Breakfall Straightens You Nyiggas Out Daily
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SSS sounds like a gawddamn psychopath
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Heh no surprise there..
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admin has been looking at your profile all day long today
any guess as to why?
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LOL, SSS check this article out from ol' CJ...........
To get myself into the spirit of the Easter holiday, I did what any good Jew would do. I played a drinking game to The Passion of the Christ.
Sure, some might label such an act a "hell-worthy" sin or a one-way ticket to "damnation-ville." But I prefer to view the game as a pious sacrament. If Jesus is, indeed, suffering for my sins, shouldn’t I be suffering along with him? Thus, for every atrocity in the movie committed against the Lord and Savoir (including allowing it to be directed by Mel Gibson), I force myself to take a shot of gut-rot, plastic-bottled tequila. It’s my little way of saying, "I sympathize, my Jewish brother."
For those of you worrying about the destruction I’ve wrought upon my immortal soul in two short paragraphs, I’ll remind you that the whole "suffering in remembrance" style of worship is, in fact, a very Jewish way to approach a holiday. Don’t believe me? If you’ll recall, we’re mid- Passover right now, a holiday that tells us: "3,000 years ago our ancestors suffered without bread, so now we should spend a week out of every year not eating bread." Isn’t that kind of like saying "if your parents worked hard to put food on the table and a roof over your head, for the rest of your life, no matter how successful you may be, you should spend a week living on the streets and eating out of garbage cans to thank them." I’m sure that’s exactly what your parents wanted by working so hard.
Back to the movie. I had forgotten just how funny it is. I know it was common for people in theaters to start crying, but I’m pretty sure I was the only person in my theater crying from laughter. Blasphemous, I know, but the entire story is ridiculous. And I don’t mean that to be the stab at Christianity some of you more shocked and appalled folks are thinking it is. I mean it to be a stab at Mel Gibson and Miramax. It made $370 million in the theaters. And who knows how much the DVD sales pulled in. And yet, did I mention Miramax was started by two brothers named Harvey and Bob Weinstein? Are we supposed to believe The Passion of the Christ was written for the benefit of Christians? Does Hollywood think we’re that gullible?
Sadly, most of us are, and The Passion became, in its genre, the top grossing movie of all time.
Was The Passion of the Christ actually intended to be the epic portrayal of sacrifice meant to inspire all Christians? On this holy day, I’d like to argue that it was not. Harvey and Bob Weinstein were simply using Mel Gibson as a pawn in the larger, Jewish conspiracy that’s been whispered among us "Chosen Folks" for hundreds of years.
Before I retell the true story of the resurrection, let it be known here that if you never hear from me again, the conspiracy theory must be true. We could be talking about some serious, and ironic, Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory type of shit could be going down right here on the pages of CJ. Only I have no Julia Roberts to back me up. Just remember, the information I’m revealing was never supposed to leave the circles of the hook-nosed-ones. I know this precaution sounds extreme, but even though they don’t look it, the Jews are a powerful bunch. As my dad used to say: "You never need to know how to fight if you own people who can fight for you."
With that caution said, here it is… the true story of the resurrection:
For thousands of years, the Jewish priests had a monopoly on monotheism. Who could practice it, who could perform miracles, and who was in charge were all dictated by the elders of the temple. But then this Jesus of Nazareth character and his small, start-up form of Judaism was becoming the Mac to the High Priests’ Microsoft. Sure it wasn’t as powerful, but damn did it look cool, and boy was it easier to use. Plus, something about it just made prospective buyers want to smile.
The elder Jewish priests bitched and moaned and bitched and moaned until the government stepped in (a government, though not overtly controlled by the Jews, was no doubt influenced by powerful and wealthy Jewish lobbies). Pontius Pilot, who, the day before, had "coincidentally" been seen tooling around the old city in his new, deluxe chariot fresh off the lot of one of the temple elders’ sons, gave the command to have Jesus tortured and executed, and blah, blah, blah, what would eventually become the suffering for the sins of man.
So Jesus takes his little cross and drags it up to the top of the hill. But while he’s making the trip, Mary Magdalene manages to slip him a gold coin she "worked" extra hard for.
Everything is going swell, and the elders are just about to have the Savior’s final hand nailed to the cross when, using the last of his energy, Jesus manages to dig the coin out of his loin cloth and toss it down the hill.
