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They're Coming To Get You, Barbara.

Hey, if I told you I was thinking of ditching linkfacts and going back to old school untracked links, what would you say? Would you still roll with me, or would you roll with Rick Santangelo instead?

So it's slowly turning to "winter" down here in Southwest Florida. I put that in quotation marks, because it's not really winter. Real winter has foot and a half snowstorms and frozen pipes. Winter down here is more like fall.

Going back almost a year or so, remember the asshole that refused to show his receipt at Circuit City and was subsequently arrested by the cops for refusing to show some identification? Remember me saying the proper way to handle it would have been to simply comply with the officer's instructions, and then if you still felt strongly about it, pursue the matter in civil court later? Someone finally listened, and to be honest, I hope it blows up in his face.

Hey Ernie. I took this picture in N.E. Vermont back in October. Can you spot what's wrong? Shannon. [Ernie says: very subtle, I like it!] Ernie, I saw this sign in the Publix at Camelot Isles Shopping Center today. I wonder where the dolls are made... China? Hope the picture isn't too big. I enjoy your site. rowhill I don't care what color the President is, but i just had to pass this along. John Good morning, Ernie. It seem that somebody was listening to you and I'm sure a bunch of other people. Have a good day! Colin

Right out of the gate, right after I posted Diamond Fever yesterday, Robin stepped up with this score. And I thought that was pretty good until Josh came up from behind and delivered the dreaded double cunt punch. Ouch, that's gotta hurt. Just goes to show you why we always wear a helmet around here.

This link of cheating celebs held a little surprise for me. Jason Statham was banging Kelly Brook before she was banging Billy Zane? Wow, that's pretty low. I didn't know that. I wonder if Zane has been beating himself up over that?

using basic math we can compute the bandwidth of the human male penis as...

stemcells -- it's starting already, hurray! it happened outside the usa, of course.

yeah i guess the 'henry garfield band' just doesn't have the same ring to it, does it?

after taking a hit like this, i'm shocked he was still conscious enough to catch the football.

so, with me not understand a lick of korean, am i to assume this commercial says ford vehicles are roomy?

This Tasteless Tuesday Is A Little Fishy.

Most people contract some form of food poisoning at least once a year. Most of the time the symptoms are mild, and can even be mistaken for a 24 hour flu bug. Other times, the symptoms are similar to one having a very bad case of the flu, but rarely do people ever need to go to the hospital for food poisoning. Just by its nature, the probability of contracting food poisoning from fish is always higher than most other foods. This is why, based on personal experience, I recommend that no one ever engage in anal sex after your date ate a large fish dinner.

We hadn’t been dating that long, only about a month. Even though we'd only been dating a short time, we were having sex since the second date, and it was the best, freakiest, porno-style sex of my life. Seriously, this was the kind of sex that every man, deep down, dreams about having at least once in his life. It was the kind of sex that I had wished for ever since my voice started changing. It was with this woman, and only with this woman, that I was ever addressed with the phrase, “Use your whole fist for Christ’s sake.”

On one now infamous date night, we were enjoying a romantic dinner at an upscale seafood restaurant. Through the entire meal, however, sex was all that was on our minds. In retrospect, every date we ever went on seemed to just be a temporary diversion from the best part of the night, which involved animalistic insertions, feral lickings and brazen misuse of food products. We emptied wine bottle after wine bottle over the course of the dinner, and by the time the main course arrived, fish for her and lobster for me, she slipped off her shoes and casually masturbated me under the table with her stocking covered feet. Completely plastered and horny by the end of the meal, we decided to skip dessert in the restaurant because a much sweeter dessert “was being prepared in her hot, wet crotch,” she said. I paid the bill and narrowly avoided getting a speeding ticket, not to mention a DUI, during the drive back to my place.

