Brain damage, simping epidemic, mental patient that smells like mashed potatoes: You degenerates can label this video with whatever tags you want. Nothing can stop true romance.
I think this could be the downtrodden, meth-addicted little brother of the Reading Rainbow guy. They call him Black Salami and he's going to show us things.
Looks like someone crossbred Rosario Dawson with a howler monkey and gave it rabies. But this isn't for the lulz... more about awareness. You honestly don't even need video for this. The soundtrack alone is enough to keep my Bugle Boy cut-offs on the rinse cycle.
Consider this a 4 minute tutorial on why you should always stay away from those folks that consider a $50.00 Mernard's gift card a form of foreplay. Norman Vincent's words: “Always shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll still land among the hepatitis."
Traditional association with Juggalos tends to be littered with words like disfigured and faygo and the aroma of a Sudanese outhouse... but not today. I'll bet my bottom dollar underneath all of that Walmart makeup, Krustina the Klown is a girl worth getting to know. them [-HERE-] and [-HERE-]
Today's edition is chock full of bladder busters, flagrant neighbor abuse and whatever that vegan dinner special was at the end. But what really activated my garbanzo bean is the length some of these fucking gargoyles are willing to go. Take notes ladies: It's this kind of work ethic that transforms you from super walmart to super star.
Dude at the 2:00 mark must have went as Apocolypto for Halloween in 2006 and forgot to take the costume off, and I have no doubt our Scottish socialite's rectal contractions look like they just graduated a course in sign language. Go ahead and tell me nice guys actually do win again?
It's that time of year again. When degenerate girls jacked to the tits in daddy issues insist on doing it for tha gram but end up frail, fucked and forgotten. Not since the days of blindly acquiring porn ala 5600 baud Limewire have I come across a female with such anti-seminal fortitude.
Another chapter closed in a book that Barnes & Noble insists on displaying in the Sci-Fi section. Normally read in the dimly lit corner of a trailer park that doesn't show up on Google maps, surrounded by Newports and half-eaten cans of Costco's finest meatball ravioli.
For fuck sakes, there's only 2 things capable of further emasculating a man that is fantasy-banging his meth head relative. One is knowing you stuck your dick into a family classic, the other is whatever the shit is going on here.
