You just know the story will not end well..

...when it includes this sentence:

Police are retracing the route the van drove in attempt to find body parts, he said.

Clothing from 4 different decades does not equal timeless

GAAAAH!!

The Fug girls do it justice.

Snore

The most exciting automotive development in years, in mass-market terms anyway, should have been the Chevy Volt.

At least according to early concept designs:



What we get is... the most generic car on the planet.






I'll save my pennies and wait for a Tesla I can afford, thanks.

If this is what the survival of GM rests on, well... buh bye now.

When Republicans imagine sex

Want your dick to shrivel?

Here's Bill O'Reilly:

Ashley was now wearing only brief white panties. She had signaled her desire by removing her shirt and skirt, and by leaning back on the couch. She closed her eyes, concentrating on nothing but Shannon's tongue and lips. He gently teased her by licking the areas around her most sensitive erogenous zone. Then he slipped her panties down her legs and, within seconds, his tongue was inside her, moving rapidly. (Bill O'Reilly, Those Who Trespass: a Novel of Television and Murder)

And here's William Fucking Buckley:

On Monday afternoon, Ayn's eyes were especially luminous when Nathaniel came in, as expected, at three. But this time she led him upstairs to a room he had never laid eyes on, a bedroom with a king-size bed and not less than six oil pictures of Ayn on the walls, one of them showing her bare-breasted, the Ayn of twenty years ago. The shades had been drawn and Nathaniel could savor the scent. Today her lover was being welcomed with synesthetical concerns for all the senses, only the music missing. But as he lay and later groaned with writhing and release, he brought the full force of his mind to transmuted, volutptuarian elation in this physical union with the very woman who had created John Galt and Dagny Taggart and Henry Rearden, and had touched down her scepter on him, Nathaniel, igniting his mind, and his own scepter, which paid, now, devoted service.

"Ayn?" you ask. Yes. "Ayn." Your worst fears are realized. William F. Buckley wrote a sex fantasy about Ayn Rand. And lest we forget, he name-checked some of her characters. That is so very not gay!

You now have my permission to leave and wash your brains out with bleach.

You're back? Good.

Now, some questions:
a) Does this amuse you as much as it does me?
b) Isn't the "party of values" supposed to be against teh pr0n? Especially the bad pr0n?
c) "within seconds, his tongue was inside her, moving rapidly" Does it even remotely surprise you that falafel-boy has no technique? Does that scene in Python's Meaning of Life come to mind? "What's wrong with a kiss, boy? Hmm? Why not start her off with a nice kiss? You don't have to go leaping straight for the clitoris like a bull at a gate. Give her a kiss, boy." Actually, Mr. Cleese, BillO didn't even stop at the clitoris. He just jammed his tongue right in her twat. And moved it. Rapidly.
d) Does it make you fucking laugh out loud that Bill Fuckin' Buck thought he could maybe disguise the fact that he was writing wingnut wanking material by using words like synesthetical, transmuted, and voluptuarian?

OK, time for another bleaching session.

I'll see you when I recover.