Anonyblog

Emails from Admin are exciting.

N

(pronounced as one word)

Patty Lewis and Terri Bishop seem to have formidable skills. It is impressive that these multiple cut and paste entries have survived the purge.

There is a Santa!

The truth will set you free (and ban FAS eyes)

The truth is that nobody cares about Fetal alcohol syndrome.

lolzy wolzy!

Hello admin :o)

Opinions? What has happened to Anonyblog, the Internet's greatest site. Ever.

Admin, just let the site be. Jesus. So what if a few idiots post. It is still fun. Stop shutting down the freaking site every time someone makes a post you do not like.

Merry Christmas to you and your family, Admin.

dragonlady

I solve my problems with sweet sweet fellatio.

#8 had it down right. Just let it be what it will be. At times there might be lawlessness like the old West. At times there could be emo whining and crying better than Jim and Tammy Baker or Dog the Bounty Hunter put together. There will be trolls. Let it go. Let it be what it will be. Let it be kinda of a petre dish of the Internet. Let the participants look out for themselves. It's all harmless in the end. You have a dedicated following. You have the best site on the web.

Merry Christmas and best wishes.

I just lolled again.

Oh look what The Clan did! Imbolsols!

That would be KLAN. Knucklehead.

I hope everyone had a Merry KrismaKwanChanuRamadan.

Best wishes to all in the New Year

Don't be calling people "imbolsols" when you can't even spell it, you imbecile!!!!!

Imbolsols?

Are you an ethinic person #13?

LC, that would be "ethnic", if you're going to be an imbecile.

Well. I'll be goddamned. The spell checker has invaded the new front page of Anonyblog.

Anonyblog

Get it off your chest

December 27,2008
--------------------------------------------------
*****BREAKING NEWS****

Anonyblog busted but not broke.
Not even two days into Turd War III, even before the opposing armies amassed,Anonyblog ground to a halt.

In a rare interview, His esteemed Eminence Excellency Kody R Bear stated, "I Didn't even have time to build an army! I bearly had time to construct my under ground lair. Ha! Given time to build an army I could have defended Anonyblog against Indy's robotic shit girl army or whatever he was calling it."

And How is Magogo the Singing and Dancing Macarena Monkey?

Oh! He is quite distraught and given to excessive use of controlled substances.

Is there any chance that Turd War III could be conducted here in the comment section?

It is highly unlikely as this venue does not attract the great writers who create the Turd War. A war of this magnitude often uses image-likenesses (pronounced as one word) and as you well know html is not permitted here.

Your Eminence, some are trying to blame KRB Enterprises for he current state of.........

Silence! It's Patty Lewis and Terri Bishop! Those morons and their cut and paste jobs are responsible!

stupidity thy name is jizzball.

More than one spellchecker here now.

wtf happened to this piece of shit site?

wtf are you doing here if you think this site is a piece of shit?

I can't seem to restrain myself from sleeping with this person without wanting to be relationally involved. It kills me every time I'd come over. How do I cut ties and move on? How do I learn self control?

I was trying to participate in my own recovery, whore!

Nothing wrong with this site niggertoes. You may post freely.

SIGNS YOUR A DRUNK

1. You lose arguments with inanimate objects.

2. You have to hold on to the lawn to keep from falling off the earth.

3. Your job starts to interfere with your drinking.

4. Your doctor finds traces of blood in your alcohol stream.

5. The back of your head keeps getting hit by the toilet seat.

6. You sincerely believe alcohol is the elusive 5th food group.

7. 24 hours in a day, 24 beers in a case Coincidence?!?!?

8. Two hands and just one mouth now THAT'S a drinking problem.

9. Every woman you see has an exact twin.

10. You fall off the floor

11. Hey, 5 beers have just as many calories as a burger, screw dinner!

12. Your idea of cutting back is less salt.

13. Every night you're beginning to find your neighbors cat more and more attractive

14. I'm not drunk you're just sober!!

15. Roseanne looks good

16. You don't recognize your wife unless seen from the bottom of a glass.

17. That damned pink elephant followed me home again.

18. You have a reserved parking space at the liquor store.

19. You've fallen and can't get up.

20. The shrubbery's drunk too, from frequent watering.

Where is CUNTY BEAR?

Anonyblog seems to be not on hold.

yeah, let's make it explode!

Stay tuned for the continuing adventures of the KodyBear and Magogo the Singing Dancing Macarena Monkey!

Where is DOOKY?

Ah. Dooky the Boxing and Farting Kangaroo is guzzling Fosters and working on his MySpace.

Jeez! Almost had a fight in the bar i was at tonight. What a bunch of fuckin red necks. I just drove home on Newy Years Eve. People stumbling up and down the bypass. I saw one dude crawling. Cops. Every fucking where. By God if they're going to have to work New Years Eve instead of being with family and friends you can damn sure bet they gonna be lighting some people up. They're going to have a big ole cop party and everybodys invited. They gonna have a hundred and fifty extra meals to cook tomorrow over at the detention center. And all of those people will have something in common to talk about over dinner.

I want to view, smell, touch, hear, and taste Emma Watson's feces.

Le Monde, Paris:

Un extrait d’une mystérieuse feuille de papier trouvée dans le vestibule des bureaux du Monde tôt ce matin :

>

Un extrait d’une mystérieuse feuille de papier trouvée dans le vestibule des bureaux du Monde tôt ce matin :

Attention, citoyens de Paris ! La Résistance vit encore ! Le dictateur cruel, Indy, qui s’est installé en haut de l’Arc de Triomphe, essaye de régler Paris du trône de son empire méchant avec l’aide de son armée des robots de merde de filles (prononcé comme un mot). Maintenant, c’est le temps pour les braves hommes parisiens à reviver la Résistance ! Nous avons résisté Hitler, et à présent, nous pouvons résister Indy ! Allons enfants de la partie ! Le jour de gloire est arrivé encore !
La Résistance

*FART*

Klapp Breath's Heavenly Abode

"Are you going to...y'know...do that to me again?" the little boy asked Klapp Breath, motioning slightly at his rectum.

Klapp Breath exhaled cigarette smoke tiredly as he sat down on the bed's edge. The bear costume was hot and he desperately wanted to take it off, but could he trust the boy? Once he had seen Klapp's face, the child might run to the police out of fear and disgust. He couldn't risk it: the suit stayed on.

"No, I don't wanna...," Klapp trailed off, waving at the boy. "Go watch cartoons or something. I'm tired now." The boy sulked off into the corner of the dirty hotel room to pick at his toenails while Klapp adjusted the costume's headpiece needlessly in a sublimated sexual gesture.

The truth is, he did want to. The boy was nearly too old--almost thirteen, almost a teen, my god--but beggars can't be choosers in this world, and Klapp was certainly a beggar. And a buggerer, too, heh...he should use that on Anonyblog tonight, he thought. Fucking clever, he was.

But the truth was, he could no longer get it up. And I mean at all. At least when it was just ED he could say his penis was technically working, but now...nothing. Thank god, thank god, thank god he didn't have any women checking out his limp prick; that would be just too much to take. Fucking women. The boys just didn't really know enough to comment, but women always made him feel totally worthless in bed, as in life.

He lit another cigarette and pushed the filter end through the hole he cut in the costume's mouth. How had he come to this? Attempting to make sex slaves out of little boys was not his original life plan, but here he was googling Jeffrey Dahmer to gain insights into the battery acid and power drill method. So far it had only made his boys seem more retarded, not more sexy. But the ones he treated this way did change in one important way: they loved Kody Bear's writings as soon as the acid had melted their brains sufficiently. And that in itself kind of made Klapp Breath a scientist of sorts. A brain scientist, in fact. He puffed his chest out unconsciously.

The phone rang and startled him out of his reverie. He checked his watch. Shit! Ten o'clock already! And he hadn't even posted to Anonyblog yet. He had to get his shit together, and fast.

"Hello?" he muttered into the line as he booted up his laptop hurriedly.

A long silent pause followed. Finally a deep male voice spoke, "Mr. Bear, I thought we had an agreement. Wasn't that your understanding?"

"Uh, listen, I had a computer issue is all...I had some incredible shit written but the goddamn hard drive..."

"Spare me the excuses, Mr. Bear. We aren't paying you half a million dollars for your excuses, are we?

"No sir," Klapp squeaked. He could not lose this job! "Sir, I'll have the posts up immediately..." he stammered as the desktop image of Bo and Luke Duke sitting shirtless on the General Lee popped up on the screen.

"This is your last warning, Mr. Bear. If my employers feel your...extracurricular activities, shall we say, are interfering with your paid duties, well, I'm not so sure I can be responsible for their reactions. Do you understand what I'm saying, Mr. Bear?"

Klapp started to respond, but the voice on the other end was already gone. He needed to post something stupid, and fast. No problem, he thought, I'm Kody Bear. In the circles I wander, they all know me as the best and brightest. No fucking problem.

There was a crashing sound in the other room, the tinkle of broken glass, and a heavy thump on the ground below. Klapp didn't need to move his corpulent frame to know what happened in there. You've seen one semi-retarded sex slave jump out a hotel window, you've seen them all.

The kid was almost thirteen anyway, he thought. What am I, a gerontologist? Fuckin ey, that was clever too. Anonyblog was gonna go crazy tonight!

