in the car in the parking lot the whole time.  Why did she just not leave the kids in the car with him and spare me and my fellow customers the torment of her loin beasts?  With how terrible those kids were acting, I can assume he hates them more than I do and treasures the few moments he gets to be alone.

I wanted to grab one of the kids and scream "Listen to your fucking mother!  Stop running and shut the fuck up!".  I obviously can't shake and scream at a stranger's small child.  But I could do something.  An intentional accident.

I watched the little monsters running their laps for several minutes.  I decided that the next time the loudest brat swung around the corner by me, I would casually step out in front of him.  A lesson needed to be taught and learned.  I in no way wanted to hurt the kid, at least not permanently.  I timed it perfectly, as the little shit shot around the freezer I was standing by, I stepped forward to ask the butcher a question about their delicious pastrami.  The kid slammed face first, full speed into my legs and fell down.

Much to my chagrin, the kid was not phased.  He got right back up and started running again.  But his collision with me was the last that his mother could handle.  I was delighted to see her drag her putrid progeny out to the car to sit with dad.  HA!  They did not like that and I'm sure he fucking hated it.  When I got into my car to leave, they were still screaming like tortured animals in a sedan with their very depressed looking father blankly staring forward, dead inside.

Before I left, the guy who was cutting my lunch meat glanced at the mother standing across the store and whispered to me "thanks".  You know, it feels good to do good.

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Diary Of A Degenerate 16

I hated being in places like the parody club. I was uncomfortable in my smoking jacket and couldn't properly enjoy the drinking because all I kept thinking about was the forty goddamn minutes drive back to my apartment in a few hours. And everyone was so friendly... I guess they had to be since they had nothing worth talking about. I was the opposite. I am entirely unlikable to everyone except those who hadn't grown the balls to live their lives with passion. To a fistfighting drunkard I was a common nuisance, but to an accountant I was exciting. A dangerous animal to poke and prod that was a thrill to encounter without the safety of the circus cage, but would be left chained up in his wild paradise tomorrow, far from the civil world of the office life. So I got along fine. I told my stories and the clean-shaven stiffs bought the drinks. Vanessa loved this kind of shit. She tried desperately to blend in with the snobbish ladies, and would almost fit in if it weren't for her excessive cleavage and weary eyes. We played different games, me being the foul mouthed beast and her pretending not to be the kind of lady that would be sucking the cock of a bastard like me later this evening.

We danced a little, Vanessa drank too much wine and champagne, and at the end of the night I was left with cleanup duty. I dragged her down to the beat up chevy which was a pain in the ass since Vanessa insisted we park three blocks away to avoid the shame of driving it, and I hit the road. "They loved me in there" she kept saying. "Those were my people, I belong with them. You don't appreciate being with a real lady, you just use me up whenever the booze runs dry and you can get hard again." I didn't disagree with her. She was better than me, and any stranger on the street could tell just by watching us walk around together.


"I didn't ask for you." I said. "You crawled on top of me, remember? I tried to get rid of you. Remember that." The words cut deep and she began her sloppy sobbing, probably because it was the truth. We sat in silence for the rest of the ride since the radio was broken, and when I got home I went up to the apartment without her.


It took her twenty minutes to make it up the stairs, and she barged in with mascara running down her face and her heels in her hands. She was an unsteady drunk, both mentally and physically. I had the advantage now. I had sturdy sea legs from all the regular whiskey. She marched past me and slammed the bedroom door behind her, so I kicked my shoes off with indifference and stretched out on the couch.


I must have drifted off because a bit later I awoke with a sharp pain in my left arm. It was dark as hell and I felt a great weight on my chest. I was certain I was having a heart attack until I heard her voice. "You fucking son of a bitch! You don't care about me! You don't even appreciate what I do for you!" Vanessa thought she had me pinned down like I did to her when I was fucking her but I bucked her off onto the floor with ease. I was disoriented and still drunk as I marched into the kitchen to turn on the light, and once it was on I started laughing.


Sticking out of my left bicep like a teenager's hardon was a steak knife, pouring blood on my kitchen floor in the same spot that Vanessa's blood stained the tiles months ago. The crazy cunt had stabbed me, but clearly didn't have the heart to do the job correctly since she didn't go for my stomach or neck. I pulled the knife out quickly and immediately regretted it as my blood spilled like a faucet now, so I grabbed a used napkin off the table and shoved it into the wound with my fingers.


Vanessa was screaming bloody murder now, either frightened at the sight of blood or by the impending consequence. "Get the fuck out of my apartment!" She yelled. "Get out and never come back!" I didn't hit her. I didn't even consider it. This was my opportunity. She was right, you know. It was her place now, she was paying the rent.