By the time we got into my apartment, we were tearing each other’s clothes off. Sloppy in our drunkenness, we knocked over two lamps during our horny, groping journey into the bedroom. Once in the bed, she got down on all fours, arched her back, and presented her delicious ass to me. I grunted my approval while aiming my rock-hard cock missile at her hairy silo. When the head of my cock began to penetrate her lips, she stopped me. “No. In my ass,” she hissed at me, sounding both horny and angry at the same time. “Are you sure,” I asked? She giggled as she said, “If I could handle last night. . .” Oh yeah, I thought. Last night’s adventure involved a clown mask, three packets of Pop Rocks, and a twenty-inch replica of the Eiffel Tower. What the hell was I thinking? Of course she could handle some anal-action. She reached between her legs and began lubing up her asshole with her own pussy juices. Where did I find this girl? I thought. I was in horn-dog heaven. Blessed. Not being an expert in anal intrusion, I slowly eased my way into her lovely stink-star. First the head, then a quarter of the shaft, and soon I was buried to the hilt between her ass-cheeks.

“Go slowly,” she said, half moaning, half panting in both pleasure and pain, I think. I did as she bid, and very slowly began pulling out, like a steam piston on an old locomotive beginning its first run in a century. Almost all the way out of her, but keeping the head firmly planted in her ass-iris, I slowly began inserting again. “Yeeeeees!” she moaned and began diddling her clit. Soon she said, “Faster.” So faster I went, the tempo increasing until the train was running at full speed, the piston pumping in and out so fast my cock became a complete blur, her hand rubbing her clit like she was trying to start a friction-fire in her pussy. “Gnnnnnnnah!” she screamed. Thinking she was close to orgasm, I pumped that ass even faster, faster than Amish meth-head churns butter.

"Gnnnnnahstoooop,” she screamed, or something like this, because the noise in my head was drowning out the reality around me, for in my head I heard a steam locomotive, chugga-chugga-chugga-chugga-Woo-Woo! Barreling down the tracks, and somehow I pumped even faster. “YES!” I screamed. She started reaching behind her and flailing on the bed in what I thought was ecstasy -- “Stop!” she screamed, able to finally get out the word I had mistaken for groans of ecstasy moments ago. She screamed this with such volume and guttural, primal force that it had the effect of pulling the emergency brake on a 100,000 pound locomotive running at full speed. The sex act squealed to a halt, and I pulled my cock out of her ass like the rip-cord on a parachute. Did someone order champagne? No, that popping noise was my cock coming out of her ass. “Arrrrrrgh!” She screamed, as I yanked my cock free. And then it happened.

Immediately after my cock popped out, I was sprayed from belly to thighs with watery, fish-smelling diarrhea.

“What the --?” I said, not able to get the word ‘fuck’ out of my mouth because of my shock at the brown funk lining my body. As she sprayed me, she seemed to be propelled forward by the force of the jet-propelled diarrhea, and she collapsed onto her stomach. “Oh. My. Fucking. God.” I murmured, completely shell-shocked. Everything was still. I could hear my wind-up alarm clock ticking on my dresser. I stared at my shit-covered body. I surveyed the room to see if there was any collateral damage. The trajectory of the diarrhea spray was similar to buck-shot in a sawed-off shotgun; it was everywhere. Unfortunately, during the sex act she had been facing the feet-side of the bed, which meant that the headboard, my bedside table and lamp had poop on them as well. Even my bedside clock had a few speckles staining its face. The bed sheets: Killed in Action. A total loss.

I looked at my date, lying there motionless. I called her name. No response. I called her name while shaking her a bit. Nothing. Fear shot through me, as I thought, “Oh my god, what if she’s dead?” But this fear quickly dissipated when I heard her snoring. She was passed out from the wine. I on the other hand was no longer blasted drunk, because the blast from her ass rendered me completely sober. This night was definitely going down in the (ahem) annals as the all time worst date of my life. In fact, I had to invent a new special category, “Even the Devil would feel sympathetic,” to describe this night.

I cleaned up. I cleaned her up. I cleaned the headboard, the dresser, the lamp and the clock. With some manipulation of her passed out body, I was able to wrangle the sheets from the bed and throw them down the garbage chute. By two in the morning, I found myself lying on my couch, drinking Jack Daniels from the bottle. I don’t remember passing out myself, but I can say that unconsciousness didn’t come soon enough.