Indy sat in the dark, the warm, blue glow of his monitor superstructure around him lighting the room enough to see. He was smoking a fine Romeo y Julietta Reserva Real cigar, and drinking one of the bottles of 1961 Chateau LaTour that he had pilfered from the national wine cellar. The Mayor had cowered in fear when just one of the girlshit robots had threatened in. It was rumored that Sarcozy and the national army had been calle to PAris to deal with the situation. Indy chuckled between sips and puffs, betting that the French troops had never had to go against over 15 trillion almost-indestructable girlshit robots with turd-lasers (pronounced as one word). He was not worried. Then something on one of the monitors in the seventh row up caught his eye. A movement? It was the secret camera in Kodybear's San Diego apartment. The usual buggery was occuring, and Indy turned his head in disgust as the acid-brained sex slave leapt to his death. But something else was suspicious. The Kodybear grabbed his head, and I[ll be damned if Indy did not see it move, almost as if...no, it could not be?...almost as if it were a...a bear costume? No, it could not be! Kodybear was a real bear. He had faced him in battle. But what if...what if he really was a man in a bear suit. Good God, the implications. "Manservant Leroy Cleophus Washington, get your black ass in here! I have a mission for you!" As he heard the giant black feet flapping down the hall at a trotting pace, he smiled, knowing that this could be just he break in the case that he was looking for.

Anyone want to fuck?

Good. Go fuck yourself you fucking foul-mouthed cretin.

Hey guys. I'm bored. And also impressed at whoever posted in French up there, and at myself for being able to understand nearly the entire thing.

Miss N suspects His Excellent Bearliness.

I, I posted in French, bitch! KODY DOES NOT SPEAK FRENCH! I AM FLUENT, CUNT!

I really don't think Indy has ever addressed anyone directly before. Imposter!!!!

Besides, what I gathered from the post was definitely anti-Indy. It was all about the resistance.

Additionally, the accents and spelling were too perfect. It had to have been the work of an online translator.

Just my opinion, N-yways.

Yo Bearliness! You esteemed Bearliness! We's gwine to hafta get outta dis comment section. He in Here Yo Eminencnce! I can done smell de Cuban Cigars and here de flap of Leroy's feets. Google Earth say dat dey is a big ass yellow cloud over Paris and I dun got information sayin dat he gots 13 trillion girl turd robots wid shit lasers! He also say he got a secret Turd camera in Yo San Fransisco place!

Goddammit Magogo! Well then get us the hell out of here!

I'sa done be tried Yo Eminence. See I had dis plan. I was gonna have us jump down to dee next to dee last comment section. Den we wuz gwine to step down to dee next one and den we wuz gwine to sneak ou unda dee task bar and........But dey ain't know posts down dere any mo and..........

Silence! Get us the fuck out of her you imbosol! Call the accounting office and have them stop paying the rent on that apartment! Round up 13 Trilion warriors of any kind you can! Meet me at the Super Under Ground Kody Klan Kave in it's double triple top secret location in Delaware Maryland.

His Esteemed Excellency Eminence Kody Bear and his Knighted associate Magogo the Singing and Dancing Macarena Monkey did indeed make it out of the Anonyboog comment area this evening. For the time being they Have escaped Indy The Great and his Shit Turd laser Warriors. They fall now, as if in a dream, hundreds of miles below the Earths surface.

I, Indy, am from a French speaking part of the world. No online translator could produce good French. I speak French. It is a fact. Now, please leave me alone and let me get back to Turd War III.

The spicy smell of a fine Cuban cigar mixed with the sulfury, eggy stench of girlfarts (pronounced as one word) in Indy the Great's tactical headquarters high atop the Eiffel Tower. He was enjoying a nice bottle of 1961 LaTour again because the last one was just so damn good. He smiled briefly. All of Paris was his.

Manservant Leroy Cleophus Washington had been on watch, trading shifts with Indy's newest sidekick, Snipples the Magical Pooping Clown. At 3 AM, when Indy's wet dream was about to explode in a violent spew of semen into his luxurious, silken bedsheets, Snipples waddled in with his giant clown shoes, honked his red nose, and said very loudly, laughing every few words: "Master Indy! Problem, Sir! The French Army has reached the seventeenth arrondissement! They are quickly reaching Tuscadero and then the Hotel de Crillon,and then it's just a few street crossing to us here in the Tower!"

"What? What? What the hell are you doing in my room at night, clown? And what the hell is that giant clown penis you are wearing with your costume?"

"Um, that is not a costume, Sir."

"Ahem. I see. Well, we shall deal with that later. Yes, I know the army is coming. I planned it that way."

"What? That is not funny!"

"I know, Snipples. You see, they have fifty thousand skinny, hairy, smelly armed men. We have 13 trillion robotic girlturd warrios with shit lasers. And I put in an order with Turdtek Industries for more, and a new secret weapon... Well, don't you see? We'll wipe them out! Come over to the balcony here. Let's watch the battle."

Through the yellow-green (pronounced as one word) fart haze over Paris, Indy, Snipples the Magical Pooping Clown, and Manservant Leroy Cleophus Washington smoked their cigars and watched the battle far below. As the army reached the Hotel de Crillon and then crossed the canal, they were sudenly flanked by about 5 trillion of the robotic girlturd warriors. Confusion ensued, and shouts of panic, all in French, could be heard wafting up through the cloud.

The battle only laste a moment. Shit lasers shot out and the entire French Army was slaughtered in a matter of minutes. The ones who did live jumped into the Seine and swam away, but not before looting a quick baguette and piece of cheese from the nearest boulangerie.

Fifty thousand bloodied bodies lay on the Champs Elysee. The girlturd robot warriors simply turned around and began rolling back toward the Tour Eiffel to be recharged.

Within the hour, a skinny French boy ran to the tower waving a white flag, wearing the French Legion's scout uniform. In his hand was a note. After farting on his head, Indy sent him away alive. Indy is merciful sometimes.

The note read: "Cher Indy, Après la battaile que j’ai regardé de mon château fort à travers de Paris, je n’ai pas de choix. Officiellement, moi, Nicolas Sarcozy, le Président de la France, la nation de France et mois nous rendons à vous et à votre gloire. Paris est le votre. Quant à moi, je m’en fuis en Allemagne où je peux oublier la vie et manger du sauerkraut. À votre gloire, Nicolas Sarcozy."

"What dat say, Massa?"

"It says, Leroy, that President Sarcozy has surrendered to us not only Paris, but all of France, and that he is fleeing to Germany to eat sauerkraut. I envy him. Sauerkraut makes for some nice girlfarts (pronounced as one word)."

"Why you's gotsda tells me you is pronouncin dat as one word, wen you already dun pronounce it as one word?"

Indy took a long draw on his Cuban, a draught of his wine, and looked out over the City of Lights, pausing for a second in a philosophical thought.

"That is the question, my dear Leroy. That, my boy, is the question."

"Wat dat mean?"

"Oh good God, you fool! I was creating a cinematic moment to end this post! You ruined it! Now I have to make up another one, preferably involving my latest plans to assault the Kodybear and the Magogo. Now both of you shutup and let me create this cinematic finish!"

The dark silhouette of Emperor Indy, held in stark contrast against the lights of the Latin Quarter waving their way through the yellow cloud, stood like a sentinel atop his tower fortress. All of this was his. All of Paris! The history, the civilization, the culture, the language, the food, the wine, the women! Like another version of Christ who had agreed to the devil's temptation to rule nations, Indy furrowed his eyebrows, took a draw of his cigar, then expelled in an affected sigh.

"The Kodybear is mine now. I can sense him. And I have been told that he has a new underground compound. Apparently, my friends, apprently, the arrow dodes not fall far from the mark."

"Wat DAT mean?"

"Oh for God's sake, forget it! You ruined my cinematic finish again! Go to bed, both of you! The new warriors arrive tomorrow. God you are dense. Goodnight!"

Closing the door to his fortified bedroom, Indy drifted back to sleep and to his wet dreams of Emma Watson's girlfarts (pronounced as one word).

Tonight I ate Emma Watson's entire bowel-movement (pronounced as one word).

Well, obviously we can disrupt things just fine, here in the comments.

Two cannibals were eating a clown.

One clown asks the other..........

Does this taste funny?????????????

sad.

The cannibal who is late to dinner gets the cold shoulder.

feces

*GASP!*

Was it really Indy I got yelled at by?

Wowwwwwwwwwww
I can't remember him ever yelling at anyone directly before.

I feel so cool.

Okay, Okay.
But I still don't understand why he would post an entry about resisting himself.

Additionally, Indy is currently seemingly untrackable on the internet. N plans on wasting some more time later on to see if this teacher in some far-off place is at all related.

Stalking is good, kids.

I jack to porn daily.

LISTREN CAREFULLY< YOU STUPID CUNT: the French note was a note from the Frech Resistance, meant to PROMOTE and CONTINUE the story of Turd War III. DAMMIT WHY CAN YOU NOT UNDERSTAND THAT???? IT was not me posting against myself, you stupid cunt! It was meant to move the plot along! ARE YOU FUCKING RETARDED?

Pretty much, yeah. Does that bother you?

N

secks??????

This thread is fucken A! I just want everyone to know that I came whilst reading it because I lolled so hard!

ANONYBLOG RULES!!!
Where else can you do this?
If there is another site similar to this lets find it.
I reckon we will post on comments until Admin removes his head from his anus.

This "INDY" is obviously a poser. Prolly some ignorant jackoff with a new computer. This lifeless dipshit has created TURD WARS to occupy his time when he has no more semen to extract from his little gonads. Why don't you just go and download some more porn form BIT TORRENT MR.DICKHEAD. At that point you can jackoff until your balls shrivel up to the size of raisins.

There might have been an "INDY" at one time but for now, in my opinion, some bored electronics store retail nigger is posting as "INDY" and most likely always has. Getting something even less than a life would by far improve your situation.

How could this "INDY" know "N" is a stupid cunt? You would have to visit the site frequently to have that knowledge. Right?
How could "INDY" just appear out of nowhere and be so spot on? No, this is an IMP. Someone who has no ability to think for themselves.

