"Alright, my brothers and sisters. One more time: The Black Panthers are about self-defense and empowerment. Nobody's expecting you to go around blastin' on white people at random. That's insane. That's not what being a Black Panther is all about. At the same time, however, we do have a badass image to uphold. No doubt. Despite that, last week, I found Mike over here playing Frisbee with some little blond children at the park. Blond children! At the park!"
"I'm sorry, Kathleen. I just... I don't know. Frisbee makes me do crazy things."
If Moscow had this 40 years ago, those dirty Communist assfucks would have had us by the balls and squeezed. We would've had to develop some kind of fission-powered beaver or half alligator, half circular saw monstrosity just to keep the playing field near level.
Finally, Andrew found Waldo - only three malignant lung tumors and five failed chemotherapy sessions too late. That skinny bastard sure loved his menthols.
"My word! Someone used black magic to transmogrify Wendell into a living snowman and then locked him in the ice chest. And... Goddammit! Somebody ate all the frozen burritos. Fuck! I had lunch all planned out..."
The phone number for the National Resource Center for Child Protective Services is 505-345-2444. If you see a parent annoying the hell out of their infant with some stupid shit like this, please call. That facehuggered baby deserves better.
Oh, Animal. So misunderstood. You'll never live down eating those two puppies after that drum solo. People simply don't forget ridiculous shit like that.
In Time magazine's October 1952 survey, The Top Ten Issues Affecting the American People Today, number three on the list was "having living room furniture stolen by spacemen". Number one was "going back to war" and number two was "having a car or boat stolen by spacemen".
"Hey, Jimmy, look at me: I'm Mommy on the bath scale. 'Oh, no, I've put on a thousand pounds! I'm bigger than a beached whale! I hope the Japs don't harpoon me in the neck when they see all this blubber!'"
"Lolz. Fran, you're fuckin' hilarious. I can't even fondle myself correctly, you've got me laughing so hard!"
If all you see is the 1969 American moon landing, then you can breathe easy. You're sane and sober. Now, if you see an ancient Chinese dragon munching up a couple of leprechauns from the backseat of a hippie van, then you're likely on some kind of hallucinogenic drug. Maybe LSD, maybe Ecstasy. Who knows? Might even be a concussion or something. Now - and here's the big one, listen close - if you only see the lunar landing and the hippie van, then you're in trouble. See, that means you're a child molester. Sorry. You're going to prison.
Rocket Racer paved the way for BET, all those ridiculous Tyler Perry films and the Obama administration. Because of his murderous pursuits of Spider-Man, the America majority grew fond of the idea that African-Americans don't always fit into cute, little, stereotypical boxes (i.e., sometimes they don powered suits of armor and ride across the sides of metropolitan buildings on rocket skateboards, firing "energy blasts"* from their wrists).
Smallest campfire ever. This is like a reverse overcompensation issue. This guy must have a gigantic wang, capable of toppling a building. Or he's running low on marshmallows.
A dress suit is raw power encapsulated in clothing. This guy just bought a jet while screwing his saleswoman and playing a quick game of pool. Interesting thing is, he just wanted to go to Chick-fil-A; the suit made him do those things. God, I want a suit like that.
Here, we see the protagonists of the classic Saturday morning children's cartoon, Street Sharks. Needless to say, Ripster, Jab, Streex, and Big Slammu seem rather bothered by their newly acquired physical appearances in this screen capture. I guess transforming into freakishly proportioned, anthropomorphic fish isn't to their liking. I would argue, though, that the badass musclage they're now rocking makes up for how they are, overall, super fucking ugly. I'd kill for those arms.
Issue #9. This is the one where Devil Dinosaur destroys New York while under the hypnotic influence of The Swamp Witch. When he finally returns to his senses, he's overcome with feelings of shame and regret. Devil Dinosaur aimlessly wanders the country for months, until eventually arriving in Mississippi and becoming a Born Again Christian. From there, the series kind of goes downhill.
Max Payne 3 is nearly here. It took them seven long years but Rockstar Games has finally perfected S.W.E.A.T., their proprietary grimy muscle shirt engine.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little turned on right now. There's just something sexy about a middle-aged, black world leader stuffing a fat wiener down his throat right in front of his super buff wife at a political convention.
Think robots are trustworthy, huh? Well, guess what: Those kids are wearing clothes picked out by the machine! And it decided to go naked! How fucking shady is that?! By forcing them to take this picture, it's doomed them to a life of jeers and quips about their terrible outfits! Avoid robots, people! They'll destroy your hopes of ever losing your virginity! They'll make me use exclamation points after almost all of my sentences! Robots! (!)
"Oh, Hitomi, I'm so afraid to meet your mom. She's gonna hate me. I'm 22, jobless, and I still live in my parent's basement. What kind of fiance am I?"
"Honestly? If you don't eat her limbs or spray the house down with nuclear flame, she'll probably be happy."
"Well, that's kind of comforting. Thanks, baby."
"No problem. And just remember, hun: As long as we're together, nobody else matters. And with that giant monster wang of yours, I ain't goin' nowhere."
Sadly, this guy could probably have sex with your girlfriend anytime he wants. It would never happen - you know, because of the whole massively gay thing - but it's still a humbling fact.
"Just think, kids: In the year 1989, there'll be cars that can fly to the Moon and books that'll scan their stories right into your brain. And, oh, the robots! The robots'll be top notch! They'll do everything for us - clean up, protect the house, everything! Hell, I won't even have to have sex with your mother's face while she sleeps anymore. I'll just do it with a robot!"
"That's right, Ron. No more sticky mornings for me!"
Ha ha. Very funny. Say what you will, but I think this photo is extremely enlightening. Now, if the team were to take up cannibalism, they know exactly with whom to start with. Those unsuspecting people on the bleachers.
This kid must be tweaked out on meth or something. Nobody in the history of ramen noodles has ever been this excited about them. Especially not the chicken flavor. If I was in a plane crash and stranded on a deserted island for a week before finding an electric generator, a microwave, three bottles of fresh water and a box of ramen, I'd probably still have a healthy level of disinterest. Especially if the box was all chicken flavor.
Because how weird would it be if a blind guy walked into a room full of robot workers? They would all be like, "Whoa there, buddy: You're totally not a badass robot like us. We're gonna have to ask you to vacate." And the blind guy would all be like, "Dammit! My lack of sight has failed me once again. Stupid broken eyeballs!" Then, after a moment of awkward silence, everyone would bust out laughing. Or something like that.
No mask? Blond hair and pale skin? A tight white shirt pulled up over rolling hills of lard? Asinine placement and a pathetic lack of weapon concealment? Taking cell phone pictures of your fat belly in the mirror at your mom's house to update your Twitter profile? Fuck you, man. Your Ninja Card has been officially revoked.