“It was food poisoning,” her voicemail message explained to me the next day. After some silence, she added, “The fish.” More silence. “Sorry.” She left this message the following day, around 2:00 p.m. I had slept until Noon, and, thank God, she was gone when I woke up. How do you face that? She never called me again. I never called her. I definitely learned two valuable lessons that night: 1) Never have anal sex after a sea food dinner. 2) Be careful what you wish for. There’s only one other experience in my life that entered into the “Even the Devil would feel sympathetic” category, and frankly I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to tell that story. Let’s just say that the morning after a great one-night-stand, the beautiful woman you banged the night before can certainly use your bathroom... but she shouldn’t be more comfortable standing up while she pees. - Yogurt.

In February 2009, television broadcast signals will switch from analog to digital. This public service announcement will help your grandmother understand what that means to her. So when she calls you asking what the fuck is going on, that voice you hear on the other end of the line will be the sound of failure. Or, you can just head over there and take care of it yourself. That's my advice.

Oh, and since Nick took the crown in 99 Bricks, we have to move on to something else. And thus, I'd like you to give Diamond Fever a try. The first three levels are kinda lame, with a lot of frenzied random clicking, but once you cross into the upper levels, you need to really start thinking fast. I managed to stagger my way to 37,492 points, see if you can beat me. In the meantime, I'm going fishing for mermaids.

link dump of NSFW videos. hey guess what, this is NSFW.

a collection of over eighty car crash pictures. wreckage galore.

well guys, do you have th eballs to wax your beard? this guy did. ouch.

another in-cab camera view of a train versus some trucks at a railroad crossing. almost, anyway.

can't change your facial expression or raise your voice above a whisper? all at the david caruso school of acting.

A Pirate's Life For Me.

Question. Is anyone else besides me tired of Somali pirates in the news? I mean for Christ's sake, it's fucking 2008 yet it seems every day there's a new article that reads something like this: "Today a [Insert Country] flagged [Insert Cargo] tanker hijacked off the coast of Somalia. [Insert Number] crew detained and pirates demand a random of [Insert Dollars] for their safe return." Today it was a Saudi oil tanker and this past weekend it was a Japanese freighter. Now in all honesty, I really don't give two good shits about the ships or their crew, I'm just sick and tired of reading about pirates, pirates, pirates. Each scenario always ends one of two ways. Either the host country pays an exorbant ransom and get the ship back, or they don't and I have to hear about it for the next five weeks. Either way, it's boring me. And thus, I present you with my plan to bring the recent escalation of Somali piracy to a quick -- and more importantly -- an exciting ending.

You see, the problem is our current policy in dealing with the pirates is too passive. The United States, along with a small handful of other nations, have warships in the area, whose goal is merely to discourage or thwart an attack. If the pirates break off and flee back to their home ports, we high five each other and declare the official start of Miller Time. This not only leaves the pirates free to fight another day, it wastes resources such as fuel, time, and money. And I have no problem with expending these things, just so long as there's a satisfying explosion at the end; but to date I have been deprived of this and hence our tactics must change. And let's understand something here; from Hollywood we'd like to think that pirates race around in full sized ships, dueling other vessels with cannonfire before boarding with knives clenched in their teeth. That's old school. The new school is two or three skiffs maybe 20-30' in length, swarming around a tanker and shooting at it with rifle and grenade fire until it stops and allows itself to be boarded. Sometimes this process takes three or four hours. Again, not very exciting.

So where shall we start to turn the tide, eh? Well, taking a quick look at the International Chamber of Commerce's Live Piracy Map 2008 we can see pirate attacks happen all over the world. But if you zoom in a little bit, you'll see the Gulf of Aden hosts more than its fair share activity. The thousand mile long Gulf is bordered by Yemen on the north, and Somalia two hundred miles to the south, so roughly it's 200,000 square miles of pirate heaven. With such a vast area to patrol and so many juicy tankers coming out of the Suez Canal, you can see why our current tactics of warship patrols has been quite impotent.

