Sunday, May 23, 2010

The Autoblography of Frenzy Hunter - Phase 1

I remember
the soft warm moist area, the perfect place. Trapped within freedom. Fish-gill'd and submerged in perfected temperature aqua, being massaged by flagella fingers on my every nerve ending.

They say the younger one is, the slower time moves for them. So perhaps a zygote perceives eternity.

What is this chaos?! I'm being pushed out...rejected by the pleasure, the sustenance. The Everything. Squeezed out like the last bit of a poor man's toothpaste.

Apparently, eternity isn't immortal. It died.

Birth happened. Life occurred. Eyes opened. Alarms when off.

And suddenly, from only knowing warmth, I'm cold. Felt like...
Children's Hospital, Antarctica.

They severed the cord of my only source of nourishment. I inhaled their gritty particulate-filled cologne stenches, coating my lungs with pseudo-purified sludge.

To make sure I understood something, they smacked me so I'd cry. Release the saline.

PAIN rules here, boy.
Pain, suffering and then death. Oh you don't believe us? Well, we're going to cut the skin off the tip of the one thing that can ever return you partly to the pleasure you just came from, but with reduced potency. A circum-exor-cism to give you only a spectre-glimpse, to tease you, so that you may experience pain more deeply. You'll search for this pleasure ever after...and never have your fill.

Trust us. We are doctors.
We are here to save you.

Nurse, get the needles and inject this boy with disease-laden vaccine scorpions. It's just like a little voodoo doll with a soul injured with every prick.
(Pricks.) And take some of his blood.

Now give him back to his mother
scarred, bled, violated, cold...Now feed him poison. Give him a sip of fluorinated chlorine pool piss to quench his thirst. He's had a long journey.

...and has a lot further, farther to go.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

The Play with Boys Bunny

Have you ever met a character who was just a bit more animated than most people?
The kind who speaks very effeminately, maybe dresses in drag and kisses men?
You know--

Bugs Bunny.

I'm not saying Bugs is gay. I'm just saying he occasionally dabbles in transvestism and gets his proverbial rocks off by teasing his ever-confused secret lover Elmer Fudd.

Now I'm not saying Elmer's gay, but I think the whiskers would be a dead giveaway of Bugs' masculinity. But Fudd is known to be confused too, as you'll soon see.

Look, we all know bunnies are horny little beasts...
...and will hump

Look what a cock-a-doodle will do!

But I can understand Bugs' confusion. He has no genitalia.

But it's Elmer Fudd I'm concerned about. He's kinda sick in the head, and needs psychotherapy. The mask of Hannibal Lecter kind. He wants to eat a male rabbit, but bang a shemale one?
He is a tad bit messed up. Look at what Bugs has put him through! The guy doesn't know who he is anymore--A man, a woman, gay, lesbian, bi, interspecies-ist!

[See exhibit A below]

By the way, Tweety Bird, hermaphrodite mutant child dwarf clone of the giant genetic abberration (also a spawn of the avian version of Hermes and Aphrodite) Big Bird, who impregnated itself, is not gay. Hermaphrodites, especially mutants, can't be gay.

It's been brought to my attention that there are many suspect closet toons.
Let us not forget the inseparable Shag "He" and Scooby "Doo"...

But really...that's just bestiality.

The Man, The Myth, The Poedophile.

Disclaimer: You should probably not believe most of this stuff. Probably.

Today, 1836 years after his lord and savior was crucified, Edgar Allen Poe became [the hero of] R. Kelly, the self-proclaimed "Pied Piper of R&B."

Peddy Ed Poe,” as he was later known, was 27 when he married his prepubescent 13-year old cousin, Virginia “Aaliyah” Clemm, in a Presbyterian church. They wrote on the marriage certificate that she was 21, blatantly lying in the face and in the house of their Lord and Savior.

Afterward, they went on their honeymoon to try to make some mentally disabled babies. Through divine intervention, they didn’t succeed at getting down with that syndrome. Rumor has it she was cursed with never finishing puberty.

Thank the Lord, who apparently decided to not do any savior-ing. Rather He was blamed by some for striking Virginiaaliyah down with the disease that affected many incessantly incestuous harloteens of the 19th century—Tuberculosis.

Virginia, unrepentant even on her deathbed, told her Peddy Bear that after she died she’d be his guardian angel. Due to the depth of their sins, R. Peddy wasn’t so sure about this. It’s said in many pagan circles that Poe performed a voodoo ritual that would one day bring him and his beloved back from the grave to perform pop music.

