At dinner with your parents and your boring friends, quietly reflect on how you spent the last half-hour before you arrived with a six-inch dildo in your ass.
Watching a speech by an unpleasant political candidate, calculate whether their head would go splat, whumf, or kapow if you shot it off their shoulders.
Contemplate what you would do with the money after selling photos to Allô Police of a noted televangelist licking the boots of a professional underage male dominatrix.
Wondering if there is a bounty on the head of Richard Simmons, and wondering what portion of the body needs to be intact in order to collect.
Imagine dropping Rudolph Giuliani eye-first directly onto the pointed tip of Constantin Brancusi’s Bird in Space.
Tuba, y’know I love ya, but I think you might want to stay out of the pit. Judging from your sensitivity in the “indecent proposal” thread, you would probably get eaten alive down here. Trust me on this one.
I’m not sensitive about my thread. it suprised and upset me that I recieved so many negative and foul responses that I wasn’t expecting. I thought they would have been nicer. Here I know what I’m getting into.
I like Boris too. Who’s got a problem with Boris? You talking about our Average Poster BorisB? Or another Boris? Boris Badenov? Boris Yeltsin? Boris TooDeath?
Oh, for fucking ride my corpse down the mountain! And I thought I was EVIL.
(Bow, bow) before the embodiment of all that is evil and hateful!
I would light a candle to you but the darkness of your soul would just envelope and extinguish it!
Your entire post is so dark that I can barely see to type…
I guess a hug would be out of the question and probably get me blasted into neither land…
But at times I do think of how my father would feel if he were strapped down, hard, to the boat, flung down the river without oars…
How my step-mother would feel if cock-roaches infested her entire house to the point she wasn’t able to open the door… she would have to EAT her way out!
How my brother-in-law would feel if the booze he so loves was replaced with gasoline and I gave him a lit cigarette…
And how, oh my, the fun I could have with a howitzer that could seek and destroy the boom-box cars in my neighborhood…
Oh, you devil! How you do get me to indulge in evil, hateful, thoughts!
It’s your fault, you bastard!
I’m weak… wanton… oh… my… Goddess… save me! Where’s Slythe?
[ul]
[li]I wonder how fast rats would eat Rosie O’Donnell if she was thrown into a pit of them, perhaps with a few flesh wounds to give the little buggers a head-start (literally).[/li][li]I wonder how much money I would get if I sold The New York Times exclusive photos of Al Gore getting a few jollies from Hillary and some other dog.[/li][li]I wonder how much money I would get if I sold the head of Saddam to Kurdish rebels after I disposed of him in a vat of his own chemical warfare weapons up to the neck.[/li][li]I wonder how long it would take the average KKK member to go completely insane if locked into an 8’x12’x6’ cell, fed irregularly, forced to toilet in a small bucket, completely deprived of human contact, and subjected to hearing the ravings of Malcom X and Al Sharpton all day and all night. I vote three days.[/li][li]I wonder how long it would take the average drug dealer to completely break down if fed a mixture of speed and LSD and then placed into a sensory deprivation tank. With all the drugs already in the average dealer’s system, not very long, doubtless.[/li][li]I wonder how much money I would make if I sold crack cocaine laced with botulism toxin to users. I’d probably get to retire in Bermuda at least.[/li][li]I wonder what the initial reaction of average Holocaust-deniers would be if they were herded into a large, industrial shower system and told that they would soon be cleansed. I think most would die from being trampled by the rest in a mad dash for the doors. Then, as the steam was pumped in, the rest would die of heart attacks, strokes, etc.[/li][li]I wonder how long the average ‘militant vegan’ (so opposed to meat eating they’d kill ranchers to ‘save’ cows) would last if dropped in Banff with a gun, some ammo, and a book on how to kill, dress, and prepare wild game. I think there would be one shot fired and one less idiot. Or there would be numerous shots fired and a well-fed reformed idiot. After all, we all have choices.[/li][/ul]
I leave the creation of more little scenarios as an exercise for the rest of you sick fucks. Just know that I am very capable of becoming the sickest fuck in here if I really tried.