Though hardly audible to gentiles, the sound of money hitting the ground to a Jew is, for folks like you and I, akin to the sound of an air horn. The Jewish elders chased the coin down the hill, leaving Jesus, with the help of Mary and Co., an opportunity to escape.
When the elders returned and discovered the cross empty, they simply told everyone he had been killed (thus accounting for his relatively brief stint on the cross before death), and went home to observe the Sabbath. When, three days later, people began reporting sightings of Jesus, the Jews simply continued their lie, expecting people to believe their word over a few nut jobs.
The only problem was that these nut jobs were continuously growing in numbers. But the elder priests saw a perfect business opening. That fool, Jesus, had told his followers they couldn’t loan money. But the Jews still could. The elders had to make a decision: Either use their considerable force to stop the spread of Christianity, or let Christianity continue to grow, providing a bigger market for their money lending companies.
The choice they made, as you can plainly see, was for the latter, and the rest is history.
Keep it extra kosher on this early Easter Sunday,
Lol, @Aryan and @UncleDiLF ^^^^^^
To get myself into the spirit of the Easter holiday, I did what any good Jew would do. I played a drinking game to The Passion of the Christ.
Sure, some might label such an act a "hell-worthy" sin or a one-way ticket to "damnation-ville." But I prefer to view the game as a pious sacrament. If Jesus is, indeed, suffering for my sins, shouldn’t I be suffering along with him? Thus, for every atrocity in the movie committed against the Lord and Savoir (including allowing it to be directed by Mel Gibson), I force myself to take a shot of gut-rot, plastic-bottled tequila. It’s my little way of saying, "I sympathize, my Jewish brother."
For those of you worrying about the destruction I’ve wrought upon my immortal soul in two short paragraphs, I’ll remind you that the whole "suffering in remembrance" style of worship is, in fact, a very Jewish way to approach a holiday. Don’t believe me? If you’ll recall, we’re mid- Passover right now, a holiday that tells us: "3,000 years ago our ancestors suffered without bread, so now we should spend a week out of every year not eating bread." Isn’t that kind of like saying "if your parents worked hard to put food on the table and a roof over your head, for the rest of your life, no matter how successful you may be, you should spend a week living on the streets and eating out of garbage cans to thank them." I’m sure that’s exactly what your parents wanted by working so hard.
Back to the movie. I had forgotten just how funny it is. I know it was common for people in theaters to start crying, but I’m pretty sure I was the only person in my theater crying from laughter. Blasphemous, I know, but the entire story is ridiculous. And I don’t mean that to be the stab at Christianity some of you more shocked and appalled folks are thinking it is. I mean it to be a stab at Mel Gibson and Miramax. It made $370 million in the theaters. And who knows how much the DVD sales pulled in. And yet, did I mention Miramax was started by two brothers named Harvey and Bob Weinstein? Are we supposed to believe The Passion of the Christ was written for the benefit of Christians? Does Hollywood think we’re that gullible?
Sadly, most of us are, and The Passion became, in its genre, the top grossing movie of all time.
Was The Passion of the Christ actually intended to be the epic portrayal of sacrifice meant to inspire all Christians? On this holy day, I’d like to argue that it was not. Harvey and Bob Weinstein were simply using Mel Gibson as a pawn in the larger, Jewish conspiracy that’s been whispered among us "Chosen Folks" for hundreds of years.
Before I retell the true story of the resurrection, let it be known here that if you never hear from me again, the conspiracy theory must be true. We could be talking about some serious, and ironic, Mel Gibson in Conspiracy Theory type of shit could be going down right here on the pages of CJ. Only I have no Julia Roberts to back me up. Just remember, the information I’m revealing was never supposed to leave the circles of the hook-nosed-ones. I know this precaution sounds extreme, but even though they don’t look it, the Jews are a powerful bunch. As my dad used to say: "You never need to know how to fight if you own people who can fight for you."
With that caution said, here it is… the true story of the resurrection:
For thousands of years, the Jewish priests had a monopoly on monotheism. Who could practice it, who could perform miracles, and who was in charge were all dictated by the elders of the temple. But then this Jesus of Nazareth character and his small, start-up form of Judaism was becoming the Mac to the High Priests’ Microsoft. Sure it wasn’t as powerful, but damn did it look cool, and boy was it easier to use. Plus, something about it just made prospective buyers want to smile.
