Marijuana causes man’s erection to last as long as 12 hours
I’m put soundly in mind of TV advertisements for Viagra and Cialis and the sort. At the end of the commercial, a couple of medical caveats were injected, one admonishing those with hypertension to not use the drug, and the other one to the effect:
“Anyone experiencing an erection lasting more than four hours should call their doctor.”
I swear all I could picture in my mind was the following.
RING, RING… “Doctor John speaking.”
“Yeah, doc… this is Barney Fife; I’ve had an erection now for over four hours!”
“Oh, go to hell, you Goddamned braggart!
Honestly, who would actually call? Has anyone ever called? What’s the remedy — go take some aspirin and a cold shower? How many millions of dollars have Big Pharma sank into researching the Viagra antidote? Is there an antidote? Has cancer research been pre-empted for antidote research — it sounds like a big problem since they were announcing it on TV.
Police negotiators are going to special training courses to learn how to talk suicidal dudes with irreversible boners off the edges of buildings? Women’s groups are protesting because they feel like they are being excluded from the problem and want an equal share in it. America: we’ve got erections that won’t go away — don’t envy us!
There was finally a breakthrough by Perdu Pharma. The discovered an antidote that they are calling “Down Boy.” Free Down Boy clinics will be located around town in mostly seedy and impoverished areas of the city. It’s demeaning sure, but if those guys are ever going to pee again they are just going to have to go there for treatment. You either have to get treated or just go around all day looking like you are trying to conceal an AK-47 under your trench coat.
And this butt-stroke with the pot and the 12-hour woody… what does he want? What does he want us to know? I would advise him to push away from his 12-hour internet porn binge at www.ChixWithDix.com and go outside for some fresh air and sunshine.
Author’s note: I probably should check to make sure there is not really a website by that name lest I have some explainin’ to do. Whew — no such link, but my search did bring me to these surrogates: (content removed by editor).
Twelve-hour boner boy, huh? Yeah, I would take that right before I go to sleep and see what it does to my REM patterns and dream contact, and then wake up feeling refreshed and ready to seize the day!
I’d give it to the shifts at the firehouse who are stuck inside all day with just each other.
But really, Boner-Boy is doing a great job — if he can just keep it up!
College recruiter loses the part of his mind that regulates racist behavior
You might agree with the notion that there are two sides to every story. Here we only have the totally off-the-hook side of an otherwise complete story. Sorry, that is Jackass Journalism. The story is almost too sensational to believe without some hint of the other side of the story. The recruiter in question allegedly asked 11th-grade students to line up according to skin color, dark to light, then asked them to line up according to hair texture — straight to “nappy” — still trying to divine how that could even fit into any good context.
The silver lining to this racist storm cell is that the problem has been solved — that’s right, solved! The recruiter, from Oklahoma Christian University, was fired. That wasn’t the fix — this is the fix: the university is now going to conduct mandatory sensitivity training for all of its employees. That sure is a thing I don’t miss at all about corporate suck-up buffoonery.
“Hey, Hand… Williams told Martha Biggenbottom she had a nice ass. Now, we both know that’s a lie right there, so that was his first mistake. Lying, Hand, is just not what we are all about here at Spacely Sprockets — it’s just not who we are… so we’re going to make YOU take classes on how not to be sexually offensive to women.”
“Gosh, brilliant boss… but how about you just give me the classes because you’re pretty sexually offensive to all people.”
“Goddamnit, Hand!!”
To atone and repent for his sins, His Excellency Jacob Malone hired a hitman to rub out the church Senior, and then clip the stupid stupid judge who sentenced him. He was apparently ready to knock-off and erase anyone who opposed him.
Security seizes student for sexual assault in school shitter
Nobleman Austin Sauer, 18, of Rhinelander, WI faux-pas’ed himself into the wrong restroom at his high school… or he did the wrong thing in the right restroom there — I just don’t know best how to break it down. But at 18 years old he is an adult, and assaulting even a 17-year-old victim, as the charge reads, makes him by legal definition a pedophile sex offender.
He committed the offense in a gender-neutral bathroom of his school. Writing this, I had to pause and remember just what that gender-neutral is.
So nature provided Austin the door on the left, but he was not comfortable there and wanted the door on the right. Those there were uncomfortable with him so society had to provide him with the door in the middle. To thank our overindulgence he tried to rape something in there, we just don’t really know what — again wheres the other half of the story?
Strap this on for a second or two: what if a biological man identifies as a woman and as a lesbian — WTF bathroom does he use now, Flanders?? Relax… I have a solution. I would not even bring this madness up if I didn’t already have a solution first; that’s just who I am. Here you go:
Marine’s Plot to Hunt Child Traffickers at US-Mexico Border
There is a reoccurring phenomenon that I describe as “great conception, poor execution,” meaning that perhaps someone came up with a great idea and a seemingly great plan to carry it out, but the implementation phase of that great idea displayed a left-going Huguenot during detonation. The barrel bottom-scraping version is: “Gosh, but his heart sure was in the right place (he meant well?)!” And the road to hell is paved with what again? Jeffery Dahmer “meant well” when he prepared a dinner for two but only laid out one place setting…
Lance Corporal Job Covev Wallace’s big dream was to hunt human traffickers along a stretch of the U.S. border with Mexico that reaches from Houston to Dallas, TX. Well, first of all, God bless Texas, and God certainly bless the noble beast Job Wallace for being man enough to stand up and declare: “here am I Lord, send me!” Someone finally has the testicular pouch to throw themselves at the human wave attack of traffickers pouring in through the Houston/Dallas infiltration corridor.
But wait, what about inspecting the details of the execution phase of the hunt? Just how will the Job hunting go down in the corridor?
Wallace bought a bunch of guns and ammunition. He spent some $5,000.00 on the purchase, the quantity of which is a reportable amount to the authorities if the merchants are performing their civic duties correctly. Job even bought a 50-round drum magazine for his assault rifle; he is ready to mow down that human wave attack — yowzah!
Job learned from his grandpappy how to track and kill human traffickers since he was just a boy. Grandpappy taught him how to recognize their fecal droppings, how they smelled of roasted almonds or freshly mown hay depending on what time of year it was and what food was available in the region for the trafficker. He learned how to build a four-stick spring snare and set it up in a hide site to wait for the trafficker to trip it.
He learned to spot subtle traces of a kind of jelly that traffickers made from crushing wild berries and mixing them with honey to sweeten it. (They call it the”Traffic Jam”) It is a weakness that the traffickers can’t do without, but it is messy and sticky and leaves its telltale tactile traces and sweet odor everywhere.
Job Wallace knew he could recognize the traffickers as they crossed the border by to the two red bandannas they wore on each arm, the two blue ones on each leg, and the bright orange one tied to their foreheads. Job had all he needed to affect a maniacally successful hunt there in the extreme inward bulge in the line between the two Texas cities. Job made one huge mistake though, he deserted from the USMC — the singular fatal flaw to the otherwise flawless implementation of his execution phase.
“I didn’t know — I left the Marine Corps a note!” Job was rumored to have pleaded. Another problem with that is that the search history on his confiscated computer showed he was googling “punishments received by military deserters.” Yeah, that right there pretty much spilled the beans that he knew he was screwing up. This guy probably smokes that 12-hour penis pot too — good job; keep it up!
Coronavirus protective measures seen recently in China
By Almighty God and with honor,
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