Enter the MQ-9 Reaper developed by General Atomics Aeronautical Systems of San Diego. Yes, the Reaper is the latest and greatest in unmanned aerial vehicles, so you can't help but get a boner when you consider this new age solution to a problem that has been around for two centuries. Armed with AGM-114M Hellfire II missiles, which are designed for 'soft targets' such as unarmored and civilian vehicles, you can see we gonna be havin' us a good o'l time. Yee Haw!

So here's the plan. I'd need at least three Reapers, all of which would be stationed at Camp Lemonier in Djibouti, which is at the far western side of the 1,000 mile long Gulf. Their patrol pattern would be a big long oval, up and down the length of the Gulf; first a complete 2,000 mile round trip oval, followed by a smaller halfway 1,000 mile round trip oval. Reapers have a range of 3,800 miles, so this is well within the capabilities, plus allowing for some extra time on station to drop the hammer on some pirates. At any given time there would be two Reapers aloft, thus they'd each be responsible for a 500 mile stretch of coastline. With a maximum speed of 300 mph, either Reaper could respond to a hijacking attempt within an hour an a half. Three or even four Reapers in rotation would be more effective and decrease their respective response times, but hey I don't want to get too greedy. So all a big tanker needs to do is hold out for an hour and a half at the most, and then >WHOOSH!< the pain comes like a finger from God. One second Achmed the Pirate is rattling off his AK-47 at the bridge of a supertanker while the guy beside him lines up an RPG, and next second there's a white smoke trail and an explosion of blood and shattered bone. No negotiating, no discouraging, no warning shots. Just realization that by the time you hear the shriek of the Hellfire, you're already dead.

There have been 88 hijacking attempts this year. Assuming three pirate skiffs involved per attack and each Hellfire costs $68,000, that's $18,000,000 worth of anti-piracy fun. Whose gonna pay for it? Easy. Given the choice between paying out a $1.1 million dollar ransom knowing it can happen again next week, or $200,000 for some Hellfire missile knowing they've put an end to the problem... I don't think the insurance companies that insure these vessels would have any problem footing the bill. Fuck, we can even have holiday sales, or little cards that get stamped, "buy 6 missiles get your 7th missile free," or some shit. So all in one fell swoop we; have an immediate impact on piracy, provide a live testing and training scenarios for new UAV pilots, earn international goodwill from the nations whose ships we rescue, and stimulate the US economy a little bit (at least for General Atomics and their suppliers).

See, that's what I do folks. I solve problems.

Five husbands, one wife. None of the husbands knew about the others. And to hear some of these guys weep -- I'm talking sobbing -- I dunno if it's fake or if she just has the best pussy in the entire world. But I tell you what, after a couple of beers, I'd hit it.

watch this atv rider break his neck. no seriously, fractured c2 vertebra.

this is ground control to major tom. take your protein pills and put your helmet on.

you mess with the bull, you get the horns. you mess with the rhinoceros, you get one big horn.

everyone loves squirrels. everyone loves michael jackson. so here are squirrels dancing to michael jackson.

Insert Your Favorite Weekend Joke Here.

soooooooooo, can anyone tell me the difference between the north korean prison camps and auschwitz or dachau?

the top ten funny college videos. and pics too, if you want to count the undie run photos.

keep in mind men cheat for sex and women cheat for excitement while you look at this list of cheating celebs

fat guy + unloading golf cart = fat guy run over by golf cart. backwards. wtf?!

three armed men tried to rob an san paolo police officer (he's in civilian clothes) in front of a bank... (graphic)

remember the cute chick that did the ballsack slap prank? well, payback is a bitch.

at first i was like I WIN and then jason was like PFFT and then wes was like WTF and then nick was like LOL N00BZ.

man i do miss riding moto-x on my atv. i'd miss it even more if i had these chicks do ride with.

beautifullaketahoe - breakafeweggs - happyandyouknowit - nodogsallowed2 - perfecttitsruined - thatsalotofcows2

this old 60s psa discusses the perversion of nudie magazines and is AWESOME. it's perversion for profit baby!