Jesus Christ, you think Skeletor would've finally captured He-Man by now!!! Guess he got a new hairdo and a temp job cleaning ashtrays at the local bowling alley.

And the only reason I know who Skeletor and He-man are is because my grandson used to play that goddamn show all the time here. I'd have to come down at 7:00 am to see him watching that crap. Eventually I ripped the damn cable box out of the wall and threw it through a plate glass window. The cops won't let me get within 100 yards of the kid now, but that's fine because he smelled like a fucking cheese factory anyway.

Milkmaid Elsa or Amish bondage queen? Who knows. Who the hell cares.


The Mutant Dance Academy in South Appleton dresses their students up in tin foil so I can spot them easier in the daytime and run over their epileptic bodies with my Chrysler.

If you are viewing this picture, your soul has already been eaten by Sheila Prestovice, the Defiler. I'm so sorry.

The roof on Mike Anderson's house is supported by load-bearing ugly.

Here, have a fruit. It's right over there, touching its nipples and holding a rotten pear.