The True Story of Grizzly Adams

Happier times.

Our story begins in the early 70's on the campus of Rocky Mountain University. Two young fraternity brothers , "Uncle" Jesse Duke and Bob "Grizzly" Adams, were the most popular students on campus. The legends are still told today among students about the times when Jesse and Bob would hide marijuana cigarettes in their beards and smoke them during social economics class, or the time they were caught naked with the dean's assistant in the old clock tower.

After graduation Jesse and Bob both got jobs with a Fortune 500 company in the big city but soon became frustrated and disgusted with the back-stabbing world of big business. They decided to move to Tennessee together and start making moonshine. Jesse's nephews Bo and Luke and their cousin Daisy had a farm there and there was plenty of woodland. Perfect for a moonshine operation. Jesse had just one rule if Bob was to live with them. Hands off Daisy. Jesse should have known better.

Daisy was infatuated with Bob from the start. How could she not be. Big broad shoulders, bright shining smile, flowing glistening beard, and a blanket of chest and back hair that you could just nuzzle into and sleep for days. And so it happened. After a long night of sampling the product, Jesse was awaked to sounds of erotic pleasure coming from the barn. He snuck out and quietly opened the barn door to find Daisy with two handfuls of chest mane riding Bob like a cowgirl at the state rodeo championships.

Uncle Jesse was furious. He kicked Bob off the farm and vowed to kill him if he ever showed his face again. An ashamed Bob left that night, head hung low in dispair. He needed some time alone, some solitude. Something the moutians back home in Colorado could surely provide.

Part two of the True Story of Grizzly Adams coming soon.

GO WARRIORS!

"Inhaling intoxicants!? What!? Not me, no sir. It was cupcake day at the Warriors basketball game and there was golden frosting on the top. You're telling me you're going to arrest me because I'm a messy eater? They were fucking delicious! Excuse me for enjoying my free cupcake you donut eating bastards! "

That gold spray paint must be some good shit, because he was arrested at the Dollar General trying to buy more. You can read about it at the Smoking Gun.

Also from that site, here is a collection of strange mug shots from 2002.

This guy does 3-D street art. I've seen some of it before but this is amazing.

Woman has to take a dump, has a baby instead. My favorite quote from this story is "A few seconds later, Richard Robles III emerged face up in the toilet." It's not bad enough he's going to have to live with the fact that he was born in the shitter, but they named him Dick.

The diver chick who symbolically called Greg Louganis a pussy by smashing her face into the diving borad. This pic is pretty cool. I mean, ouch.

This guy turned his truck into a tornado chasing tank so he could drive directly into tornadoes. I want a ride.

Someone I used to work with knew how to fold dollar bills into a ring and a bowtie. This site shows you how. Like you give a shit.

This site is both sick and wrong. Did I mention extremely funny. Coloringbookland. I hope you brought your demented sense of humor.

Introducing Hot N' Heavy

Thanks to Predator for the photo.

Scenario 1

Bitches and gentlemen, introducing the hottest new R&B sensation since Boys II Men. They've come to soothe you with silky voices and sexy rhythmic dance, and they plan to take no prisoners. One is hot, one is heavy, and with their powers combined, they are........ Hot N' Heavy!!!!!!!

Hot, (pictured at left) has just returned from a gruelling leg of the Tour de France, as you can tell by the mouth watering biker shorts he is sporting. Heavy has been keeping himself busy in the gym while Hot was away, as you can plainly see by the chisled abs and pumped up mustache.

Scenario 2


After years on hiatus wrestling legends Hot N' Heavy have resurfaced and are itching to get back in the ring to bust some heads. Hot N' Heavy skyrocketed to WWF stardom back in the mid-eighties with their balls-to-the-wall technique and irresistible good looks.

After defeating the British Bulldogs to win the World Tag Team Championship title on Saturday Night Main Event in Feburary 1987 they were arguably the most popular tag team in the history of professional wrestling. Unfortunately the preassures of fame and fortune led to drug abuse and womanizing, an all to common story in the chaotic world of wrestling entertainment. Hot, (pictured at left) was introduced to crack cocaine by friend and colleague Jake "The Snake" Roberts. The drug soon took over his life and Hot disappeared from public life. Heavy became a sex addict, sometimes doing the nasty with 12 prostitues in a single afternoon. A rare case of the clap made him shrink a full three feet and left him with an irreversible white trash mullet.

