By Jason D. Zastrow Esquire
If you are a person who says, "Smoking makes me look cool," open wide. Prepare for my garden hose to be shoved down your cocksucking throat. That's what I tend to refer to as a reverse colonic. Trust me, Cletus, I'm not stopping until your asshole resembles a bidet. To say smoking does not make me look cool is no revolutionary thought. Christ, I wouldn't be considered cool even if I had a million-download video on the internet of me shoving a two liter bottle up my ass, filling it with diarrhea, then chugging it's contents. Hey, I can dream… Shit, a cowlicky rooster with one foot in a bear trap and the other scratching it's own eyes out would look more cool than I even on my best day.
My apparel may make me stand out, but that's about all it does. You see my face; body, hair, and other various horrific features are my major turn-off for the ladies. Although my pin stripe suit inserts a certain respect for the dearly departed, I'm quick to inform "it was either this or nothing so shut the fuck up."
Now on to a new subject of self-belittling: my crotch! It's pretty sad, but the other day I had a fly laughing at me when I was taking a shower. I can't help it if my dick is small and bent so much the head almost touches my left thigh. Oh and another thing, I gave up on trying to control the odor a long time ago. After I doused my genitalia with lighter fluid and set it ablaze and that had no effect, I said, "Fuck it." I couldn't get a woman even if I was the last man on Earth and all the women were extremely retarded paraplegic midget mermaids named Dick.
I really do think I'm Elvis Prestly. The other night I had sex with Priscilla and shortly there after, Michael Jackson molested my corpse. That's proof enough for me, folks. In light of the consequences, I find it mandatory to masturbate a minimum of seventeen times per day. As they say, "No pain, no gain." Here's my version, "No lubricant of some sort, MUCH PAIN!"