BUT first a SkullGame Public Service FRED BURKE Announcement ...
RECOGNIZE THE HOUSE?
...street crime is running rampant...with no regard to class, race, religion, or the fact that you live in apartment 108 in the Truman building. It could strike anywhere, anytime at all...in the streets, byways or apartment 108 in the Truman building where just about any FRED BURKE might find themselves shot, stabbed, or strangled for 50 cents, a TV, or a very, very heavy drug burn, for example. So all of you FRED BURKE be careful out there. In apartment 108. In the Truman building.
Thanks for listening.
ANOTHER ITALIAN SALVO: THE COCK-BLOCKING ELF: FACT? OR GODDAMNED MOTHERFUCKING FICTION?
SIGHTING NUMBER 1 OF THE ELF IN ACTION: "HEYYYYY....I FUCKING LIVE HERE TOO, YOU KNOW..."
On Thursday night myself and a friend found ourselves at a neighborhood sports bar in a neighborhood neither of us was from. The one and only contributing factor to us being at this aforementioned sports bar in the aforementioned neighborhood was the fact that my aforementioned friend had worked there until just recently and was still able to buffalo drinks out of the bartenders on shift that night.
Now picture, if you will, the both of us sitting belly to bar knocking back shots of whiskey, first Makers Mark--as the evening progressed Jack Daniels and finally Single Malt Jack Daniels, we both sat at the corner of the bar by ourselves laughing and drinking, drinking and laughing, drinking…ever drinking. In my field of vision, which had not yet been dimmed by the alcohol, I noticed two extremely attractive tall blonde females, noticing them the way you would notice a nice car in a parking lot, I see, I appreciate the fact that they are attractive, make note of it, fold it up and tuck it away in my head.
No sooner then the scribbled mental note was folded and tucked away both blondes ended up walking toward us. Walking….ever walking. We continued to talk as they made their way to a spot adjacent to us at the bar, sitting kitty corner from where they sat down, our conversation stutter stepped, a fact that they noticed, and then continued. “Sorry to cut in on your conversation.” The taller of the two interjected. “We were just wondering how it was that the two best looking guys in the bar are sitting all by the themselves in the corner.” (Momentary Silence)
So there we are, momentarily stunned by the aforementioned blondes in the aforementioned bar in the aforementioned neighborhood preparing to parry the opening volley… “Where, that corner?” Says my friend pointing to the other side of the bar, he then looks behind himself and says. “ Is there someone behind me?” They laugh, he laughs, I laugh, we laugh. Myself, my friend, the aforementioned blondes in the aforementioned bar in the aforementioned neighborhood that coincidentally neither of us was from, the blondes included! All laughing.
Then I spotted it, him, it, have you ever seen grainy video of a tornado in….Nebraska? You see the twister coming, you see the destruction in its wake but above all…. you see it coming.
SIGHTING NUMBER DOS (AN ARTIST'S RENDERING): "ARE YOUSE PROSTITUTES?!?!"
In this case this was a neighborhood drunk who was sporting a stupid beige outfit and a matching stupid beige grin, along with that…a case of male pattern baldness that just screams out “let it go man!” As he made his way toward us I had just enough time to nudge and, it…it…out of time. It hit and it hit hard “Tits, yeah! Tits strippers! Yeah, tits and strippers!”
I just dropped my head in disbelief. How often does this happen? Two women approach you! The aforementioned blondes in the aforementioned bar in the aforementioned neighborhood that coincidentally neither of us was from, the blondes included! All leaving, walking leaving…ever leaving.
Then…only quiet, I was about to raise my head and could feel the smoke coming out of my ears. Gone was the deer in the headlight feeling now only rage, an erection-fueled rage, the rage of an erection that will never be. Anger, rage, anger and rage for the aforementioned drunk. The drunk from the aforementioned bar, in the aforementioned neighborhood, a neighborhood that was magically missing its drunk. He was gone, it was almost as if he said: “my job is done here!” and he took off his cock-blocking cape and scampered off.
Who does these things, who cock blocks at such a high level and then just disappears? Was he a mythical cock-blocking Elf? Who does these things?!?
LT. TODD ATKINS RETURNS IN BIRTHDAY PARTY BRAWL
"FALLUJAH??? I LOVE IT."
"I took my little brother to a pool party last night because his best friend had a birthday party. To start with, I was in a foul mood because of some of the internet yappers who had been talking smack behind their keyboards who wouldn't have dared say that to my face. Secondly, some jackass Navy officer had forced me to take a bodyfat test and I had failed. The fucking Navy has decided to dock my pay each month until I get down to 15% bodyfat, which could take months of dieting. Needless to say, I was pissed.