Against all these odds they are back to regain the respect and adoration of the wrestling world. We know you can do it Hot N' Heavy, because just like the Hulkster, you are some real Americans.

It's links day, yay! Yay yay! I'm excited! Let's look at some links! Yay!

No, seriously, here are some links.

In this installment of Crazy Wisconsin Drunk Driver Chick, our hero hits a car at a drive through, drives on the rim until pieces of it break off sending a flaming chunk through a second story apartment window, and then the police have the bullshit nerve not to let her drive home.

The Sock-head Sign Killer. His last name is Strange, literally.

Advice of the day: If you are a police officer called to Wal-Mart to deal with a disgruntled old man in a wheelchair, just stun-gun his ass right away before things get out of hand.

Ma'am your baby was born with a blood alcohol level of .21, three times the legal limit, what are you going to name him? "Maybe Milwaukee's Best." Someone shoot this lady, she may reproduce again.

Dad sheep - "Son, just because everyone else in the flock jumps off a cliff doesn't mean you have to."
Son sheep - "Yes it does, dad. We're sheep."

Remeber Africanized killer bees? Prepare yourself for Africanized killer cows.

World's Ugliest Dog. Screw that, more like world's ugliest anything.

If you run out of paper and you really need to get something printed, don't try this.

Steve Don't Eat It. This guy eats some really disgusting crap and writes all about it. It's fantastic.

Type something in and this website will speak it. You were bored anyway, right?

Look, it's thousands of concert posters. Kinda cool to look through.... or not.

Drunkenstepfather.com - pure entertainment.

Another zombie shooting game. This one is much fun. Enjoy it or something.

Assphinchter says what?

Why does your face keep farting?

You know how some people can make a farting sound kinda between their cheek and their gums. I really can't explain exactly what I mean, and for that I apologize. On with the story.

This nice older lady recently signed up for our internet service and has been having issues learning the ropes. Since she signed up she has spoken with all of us here in support a couple times. She has affectionately been dubbed "fart face".

I don't know if its some form of Tourette's but she farts with her mouth. ALL THE TIME. Sometimes it's not so bad. After she says a sentence there will be a "fart...fart fart", and that will be it. Sometimes a mouth fart will slip out in mid-sentence in between words. "So where , fart, do I click, fart-fart, to get to the options, fart, screen? fart-fart-fart-fart-fart." Sometimes it's like an ass machine gun shooting out farts in rapid succession. It's kinda hard to listen to at 8am sharp and she's the first call of the day farting in your face for 20 minutes. But I don't hold it against her I'm sure she can't help it.

One customer who really sucks is someone that CAN help it. But she chooses to be a terrible annoying bastard. Gum Chewing Lady. This lady really needs to cancel her internet service because I have her address and if I have to hear her chomping that shit in my ear once more I'm going to her house and taking all her gum. And burning it. And I'm going to make her watch. I'll give you an example of a typical call with GCL.

Me - (Answering the phone and just about to do my stupid greeting.) Before I even get a word out I hear the terribleness.

GCL - "Chomp chomp chomp chomp chomp."

Me - Oh dear god.. why me. "Thank you for calling blah blah blah how may I help you?"

GCL - "Chomp chomp, yeah is your internet down again, chomp smack chomp chomp."

Me - Yes, the internet is down again. But only if the internet being down means you fucked up your password again for the 10th time this month and can't retype it correctly. Of course I don't actually say this. "No ma'am we are not having any outages or problems at this time, what error are you getting?"

GCL - "Well, chomp chomp, it's saying my password is wrong, chomp chomp chomp, and I know I haven't changed anything, chomp chomp, so why do you people keep putting up this error, chomp chomp chomp smack chomp bubble, its getting very frustrating, chomp."

Me - Ok listen up. First of all spit out the fucking gum or I am hanging up. Second, WE are not 'putting up errors' on your damn screen. It's your computer's job to remeber the password and its your computer that is displaying that error. Lastly, this is the TENTH TIME YOU'VE CALLED IN THIS MONTH, just retype the stupid password and you won't have to call in and terrorize me with your cud chewing bullshit. "Well I'm sorry ma'am but your computer seems to be corrupting the password again, have you tried retyping it?"

