Ah yes! Good news! Millions of people around the earth are still asking lots of questions about all-things jackoff! Fortunately they have at their disposal this fine blog as expert resource material. I am a man of integrity, honesty and beard and it is through my beard that I read these questions which top-tier search engines feel are best fielded by me. And thus for the fourth time, I again address your most pressing recent jackoff queries.
Q: jack off-pork
R: First of all, stealing is wrong, so you shouldn’t jack anybody’s off-pork. Secondly, don’t eat off-pork. It’ll make you sick.
Q: can you jack off with external use only
R: Almost exclusively. Read more
It’s a pretty good life motto as far as life mottoes go, I think. Way better than “Look Before You Leap” or some bullshit like that.
Keep It Moist covers a lot of ground. The most important thing if you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere is to find a supply of water. You can last a lot longer without food than you can without water. Want to keep yourself looking young? Keep your skin hydrated by drinking lots of water. Do you binge drink and Read more
Getting water to major metropolitan areas such as Los Angeles is no joke. It requires a big, old, failing infrastructure, pushed to its limits with the influx of new dreamy-eyed residents into Southern California each year. To make matters worse, SoCal wants to be a desert. That’s its natural state. So it’s no surprise that residents are experiencing the panic and discomfort of its perpetual drought. Naturally, our state leaders wait until June to amp up awareness and pepper the airwaves with water conservation PSAs in a futile hope that people will realize how serious our annual water shortage is and then cooperate. Of course, by June it’s Read more
Through the latter 90s, I lived on a rough street with a much rougher convenience store. The local baseheads, tweakers, scofflaws, gangbangers, their girlfriends, mistresses and their maybe-someday-to-be wives, and even the children of these citizens would address the charming convenience store proprietor as Mr. Lee. Mr. Lee was cordial, spoke predictably spotty English, a few words of Spanish, and he ate the most disgustingly pungent foods. I remember steaming tentacle poking out of a bowl full of rice on more than one occasion as I purchased a flagon or two of malt liquor. And lo those delicious plastic zipper bags full of hot, sweaty fish, waiting to course down his eager gullet, that crazy Mr. Lee. For a while I’d subscribed to the belief that his name was actually Mr. Lee, until I’d gotten the hint after years of viewing reports from local Los Angeles news stations on the deaths of Korean liquor store clerks who were very nice to the neighborhood, worked long hours, who “gave credit to families who couldn’t pay,” that the victim was inevitably called Mr Lee. Now, while it is true that there are a few very common Korean names (Park, Kim, Lee, Kwak, Cho and their derivatives) I subsequently concluded from my personal, anecdotal research that any time you’re Asian in a rough neighborhood, regardless of whether, in actuality, your name is Kim, Pak, Lee, Wong, Miyagi, Hopscotch or Buttermilk, your name will always be Mr. Lee.
So here’s a toast to all the Mr. Lees of America: Bless you for eternity for selling alcohol to anybody with $3.