The ritual consisted of urinating on a voodoo doll while singing the magic words “I believe I can fly. I believe I can touch the sky. You and me [ooh baby] shall nah nah nah never die!”

Monday, May 10, 2010

Cyborg is Just Another Word for Cool Super Powers

One day you're going to be as cool as a cyborg. With Super Duper Powers!!!
I know you're telling yourself, "Caca del toro, Hunterino."

Oh, but no. Would I lie to you? No. Because otherwise I'd just keep these super powers to myself and dominate you all. The proof is below.

Just look what you get for signing up for the prototype stage:

1.) Pseudo-Telekinesis
First we've figure out how to operate machinery with our brains.
See exhibit a--The Jedi Trainer Toy. A frickin' toy that operates on measuring brainwaves.

They always start with the kids, don't they?

But trust me, MIT and this German company are going further. Soon you won't need to even touch the computer. Telekinesis. Sort of. Well, it's not. But it's still an awesome power to have.

2.) Super Sight
You'll have to get your reality augmented to always be able to "see" the web. Here, check out Layar. Of course spammy advertising will pay for all this for you, as you're about to see. But soon after being connected you'll begin to see the world like this:

You're going to have to be able see this new reality stuff with stuff like this:

4.) Super Strength

With this exoskeletal armor like this that multiplies human strength. Created by a company, ironically, called Cyberdine.

5.) Telepathy

Your mobile phone will be in your brain, so that's convenient.
You're going to need a wi-fi connection, now ain't ya? Yes you is.
Not to worry. The Koreans have figured that part out for you. Human skin transmits those signals super awesomely.

6.) Unlimited Power Ups!

Wireless electricity, too. Thanks to Tesla.

Soon you too can be a super hero like...

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Now Zombitches Are Attacking Me!

Okay, so last night I had a another weird dream.

There was a rap concert on a basketball court contained by barbed wire fencing. Apparently, even in my dreams rap concerts bore me.

So I climbed the fence to escape. I saw why the barbed wire.


Hot Chick Zombies. In Bikinis.

Zombified, ugly and rotting. But undeadly sexy. I mean, they were like Sirens of Greek mythology. You know the ones that sang to sailors and made them commit suicide? Yeah, them. But not.

Instead of mesmerizing voices like the Sirens, they had robust, pulsating, glowing, hypnotizing asses.
The Gluteus Necrophilius were beckoning me to them by some unholy bitchcraft. But I was strong.

At first.

They were walking backwards towards me, pulling off their bikinis, revealing those decaying, but smooth, but oozing, but tempting, but gross...asses. I was in a trance, succumbing slowly.

The leader started grinding her undead ass on my crotch. And the circus tent went up.

Then her head twisted around Exorcist-style and tried to bite my shoulder. I held her drooling face back and ripped off her foot and shoved it in her mouth like a sock so she wouldn't eat me.

Take that, succubus!

The taste must've been delicious because she went crazy gnawing on it with what teeth she had left. This was my chance to escape.

But I got caught in her ass trance (or so I want to believe) and I pulled down my pants--
Paranormally horny, supernaturally stiffened.

Then I realized I was still under the zombie spell and shook it off right as she was finishing her foot/food and turning her lifeless, starving eyes to her fresh Human Carpaccio. Me.

Her drooling teeth were chattering with hunger like that Cenobite from Hellraiser.
I pushed her off and started running with my pants at my ankles, so I wasn't much faster than top zombie speed.

Luckily, in all dreams I can fly if I remember I have the ability.

I didn't do that.

I woke up. It was smarter.

I was sweating. And there was drool on my pillow.

I don't drool. And then there was the circus tent.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

An "Errorist" Attack on Me

Taxi: Where are you from?

Hunter: Washington, D.C.

Taxi: America? I hate Americans.

Hunter: Hmph. So.

Taxi: Do you know where I'm from? Can you guess?

Hunter: No.

Taxi: Go ahead. Guess.

Hunter: No. Make this right. And a left at the roundabout.

Taxi: I'm Pakistani.

Hunter: That's nice.

Taxi: You call me terrorist. And kill my people.

Hunter: I don't call you a terrorist. I call you a taxi driver. And I don't kill people.
I make ads. You make this left please.

Taxi: I don't like Americans.

Hunter: You don't like tips either.

Taxi: Oh, I'm not serious. All countries, all people are bad and kill people.

Hunter: What's your name?

Taxi: Faisal.

Hunter: Faisal? How coincidental. That's the name of the arrested Pakistani suspected of putting that failed bomb in Times Square the other day. He was arrested at the airport on his way to Dubai. You can drop me off here. Thanks.