How do you like them apples?
Oh my God, they killed Kenny! Fuck yeah!
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How do you like them apples?
Oh my God, they killed Kenny! Fuck yeah!
This post was inspired by that incredibly annoying Heineken commercial, which uses the even more annoying rap song or r&b song with the lyrics “Don’t you wish your girlfriend was hot like me? Don’t you wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?”
Yeah… that’s how ridiculously stupid rap lyrics are nowadays. I mean, who the hell really wants their girlfriend to be a freak? Call me crazy, but if I were looking for a girlfriend, the last place I would look would be a circus sideshow. I’d want my girlfriend to be aesthetically pleasing rather than hideously deformed.
Back in the day rap artists told a story, or made a point about their white oppressors and the police. Now, between wanting freak girlfriends and calling body parts by a candy bar (laffy taffy), I think it’s safe to say that the entire rap music genre has jumped the shark.
This is a known truth for many men, especially around the office.
Some people argue that there is no such thing as good sluts or bad sluts. they say that a slut is a slut is a slut is a slut, “good” or “bad” is completely irrelevant. These are the same people that think the type of car you drive doesn’t matter, as long as it gets you from point A to point B. These same people believe that generic, store-brand groceries are as good as their brand name counterparts, such as Heinz ketchup vs “Sam’s Choice Tomato Spread” (WTF?).
I hate to break it to you douchebags, but the truth of the matter is that these “petty” differences (as you assholes think) DO MATTER. In fact, they matter BIG TIME, especially when it comes to sluts. There IS such as a thing as good sluts and bad sluts. Not that ketchup and other differences don’t matter, they do, but for this post I’ll focus on sluts. Within this list of topics and many others, bitches usually take top priority.
Now, when I say “sluts” I mean chicks who (as Jay and Silent Bob say) LOVE THE COCK. It’s not bad to love dick. on the contrary, loving dick is natural – for both women & men. Women, for obvious reasons, love dick because it brings them “love,” money, children, their careers (strippers), and pleasure. As for men, well, we love our dicks because they’re our dicks. We grew up together, we bathe together, we play together (some of us more than others), and in most cases we share the same brain. One mind. One goal. One purpose: procreate.
Back to sluts. I’ve been on record of saying that if I were a chick, I’d be a slut. I’d be a TOTAL slut. THE slut, the chosen slut, the “Neo” of sluts, if you will. And the bigger my milk trays would be, the more of a slut I would be. Sluts are a good thing for all aspects of society. The porn business is a multibillion dollar industry, and it’s the sole reason why the internet was invented. Sluts make magazines, clubs, bars and strip joints flourish. Sluts affect politics, they decide wars (remember Troy?), and the can alter the course of human history (or so the Da Vinci Code claims).
Now, as vital and essential as sluts are to civilization, it becomes crucial to recognize the good sluts from the bad sluts.
GOOD SLUTS are bitches who get better with every sexual encounter. “Get better” is a loaded term, so let me explain myself: by getting better, I mean both visually and performance-wise. Good sluts start developing their bodies after they start having sex, typically during high school. True, puberty and hormones might have something to do with it, but I assure you that good-humping and bad-humping have a lot more to do with it. A good slut’s titties will start to get bigger, juicier, firmer, perkier, and overall, more luscious. Her hips will widen and her ass will start popping out, giving her the hourglass figure she was destined to have. Her feet become sexier. Her legs will become shapelier and more seductive, and her lips get tender and sweeter.
Oh yes, for good sluts every injection of man juice continues to transform her into a hotter and hotter bitch. These are the women that demand a good stare down as you pass them by at the mall or other public places. They are the ones who get you in trouble with your significant other for undressing her (the good slut) with your eyes. If you’re lucky enough to have a good slut as your significant other, Congratulations: you lead a good life. You’ve made a success of yourself and your life.
When you look at a good slut, you know she’s a good slut. If you’re good, like me, you can sense her good slutiness level, sort of like a Jedi or Sith can sense each other’s presence in the force. A good slut is easy to picture in the sack, either taking it from behind, but usually bouncing on top of you or riding you like the bull that you are (unless you’re Ivan, in which case, you’re more fag than bull). A good slut gets an instantaneous and automatic “Yeah, I’d throw it in her” upon initial contact, even if it’s from a distance. In fact, good sluts bypass the “would I do her?” mental question altogether. Yes, good sluts make for good times for all (get it?).
Moving on to BAD SLUTS. Bad sluts are the inevitable opposite of good sluts. They are the ying to their yang, the evil to their good, the Agent Smith to Neo, or to put it in relative terms, the condom to a schlong. Yes, bad sluts are good sluts’ natural enemies. As good as good sluts are to look at and poke, bad sluts are that horrible to gaze upon and (for poor, unfortunate bastards) to fuck with.