GCL - "Chomp chomp chomp, well no, why should I have to. I guess I can try that, chomp chomp. You guys should really get this fixed. Your company is really going down the tubes."

Me - Oh my god, fuck off.

Terrorists Suck

Pieces of human splattered on a wall in London.

About 20 years ago I was taking my daily crap. Dropping turds like they were hot. I was just finishing up when I heard a splashing from the bowl below. To my shock and horror, a turd lept from the water and slid across the tile, leaving a streak of residue. The turd skidded to a stop and stood upright, shaking its turd head. It opened its eyes and looked up at me.

Turd - "Hi, I'm a terrorist."

Me - "What?! You're a turd. You shouldn't even be talking right now. How did you grow legs?"

Turd - "You can just not fucking worry about it. I'm a terrorist."

Me - "Ok fine. Somehow I can accept the fact that you are a walking talking poop chunk with the gift of vision, but why do you keep saying you're a terrorist?"

Turd - "Thats a stupid ass question. I'm a terrorist. That's just what I am, end of story."

So I look into the turd's eyes and I can't help but feel some fatherly connection to him. I mean, he came out of me. I gave poop birth to him. It's now my responsibility to raise him correctly. I decided to name him Stinky. I tried other names but, c'mon, he smelled like shit, what else could I name him. I raised him as if he were my son. Taught him how to throw a baseball, took him fishing, taught him math, educated him on the ways of the woman, all the tools a young lad needs.

Well the years rolled by as they always do. Time and space fucking us over. Before I knew it, little Stinky was graduating high school. He looked so distinguished in his little turd cap and turd gown. He had gotten a scholarship for an overseas university in the UK. We cried and hugged at the airport. I gave him a kiss on the cheek. Wiping the poop from my lips and a tear from my eye I watched him board the plane.

One year later, July 7, 2005. On the news I see the horrible pictures of the terrorist attack in London. I read the news articles about childrens faces being blown off and other terrible human suffering. How could someone do that to innocent people just trying to get to work. They don't make the policies of the world government. They aren't "infidels" in your precious fucking desert. I become disgusted. Then I start to panic. Stinky is in London at school! Oh dear God I hope he's ok.

Just then the phone rings. It's Stinky. He's alive and well. I'm so relieved my boy is safe.

Me - "Stinky, I'm so happy that you're ok."

Turd - "Yes, I'm fine. Dad... I have to tell you something."

Me - "Well what is it, son?"

Turd - "I was responsible for the attack today. I'm 3rd in command for the European al Qaeda."

Me - "What? No. This can't be. I raised you. I brought you up with the golden rule and taught you to love your neighbor. How could this happen?"

Turd - "I'm sorry Nick. But you knew from the beginning I was nothing but a piece of shit terrorist."

Click.


It's hard to make light of the bombings in London. But if I can't laugh at things, no matter how horrific, I might as well throw in the towel. The bottom line is terrorists are pieces of shit. And I hate them. Have a fantastic weekend.

Hi.

Whats THAT!?!


These guys are so happy. It's so heart-warming don't you think. The guy in yellow is Frontal Butt Cheeks, the second guy is Large Balls McChubbs (you see it don't you?), the third guy is Shades Man Tits, the next one is Comparatively Small Chest Hair Excited Man, and I have no name for the last dude. There are just too many possibilities.

So anyway here are some things from the fantastic world wide web that are mildly entertaining.

Masturbate For Peace - what a fantastic concept.

Rejected Crayon Names

Metal rules, especially when you put silly ass make-up on and end up looking like terrible fake Gene Simmonses. Is Simmonses a word. Now it is.

This guy is one sick perv. But you can't doubt his dedication. Or maybe he's just a sick perv.... with dedication.

Andrew Dice Clay. He doesn't like to be fucked with. Even if he's not really being fucked with. But I love him. The funniest part is when he's spewing obscenities while Mr. CNN is trying to go to commercial.

Robert Smigel does Micheal Jackson. Not literally. But this is funny stuff.