OHO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Up at the crack of dawn, huh???

INTERESTING!!!

(keeps stalking)

Darn looks like I'm done stalking him. What will I do with my time now?

Hopefully suicide.

Hopefully suicide.

Look what you've accomplished:
In times past when admin locked the site, these comments would be filled with how the klan was destroying the site, and the klan's child-like quip filled responses. Gradually, the latter type comments became more and more, and now -- look what you've accomplished.
No one whines about how you've destroyed the site. No one cares anymore. You have you're own little corner of the internet now, where your simple-minded audience gathers so you can all pat each other on the back. It's a gathering of those that feel a sense of belonging by identifying with others of their tastes in a place where total anonymity was supposed to reign.

Wait-- You're all to concerned with your own self-worth and self-indulgent ways. My bad, nigga.

The Klan's response to any entry here on Anonyblog certainly is not "child like". The commenter has confused young, liberal, slightly left of center, creative entries and remarks as childish. Loosen up your wig there person.

I have said this before, Anonyblog is like a wildflower bed where you let the weeds grow too. Somewhere in that blooming process you get to experience some awesome flowers and then you get to look at other things that might not be so desirable. This is all part of taking the good with the bad.

There are many in the world who do not understand how to do this. I will give a small hint:

You must keep an open mind and spirit.

Anonyblog Rules!

The Klan worships ADMIN.
We are at ADMIN's all knowing mercy.
Hail ADMIN!!
Long live his most immaculate creation!
He is the giver of life.
He is the taker of entries.
We submit to your authority.
Without you there is nothing. Only the vacuum of the internet.
We praise your name.
Live long and prosper ADMIN.

I think we should all take this opportunity to reflect and post, in as many words as possible, just what Anonyblog means to each of us.
This may be an interesting project. I know that I will be looking forward to my Anonyblog associates' entries.
Maybe we could run this comments string in to the hundreds.

Anonyblog is my secret place, away from all the people in my life that annoy me and judge me and ask me for favors.

It's where I can say whatever I want about them and they will neeeever know.

It's something to look forward to when my best friend is 7,000 miles away, even if I am known as the stupid cunt :D

N

No blood for oil.

I never ever get the pussy.

Yo Excellency! You Excellency! I gots de reports from the MMTF! It's him Yo Eminence. What we gwine to do? Sniffin leads to eatin! Sniffin leads to eatin! Next thing you be doin em both and den he done set up an army of gir shit ro....

Magogo! Chill! I know already. Did I ever tell you that I have a digital/portable time portal? We can go back in time. In fact! We can go back to December of 2004! Do you see the brilliance of my plan? To go back in time and defeat Indy The Great on bitch about stuff dot com!

When You gwine ta leave yo Eminence?

Oh. I'm not going Magogo. You are going.

Well din it ain't gwine ta work because dose are, arch, uh , some kinda files yo can't change.

Oh! Really! Humm? Yes? Well fuck it then. However I do strongly suggest that you study the archives. I believe that was the present tense of the word you were struggling to form in your miserable excuse not to go back in time and defeat Indy The Great thus assuring yourself a place in history! I strongly suggest study! You exist only because of this wonderful place! Here you may be as you are! Where else are you going to get a job you miserable little fuck monkey!

Hey! Chill! Chill Yo Eminence!

Oh just kidding. I wasn't going to eat you. You know Magogo. At one time we could have been lovers. But never mind that. Read the archives! Here's one of my favorites from bitch about stuff in 2004. It was a great read!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Shitbuster
To Kodybear and Indy: you motherfucking faggots need to eat shit till you die in a pool of shit and vomit. As you know I bust people who are shit-o-philiacs (pronounced as fuck you). I hope that someday you both will be run over you repeatedly by a bus(pronounced as my fist smashing into your skull).

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Das pretty funny Yo Eminence. But I don't remember us postin den. I ain't remember no Shit Buster.

Don't wory about it. It's no big deal. You might not have been created yet. Now what about the one in French. You know I hate the French.

He say he take over Paris and dat he got some kinda army of robotic shit girls.

Jeeze! What is it with that guy and Paris?

C'mon Yo Eminence! De muddafucker be eatin girlshit and stuff. Don't yo nevah sniff no girl farts Yo Excellency cause it just lead to to things a whole lot worse. I bet dat shit is real popular in Paris and dat why he stay der.

Perhaps you are correct Sir Magogo. Now I want our resources centered at Low LIfe Films. Did I ever tell you about the Lair seventeen miles below the surface of the Earth? Oh! It is to die for my sweet monkey!

Is dey plenty of AA's and coaxial cable? I loves to smoke me some Rg-6.

That and much more yet to be revealed! Now lets go! I'll drive! Oh! I almost forgot your Christmas gift Magogo. I recalled that goat smegma was indeed on Lindsey's list of vile toxins. So I ordered you some online. Thought you could smear it all over yourself in battle or something. Come my dear monkey. I must show you our new Vile Toxin Production Area! I will soon reveal my master plan to crush Indy the Great!

Yo sure is one crazy mugger fugger Yo Radiant Excellency!

The Great Post Restorer awoke from his slumber with a startled "No!" shattering the quiet of his living room ... the sound echoed once and was taken over once again by the steady ticking of the grandfather ... How long had he been asleep? The dream which had caused him to cry out in such horror was fast fading in his mind, the venomous adrenalin already draining from his veins. However, one thought remained, clear as the single teardrop glistening on his arm, which had sprung unabated at the height of his subconscious passion ... The Post Deleter!

"Great?! Great P. D. ?! P. Diddy, Pussy Dildo, Post Deleter!" Pah! He spat - a huge gob of yellow phlegm, the only solid to have passed his lips in the last sixty hours. Not caring that he had just plagiarized that thought, he leapt from his armchair ... The memories were flooding back, bursting through the drowsy dam of melatonin, churned up by his ravenous hunger ... The Turd Wars had begun again, and he was late, late, late! Anonyblog must be saved from the scourge ... Posts MUST be restored! He had no time to lose ... Cramming four-day-old popcorn into his dry mouth, he raced to his PC and typed ... "anon--" ...

Horror of horrors!

TheGPR stared at the screen, blinked, stared some more ... This couldn't be ... The glaring white-space was too much for him and he let out a cry of anguish ... Was this really the work of his arch-nemesis? There was only one thing for it ... Archives, December 2008, click, last post, last post, last post, come on, come on, curse this fucking connection, last post, last ... 75 comments. SEVENTY-FIVE! Surely a new record? Click, scroll, scroll, scroll ...

His Excellency Kody Bear, abound?!

Indy?!

THE GREAT POST DELETER?!!

For a full four minutes and thirty-three seconds, TheGPR simply sat and stared in horror ... Then he slowly turned in his chair, a smile spreading across his face ... Miss N (aka "Terrible Cunt"?) would have to be reached immediately ... It was time!

In times like these we must remember:

THE PLEDGE OF ALLEGIANCE

I Pledge Allegiance to the bear of the Third Planet from the Sun and to the Pugnacity for which he stands for, one Universe under Kody,
indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
Oh, say can you see by the dawn's early light, what so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming? Whose white fur and bright smile through the perilous fight, o’er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly streaming? And with vile toxins to spare, the pustules bursting in air, gave proof through the night that our bear was still there. Oh, say does Kody R. Bear yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Our Kody, who art in heaven; hallowed be Thy name; Thy kingdom come; Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven and hell. Give us this day our daily word; and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us into temptation; and deliver us from the anti-Klan.
Abear.

Anonyblog rages on in the archived comment section. Like a smoking fire ready for some oxygen. This is the new front page. Third level down. How bout that for a band name? Lets get it on!

I am keen to aquire about thirty four trillion Singing and Dancing Macarena Monkeys for sevice in my army. There are only three available on eBay and none on Amazon.

TheGPR drummed his fingers impatiently on his desk as he waited for the Organization to pick up. Come on, come on. He had no time to lose.

"Quagga quagga?"

"Quagga quagga, GPR here, N please. Hurry."

Service was always slow at this time of the year. Curses. Somebody really needed to do something about the music he had no choice but to listen to while on hold. Honestly, Rick Astley?!

"Never gonna give you uh ..."

"N," said a voice, blandly and boredly.

"N, it's agent GPR, I ..."

"Yes, I've been expecting your call ... like only last week," complained N. "It's been chaos in the office here. I've been trying to trace Indy, but he has foiled my every attempt to ..."

"Never mind about Indy ... at least for the time being. We have much more important matters to attend to first. Our top priority, N, is to confirm infiltration of the lair of Trog Beast, Lindsey Russell, and resume Operation Moser AND Operation Santa. His Excellency must also be notified immediately."

"Are ... are you sure?" spluttered N. She had always had doubts about the whole scheme, as did Lord V. She recalled the discussion ...

"Yes of course I'm sure," TheGPR retorted, derailing her train of thought. "I know you're thinking about what Vapor said, but it is time, N! At last we shall have the opportunity to avenge Anonyblog and restore order to the realm."

"Right then, I will have to trust, as always, that this is the best course of action, although, frankly I fail to see how this will play any part in the progress of the Turd Wars."

"All will be revealed, my dear," purred TheGPR, another smile slowly forming on his lips. "All in good time!"

The Marshall, His Incomparable Highness, Lord KodyBear. The Glorious Subduer of Indy the Great:

The bear and the monkey landed hard on the cold concrete floor seventeen miles below the Earth's surface.

"Goddamn Yo Excellency! Dat porkable dig it tall (pronounced really fucking fast) time port hole thing Yo gots is slicker than snot! Where is we at?"

"Not so much where ape boy but when! Yes indeedy! We are in the year 2000! Here in our vast complex, designed by Dr.Warren Westphyn, we will build and deploy an army against Indy the Great!"