The elder Jewish priests bitched and moaned and bitched and moaned until the government stepped in (a government, though not overtly controlled by the Jews, was no doubt influenced by powerful and wealthy Jewish lobbies). Pontius Pilot, who, the day before, had "coincidentally" been seen tooling around the old city in his new, deluxe chariot fresh off the lot of one of the temple elders’ sons, gave the command to have Jesus tortured and executed, and blah, blah, blah, what would eventually become the suffering for the sins of man.
So Jesus takes his little cross and drags it up to the top of the hill. But while he’s making the trip, Mary Magdalene manages to slip him a gold coin she "worked" extra hard for.
Everything is going swell, and the elders are just about to have the Savior’s final hand nailed to the cross when, using the last of his energy, Jesus manages to dig the coin out of his loin cloth and toss it down the hill.
Though hardly audible to gentiles, the sound of money hitting the ground to a Jew is, for folks like you and I, akin to the sound of an air horn. The Jewish elders chased the coin down the hill, leaving Jesus, with the help of Mary and Co., an opportunity to escape.
When the elders returned and discovered the cross empty, they simply told everyone he had been killed (thus accounting for his relatively brief stint on the cross before death), and went home to observe the Sabbath. When, three days later, people began reporting sightings of Jesus, the Jews simply continued their lie, expecting people to believe their word over a few nut jobs.
The only problem was that these nut jobs were continuously growing in numbers. But the elder priests saw a perfect business opening. That fool, Jesus, had told his followers they couldn’t loan money. But the Jews still could. The elders had to make a decision: Either use their considerable force to stop the spread of Christianity, or let Christianity continue to grow, providing a bigger market for their money lending companies.
The choice they made, as you can plainly see, was for the latter, and the rest is history.
Keep it extra kosher on this early Easter Sunday,
Lol, @Aryan and @UncleDiLF ^^^^^^
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Lol, dude, it was the BEST forum that ever lived!!! Sold for $500,000!!!! It was a major site, and a forum was part of it, but the forum was the best part of it lol. @Scooter was from there, me, SSS, Ice, Shin, and maybe another on this board or two.
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Yeah man!!!! I loved reading those! And yes, I could always tell your effort too man lol. Here is another goodie I jus read lol.....
It was only a matter of time, really. One could even chalk it up to the law of averages. Let’s see, I’ve been in the Philippines for 14 months. Seven of which I spent locked into a committed relationship, so we won’t count those. So, seven months. Four weeks, generally, in a month and I’ve been averaging between three and six girls a week (six on an extremely good week). Three girls a week times twenty eight weeks equals eighty four girls. Given my tastes in women haven’t really changed much over the past few years it would only stand to reason that eventually I’d run into a prostitute who resembled an ex girlfriend.
For the fourth time in my life I actually "moseyed’ the other day. I moseyed over to one of the girly bars that Doug and I go to. The entire cab ride over I reminded myself aloud that I was only going for a couple of beers and that this was going to be an early night. About forty five minutes into my stay I saw her. I’d actually met her when Paul, Doug and I were here on my birthday in July and she was a horny little bunny then too. I wasn’t able to rain my cream-love down on her that night because I was with another girl but she remembered me. Her bar-name was Paisley and she was the Asian duplicate of my ex, the shitter.
We hit it off right away and I picked up my drinking pace. It wasn’t long before I was telling my four touchdowns in one game story, only mine involves an Impov performance at one of the theatres back in Atlanta where I was playing God. She was just drunk enough to be entertained by it. It didn’t hit me immediately that she bore a strong resemblance to her but when it did she automatically attained that perfect combo of smart, stupid and slut for which we, as men, thirst. So happy was I that when I slammed down cash for the bar fine (to get her out of there) I even bought mama-san a couple of rounds. You would’ve thought that we were getting married by all the waving good-bye and well-wishing that followed us out to the street. The cab ride was nothing but a tongue fest and I’m sure the driver enjoyed the show. So smutty was our necking session that she took a moment to turn and spit out all the communal spit which she’d managed to gather in her mouth onto to floor of the cab. She wiped her like she’d just chugged a beer and dove back into my jaw. Delicious! I was glad she was enjoying it because I was planning to get revenge on my ex for dumping by putting this pleasant little girl who looked like her though hell. I couldn’t help but giggle aloud, which made her giggle, which made the driver giggle.
