heartlessly stolen from Pharyngula along with the title.
Cyanide & Happiness @ Explosm.net
a lucrative sideline…
from the Archive
Lucrative. Outdoorsy. Bizarre. Potentially fatal. I tell you, this has me written all over it. I wonder if Crimestoppers pays by the bale or by the grow-op when you turn them in…
I’m just sayin’…one might run into such things from time to time on one’s travels. And one must think of the future. A future, perhaps, under an assumed name, but it certainly wouldn’t be the first nor for the last time for lil’ ol’ raincoaster here, as you can probably imagine.
Again, there exists the distinct possibility that the grow-ops, knowing on which side their bread was hemp-nut-spreadded, would pay one to keep such information to one’s self. And the fact that, should one take such money with every intention of turning them in anyway and should one thereafter actually do so, there would be, insofar as I can see, no law whatsoever that would compel one to give that money back. I mean, they can hardly claim under contract law for an illegal action: and I, I mean “one,” couldn’t be charged with blackmail if one never intended to keep the secret. One would, obviously, be guilty of lying to pot gangsters but while this is indeed stupid, I do not see that it is actually illegal. It’s not like they’re airline security monkeys.
How much…?
Donnie Davies performs God Hates a Fag: the infamous video
Yes doubters, it’s the real thing! Now that every single one of the Right Reverend Donnie Davies‘ websites has had the plug pulled on it, the entire Internet, apparently, experiencing the online equivalent of a Coyote Morning, the banned video is hotter than Helmand heroin.
Naturally from the very first we at the ol’ raincoaster blog have been on this like santorum on a rentboy. The video file was lovingly ripped at great pain and uncountable expense from a ripped copy of a ripped copy of a MySpace video which had been smuggled out of Celebrities in the bottom of a converted Boblbee, and God, who hates a fag by the way, only knows what the quality is like on this poor bugger. Sod’s law.
Yes, people, it is a joke. You may climb down from the ceiling now.
Latest UPDATE HERE: what MTV doesn’t want you to see!
Lyrics over the hump…I mean JUMP!
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which irritating internet quiz are you?
Another from the twisted mind of Juvenal at Bread and Circuses. Not that there’s anything wrong with that: I’m somewhat warped myself and every morning it takes me fifteen minutes to screw my underwear on.
Which Irritating Internet Quiz Are You?
You are: Which Dessert are you?
Insert amusing picture and witty description here. Or not.
You are NOT:
- An OS
- A Powerpuff Girl
- A Season
- A Firearm
- An Eye
- A Greek Goddess
- A Piercing
- A Spirit
- A Jedi (no matter what you wrote in the census)
- A Beer
- A Muppet
- A Biological Molecule
- A Month
- A Sin
- A Trainspotting Character
- A Number
- An Ice Cream Flavour
- A British Band
- A Superhero
- A Herb
- A Cat
- A Carebear
- A Subculture
- A Transformer
- A Moon
- A Decade
- A Dessert
- A Hobbit
- A VW
- A Tarot Card
- A Horror Movie
- A Font
- An Inanimate Object (probably)
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Technorati me!
Helen Mirren topless: tardis companion hot
The ever-classy Sun has provided us today with one of the true greats in the field of service journalism, an immortal story that will live long in infamy and on fansites…well, at least till this time next year.
They have dug up topless shots of all of the Oscar
My favorite part of the whole thing is the headline “Mirren was GRIPPED by fear” just under her picture. Although it must be said that the dark horse winner is Dame Judi Dench, whose 100% natural A-list knockers easily lead the pack by a head or at least an erect nipple or pair of carefully-placed leaves.
DAME Judi gives an elegant performance as the appropriately named Titania in this unique 1968 interpretation of a Shakespeare classic.
The judges felt her sense of ironic joie de vivre, along with two of the best knockers in the business, made her a candidate we couldn’t ignore.
A real trip down Mammary Lane . . .
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