You can read these on the shitter.
Sure, I was a little nervous, like a kid on his first day of school. The butterflies gave my tummy a good tickling as we passed through the gates on our way to the great concrete building. Uniformed men brandishing shotguns and handcuffs ushered us roughly from the bus with dirty looks and insults, generally […]
MY RISE TO HEAD HONKY OF A NEW YORK STATE PRISON Read More »
I think to be a crustacean must be the worst thing in the world. They are truly the shittiest of creatures, bottom-feeding relics of a prehistory best forgotten, with no business or place in this current century. We have computers now. VR headsets. What’s a crab even supposed to do around here? Crustaceans are simply
CRABS ARE BULLSHIT Read More »
Tired of marriage? Wondering why you did this to yourself? Check out beefcarcass.com‘s ten tips for a successful marriage: 1. Tell your spouse you’ve seen prettier, but not by much. This kind of backhanded compliment instills in your spouse the subconscious fear that you might be settling and will encourage them to work harder. 2.
Ten Tips for a Successful Marriage Read More »
They said it couldn’t be done, not by one man alone, with no experience and no discernible skill set. Here they were, in my very home, my former friends and colleagues, attempting to talk me out of… well, we might as well call it what it was: my destiny. Yes. It was my destiny to
THAT TIME I TRIED TO CAPTURE A LIVE BEAR Read More »
Are you like me? Does the concept of promoting your stupid trash confuse and irritate you? Check out beefcarcass.com‘s ten tips to promote your website: 1. Record yourself performing a sweet bike stunt. If you don’t own a bike, borrow one. Later, when you break your leg in three places and go to the hospital,
Ten Tips to Promote Your Website: Read More »
Welcome to sliceofhell.com, a website for everyone who’s ever asked the question: “Why are there not more websites, and why doesn’t the mayor do something about it?” Sliceofhell.com is the hot new website/sex cult, and the brainchild of some guy named Noah Kane. No, I don’t know or care who that is either. But Noah
There I was, in my crocs and a sunhat and a pair of skimpy white shorts. I lowered my oversized cat-eye sunglasses to better gaze upon the pulsating curiosity that seemed to have sprung up overnight, right beside my prize-winning azaleas. It appeared to be an egg of some kind, roughly twice the size of
THAT TIME I FOUND A WEIRD GREEN EGG Read More »