We all giggled up to my building. I wiped the tears from my eyes as I got out of the cab, my chuckling trailing off into a soft cough. She tried to jump on me in the elevator but I pushed her back, pointing to the camera in the corner of the ceiling. She smiled a sheepish smile and feigned covering up her privates and primping her hair. I raced her to my door and flung it open with a loud "TA-DAAAAA!" She scuttled in and made herself comfortable while I ran to the bathroom for a pep talk in the mirror.
"Ok, dude. Whatever you do, don’t call her by you ex’s name. ….other than that, you’re good. Have fun. BREAK!" I high-fived the glass, pulled the door open and executed a very poor Kramer-entrance. She was already laid out on the couch with the come-hither look.
"You know,…" I whispered in my dead Barry White voice as I poured my countenance over her. "I’m still gonna fuck you up…." She wiggled and giggle in devilish delight. "…for giving me that damn dog and leaving me."
"What?" She asked, her face twisting into a tight first of confusion.
"…for making me damn hard and teasing me." I repeated with a dopey, toothy smile.
"Oh, ok. Yeah, right…" She slipped. "I’m going to take a shower. Can I borrow a t-shirt?"
I agreed and jumped into my room, reappearing soon after with a shirt and a bath towel. She crinkled her nose and mouthed a thank-you and hopped off to the bathroom. I took this time to completely rearrange my living room as quietly and as quickly as possible so that when she emerged I was sitting on the couch on the very opposite side of the room.
"What did you do?" She laughed not believing what she was seeing.
"What?" I shot back like I hadn’t noticed anything different.
"You changed…" She started, but I didn’t let her finish.
"I’ve changed?" I interrupted "You were the one that just up and left without a word! And you come back to me all fresh and you expect me just stay the same way and waste away to nothing?! Pining away for your return? Well, fuck you lady! I like me! I like A LOT of things about me! And I don’t give a FUCK about you or your poopy white panties!"
Separated at Birth? Somewhere in America, a young black chick gets a chill up her back... There was an odd silence. My face, frozen in the same maniacal cast that shouted poopy.
"But, I just go to shower…" She whimpered.
"Ha! I’m kidding, babe!" I reassured. "Now come over here and give me some of that sugar cookie you told me about." She wasn’t going for it so easily this time. "Come on babe, I was just playing. You remind me of my ex girlfriend and I was just letting out some unresolved issues." See, I even told the truth. "I’m sorry. I hope that didn’t freak you out. Come on boo- boo. I’m sorry." I pumped my pelvis into empty air and wiggled my eyebrows. She smiled and slowly led me into the bedroom.
Now, I’ve never been slapped by a woman before. But if there ever was a reason to get slapped by a prostitute, perhaps they don’t like surprise anal with their hair being pulled. Then again, maybe my shouting "Who’s dirty now? Who’s dirty now?" was probably the kicker. Further still, if I hadn’t offered to clean the little mess in her ass crack with a poppy seed muffin maybe she would’ve gotten fully dressed before she left.
"Muffin?"
"Yeah, a muffin."
"A muffin to eat?"
"Yeah, we can eat it when we’re done if you want."
"NO, you want to wipe this" She ran her finger up her ass. "with muffin?"
"Yup, why not?"
"Then…eat?"
"Damn, you’re freaky. Can I piss on you, too? I’ve never done that before." She slapped me, threw the blanket on top of me and even gave me a little kick in an attempt to leave me confused and blanket bound, caught between the wall and the bed. Too bad for her, I’m taller than she is. So I just stood up in the bed, still smiling with anticipation just in time to see her slam the bar fine I’d paid her on the kitchen counter and stumble out the door, pulling it closed behind her.
Revenge is a dish best served cold or luke warm upon someone who merely resembles the person you’re after and has no idea what the fuck is going on.
Yours Nigly,
Indy
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Semens gone. I’ll start posting these lol
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How about your fat saggy ass? Must be closing in on the floor by now.
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And you long to be a Kardashian? The Queen of Compton. Classy
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