Here's a little something for you not slutty enough bitches out there

A-Machine thy name is misogyny...

Why the fuck do I have to send a picture at all? Why the fucking fuck won’t you pay for my fucking meal? I’m the one that has to listen to you talk about how mother fucking magazine ads are distorting your body image? You’re fucking fat. Fucking get over it, ya fat fuck. Fuck. Also, why the fuck do you want to make sure that it's strictly platonic, not fucking? Fuck yea.

For fuck's sake, you D.C. women need to pull your diplomas (all three) out of your fucking asses. Great. You're intelligent. You're discovering what we men have known for years. There is a lot of room in our asses.

There is a parable about a happy monkey called Sherbert. Sherbert lived in Israel, in the time of Jesus, and was a very happy monkey because his owner was a kind man who gave him dates and bananas and allowed him to watch the adult channels after the kids had gone to bed. All Sherbert had to do to earn this exemplary Jewish hospitality was do some tricks to cheer the kids up when they were sad, allow himself to be hugged, and not crap in the bloody kitchen (although, as Sherbert tried to point out, the floor of the whole stone hut was covered in shit anyway, so why discriminate?)

One day, Sherbert noticed that the people who lived next door to his owners had bought their children a parrot to play with, a beautiful creature of myriad colours who stunned all who beheld him fly. They called him Rainbow, and he became much loved in the area (although some were wary of his little ice skates. I mean, this is the fucking desert, you know?) Sherbert, however, was happy to have a new animal friend in the area, who he could smoke snouts with round the back of the house during the day, and could complain to about the ongoing stupidity of the dominant race. But soon Sherbert, as any animal in a basic story such as this would, began to feel the green eyed monster, and shortly after became jealous of the parrot as well. So, one monkey night while he was curled up in his divan bed, he hatched a plan.

The next day, little Jehusapha, the youngest daughter of the family, watched in bemusement as Sherbert began to prowl around the house squawking. Later, he climbed to the roof, and, still making that odd coughing sound that didn't come naturally to his monkey vocal organs, he flapped his arms and jumped off. Sherbert died three hours later in hospital.

And ladies. Sex isn't your worst enemy. Just plagiarism. See above and what happened to poor fucking Sherbert. As soon as you figure out how to enjoy it, sex not plagiarism, you'll be able to have your cake and fucking eat it too. Try checking out how fun fucking can be on a Thursday, Friday, or Saturday night or Saturday morning. Or Tuesday, I’m available then too. You're not going to wind up married until you're fucking 34 or 35 when you lower your fucking standards anyway. So in the meantime, do yourself a favor. Pull down them little satin-like drawers you're wearing, comb through those hairs until you find the tingle that makes your cheeks go flush, spread them wings, and let the Mr. Banana Hammock-machine into your life.

I also prefer internet porn to magazines...shit?

He gets letters:

"you seem very angry. hope you find the woman of your dreams w/ that demeanor. eesh."

"geessh why sooo hostile?"