"Dat sho nuff sound like alotta fun Yo Eminence! When das we start?"

"Well I don't know about you but I think I need to change my batteries. Let's go to the command center and goof off on MySpace for a while. What? After that I'll show you around. I'll take you to....

Good Lord! It's Dr. Leon! We're cookin with hot grtease now!

Anyway I'll give you a tour of the new vile toxin production area. We have some really nasty stuff going on in there. You won't believe it! Hell. I might even put you in charge! But first I need you to get in touch with Jaron and Shenny. You must coordinate their transformation in the lair of the TrogBeast! We need that Santa image-likeness as well! Find it!"

"When Dooky cummin home Yo Radiant Excellency?"

"All in good time Magogo. Just never you mind. All will be revealed"

Miss N opened her eyes to total darkness. Using her sloth-like capabilities, she first covered her head with the blankets then rolled onto her left side. She’s been like this for days, hiding in her dark secret headquarters, located in the north-west corner of her parent’s house, and blogging her nothingness in empty posts below admin’s convenient top-of-the-page comment space.

Her small, cunty brain (pronounced with a southern accent) started working again and she recalled that morning’s conversation with The Great Post Restorer. She’d been expecting the call, and made it a point to have lots of background noise so he would think she was doing her work. But the truth is, Miss N is bored and unhappy, especially now that she is stuck writing in third person point of view. It turns out Indy The Great has put much more thought into hiding himself than she expected, and this bothers her.

In the past, most have been only mildly difficult to track down. But unlike the others, Indy really does not want to be found, and this makes all the difference. She’s been lucky enough to gather an educated guess, or a general idea of what he looks like, and seriously doubts that he is ‘from’ any French-speaking country, but has very few hard facts.

N forcibly turns her mind to the Turd war and the tasks at hand. It’s probably time she told His Excellency what she knows, before he goes buying or building some ridiculous giant army. But the Bear loves building armies, she knows. He’s probably right in his element right now, spewing all new kinds of vile toxins and forcing Magogo to actually do work.

“Well, what do we know about Paris?” she thinks. “For starters, you can get a decent flat in the 11th district for about 300,000 euros.” Her ex-best friend didn’t call her an obnoxious know-it-all for no reason.

Finally sitting up in bed, Miss N rubs her head and attempts to calm her wild curly hair. “I AM an obnoxious know-it-all. AND, I have full confidence that L’s lair has already been infiltrated. Operation Santa is up to His Excellency. HMPH!” N has never been one for violence or war.

She can remember facts like ‘armadillos are the only animals that are susceptible to leprosy’ and ‘girlshit robots are allergic to cashmere and fine dining’ but cannot recall what the hell Operation Moser was.

Still in darkness, Terrible CuNt sends a short message to His Bearly Eminence, pointing out that Operation Santa will have to wait until anonyblog (and html privileges) are restored, informs him that girlshit robots are allergic to cashmere and fine dining, and reminds him to wear a clean shirt to Tuesday’s meeting.

N doesn’t like war. Why so much turding? Can’t we all just get along? She thinks how much nicer it would be if we all just sat down for dinner instead. Why not invite Indy to tea?! *Sigh* “But men will have their wars, won’t they?” thinks N. “Oh, which reminds me: I dare the fucktard that keeps saying ‘No blood for oil’ to say that to my boyfriend’s face, or to any soldier in person.” Miss N’s boyfriend has biceps the size of her head, which is small considering the small, retarded cunt brain it houses.

Anyways, she’d purposely left out of her message to His Bearliness the side effects of presenting girlshit robots with cashmere and dining. Maybe it made her a bad friend, but she rubs everyone the wrong way lately anyways. Besides, it sure will make Paris more interesting.

The KodyBear, now settled in the command center, studied the source kode on the Anonyblog login page. He scatched his ass, grunting and growling, trying to figure out the all important user name and pass word. On the various monitors that encircled him were Movable Type manuals, hacking forums, various web cams showing The Arch De Triomphe and a bear porn site. He kept staring at the kode. Just a few short lines seemed to hold the secret. Invalid login! Fuckity fuck fuck he bellowed.

Gradually his sensitive know detected a very bad smell. At the same time a blinking red light informed him that the airlock to the massive vile toxin chamber was leaking.

"Damn Yo Excellency challs done fucked dis place up. I go fixes it"

"Oh. You don't want to go in there Magogo. I'll take care of it. Did you find Santa?"

"I ain't found it yet Yo Benevolence"

"Try looking in the GPR chat log. I also want you to send this kode to Morikigaru. (That ought to give Miss n something to track down, he thought) Tell her it is urgent and do not. I repeat do not pronounce it all as one word"

"Yo means Morikigaru de great hackstress?"

"What? You know who she is Magogo. I could arrange for you to study under her if you could lay down the cable pipe long enough to learn anything! Now send her that kode while I go repair the airlock!"

As the KodyBear descended-gravitated to the lowest level of the komplex he wondered how much Miss N would pay for Indy the Great's IP address. Quid pro quo he thought.

TheGPR connects his laptop containing the top-secret (pronounced as one word) image-likenesses (pronounced as one word) to his vast computer network, and browses ... There it is ... The hidden archive! Now what's that fucking password? Ah ...

TheGPR transfers the precious encrypted top-secret (pronounced as one word) image-likenesses (pronounced as one word) from laptop to main server and prepares his email:

----------

To His Esteemed Eminence Excellency Kody R. Bear, CC: Indy The Great

My warmest greetings to you both. I am he who restores posts and self-appointed Anonyblog historian - collector of archives and source of all lost online fora knowledge.

I come in peace, offering you gifts, which I know have previously delighted both your hearts, for after all, you are of the same stock, albeit on different poles, as equal as you are opposite.

Come, gentlemen, let us join together your many talents and form an alliance! The Turd Wars have raged for many a year without resolve, and I propose a joint project. The attached image-likenesses (pronounced as one word) will explain all. I await your answers in full anticipation.

Yours etc,
Great Post Restorer (The)

----------

TheGPR decrypts and attaches the top-secret (pronounced as one word) image-likenesses (pronounced as one word) to his email, sighs a sigh, and clicks "Send". He sinks back into his armchair, closes his eyes and lets the tic-toc of the grandfather clock lull him back to sleep.

So this is now nonblog.

Damn. Let's set a record! 100 comments for Admin's post!Let's go! Let's go! Get a move on!

On a hot, stinky, Parisian evening, Indy sat atop his command center on the Arc de Triomphe and farted continnuously. He muttered to himself.

"Time travel my ass. The time travel paradox is nonsense. The proof is that here I am in 2009 in Paris, still alive. Manservant Leroy Cleophus Washington?"

"Yes, massah?"

"Have the 999 trillion secfet warrios arrived from the Acme Corporation?"

"Yassah."

"Good. Get them ready."

*FART*

We find Young Kung Fu Master Walker, Jemima and Master Chef Vapor in Vapor’s kitchen just finishing a fine meal of Buffalo Squirrel, Bacon cheese biscuits and butter beans. Young Kung Fu Master Walker is rinsing a pot in the sink when he notices something from the kitchen window.

“You are not going to believe this Lord Vapor, come quick”

As Master Chef Vapor catches a view of this spectacle he says,
“We must ready the Vaporlair, I am sure we will have a mission to complete soon.
Much like Gotham City calls The Batman, His Eminence Kody R. Bear calls on us with that giant turd signal in the sky when our arch nemesis INDY THE GREAT sticks his disgustingly ugly head up. We have work to do and steps to take.
Jemima, start cookin’ up some fried oysters and cornbread. We will need to eat more later.”

“Young Kung Fu Master Walker, make ready the VaporHoverJet as we will need to survey the situation. I fear that INDY THE GREAT has returned and all Hellshit is about to cut loose.”

“I have to go find my Vaporwear and my Vaporboots. Mother of Christ I will never fit into it. I have gained Fifty Fucking Pounds since the last TURD WAR. Jemima!!! Where the hell in my treadmill and that Buns of Steel video? Has anybody seen my ankle weights?”

Jemima thought to herself, “I jus’ might get to get up wit dat handsome little devil monkey Magogo. I sho does miss him. Oh my God he can melt my butter and put some corn in my pone.
Yes sir, have mercy.”

Two cannibals are eating; one starts at the head, the other starts at the feet. After munching for a whle, one cannibal says to the other, "How ya doin'?" The other replies, "I'm having a ball!"

The first cannibal says, "Slow down! You're eating too fast!"

The KodyBear sat upon his haunches surrouned by forty high definition monitors. He dined on five gallon vats of beluga caviar,shoving it into his mouth in pawfulls. Magogo the Singing and Dancing Macaena Monkey delivered a steady stream of kettle One vodka and Romeo and Julieta's followed by more whiskey. His Excellency loved Kentucky whiskey.

Suddenly Magogo appeared with several squirrels and a Kimber Super Amaerica .22 rifle across his back.

"Ah Magogo. I see you have found the North America Biosphere on level 10?"

Yo Excellency dey is some fine squirrel huntin dere and Isa even brought you a young deer head to sucks dee blood out of and.................

"Silence!", screetched the Bear, as he looked at the blinking light on HD monitor number forty of the hundreds that surrounded him. Goddamit the fuckity fuck fuck! I just tracked a shipment of 999 trillion sefret robots. What the hell is that shit?

"Google dasn't eben no what dey is. Mayhaps he dun had too much dat french gaurd champagne and sniffed too many dem girlturds, uh, Yo Radiance.

"This is critical Magogo! We've got him now! Come with me immediatrely to the Vile Toxin Production Center! We must start your training immediately! We must deploy the army soon!"

