Overwhelming Lack of Interest.

Due to overwhelming lack of interest, "Guess Who Smells Like Pee" will no longer be a regular component on Subliminal Karate. Of course if we took down every regular feature due to overwhelming lack of interest, we'd stop blogging altogether. I just couldn't think of another person to put up on "Guess Who Smells Like Pee." I'm sure there are candidates, just the names escape me just now. 

Which, in a roundabout way, is me saying I've got fuckall to blog about. Nada. Nothing. Zilchorama. 

I flipped back and forth between the Alamo Bowl and WWE's Raw program and I realized something. I'm no longer a wrestling fan. I haven't really watched wrestling in months, so I thought I'd give it a chance again. I thought it was just the abomination of a title belt that they're using these days, but I was wrong. Professional wrestling just doesn't hold my attention like it used to. 

However, I did watch Mickie James bounce to the ring and had many impure thoughts. She might be able to break my spine, but I somehow doubt that would be a bad thing.

Things will pick up after the new year, I can just about guarantee it. I can also just about guarantee that the year coming up is going to be really damned interesting. 

Everybody have a great celebration if I don't see you before then.

Be excellent.

Well, it's almost here ladies and gentlemen. Of course I'm talking about Boxing Day. For those of you that don't know, Boxing Day is huge in Europe and it involves giving gifts to the less fortunate on the 26th of December. This holiday should be bigger here since so many of us here in America are not what the rich people consider to be blessed. 90 something percent of the country are in the upper low or low middle class and it's getting worse every year. So by God, all you millionaires out there, start dropping some dough and by me something nice.

Happy Boxing Day to all,

Buster

Yep.

Yep. It's Monday. 

Happy Christmas, folks!

Hot Chicks with Chainsaws

So we're starting a new thing today. Bad Movie Review Friday, we'll call it. Anyhow what we're going to do is every Friday we're each going to watch a B-movie, perhaps while drunk, perhaps not, and we're going to write up a review about it. We're also going to use a lot of passive voice. If it works for James Patterson then it can work for us.

So with that being said, I didn't watch a bad movie last night. I stayed up until the wee hours watching old Willie Nelson videos on Youtube and searching vainly for really nasty clown porn. Since I'm still on this kick I'll talk about a movie I've already seen and post a half-assed movie review and call it good.

Because that's what life is about, disappointment. And humping stuff.

Anyhow the inaugural Bad Movie Friday flick is a little gem called Chainsaw Sally. I might even go so far as to call it a modern classic. You have all the archetypal slasher horror elements; unbalanced murderer, unlikeable victims, inventive ways to disembowel folks, and a high school revenge fantasy story line. What makes it work is, this movie's fun, all the way through. 

The titular character, Sally, is by day an unassuming librarian. At night, however, she becomes a power-tool wearing sexpot superhero, protecting her little gay brother from people she deems "bad." See, when our heroes were children, they watched their family get murdered by a gang of vagrants. Sally, while certifiably insane, is human, and you find yourself rooting for her. 

Not that you don't usually find yourself rooting for the killer in every other slasher movie ever made, but that's mostly because horror movie victim types tend to be paper thin jerkoffs you don't give a shit about anyway.

I lost my train of thought. Anyhow Chainsaw Sally is grand. Go check it out. 

Toilet Humor

I got to thinking about watersports the other day, and was just wondering what it takes to get someone to pee on you? I mean seriously, what kind of wierd fetish is it? I honestly couldn't see myself letting someone drop trou and just start pissing away on me. Just like someone dropping trou over you and taking a steamer. I admit, i don't mind a little kink in my sex life, but this is where i draw the line. 2 Girls 1 Cup, anyone? That video is horrendous (I mean I laughed, but it wasn't arousing). Is normal porn really that outdated that we must depend on the grossest shit (pun intended) that we can find? I honestly hope not.

Pick-Up line for the day: Hey baby, if it's true that we are what we eat, then I could be you by morning.

Guess Who Smells Like Pee

So in an effort to get some action going in the comments section we're going to start the next internet gameshow sensation, Guess Who Smells Like Pee.

Our first contestant celebrates making 400 million dollars for basically blowing smoke up people's collective ass by flaunting his moose knuckle in the presence of strippers. Even though it's surmisable that the "Man who runs America" has to pay for sex, the fact that he gets any at all while I frantically thumb through old Lane Bryant catalogues for a hint of nipple in the bra section still chaps my hide.

Okay, so the stripper picture probably isn't him. His face is too grainy and contrast heavy to match anything else in the entire picture. However, I still find it plausible that Rush sports a moose knuckle, and really, is the real picture of him blowing smoke at the camera with his lizard eyes any less damning?

As the great Bill Hicks once stated, Rush does remind me of one of those guys who can't get his piggly wiggly dick up without lying in a bathtub while said strippers join in a semicircle and pee on him. 

Hence this game, Guess Who Smells Like Pee.

Used Panties Update.