I wonder what it would be like to drive my car like in the game Carmaggedon: Crashing into other cars at 80 without really hurting myself, mowing down peds on the sidewalks, just becasue I can, driving a bright red sprots car with spikes all over it, the better to skewer grannies and dogs with…
I wonder what it would be like to get a sniper rifle and whack some of the fuckers who used to screw with me on a daily basis as a kid…shoot them at 500 yards, then dump the gun in the Ship Channel, after scraping off the serial numbers.
I wonder what it would be like to have every child molester alive squicked by a 12 inch stainless steel red hot dildo.
I wonder what it would be like to grab the person in line in front of me at any given fast food place and beat the shit out of them with a pillow case full of soda pop cans.
I wonder what it would be like to lock that Dodge dip-dip-dip-dipshit spokesman up with Regis Feldman until one of them is forced to eat the other. Then releasing rabid Dobermans on the survivor.
hmmm. My favorite evil thought to quietly enjoy… and I swear one day I’m really going to do this… well, probably not, but if feels good to pretend I will.
First thing I’m going to do is go out and buy an old beater of a car. Then I’m going to go out driving. The first asshole who cuts me off or drives dangerously is going to get it… and then I’ll be all apologetic. “Oh, so sorry sir, that was all my fault…” but the whole time I’ll be looking right into his eyes and grinning the best grin I can. Then he’ll flip out and start screaming, and I’ll keep smiling and apologizing until he swings… then I’m gonna grab his arm and break it, all the while smiling and apologizing. Man, that’s going to feel good, 'cause I’m gonna get the whole thing on tape, and then fry his ass in court. I hate asshole drivers.
:shivers:
I wonder how long my religious homophobic sister in law would last in a small, windowless locked room that was dusty, dirty and filled to near capacity with militant atheistic gays.
I wonder how happy Regis would be if Kathy Lee Gifford were to be slowly dropped in a vat filled with fire ants up to her neck.
Walking into a board meeting with your boss where he expects to crucify you for production problems, mentally review the damning evidence in the file folder under your arm that proves his conflicting requirements are the cause. Bonus points; act nervous and slightly defensive until moments before you chop him off at the knees with a well documented presentation.
While waiting (and waiting (and waiting)) for the antique cashier to very, very slowly scan and pack each item from the overflowing cart ahead of you, wonder how long it would take someone to notice if she slowed to a stop and just seized up.
As some crazed birth defect careens through heavy traffic at 90 MPH, calculate his trajectory after he gets punted into the twilight zone by a cement truck while weaving across 4 lanes. Estimate how tall he will be after his car has ricocheted off a Freightliner logo. Derive the number of flips and tumbles he will complete before the final inverted spinning impact.
Watching the hansome, arrogant new Ivy League MBA management puke verbally abuse the grandfatherly old maintenance man, imagine suddenly switching their brains. Visualize the shock, the slowly dawning realization, the gibbering horror. Picture the oldster, true to form, gracefully forgiving the puke and getting back to work. Follow and watch as the puke flees back to the shop, clamps his head in a bandsaw, and ends it all. Savor the grim irony as he has no clue how to operate the saw and it cuts very slowly.
Visualize slowly lowering a divorce lawyer into a pit filled with freshly divorced female professional wrestlers. Make sure each wrestler is PMSing and whacked to the gills on crystal meth. Give him the choice of taking his chances in the pit or climbing over 10 feet of razor wire. After he climbs over the wire, force him on his knees to empty his bank accounts to pay the wrestlers. Proceed to ferret out the 45% he hid offshore. Casually inform him he has violated a point of procedure and toss him back into the pit. Send the video to his mother and ask her never to create such an abomination again.
I like to visualize my wife’s abusive ex-husband with his bare ass glued to the hood of my car. I further visualize my car making a sudden stop from 80-0 mph, tearing the skin off of his ass cheeks and bouncing him across heavily potholed asphalt into a pool filled with rubbing alcohol. I can then picture myself tossing him a lit road flare instead of a life preserver.
I also like to imagine spitting big globs of tobacco juice on those damned “thetruth.com” punks. Hell, I don’t even chew tobacco, but I’d make the effort just for that one purpose. That’d teach those bastards…