Bad sluts get progressively worse with each sexual encounter. They begin to look more and more like shit and they become complacent with their sub-par (to say the least) sexual performances. Bad sluts lay on the mattress, or floor, or back of the truck (for my audience in Texas and Arkansas) and so absolutely nothing. They don’t move. They don’t grind. They bitch about switching positions or doing any of the work involved in the act of fucking.
Because of their apathy and negligence, their body begins to deteriorate and decay. Their titties (or what’s left of them) start sagging and getting all over the place. These bad sluts turn out to be the grandmas who play soccer… with their tits. Their legs get filled with cottage cheese. Their asses become nonexistent and their hips become discombobulated. Their face becomes an atrocity, and their mouths and lips become nothing more than alternative fuck-holes for losers who can’t manage a better piece of ass – morons with absolutely no standards or sense of decency. As good sluts hump more and more, they exercise key muscles that make them smokin’ hot. Bad sluts, on the other hand, don’t exercise shit because they don’t do shit, so they become shit.
With bad sluts, you can also tell that they fuck a lot, only in the worst way possible. In essence, they only got fucked, but they (themselves) don’t really participate in the act of fucking. Bad sluts are the ones you turn away from when you come across them in public. They’re the ones whose butt-cracks you wish you hadn’t seen. In contrast to good sluts, coming across bad sluts in a public place while with your significant other can be advantageous. Every bitch you come across that’s clearly inferior to your woman makes her feel better about herself – which gives her more confidence, which means more fucking for you. In that way, and that way only, bad sluts serve a noble purpose. And NO, doing Billy Bob and all the other losers that end up marrying these bad sluts is not a noble deed. These unfortunate unions typically produce more ignorant children, and inevitably, MORE bad sluts. Although they’re somewhat necessary, their abundance is not. Like children in China, they should be rationed and banned in mass production.
Bad sluts are a tragedy, because at one point they probably had potential. The bad sluts are usually the decent-looking chicks in the first years of high school that barely felt on the “bang her” side of the “Would I throw it in her?” debate. It isn’t until after they start fucking that they turn over to the dark side, so to speak. Apparently, nobody took the time to show these once-innocent girls a quality porno. They were never tutored in the arts of the good hump. Bad sluts probably had bad luck when they were growing up, but that’s no excuse. If anybody reading this recognizes themselves as a bad slut (you know who you are), I recommend the Brown Plaza Video Store off Brown and Country Club in Mesa. I’m just saying, there’s hope for you to better yourselves.
That’s it for now. I could’ve discussed that semi-bad sluts that could be (and are worth) rescuing, but that could be a post of its own. This has gone long enough anyway. The next time you see a bitch, consider the journey she’s taken to become either a good slut or a bad slut, and govern yourself accordingly.
Unfortunately, I had to use my Shaq the Retard rant for MyPicksPal.com rather than using it here in El Gammy’s Blog of Death, but that’s okay. I’ve got a much bigger audience over there anyways and I’m not so sure that I’ve got any audience here.
Not only did I list the Top Ten Reasons Why I Hate Shaq the Retard, but I also posted a set of Shaquille O’Neal quotes, in which I made him look, excuse me, EXPOSED HIM FOR THE BUMBLING RETARD THAT HE IS.
Anyways, the best part about this whole ordeal is that I picked up some handy-dandy tricks in photoshop, so I was able to produce these incredibly accurate images. I call them:
Enjoy.
I was at Peter Piper Pizza just recently (where the food is as good as the fun) when I noticed a small herd of Indians migrating towards their table. I’m talking about feather-in-the-back-of-the-head Indians, not the red-dot-in-between-the-eyes Indians, by the way.
Anyway, they were freakin’ huge, which got me wondering:
Think about it: when was the last time you saw a skinny Indian? I haven’t been to any casinos lately so it’s not like I get to see them very often (which is a good thing), but weren’t these the same Indians whose ancestors could run down a buffalo on bare feet? The only thing Indians are running down today are new slot machines for their Casinos, or more firewater, whichever is closer. One thing is for damn sure, none of them are getting any exercise in the process.
Gone are the days where Indians would name themselves cool shit like “Runs like Deer” or “Scalps with Grace.” Nowadays Indians have names like Paul or Steve. If they were to give themselves names that were a little bit better at describing themselves nowadays, we would hear names like “Chief Sits on Ass, White Gambler Exploiter, Fire Wateraholic, or Eats Like Bear.”
I don’t mean to categorize them all into one stereotype, but in this case, I haven’t seen a single “Native American” break that mold. What gives? Did the white man rape Indian culture so hard that we even forced our gluttonous lifestyles upon them?
Personally I think Chief Sitting Bull became Chief Sits on Couch as soon as they discovered how much money they could make by putting Casinos on their reservations. And as we all know, the more money you have – the fatter you are. Why plant corn fields or chase buffalo when you can just lay back and enjoy an all-you-can-eat buffet as you sap stupid gamblers into giving you all their money?