I grabbed an armful of clothes from the hamper and checked my pockets for keys and wallet. Check. I snagged the half drunk bottle of whiskey from the table and practically ran out the door. As I was getting into the car I could hear her calling from the window. "Where the hell are you going?! Come back, you son of a bitch! I love you!!" I started the car and screeched the tires on the way out of the lot, sparks spitting up behind me as I bottomed out on the gutter.


I decided that I needed some capable medical attention now that the blood running down my arm cooled and made it's presence known, but I had some unexpected luck. Vanessa's purse lay discarded in the foot well of the passenger street, and it was sure to be brimming with cash. I guess if good guys always finished last, then assholes always win.


 

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Fire Breathing Kaiju Monster!!

I painted a Kaiju Monster!  Go me!  Then I scanned it and made it wiggle!  Double awesome job, me!!  Those poor people inside of that building.... They were only two days from retirement.

YES!  BURN THEM!  BURN THEM ALL!!

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Oscar Has Seen You Naked

 

You probably don't remember, since you were sleeping at the time. But he was there. Actually he has seen you naked a bunch of times, but this time was different because he was in your home instead of just looking through a telescope from across the street. Don't worry, he means you no harm.

 

In fact, he didn't even want to wake you up so he let himself in really quietly. And what a considerate guy he is... he spent weeks casing your house to find out where you hide your spare key just so he wouldn't have to break a window. Now that is an intruder you can trust. He even put the key back afterwards so you wouldn't lose it.

 

And Oscar knows how camera shy you are, so he avoided any flash photography and instead opted for a simple infrared setup for night photography. That's right, Oscar is truly a man of the 21st century. I mean, you wouldn't want some two-bit home invasion hack taking nude photos of you and selling them to an internet pornography business, would you? No way.

 

Guess what? Oscar knows how to make you look good, too. Your left side is your good side, and he makes sure you look your best when the covers are off. But he needs a little help to ensure the highest quality photos. And you want to look as good as possible for the internet folks, right? Of course you do. Oscar needs you to go to sleep in your finest lingerie going forward. The lacy blue number you keep in the top left of your closet should do fine, but if you really want to step up your game then go shopping and diversify your sleepwear.

 

But don't you worry your pretty head about the rest. Oscar will be there to worry about the details. And check under your pillow... he left you a little gift. Some ambien sleeping pills to keep you in the deepest, most relaxing sleep possible. Because next week we are adding some performance elements to your lineup. And believe me, you wont want to remember them.

 

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Uninspired and Desk Clutter

Sometimes you just don't want to write anything.  That's how I feel today.  I threw a few items from my heavily cluttered computer desk onto the scanner and voila!  A waste of your time.  -Enjoy!

I know that you are lusting for that cloisonné, DC Comics Starman pin.  Are you as surprised as I am that there's not an old taco or photos of burly sailors? 

Fuuuuck.. This is a bad post.  I just can't think of anything.... hmmmm...  Well, fuck.  Time for Borderlands 2. 


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Diary Of A Degenerate 15

I was growing to be convinced that Vanessa is a cruel, morbid bitch, keeping me drunk to satisfy her curiosity and watch a sore loser die. I felt less like she was my lover and more like she was simply funding a sick social experiment. There could be no other explanation. Whenever I thought I ran the bottles dry in the apartment she appeared with fresh whiskey, and although I deeply needed the drink it was getting suspicious.

So I watched her clean the apartment through untrusting eyes day after day, wondering why she didn't just plunge a knife deep in my belly while I slept. But there was nothing I could do about it. If I instigated a fight she just deflected the attacks, and whatever I wanted she gave without complaint. Come to think of it, it was unclear which of us was living with the monster.


I also started stealing money from her. I'm not sure why, because she gave it away like a miser dying of cancer and trying to buy his way into heaven. I think I just wanted to find the end of her seemingly infinite pocketbook. Where did the money come from? I assumed it must be some inheritance, since she never mentioned ever having a job in her life and didn't seem to have the mind for business. I knew she had kids, but never so much as saw a picture of them, let alone heard their names mentioned. For a man with so much miserable history behind him I sure found a gal that was even more mysterious than me.


I always jumped when there was a knock at the door, probably because I had no friends to bring pleasant news, and many enemies eager to settle unremembered scores from drunken antics. It was the mailman, weary from walking up the steps to my apartment. He had a letter that he needed a signature for, something too important to leave in the mailbox downstairs, and when I offered to sign he pulled away. The letter was for Vanessa. She took the man's pen, showed her ID and wrote her name for him. When the door closed she was looking very pale and started her pathetic sobbing. She was passionate as hell, and could unleash hell when she was in the mood, but could turn on the waterworks just as suddenly. And when she read the header on the envelope she immediately folded it in half and stashed it in her purse. I knew better than to pry, but goddamn, I wanted to read that letter. If not to gain an understanding of this stranger I was living with, then to gain some leverage over her. As it was all the power was on her side, and I dangled like a drunken marionette from the strings tied to her fingers.