So I heard from Buster that a friend of his girlfriend sells her used panties on Ebay and makes pretty good money. We don't have the full details, but I have a sinking suspicion that the 3am Denny's panties get a higher price than the others. This is of course an assumption because we're not sure if she washes them first or what. 

Of course this proves my theory that if you're a girl, some dude somewhere might not even need to see your face. He just wants to sit in the floor and sniff your cooter residue. 

I wonder how widespread this panty-sniffing issue is. I know I'm a pretty boring person, but I guess my sex fetishes are even vanilla in comparison. I don't know, maybe I should go around in private wearing clown makeup with my dick in a cuckoo clock. Yanno, just to fit in.

Anyhow I want to interview this used panties seller. I have questions I need answered.

Here's another sexy clown. Not as sexy as the previous sexy clown. Not by far. However slap some makeup on Nadine here and you have yourself some bouncy peppermint wonderful.

Be excellent.

Godzilla Motherfucking Nutcrackers!

I spent all day getting my ass handed to me at NCAA football on Buster's X-Box and sort of watching Frankenstein Conquers the World. We didn't pay a lot of attention to the flick. Frankenstein wore a diaper and didn't conquer shit. He fought a big climactic battle with a giant armadillo and fell in a hole. That's really all you need to know about that hunk of crap. Frankenstein in a diaper, giant armadillo, they both fall into a hole. The end.

Maybe we should have been paying attention. You never know. Anyhow so here we go on a tangent.

This Christmas season I've gotten into nutcrackers. I dig them. I have myself a little set, they're standing in a semicircle around my tiny Christmas tree. They jazz me. I look at my nutcrackers and I feel festive. Festive, I tell you! I'm thinking to myself, yanno, Mike, these nutcrackers, you could do worse than get more of them. Because they're festive, see. You can't have enough festive. Festive is good. 

In fact, if they had a Godzilla nutcracker, that would just be flipping grand. If I'm on your Christmas list and you happen to find one of those suckers, you pick it up and you give it to me and, I dunno, I'd be pretty jazzed. Merry Christmas indeed.

If you happen to be in the business of making stuff like that, get the fuck on it! Godzilla nutcrackers would sell like flipping hotcakes.

Frankenstein nutcrackers would be pretty cool too, I guess. Not as cool as Godzilla nutcrackers. Or even Mothra. But still pretty cool.

Perhaps, if you're so inclined, you could make sustainable nutcrackers that were hand-made from the Pika Munpo villagers from Burkina Faso. So as not to be all corporate-whorish, and what not. 

Blogger doesn't want to load my friggin' picture today. So just imagine a Godzilla nutcracker in your mind and see how jazzing that would be. Meditate on it. Be one with the Godzilla nutcracker. Feel the quivering in your loins...

Speaking of quivering loins, I like this Bing Bang Theory show. Perhaps because it has Kelly Cuoco and she makes me happy in my happy place. Maybe because I actually kind of perhaps relate to the characters. Mostly it's because of Kelly Cuoco and the impure thoughts I have. 

I'm a sick, sad, weird little man. Well, maybe not so little. I'm 6'4" so I can't be technically little. I'm little on the inside, I guess. It's metaphorical. Fuck, I don't know. 

There's another tangent. I think this would be a good place to stop.

Be excellent.

*okay so now we have an image. It's not a Godzilla nutcracker because apparently they don't fucking exist. So I'll just sit here and say fuck a lot.

Gomer Dogs

If there's one absolute when it comes to white trash gomer idiots, it's that they always have a pit bull somewhere. Usually either tied to a pole or running free. Probably because they're ugly, savage dogs to complement their ugly, savage lives. If you live in Oklahoma and haven't had a beloved family pet killed or maimed by some gomer's loose pit bull, you haven't lived here long enough.

I had Fat Charlie out for his walk earlier and lo and behold, there I see a flipping pit bull trotting towards us down the street. I rushed him inside, and believe me, Charlie protested. There were leaves blowing, and Charlie loves to chase the leaves. I will not let him outside when there are those goddamned dogs out and about, though. I'm not saying that pit bulls are always bad dogs, but when there's a gomer involved, there's no other choice.

When I was about eight we had a border collie mix named Spunky that would dance with you. Our neighbors had a white pit bull that one day jumped the fence and while it didn't kill Spunky, we had to take him to get stitched up and he couldn't walk for a while. Later their dog died and they just left it bloating in the back yard. Charming folks.

I guess you could say I'm a little bit bitter.

Be excellent.

Jeremy.

So firstly everybody welcome Subliminal Karate's new contributor, Jeremy. He's my other hetero-lifemate. With all three of us there's a very good chance we'll be covering a lot of territory and points of view, and the blog will be all the better for it. 

You never know, one day we might get really popular and make enough money for an Illinois Senate seat. I mean, sure, it's an outside chance, but you never know.

Be excellent.

*I'm going to have to find a better picture of Jeremy. In the meantime, here's a gnarly cactus monster.