Magogo the Singing and Dancing Macarena Monkey walked slowly behind his master. He began to tremble as they approached the massive stainless steel airlock with the employees only sign right in the center. Two miles long and two miles wide and seventeen miles below the Earth in the year 2000. As the KodyBear turned the massive wheel Magogo began to wretch, heave and vomit.

"What the hell's a matter with you anyway Magogo!', squealed the bear. "Your a veteran! You had best get your head and your ass wired together! Now get in here and let me give you the tour!"

Yes Yo Heinous!

Indy the Great stood iside of a strange-looking (pronounced as one word) blinking machine. He called out for his sidekicks (pronounced as one word).

"Manservant Leroy Cleophus Washington Jones! Snipples the MAgical Pooping Clown! Come here at once!"

"Yes, Massah?"

Get your asses in this machine! Hurry!"

Hearing the severity in their master's voice, the clown and the negro slipped into the machine and took the two empty seats. Suddenly, lights flashed, the world swirled around them, and they seemed to be traveling through some long, bolack, starry tunnel at a breakneck (pronounced as one word) speed. Then the machine stopped, ane they were still atop the Arc de Triomphe.

"Huh huh huh, Master?"

"What, Snipples?"

"We are in the same place, huh huh."

Indy took a draw of the Cuban cigar that he had kept lit throughout the voyage.

"The same place, yes. but look at the people down there."

Lawdy, Massah!" exclaimed Leroy. "Dem people be's wearin giant buttuhfly collahs an bellbottomses!"

"Precisely, Leroy. We have traveled further back in the past than Kody and Magogo, and that intrepid Master Chef Vapor. We are in the year 1975. Vietname is about to end."

"Lawdy!"

"Yes, my negro. And the good news is that all this etra time has given us planning time, as well as the ability to call the Acme Corporation, from whom I have ordered 9,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999 secret-ability (pronounced as one word) girlturd-robot-warriors (pronounced as one word)."

"Dat a big numbah, Massah!"

"Indeed. Let Kody and that Faggot Chef top that. And these are cardueroy and fine-dining (pornounced as on word) proof. They are virtually unstoppable."

"Lawdy, dis be fun! I's can fuck all de girls I's wanses,. den we go to de futur, and I's not get caught!"

Indy the Great, taking a long draw of his Cuban girlturd cigar, quietly replied, "Indeed, my negro, indeed."

From under her warm (and clean) blankets, Miss N chuckles at Indy's blatant disregard for her. He made his robots cardueroy(?) proof, instead of cashmere proof (pornounced as on word) (?) He didn't even care enough to spell it right.

Sigh.

All of those robots done the wrong way. If Indy had a female assistant that wouldn't have happened. Courderoy wouldn't have been a problem anyways, since anyone left that still wears it should be taken to What Not To Wear. However Miss N is certain that she has three cashmere sweaters in her drawer right now (even if one of them has been shrunken).

N keeps laughing (on the inside) and feels cheered up to face the rest of her day.

KodyBear Enterprises has requested Master Chef Vapor conduct a recon mission to determine the location of INDY THE GREAT.

Master Chef Vapor and Young Kung Fu Master Walker prepare for the mission.

Jemima wishes Master Chef Vapor and Young Kung fu Master Walker a safe journey and a safe return from their Klandestine mission. She hands them each a sack of home made habeñero BBQ pork skins and some Slap Happy Abby to wash them down with. She reminds them that she will have a big supper of Mountain Oysters and a bottle of Knob Kreek for them when they return.

Strapping in to the cockpit of the VaporHoverJet the two Superheroes discuss the dangerous mission:

"Young Walker, We must head straight fore the Arc De Triumph I sense Indy the Great is up to something stinky."

Lord Vapor was somewhat worried especially after his last encounter with ShitBoy. He had never seen so many feces in one place before. Why he and Young Kung Fu Master Walker are still scraping turd residue from their shoes.

Having warmed the VaporHoverJet sufficiently Master Chef Vapor begins launch procedures. Vapor feels a little out of place seeing as though his Vaporwear will not fit yet. He still has about fifty pounds to shed before he can get back into that outfit. Flying through the clouds Young Kung Fu Master Walker hits some dank in the the bong. Sufficiently buzzed Vapor thinks back to his younger years.......When...

"PULL UP!!!!!!PULL UP!!!!!!!JESUS FUCKING CHRIST VAPOR FLY THIS THING RIGHT OR I'M BAILING!!!" cried Young Walker.

Vapor had nearly collided with the Arc de Triumph. After regaining control of the VaporHoverJet They slowly circle the Arc de Triumph.

"My sensors are picking something up on top of the Arc de Triumph!" exclaimed Young Walker, "This is strange, I can see something on my LCD display but there is nothing there on top of the Arc."

Vapor responds, "Bring up the cloaking shields and ready your Urea lasers and Anus Seeking Diarrhea mortars. Set your aim for the Arc. FecesFace is here I can feel it, I just can't see him. We will complete this recon mission and report our findings to KRB Enterprises."

Suddenly an odd looking black vortex begins to swirl in the air above the Arc de Triumph. The VaporHoverJet is being pulled towards this terrestrial Black Hole.

"FULL POWER NOW!!! Increase to ShartSpeed and let’s break loose from this toilet bowl! SHARTSPEED!!!!!" Vapor yells as they struggle to break away from the vortex.

Master Chef Vapor thinks to himself, "I am not properly dressed for a confrontation. I wish I could get rid of this extra weight. Just think of all the clothes I could fit into. Oh god, I could wear my skinny jeans again."

Just then the VaporHoverJet hooks up and they are traveling at ShartSpeed away from France. Vapor's thoughts wonder, as they sometimes do, he can't believe how foul the air was around the Arc de Triumph.

"Shit1" screams Indy the Great. "The fucking Vaporship! Shit! We have to get forward in time! Jump into the damn maching, you negro and you clown!"

"Yes, Sir, huh huh huh."

"Lawdy yes, Massah!"

The three jump into the time machine and return to 2009. The Arc de Triomphe is intact, and the girlfart-cloud (pronounced as one word) still hovers above Paris.

"It seems things are back to normal. The girlturd-robot-corduroy-warriors (pronounced as one word) are..."

"Massah!"

"What?"

"It's be cashmere's, not's cord-de-roy!"

"Shit! Snipples the Magical Pooping Clown! You are good with costumes, aren't you?"

"Huh huh huh, yes, Sir."

"Then hurry and exchange this corduroy shield with..."

"Forget it!" shrieked Indy. "Forget the material! I can see that the fucking Vapormobile, and the Magogo Spaceship, have fucking followed us through the wormhole (pronounced as one word)! Has that order of 9,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999
secret-type (pronounced as one word) warrios arrived from the Acme Turd Company?"

"Yes. Massah, and dey smeared in de girlshit! Dat Kody and dat Vaopr never be's ables to defeat's dis army o'..."

"Silence! Do not give away the secret of these new warriors! They are in this coment section! I can feel it! For now, go get me a bottle of 1961 LaTour, aned pack my Ser Jacopo pipe with dried girlturd (pronounced as one word) dust to smoke!"

"But Massah, why you's gotta be tell's me to pronounces as one word, wen you dun alredy say it as one's word?"

"We already went over this, Manservant Leroy Cleophus Washington Jones! It is just my thing! My trademark!"

"Okay's Massah, iffen yo's say so's!"

"Now go sign for that enormous gazillion member army of girlt...oops, I almost gave away the type of warriors we ordered. Close call."

TheGPR awakes once again, but for only a few brief seconds to shift his position, uncramp his leg and think a thought ... then he resumes his slumber, noting that this is comment number 96 ...

Le Monde, Paris, le 14 janvier 2008:

LA TERREUR FRAPPE TOUT PARIS! INDY EST REVENU!

Aujourd’hui, les citoyens de Paris se sont levés au son de la guerre. Il y a 56 ans depuis une invasion d’une armée étrangère de Paris, les allemands. Mais Paris est controlé depuis deux mois par le dictateur terrible, Indy le Grand. Outre la puanteur des pets de filles, il est apparent qu’Indy a acheté er commande quelque sort d’armée qui consiste de robots qui puent du merde de filles. Jusqu’à aujourd’hui, on a compté au moins 9,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999,999 trillions de soldats. Ce journaliste a obtenu un entretien avec soit-disant « Indy le Grand, Empéreur de Paris », qui a donné cette citation : « Mes projets sont à détruire le Kodyours, le Magogo le Singe qui Chante et Danse, et Chef de Cuisine Vapor. Je l’accomplirai aves le merde de filles et une arme secret qui va bien étonner Kodyours, une arme comme celui que le monde n’a jamais vu>>. Tous les citoyens de Paris, maintenant sous la loi martiale, paniquent, cachés dans leur maisons et apartements.

His esteemed eminence Excellency Kody R Bear, growing more frustrated with his henchman Magogo, decided to put the leash on the monkey.

"You are one simple son of a bitch Magogo! Get your ass in here", screamed the Bear.

"Now can you see the brilliance of my plan?", purred the KodyBear.

Before him Magogo saw, on his right, rows of 500,000 gallon tanks as far as he could see. On top of every tank was a cage. Every cage was filled with monkeys. The monkeys were smoking drugs, dealing drugs, making drugs, drinking malt liquor, fornicating, stabbing, robbing, stealing, uttering, swearing, lying about their penis size, and about how many white women they fucked while their husbands were away at work, holding up people in check out lines, dog fighting, taking side arms into night clubs, collecting unemployment, watching Jerry Springer, getting over, pustulating, shitting and pissing vile toxins into the tanks. To his left, as far as the eye could see were what looked like cannons attached to smaller tanks by a series of hoses.