"Let's go out" she said. "I want to go drinking and dancing tonight, down at the parody club!" The thought lit her up and she went into the bedroom to gather up all her dresses, holding them up to her chest in the mirror one by one. I didn't argue. A night out would do me some good, and I hadn't gotten drunk in public since I was arrested.


Vanessa was stripped down to her underwear, trying on a series of dresses and asking my opinion. I always told her she looked great, and caught myself staring at her ass while she looked in the mirror. I wan't lying, you know. She always looked fantastic, even when she had that freshly fucked look on her early in the morning. I excused myself and went to the kitchen to pour a drink and start the night off. While I was sipping my drink I looked over at her purse, the unguarded envelope peeking out of the top. It was bothering me... how did they get this address?


 

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I Love Mass Debating

You know the first presidential debate is tonight, don't you?  I love debates, all sorts of debates.  Debates are great to watch and a lot of fun to participate in.  There is no more patriotic and civil form of discourse than the debate.  Even though I love debates, the presidential debates tend to be pretty boring.  With only two people debating, you only get to hear two points of view.  I prefer to hold debates with multiple people, from all walks of life.  A large mass of enthusiastic people all debating their ideas at the same time.  A Mass Debate.

Every year in my home town, we hold the annual Mass Debating Festival.  We invite participants from around the world all with differing points of view and get them all debating at once.  I just love watching all the dozens of men passionately mass debating in front of everyone.  I always make sure to bring the kids, they can really learn something from watching so many people mass debating.  Last year, old Mr. Jenkins felt well enough to leave the hospital and join us for a good old mass debate.  He's been mass debating for almost 80 years! 

Everybody mass debates differently.  Personally, I can't mass debate very well if nobody is paying attention to me.  I like it when all eyes are on me when I mass debate or I can't perform.  I also grant that courtesy to my fellow mass debaters when it is their turn to mass debate.  Civil mass debating is very important, I always encourage all the mass debaters to be polite and courteous to their fellow mass debaters.  That way we can all mass debate without fear of frustration or embarrassment.

When planning to mass debate, pick your topics carefully.  Tempers can flare when certain issues are raised whiled mass debating.  Religion and abortion can always cause problems for mass debaters.  Nothing can stop a good mass debating session than talking about abortion.  Also, make sure to have a selection of beverages available.  A vigorous mass debate can really make people thirsty.

It's never too late to mass debate.  Call all your closest friends now and ask them if they would like to mass debate with you and some other curious mass debaters.  With all the fun to be had, how could they say no?

Good luck Mass Debaters!!


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Boyfriend Application

Application for Employment

Position: Boyfriend

Job Description:  Seeking giving and emotionally/financially stable male to provide personal support and occasional sexual gratification. Good physical and dental health a plus, must be at least 5'10" tall. Drug addicts, smokers, and alcoholics need not apply. Please include up to date photograph and detailed references with contact information.

Name: Chad Tuddy      
Date: Oct 2 2012         
DOB: June 25 1952     

References:

1. That girl in the photo developing store with the neck tattoo at the nicer Walmart here in town, available on facebook/Walmart
2. Jean Givens, available for limited phone contact with Tennessee state department of corrections, 615-741-0000 ext. 8095
3. Ellen Warner, no available phone, can be contacted in person at the corner of 35th and Venture, Cleveland OH

Education and Certifications:  Seven years of Jr./Sr. highschool education, awarded GED on Nov 9 2010, completed 20 hrs drug and alcohol classes, formally licensed for motor vehicle operation, certified mentally fit to stand trial by the state of Tennessee

Qualifications: I am a currently single, unattached father of five and FORMER addict and alcoholic.  But do not worry about any complicated stepmother-type attachments, as I am not permitted contact with my children as a condition of my parole and am functionally estranged from them.  I am living proof that nice guys finish last unless they take things by force, in which case nice guys serve comparably stiff criminal sentences.  I like dogs, cats, fine dining, all sorts of music, long walks on the beach, and pretty much anything else that will improve my chances of getting laid.  I am easy going and am able to laugh at myself, but I don't take no shit from people who think they are better than me.                                           

Additional Skills and Considerations:  I am a technically proficient banjo player, and have ample experience as a homemade tattoo artist.  I am most comfortable when shirtless and shoeless, and can run on bare feet for miles.  If you get a chance to meet me, I will show you my "flaccid helicopter" trick.  I would prefer a mate with already arranged living accommodations, unless you are prepared to crash in the passenger seat of my pickup.  I am a romantic at heart and will frequently insist on driving drunk, because my baby ALWAYS rides shotgun.  I'm just a gentleman like that.                          

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Here is a Gif....That is all. - Fatty Workout

A clip from the miniseries, The Kids In The Hall: Death Comes To Town.  That is all.

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