Archive for Filthy Sex

There’s a Dirty Joke in Here Somewhere

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Come on, Temple, think. There’s a dirty joke in here somewhere. Come on! It’s posting time, gotta put something out there. This is an easy one. Think!

What, are you guys filming a porn in … no. That sucks. You can do better.

I bet your mom would like a hot blast of … BULLSHIT! This isn’t a rap battle between eighth graders! People will read this! OK, OK. Take a step back, let’s try to be a little more subtle.

Perhaps the gentlemen is merely practicing for when he comes in contact with a comely lady whilst on shore leave … OK, now you sound like Dayn Perry but with an even bigger learning disability.

You’ve written 259 posts for this site, not to mention the two that had to be taken down. You need to focus. Cistulli won’t put up with this when the season starts. BE. CREATIVE. YOU. PRICK.

Let’s deconstruct this. A guy is blasting something. There’s white stuff. The liquid is hot.

Hey, this team stinks enough as it is. Now I have to get a bukake … is that right? How do I not know what bukake means? Better Google it to make … JESUS CHRIST!

Screw it. Not posting today. I’ll come back tomorrow with fresh eyes. This is going to bug me, though. There’s a dirty joke in here somewhere.

 


Joe West to Attend Halloween Party as Promiscuous Umpire

joewesthalloween


Drinking with Boileryard Clarke: Dayn Perry Celebrates Himself & Baseball

At times and perforce, the homilist’s greatest rhetorical device is knowing when to fall silent and allow the miracles to unfurl in that silence, like an abundant dong released from its underthings. Now is such a time . . .

Mitzvah Chaps is very proud to announce that Dayn Perry — husband, father, dog owner, sports writer, practicing Catholic, non-proselytizing vegetarian, Mississippi native, Chicago resident, zealous and abiding fan of the St. Louis Cardinals, and creator of at least one ugly-ass weblog — and I have collaborated to make a chapbook of Dayn’s writings entitled Drinking with Boileryard Clarke: Dayn Perry Celebrates Himself & Baseball. Dayn made all the writings, I did the arranging of said writings into pages, then printed, collated, and assembled the pages and a cover into a chapbook.


Covers by Daniel Rolf. All other filth by Dayn Perry.

Info:

  • Sixteen choice Dayn Perry pieces with accompanying images, many of them reproduced in full, modern color.
  • Charming introduction by the author himself.
  • Letterpressed covers designed by Daniel Rolf of Sensitive House and printed at Bay View Printing Co.

This is now a real object that you can hold in your hands. Check out the Table of Contents, and a spread from the book.

It is a peculiar object, too, perhaps, given that all of the writings contained in Drinking with Boileryard Clarke (save for the author’s introduction) have previously appeared at this very internet, and are still, to this moment, available for viewing at this internet. So why make a chapbook, then, you might ask.

Read the rest of this entry »


Two Steps to Confusion

1.) Search for Juan Francisco on Google.
2.) Click on ‘image search.’

Franklin Rabon is a master of confusionism.


My Intentions for This Home Run, As Told by Boyz II Men

Look, I’m not saying I would buy a sex robot. But if I did, its face would be a flat screen playing this on a loop.


Claude Raymond Is Ready for Love

English rock-and-or-roll supergroup Bad Company, who combined with Foreigner to encourage sex in hallways and multi-purpose arenas across Christendom, once queried: “Are you ready for love?” The aria is a tale — a necessary tale — of the everyman who is rendered urgent, turgid and veiny for immediate and driving coitus.

As it turns out, “Ready for Love” was inspired by right-hander Claude Raymond, who pitched to middling effect in the major leagues from 1959-1971. Bear nubile witness:

A Rumor of Pecker

As implied by his 1966 and 1967 baseball cards, Mr. Raymond walked around for two full years in a state of partial and suggestive undress. This is because he was ready for love.

Chroniclers of Raymond’s day took to calling him “The Un-Bezippered Corsican Rogue.” While such a sobriquet misstated Raymond’s origins, the prevailing incrimination — that of a pecker lurking in wait — could not plausibly be denied.

Just two years after Raymond retired from baseball, he served as a session bassist for Bad Company’s self-titled debut album. It was during those boozy marathon studio conclaves that Raymond’s story was told and subsequently put to vinyl.

While modern society has forced Raymond to leash his organ, he remains ready for the possibilities — love among them.