At that very moment an intensely bright light appeared in the distance. Dooky the boxing and Farting Kangaroo stormed into the complex followed by 60 million of his brethern Macropods.

"Is this all of them Dooky?", asked the Bear

"Yeah mate. I suppose it's all of the population save a few in zoos."

"Excellent! Have them immediately start pressurizing the Vile Toxin Cannons with Kangaroo farts!", ordered the Bear.

"Magogo!"

"Yes Eminence?"

"What is the status of our Toys Are Us Order?"

"We gots de email dis morning. We's gwinetabespectin (dat pronounced as one word) 999 billion, katrillion, Macarillion Monkeys today", gloated the ape.

"Excellent. By god your finally starting to show some executive ability! You may remove your leash! Now here is my brilliant plan! Have you ever dropped a Monkey turd and then tried to bisect it with your monkey urin?"

"I yoosta could das it when I was young"

"Good. We will use the same principal on the girl shit robots! The farting kangaroos will keep the vile toxin cannons pressurized! The Macarena Monkeys will direct the cannons! We will cut them in half! Make the army ready and we will deploy through the time portal on my command!", screetched the Bear.

"Yassa Yassa", said Magogo, jumping up and down. "Jumpin Jesus! Jumpin Jesus! When we goin Yo Radiance?"

"I'm not going Magogo. You will go. You will lead the army."

"Me? Yo Exalted Eminence. Me?"

"Yes. You and Dooky. Any questions?"

"Yo BearTurd, what you gwine to be dozen?"

"Oh. I don't know. Hanging out in the control center keeping an eye on you I guess. I have many things to do. The TrogBeast, hacking paswords and user names, monitoring the Vapor Jet, downloading, social networking, looking for a new assistant, trying to figure out what ShartSpeed is, learning French, and downloading. Did I mention downloading?"

"Yes Radiant Excellency"

"One more thing Magogo. When we deploy I want you to take the Kimber. I want you to personally execute leroy Cleophus Washington. Just pretend he is a big squirrel. Don't panic on the battle field! Shoot him through the shoulder thus breaking his arm and putting a shot into his vitals. Then finish him off with one to the head. Understand?"

"Yes Yo Excellency. Isa trys ta help it boss", said Magogo in a deep voice.

Just the dorks left posting I guess.

You suck as a dork. Jerk!

"Yo Excellency! Yo Eminence!", Magogo yelled as he danced into the control room.

"What is it my dear boy? Why aren't you minding the army?", gasps the Bear.

"I tells Yo white ass why because we id de one hundredth commenter's! We done did set a reocrd on de Admin's post! Oh! Yassa Yo Eminence! Now Is'a gwineta (dat pronounced as one word) take dat mugger fugger down! I marches our army into 2009 and cuts dem shit girl robots in two! I'sa gwineta (dat pronounced as one word) I'sa gwinetahasta (dat pronounced as Macarena) cut hid army in half!!"

"Silence! Silence! We don't know where he is itime at any given moment! You will stand down and attack only on my orders! Wait! Really? We will be the one hundredth poster? Get it done! Get it done! We are cemented in Iternet history now! Quicky now! Quickly now! Do it! Do it! Now nobody has anything on us! Not even the faggot chef! We are number 100! Brilliant engineering Magogo! Brilliant!"

Yo ,You little bitch ass monkey, you were not the 100th commenter. Go smoke some more cable you ignorant Bear's nigger.

I cum like Old Faithful,
the hos get a face full.

Even yeasty pussy tastes good. I like a little extra cheese on the furburger every now and then.

hello. lol.

I mugger fuggin wuz at de time I was writin it. Bitch ass I fucks a mugger fugger up sho nuff.

"Manservant Leroy Cleophus Washington Jones?"

"Yes, Massah?"

"Bring Snipples in here.We ave a problem! Our top secret spy camera, which is hidden in the vase in the southwest corner of Kodybear's command center room, has picked up news that he and Magogo are amassing tons of troops and this secret weapon that I am not sure yet I understand."

"Was we gwine do's?"

"Simple. I have placed a special order with Acme. They are shipping us so many robot warrioresses that there is no word in the English language, or French for that matter, to describe it! It is the equivalent of a gazillion to the power of 9,999,999 trillion gazillions, times two, then tripled, then that number is multiplied by the numbers of grains of sand on all of the beaches on planet earth, and then it is doubled again just for good measure."

"Lawdy! Were's dey gwine fit? Dat mo dan PAris kan handle's!"

"Think, you idiot! We still have the catacombs! Do you know how many miles and miles they stretch? Magogo has a brilliant plan to destroy our warriors, no doubt, but he simply will not be able to overcome that many warriors. There is no way. And we also have the secret weapon..."

"Wat dat?"

"You know, the barrel and crate...wait! You idiot! You almost made me describe our secret weapon in this comment section! Now go into the night, and find me the Mona Lisa so I can draw crayon streaks across it ust for fun."

"It's the heat pump!" exclaimed Lord Vapor. “That piece of shit, money eating monster. It's that heat pump monster that is putting us in the poorhouse. If we are going to conduct business as usual we will have to tighten our belts. Master Walker, load in all of the fire wood we have. We will burn that heat pump monster back in to the corner."

When Vapor was a young lad Old DadVapor, Master Chef Vapor's father and Young Kung Fu Master Walker's Great Uncle, used to teach Lord Vapor to treat the heat pump like a dragon that must be defeated. He taught young Vapor that he could be the Knight in Shining Armor and fight the dragon with fire wood. Every swing of the splitting maul was like the knight wielding his sword. Vapor would stay healthy and fit making firewood.

Old DadVapor used to say, " If you do it right that firewood should warm you up three times. First time when you cut, split and stack it. Second when you tote it in the house and third when you burn it." Old DadVapor knew his shit.

Lord Vapor decides it is time for a jog on the good old treadmill. This will be a good thing to continue working on his new year’s resolution to fit back into his VaporWear. He really misses that cape and those boots not to mention the headdress. Starting the treadmill at a slow walk will do. Then we will slowly increase the speed and soon we will be jogging and getting that heart rate up. Vapor thinks to himself how good it feels to exercise and sweat. He decides to go for as long as he can, really push it and get an awesome workout. He thinks, "Damn, I'm jogging at ShartSpeed!” After only three minutes or so Vapor dismounts the treadmill in total exhaustion and falls to the floor on all fours panting like some wild animal that has been chased by a predator. Master Walker scurries over to his aid,

"Lord Vapor, are you alright?"

"I am fine my young nephew. What a workout!" said Vapor while breathing heavily, “I can't wait until tomorrow for the next one. I think I will hit the showers and then have a long soak in the hot tub."

Soaking in the hot tub Vapor's thoughts begin to wander. Another blast and he is dreaming of his younger days When Old DadVapor would rest him on his knee and tell him stories and jokes. He misses Old DadVapor and the many time they enjoyed raw oysters and Slaphappy Abby with GrandDadVapor. Suddenly he feels somewhat like a jellyfish swimming in the ocean. Floating along with no worries. Could this be what it is like to be a jellyfish?........................Just then Vapor is fully asleep and his head falls to one side landing with a thump on the edge of the hot tub. Stunned he slips under the water and almost drowns. Fully awake now he realizes that he is under water and most likely should find the surface. Lurching out of the water Vapor gasps for air and says,

"Damn, that shit is chronic!"

Will Master Chef Vapor loose enough weight to wear his TurdBusters uniform again?
Will Jemima hook up with Magogo?
Will INDY(tweakie little bastard) calm the fuck down and fight right?

Stay tuned for the answer to these and many other questions.
It is about to blow up right here on Anonyblog in the comments section.

Indy the Great, High Lord Emperor and Supreme Chief Commander of all of Paris and soon France, was drawing crayon streaks across the Mona Lisa's face. He had given her a mustache, sideburns, and vampire fangs. He giggled in glee as he destroyed one of the world's most important works of art. Snipples the Magical Pooping Clown trotted into Lord Indy's private chambers, panting, his floppy clown shoes honking with each step.

"Huh huh, Lord Indy? Huh huh we have a problem!"

"Good God, what can it be this time?"

"Huh huh, Acme said they read your order wrong, and made way too many of the robot warriors."

Indy frowned and grabbed the invoice from Snipples.

"Good Lord, this is going to cost alot. Ok let'see, how many did they send us?" he asked as he ran his finger down the sheet. "OH MY GOD!"

"Huh huh what is it Lord?"

"Listen to this! 'Number of units manufactured and shipped: the number of hydrogen atoms in the knownand unknown universe, exponentiated by the number of grains of sand on planet earth, multipled by 900 million billion trillion gazillion, doubled, tripled, quadrupled, quintupled, sextupled, duodecimated, exponentiated by the number of African-Americans (pronounced as one word) on welfare -- Good God that's alot! -- multiplied by the number of obese, uneducated, stupid, obnoxious hillbilly Americans living in the South, tripled, doubled, multiplied by the number of teeth missing from British mouths, exponentiated to the power of the number of ways that the French are superior to every other civilization in the world, duodecimatedly multiplied by the number of baths never taken by the Pakistanis, doubled, tripled, exponentiated to the power of the number of watermelon seeds spat out of the mouths of all African-Americans (pronounced as one word), quadrupled, multiplied by 9,999,999,999,999,999,999,999 million trillion billion gazillion, multiplied by how ridiculously large this number is, and, finally, exponentiated to the power of the number of men who have turned down Lindey Russell for a date.'"

"Good God, that is large number. Where the hell aer we going to fit them all? The catacombs are already stuffed with them! Wait, what's this footnote at the bottom of the invoice in small print? 'Note: we accidentally quadrupled the number of units on this order?' Good Lord! So that ridiculously huge number multiplied by four? God help me! Well, at least it will be too many for Magogo to deal with at one time. We have to flank him."

