Semi-humble take on VP debate

Watched the VP debate because I’d already jacked off earlier.  

Biden clownish but somewhat effective.  Ryan not as polished as expected; should’ve punched harder, especially when you only get one shot.

The Kenyan attended the wedding of the moderator 20 years ago.  Maybe it means nothing, but you can bet your ass the lamestream-media jerkoffs would be crying foul if it was Romney who knew the mod in the same scenario.

Why was it a big deal that Ryan didn’t have “budget details” when His Majesty has never passed a budget his entire time in office?

Biden looked foolish, trying to justify his faith as a “pro-choice Catholic”.  Why stop there?  Be an anti-cannabis stoner and multi-racial klansman.

Conservatives look like idiots when they claim to desire smaller government yet push the abortion issue.

Liberals look like idiots when they claim a woman has a right to control her own body and that the relationship between a woman and her doctor is “sacred”.  Do any of you ladies believe that they believe you have a right to control your own bodies?  If so, try lighting up a joint or selling your pussy.

Abortion is a moot campaign issue anyway, meaning no President could overturn Roe v. Wade if s/he tried.  The “supreme” court is shit now anyway; enemies of the people.

Biden kept saying RESPONSIBILITY over and over, but only when referring to the Afghans taking over “defense” of their terrible country.  Ryan didn’t say it either, but it was extremely odd to hear a taxocrat saying it.  Since when does the Party of Victimhood endorse RESPONSIBILITY for anyone?

Neither side won any converts.  

Revolution is still imminent, ten years or less.

Another Jeopardy! Ball-Churner

There hasn’t been a hottie on America’s favorite trivia game show in awhile.  Kara more than makes up for this.  She would’ve made a better Supergirl than the eponymous ‘Kara’ on Smallville.

Kara lasted two days on Jeopardy! to my none.  She’s a high school history teacher and, being as hot as she is, has great potential to end up on The Smoking Gun.

She told Alex one of the two foreign language phrases she used while vacationing was something to the effect of:  “Is it OK to swim naked here?”  I think Trebek went home and masturbated furiously.  Wait, that was me, except it couldn’t have been, since Trebek had to go home and I was already home.

Portrait of a Penis as a Deadly Cobra

I hadn’t jacked-off in 12 days, some kind of World Record. Mostly it didn’t bother me, but other times–especially when good ass was in sight–my scrotum burned like glass in a blue flame. It could’ve been my imagination, but it also began to feel leaden, less willing to yo-yo in response to stimuli.

Finally the time came to come again. I summoned Kaylan Nicole like a genie from her hard drive bottle, cuing the scene. CC Fafafini, yet another hairless porn-dolphin, was ramming that vagina like his penis was a plunger working to unclog a toilet in a BAD Mexican restaurant. Such a beautiful vagina she had, the close-ups excellent.

With my penis heavy like a shotgun I figured it’d be over fast. Not so!

I got through Kaylan’s plowing twice before sighing with boredom. I debated switching to something else; my left hand clumsily clicked the mouse. Now it was Mack Wallass, he of the hooked nose and horn, working away on one Renee Emerald, one of those women who do only one or two films, then nothing. Sean Elephantay, the Black Stud, was also involved.

The scene, low-key as it was, did the trick, but there was no blast. In the 12 days of inactivity, my poor cobra had forgotten how to spit, leaving only a few weak coins and gurgles of man-yogurt.

I tried again, but the show was over. The Cosmoslick lubricant had actually turned to foam, making it look as if I’d tried to screw a Starbucks latte.

The next night I had no idea of the outcome, but my cock had the block on lock. This time the scene was Wallass with Maya Puissant, which never fails. In short order I was feeling much better despite earlier losing my wallet. A brilliant, steaming Rorshach of white wet music glorified a soon-to-be-trashed sock, testament to the power of happy testicles, counterbalancing an unhappy mind.

Such is the power.