As I took my little bro into the backyard, I wanted to take a look and see who my possible opponents were. As I have learned in the Navy and in martial arts, opponents exist everywhere but it is up to the individual to locate them. There were a couple of tough looking guys, but I was pretty confident in my abilities as a fighter. I have been training pretty hard with Scrapper lately and was jumping at the chance to test out which worked better in a real brawl, the Navy's Hand-to=Hand or Scrapper's NHB style.
My little bro played in the pool for a while and I could sense that I was getting stared at the whole time. It was hot outside, so I had taken my shirt off. The mothers of the kids were staring at me in admiration of my physique and the fathers of the kids were staring at me in jealousy of my good looks and the fear of possibly having to cross me. I just stood there pretending not to notice anything and look intimidating with my arms crossed to show off my biceps and tattoos.
The night went on and eventually it was time for the kids to hit the pinata. I volunteered to make sure the little 10 year olds stayed in line and kept my intimidating stare fixed on them in case they started to go wild. Sure enough, one of them did. Some little fat boy tried to cut in line in front of my bro and I wasn't about to permit it. I fixed my icy glare on the future fatty but he ignored it, hoping I would forget about him. Instead I spoke up and with my deep manly voice told the little cheat to hurry up and move his fat ass to the back of the line and drop the stick, or else. His parents immediately came over.
“Excuse me? What did you just say to our son?”
And with that, the father tried to stare me down. The father soon turned his head and blinked, scared to look at me in the beginning stages of a vicious rage. As it turns out, the mother wasn’t as easily intimidated. Instead of wasting my valuable time on some dumb broad, my mind resorted back to the training I had received under Scrapper. I reached back and shoved the kid to the ground and took the pińata stick from his hands. Then I delivered a stunning blow across the face of the wife, knocking her to the ground while she screamed in agony. The husband charged me and even absorbed a blow from the pińata stick before taking me to the ground. Apparently, he was some type of trained wrestler. It didn’t matter, because Scrapper and the Navy had taught me exactly what to do in a situation like this.
I placed him in my guard, reached my hand up and squeezed his balls until he let go of me. Then I hopped up and delivered a powerful spinning kick across his face, knocking him senseless. Their little kid had gotten back up and was trying to bite my leg after watching me beat down his parents. I decided to teach this punk a lesson by suplexing him into the pool headfirst. I followed him down into the pool and held his head underwater until he apologized to me for causing the whole scene.
Afterward, I jumped out of the pool and looked around. I asked if anyone else wanted to test the Navy's finest, but no one even had the brass to look me in the eye. I put my shirt back on, did a little flex for the ladies, picked up my little brother, cut a slice of birthday cake for myself on the way home, and left. It was a hard lesson to learn, but at least now that little kid realizes serious consequences exist for cheating.
Lt. Todd “The Teacher” Atkins (TM)
NEWSFLASH: INTERSPECIES MARAUDER & SEXY TALKER SEAN PENN FUCKS SAN FRANCISCO SUICIDE GIRLS IN LOCAL HOTELS FOR FUN & AMUSEMENT. SKULLGAME HOPES TO GET IN ON "SOME OF THAT."
PENN (RIGHT) WITH WRIGHT (MIDDLE) WITH FAMILY "FRIEND" (BOTTOM)
SAN FRANCISCO (SkullGame) --
"Ohmigod. You won't believe what happened to me last night."
"You fell on some cock."
"But WHOSE? You see I was out drinking and Sean PENN was there drinking and next thing I know we were at this hotel and we were fucking. Well he was. Fucking. And coming too quickly. But we still were fucking. If that's what you'd call what he did with a cock that small. Jesus. Forget I even said anything. Don't tell anyone. Pleaaaassseee? He's married, you know."
"Oh. Our lips are fucking sealed."
AND FROM THE LAST UPDATE...
This edition of SkullGame is brought to you by our friends at Red Light District. Specifically, MR. VINCE VOUYER, a friend and supporter of SkullGame and apparently now the victim of a damnable attack on his decency and honor via the wide dissemination of a photo purporting to BE Vince...
OH, OH...I WAS ON MY WAY TO THE WHITESNAKE VIDEO AUDITION, GOT LOST & ENDED UP HERE. CAN YOU HELP ME PLEASE?!?!