Good God, its "dorks gone wild" in the comments.

Don't you know that literery masturbation is a sin. Too bad you couldn't write a book and make some money off of your self indulgence(In this case it's pronounced as two words).

Don't let me stop you, masterbate away "long live the dorks"

Would that be one of the 7 deadly sins?

And you know you love it!

You check this site regularly to see what we are up to.

And by the way you can't stop us. So we wont let you. Here is some more literary sperm in your face!

You know that you love it.

Why else would you be reading this?

Well, so much for anonymity around here.

Those who can laugh at themselves can't be so bad. Such a shame though, all that intelligence wasted on literary jism, or is there more to it than meets the eye?

A warrior's greatest strength is information. In 62 words (more or less), I have learned much and yet there is so much to learn. I'll continue to sit back and quietly watch the Anonyblog Circus.

So carry on and may the Anonyblog Gods be with you, or is there only one Anonyblog
God.....hmmmm.

We now resume to regular anonyblog comment broadcasting.

I much prefer real masturbation. Got to keep the cum in my balls flowing.

Very cool comment last commenter. I love this place and enjoy the "circus" also.

Please comment freely and express yourself however and whenever you desire. That is what makes this place so awesome.

One of my squirrel friends froze to death like a squirrel pancake.

"Manservant Leroy Cleophus Washington Jones?"

"Yes Massah Indy?"

"I forgot that in Turd War II, we had another sidekick! I have totally forgotten who it was, but apparently we have abandoned him. So we need a new sidekick. Go out and find me a third sidekick besides you and Snipples, and make it the most ridiculous, absurd, comically-ingenious sidekick you can find!"

"Where's I's look, Massah?"

"Begin at Montmartr and proceed throughout the arrondissements."

"Massah Indy, I'd dun founses you a new's side-kick (dat pronounce as one word). I's dun find's him in de Trocadero."

"Well," suealed Indy in delighted anticipation, "bring him in and tell me his name!"

Manservant Leroy Cleophus Washington Jones went into the antechamber for a moment, then returned with the new sidekick. Indy's jaw dropped agape, and his eyes opened wide.

"He is...he is stunning! What is his name?"

Leroy, looking proud, answered with shining, white teeth again his black face: "Massah, dis be...Honkyhiney McVulva, the Man-Sized, Walking Girlanus with Excessive Flatulence and Feces!"

What a weird combo of posters on anonyblog. It used to be mostly whores posting here (the accidental pregnancy posts). Now its these geeks. Weird.

Yes, but remember that all women are whores, so it is no big surprise.

You are new here and do not understand the ways of the Klan of the KodyBear. It will all make sense one day.

Then, Kodybear, stop making we wait so long for a reply!! I press the fucking refresh button 10,000 times a day to see if made another hilarious reply, dammit!! This is interfering with my life! REPLY DAMMIT! YOU TOO VAPOR!! (this entire message should be pronounced as one word)

KODY AND VAPOR: REPLY NOW WITH A HUMOROUS POST OR I SHALL COMMENCE THE FULL TURD-ATTACK WITH ALL OF MY FORCES!

Will INDY(tweakie little bastard) calm the fuck down and fight right?

ShitBoy is a little pushy

Whenever I eat Altoids, the curiously strong peppermint [all rights reserved]
and then masturbate, I find that I produce a curiously strong ejaculate. It
shoots through wood, steel, concrete, solid walls, anything. I fear that if
I eat Altoids, The Curiously Strong Peppermint [all rights reserved], and then
engage in intercourse with a girl, I will kill her with my curiously strong
ejaculate! Does anyone else experience a curiously strong ejaculate when they
eat Altoids, The Curiously Strong Peppermint [all rights reserved]?

I want some of Indy's drugs.

Could somebody who "is not" mentality or physically prepubescent please post!

Fuck you LC this is the comment section. There will be no new posting on Anonyblog.

Ok... let me rephrase that, Could somebody who "is not" mentality or physically prepubescent -or- mentality impaired please post-a comment!

Now that's more like it you fucking whiner. Still not quite correct though. "Post-a comment" wont do. Sounds like some sort of breakfast cereal.
Why don't you enter a comment, oh greater than thou? Let's see what you can come up with. Make sure it is creative, interesting and could not in any way be considered "prepubescent" -or- written by one who is "mentality impaired".

VAPOR'S KITCHEN

TODAY’S RECIPE

FLAMING TURKEY WINGS

What you will need
All of the turkey wings that you can get your hands on
(ask your neighbors, they will gladly give them to you)
One gallon of gasoline
One 55 gal. metal barrel
Two or three ten packs of fire crackers
Two or three pieces of firewood
Matches or lighter

Place firewood in barrel
Top with turkey wings
Add gasoline
Move ten feet away from barrel
Using matches or lighter ignite one ten pack of fire crackers
Toss fire crackers into barrel
(if you miss try again)
Once you have ignited the barrel with the fire crackers you have
Flaming Turkey Wings

Keep an eye out for more of Chef Vapor’s great recipes and kitchen tips

Thank You,
Master Chef Vapor

Anonyblog Awards

Ladies, gentlemen and Indy, welcome to the annual Anonyblog awards! (*applause*) Thank you, thank you, you are too kind ... Let’s get cracking right away, shall we? It’s an exciting line-up folks, let me tell you. First, we have the Most Persistent and Annoying Troll award, and this goes to (*drum roll*) His Excellency, Kody R. Bear! Give it up for Lord Bear!! (*applause*) ... Lord Bear, would you like to say anything at this time? ... No? ... All right then, moving right al ... Sorry? ... It’s not “Lord”? Although you do like the ring of it do you not, your eminence? I though as much ... Once again, a round of applause for his Excellency! (*applause*) ... Right, what’s next? I’ll tell ya! It’s Anonyblog’s Biggest Loser Award. No guess as to who this is going to, folks ... Yes, that’s right, our very own QWERTY!! Yup, that’s YOU! Come on up here ... (*big applause blended with muffled booing*) ... Now, the next award is one close to Mr Stupid’s heart ... It’s a special award for being the best female dragon at Anonyblog. We don’t tell anyone of course that she is the ONLY female dragon here, but anyway, come on up here Dragon Lady! (*stupendous applause and loud woofing noises*) ... All right all right ... We know there’s a lot of testosterone in the room, but do try and control yourselves, lads. The penultimate award goes to our resident master chef, Vapor ... come on up here (*mild golf clapping*) ... This is for excellence in sumptuous recipes, which have made us ALL foam at the mouth.(*oooo's and aaaah's*).. We have a new award this year and we would like to recognize "N" as the site Kunt.(*unbelievable roar of applause and hooting*)... Finally, we come to our last award this evening ... but by no means the least. I’m certain that you’ll all agree this is well-deserved, and there can be only one winner. In the category of Best Scatologist ... (*drumroll*) ... INDY!! (*tumultuous applause and wild stamping of feet*) ... We are surely humbled to be graced with your presence, oh lord of poop. Thank you all ladies and gentlemen, your respective excellencies and other life-forms. That’s all, Good night. (*applause*)

Thank you very much. Thank you. No, you are too kind. As keynote speaker for the 2008 Annual Anonyblog Awards, I am honored more than you can know. It seems like only yesterday, and not five years ago, that Anonyblog was discovered by these awardees, as if by divine providence. The Kodyklan (pronounced as one word), the Dragonlady (pronounced as one word), the Great-Post-Deleter (pronounced as one word), and his archnemesis (pronounced as one word) the Great-Post-Restorer (pronounced as one word), and many more -- all of these came together in the right place and the right time to take over this website in the name of trolling.

I have chosen as my theme for this brief speech, "Girlturds through the Ages." I begin in the haunted, ancient tombs of Egypt, where a 5,000 year old girlturd (pronounced as one word) was discovered, still smelling of rotten garlic. We see in the ancient ruins of Greek and Rome many girlturds (pronounced as one word) looking almost still warm as if just dropped from the girlani (pronounced as one word) of beautiful, classical-girls (pronounced as one word). But it was not until the field of professional Scatology became accepted as a mainstream (pronounced as one word) science in 2005, right here at Anonyblog, that girlturs (pronounced as one word) became so important to the public-at-large (pronounced as one word). When I finally passed the Scatological Oral Boards last year and became a fully-licensed-Scatologist (pronounced as one word), I realized that...oh hell, whom am I kidding? We all just want to get drunk and eat girlturds (pronounced as one word). So that's all. Thanks for the award. Now, go get some beer and poop! *Grand Applause with Standing Ovation*

Yes, it would be cool if someone posted here other than the dorks (indy/kody), bimbos ("N"), whores (chicks who had an accidental pregnancy), and brainwashed morons (people from the US who say that US troops in Iraq are defending US freedom.) So here it goes with something more interesting.

I enjoy the smell of my own farts, it's only the farts of others that aren't too good. I believe this is common. (Even the late George Carlin mentioned this.) Probably an instinctual territorial thing. Makes sense. Just like skunks probably don't mind their own smell.

However the smell of puke, even my own, makes me gag and want to puke (or puke more) instantly. Puke smells worse than shit or farts (usually). I think other people agree with me, as most people gag when they smell puke, but are less disturbed by a smelly bathroom. I have to wonder why puke smells worse than shit and farts. Food is closer to still being food when it is puke versus when it is shit/gas. I'm sure the stomach acid has something to do with it. But again, it's still much closer to food when it's in your stomach versus your poopchute. And even when my farts are the hot acidic burning kind, they still smell much better than puke.

And ladies, during the rag, your cunts smell like a penny mint. That strong coppery smell from the used pad/tampon trashcan will easily fill the entire bathroom, and smell stronger than the shit. I wonder what ingredient is common to pennies and unused uterus lining. Iron???

