She's beautiful...Speaking of the arts, goddamn I love USA porno. I love cum in the eyes of a teenage runaway in San Fernando. I love to see HD close-ups of injection sites on feet and prolapsed assholes that will never quite heal. I love bad techno and gagging and girls crying because it hurts. I want to hear the one that looks like my sister with fake tits call the guy fucking her up the shitter a nigger. I want to see somebody's rock bottom preserved on video. Preferably an MPEG4.
Give us your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, yearning to smoke crystal and grind on truckers in Missouri. I love Fleshlights and Real Dolls and latex asses you stick to the wall. I love reducing a woman to a single body part and then slathering that body part with water-based lubrication and having sex with it. Supply and demand is so American.
From the beauty of love to the horrors of war. Everybody hates war. War is hell, sure, but as Adrian said in Little Nicky, "It's better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven." Let me tell you, buddy, this ain't volleyball. America fucking rules. We don't go around starting shit, but we put America first and when it comes time we take some names.
Take Afghanistan and Iraq. People are always boohooing about that shit, but the casualty ratio is like easily 50 or 75 to 1. You find me one team in baseball that goes 50 and 1. I'm no math wizard, but I know for damn sure there aren't two billion of those terrorist fuckers running around Iraq, so the math just is not going to work for them. We'll get 'em all eventually and when we're done fighting them over there we'll end the war on terror.
We have been kicking ass for years. Gulf War one, we bombed the crap out of them, ran Saddam's army out of Kuwait in a couple days, and then trapped 'em all on a highway leading to Iraq. We kicked their butt so bad in that battle on the highway that they called it the Highway of Death. You tell me that isn't badass.
There's a great sniper spot behind the two big air conditioners on this map.Even when we lose we kick ass. Blackhawk Down, did you see that? Crash a fucking helicopter and then the special forces dude is like "put me down" and he shoots them until he runs out of ammo.
South America? Forget it. A gnat so much as farts next to a Coca Cola bottler and we'll have Triple Canopy advisers there inside a week paying right wing rebel groups to machete anybody in a red t-shirt. If that doesn't work a bunch of CIA agents will show up in your capital wearing Ray-Bans and photo vests and inside a month you'll have a new president. We fucked Guatemala up forever so we could have cheaper bananas. No shit.
Oh, and by the way, only time anybody got nuked? Thank us. We nuked Japan and we were so hardass we saw what happened and went ahead and did it again. Why? Because they deserved it. Fucked that country's head up so bad they made a cartoon about their modern navy time traveling back to the 1940s to stop us. And look at this shit:
Eyeballs all melting out and dogs getting fried. The Lost Decade didn't look like red arrows on the Nikkei, it looked like mushroom clouds and half a million pounds of incendiary bombs slamming into buildings with paper walls. The Japanese just can't get over it.
For Christ's sake, how many cartoons have you seen real men like us make crying about being decapitated or subjected to pressure experiments? There was one with Donald Duck and Charlie Chan, but that doesn't count because it was played for laughs. "Ohhhhh Donard subject you to negative eight atmosphere and you inside pop out you cloacae!"
The Amazonians value combat prowess and purity of spirit. By wrestling half naked, they pay homage to both virtues by displaying their battle-forged bodies while preserving as much modesty as their society deems necessary. The gelatin in which they wrestle is symbolic of the fluid nature of battle, a concept the Amazonians call ‘akgor-gra.’
Pros: Much more comfortable than my last toilet seat, which was a transparent resin with seashells embedded inside. The outer layer wore off from friction, exposing the sharp jagged edges of the seashells, which were constantly scrapping my backside and causing major cuts and open sores.
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