Get mah damn name straight. It's kuNt, not bimbo.

Learn to spell. Its spelled cunt.

Not when you're in the klan, bimbo.

Not when you're in the klan, bimbo.

Just to make that triple clear....

it's still spelled k u N t

I'm a terrible kunt.

N

In the misty, cool early morning of Paris, there is an uncharacteristic silence weighing down the very air. The citizens, usually up at this hour buying baguettes, wine, cheese, and riding their bicycles to their work or art, are still in their flats and homes. The street vendore and performers, usually setting up their equipment to try to earn a few francs from commuters, are absent. Even the girlturd-robot-warriors (pronounced as one word) are still and quiet, their usual electrical hum muffled. In the top of the Acr de Triomphe, in his throne room, Lord Emperor Superior Indy the Great is sipping a dark cup of cafe au lait and enjoying a croissant au chocolat, looking out over his city with a puzzled but grim face of concern. He inhales one of his Cuban cigars, lets out the smoke gradually, and takes another sip of the cafe while nibbling a corner of the croissant au chocolat.

"Manservant Leroy Cleophus Washington Jones, and Snipples the Magical Pooping Clown?"

Honking clown shoes and the flap of giant negro feet pace down the hall at a lazy pace.

"Yes, massah Iny? Yu dun calls?"

"Huh, huh, yes, Lord Indy? HONK!"

"Listen to me, and listen carefully."

"But massah, I dun did wat you axed me's..I got's rid of that sidekick and think's I dun founs a new one, an..."

"Silence! A third sidekick is the lesat of my worries! Listen, you two. Just listen out there to Paris."

Several awkward seconds pass.

"Huh huh, Lord, I don't heay anything!"

"Me needer, massah."

"Precisely. At this hour, Paris should be thriving with activity. Even we lazy French who like to slkeep until 10 and work just a couple of hours a day, if that, at least would be out eating breakfast, or walking back home from the apartment of the Montmartre whore that we had last night. Even our warriors, all the innumerable masses of them, seem subdued today. Yes, something is off today, and I think I know what it is."

"Wat dat?"

"I think we all know. This, and the fact that we have not heard from the Kodybear and the Magogo, or Master Chef Vapor and Jemima, in so long, is preturbing. I can only guess that this means one thing: they are amassing their troops, preparing for war, and collaborating on the final march on Paris. Now I know we have enough of our warriors -- now with a protective anti-cashmere (pronounced as one word) coating -- to destroy them, but they must know something that we do not, or else they would be daring to gather their armies and ready to begin the assault."

"Huh? HONK!"

"Wat dat mean?"

"You idiots. Can I never speak poetically around you two? Ok, Paris quiet. That not normal. Me scared. Kody attack. Vapor attack."

"Ooh, now's we get it. Dat not gud."

"No, it is not. Now I feel our warriors can hold them off, but one thing I learned from my years of traing in China with Turd-Fu (pronounced as one word) master Kim Turd, is to never understimate (pronounced as one word) your enemy. Leroy, Snipples, prepare the...secret weapons."

*Gasps*

"Yes, I said it. Now go and prepare it for war. War comes to us, and we must meet it with war as well. Prepare and load the secret weapon. And place it into the tactical position, the top secret, tactical position, so top secret, in fact, that I cannot even whisper that it is at the Place de la Concorde next to the Hotel de Crillon."

"But massah, dat ting...dat ting culd deestroy dee hole woild!"

"Prepare it and do not question me! This is a time for war, and the dread forces come!"

Leroy and Snipples quietly slipped out of the throne-room (pronounced as one word), stunned that Indy the Great would actually even consider using such a weapon against other creatures. Surely it were too cruel?

Indy the Great, feeling a bit better as the anticipation of war built up inside of him, farted the Paris national anthem, La Marseillaise, and finished his croissant au chocolat.

"Yes, come, Kodybear and Vapor. Come, and meet a terror so great, the world has never seen the half of it."

What is a booger and what is it made of?

Pronunciation: /BOO - grr/
Function: noun
Etymology: alteration of English dialect buggard, boggart, from 1bug + -ard Date: 1866
1 : BOGEYMAN
2 : a piece of dried nasal mucus

Boogers are mucus (myoo-kuss). Mucus is the thin, slippery material that is found inside your nose. Many people call mucus snot. Your nose makes nearly a cupful of snot every day. Snot is produced by the mucous membranes in the nose, which it moistens and protects.

When you inhale air through your nose, it contains lots of tiny particles, like dust, dirt, germs, and pollen. If these particles made it all the way to the lungs, the lungs could get damaged and it would be difficult to breathe. Snot works by trapping the particles and keeping them in the nose.

After these particles get stuck inside the nose, the mucus surrounds them along with some of the tiny hairs inside the nose called cilia. The mucus dries around the particles. When the particles and dried-out mucus clump together, you're left with a booger!

Boogers can be squishy and slimy or tough and crumbly. In fact, boogers are a sign that your nose is working properly.

A Little Poem Regarding Computer Spell Checkers...

Eye halve a spelling chequer
It came with my pea sea
It plainly marques four my revue
Miss steaks eye kin knot sea.

Eye strike a key and type a word
And weight four it two say
Weather eye am wrong oar write
It shows me strait a weigh.

As soon as a mist ache is maid
It nose bee fore two long
And eye can put the error rite
Its rare lea ever wrong.

Eye have run this poem threw it
I am shore your pleased two no
Its letter perfect awl the weigh
My chequer tolled me sew.

The entire city of Paris is smothered in a thick, yellowish-green (pronounced as one word) cloud, a combination of copious girlflatulence (pronounced as one word), billows of Cuban cigar-smoke (pronounced as one word), and the toxic methane-gas (pronounced as one word) from some mysterious yet enormous source. The robot-girlturd-warriors (prnounced as one word) fill the catacombs and the streets, even in piles 100 high. The once chic, beautiful City of Lights has now become a giant robotic manure pile. Still, Indy sits in his throne-room (pronounced as one word) atop the Acr de Triomphe, waiting for some, nay, for any, word from Kodybear or Vapor. He thinks about doing something, anything, to garner their attention and to taunt them to war. But then he flags as the intoxicating aroma of girlfarts (pronounced as one word) charms his senses back into their halcyon-daze (pronounced as one word). Should he build another secret-weapon (pronounced as one word), or make another one? Should he double his ridiculously-huge (pronounced as one word) army of robots? He sighed, frustrated, not even bothering to call his sidekicks, and looked out over lonely Paris, hoping that the enemy would come.

I like farting in the bathtub. The bubbles massage my balls on their way up.

I ate broccoli the other night, and it came out nearly whole again in three hours.

Weird, huh?

Did you re-eat the broccoli? Recycling can be good.

NNnnnah. I ate cookies instead, which are better for you anyways.

The cum in my balls needs to flow. Think I'll go look a some good porn.

I am the last person to post in this comments section. Yay. Go me!

Nope, i am.

How are you. Never read a book through merely because you have begun it.
I am from Belarus and now study English, tell me right I wrote the following sentence: "Welcome you are searching for the cheapest air flight."

Regards :) Waggoner.

Air flight is redundant. Air fare is probably what you want.

Here are some other useful English phrases (when speaking to adults):

I need to fuck.

I masturbate a lot.

*I actually meant when speaking between adults.

Thanks for all the great information.
I am from Republic and also now am reading in English, give true I wrote the following sentence: "In our company you can reserve airline tickets for international or domestic flights at the best possible rates."

Thank you so much for your future answers ;). Perdita.

Actually, the fuck and masturbate phrases are just if you want sex.

But here are some english words that are important to learn the meaning of:

shit
piss
fuck
cunt
cocksucker
motherfucker
tits
fart
turd
twat
crap
prick
asshole
pussy
jack off
jerk off
hard on
boner
asspipe
douchebag
son of a bitch
bastard
dick
cock
pecker
peckerhead
dickhead
butthead
butthole
cum
blow job

LP has been listening to blink 182

Because it Must!

Because it Must!

Because it Must!

Because it Must!

Because it Must!

Because it Must!

Because it Must!

Because it Must!

Because it Must!

Because it Must!

Because it Must!

Because it Must!

N

Hey Pederast from Mondellos...where you going to be?

Def flat out kicked my black ass!
Damn, I didn't evebn know what hit me.
One second I was chillen' and the next I was knocked off my feets.

Def flat out kicked my black ass!
Damn, I didn't evebn know what hit me.
One second I was chillen' and the next I was knocked off my feets.

Def flat out kicked my black ass!
Damn, I didn't evebn know what hit me.
One second I was chillen' and the next I was knocked off my feets.

I am a classic example of a Pederast.

I am a classic example of a Pederast.

I am a preposterous Pederast!!

I am a preposterous Pederast!!

I am a preposterous Pederast!!

Good afternoon. See things as they are and write about them. Don?t waste your creative energy trying to make things up. Even if you are writing fiction, write the things you see and know.
I am from Azerbaijan and bad know English, please tell me right I wrote the following sentence: "If you have had any allergic reactions to medicines in.Anti selectin c anti selectin d abs in allergic."

Thank you so much for your future answers :(. Valencia.

Me

Myself

You know how sometimes your bunghole will start itching real bad and feel all weird. You just have to stubbornly endure it an d hope it will cease to torment you in short order but it just gets worse. What sweet relief it is to plunge a finger into your dark hole and vigorously wriggle it all around!
Of course you then MUST have a little sniff.

And I.

This is all quite preposterous!

I agree!

It is useful to try everything in practice anyway and I like that here it's always possible to find something new. :)

I am reading this article second time today, you have to be more careful with content leakers. If I will fount it again I will send you a link