...but who is in actuality a very, very, very gay man. This slight will not stand, Vince! And we will do all in our earthly powers to prevent your good name from being dragged through a veritable pageantry of faggotry via
THIS VERY PHOTO!!!
We promise, Vince.
And because our RACISM IS RIGHT ON!!! issue was such a resounding success we'll return in the near future with our newest installments, "JEWYJEWJEWJEW," "NEGRO, NIGRA, NIGGER: NIGHTTRAIN," and rounding out the troika, "YES, YOU SPEAK SPANISH, BUT YOU'LL ALWAYS BE MADE OUT OF MUD TO ME."
GET YOUR PRIORITIES STRAIGHT, AMERICA: MORE OVERTIME FOR TIRED COPS!!!!
And so if we, in our one small way, in our one cozy corner of the family of man's family room can do our part to spread unity and brotherhood through virulent racism, well then we will, goddamn it we will.
RAYMOND J. JUSTIN JONES JR., THE 3RD, FATNESS, BITCHES & DEAD JUNKIES STARRING IN...FAT, CRAZY GIRLS LOVE ELLIOT SMITH!
YOU LAUGH? WELL, NORTH CAROLINA CRIES. AND THEN DROPS A LOAD.
NORTH CAROLINA (SkullGame) -- Some of you with high tolerance for low standards may have found yourselves in a situation such as this: I walk into a bar, and sit down next to the biggest girl there with braids. And glasses. She immediately turns to me and starts talking. Two things become apparent almost instantly.
1. She is fucking loony.
2. I am going to end up getting drunk and fucking a loony.
And not only is she fucking insane, but she has that special, self-absorbed, Howard Cosell-like laser focused insanity. You know, the crazies who love to talk your ear off about this and that, but as soon as you attempt to interject with any response that veers slightly from the talking points of this + them or that + them, or the war in Iraq or something, you know, that's NOT about their self-absorbed fantasy world, it is deflected and they return, like a dog in heat to dog cock, to the same boring tales sprung from their own dementia.
I hate these people! Here's a tip: if you're crazy, you should open yourself up to other crazies, allow for off-the-wall, two-sided, pointless discussions about leprachauns, fairies, celebrity obsessions, or whatever your particular avenue of psychosis is. You could learn new, interesting, stupid things to add to your own fractured frontal lobe.
Her: "There is one man with many different faces."
Me: What?
Her: "Actually, there is one man, and there is Elliot Smith."
Me: Who the fuck is Elliot Smith?
I AM ELLIOT SMITH. I AM PERSONAL FRIEND'S WITH THE ARGENTINE. I WAS STABBED BY A JUNKIE. MAKE OF THIS WHAT YOU WOULD.
Her:"He is the most beautiful musician in the world, I have to release him from purgatory when I die"
Me: What other music do you like?
Her: "I have a painting of him, do you want to see it?"
Me: I have a feeling you're going to show me, regardless of what my response is.
It went on like this for a loooong time. Later, as I was fucking her, she insisted on having her painting stare at us. I woke up later with her attempting to spoon with me. I said some really romantic shit to her along the lines of, "Get your fucking knee out of my back. And, oh, It's time for you and Elliot to get the fuck out."
Remembering the evening before I was happy that I had taken evasive maneuvers to guarantee that I not be seen leaving with her because you can't be too careful. Women seem to have ready access to the Who's Who Who Fucked Fat Crazy Bitches Newsletter. Happy about the manuevers. Sad about what the manuevers led to. And completely indifferent now that I find out Elliot Smith is dead. So is CLIFF BURTON but you don't see me turning oxygen into exhaust because of it do you?
WISH THEY ALL COULD BE CALIFORNIA SNAGS: THE LOS ANGELES HANDBOOK OF HO'S & TELS
Which top business hotel should you, the weary (weary from NOT load dropping), choose in Beverly Hills? If you wanna blow loads?
LEVANI AT MOTEL 6: WE'D LEAVE THE LIGHT ON FOR YOU, BUT THEY BEEN SHOT OUT
Four Seasons: The first room in the bar is known as the Non-Pay Sex room, the second is LA's top, and most obvious, place to pick up a high-end hooker.
Peninsula: The best spot for upmarket Russians (called Natashas in LA). Prices start at $500 an hour. Customers say they are up for anything, whereas local call-girls are "over-priced, under-performing, paranoid about sexually transmitted diseases and about being busted by over-enthusiastic vice cops." Lesbians.
L'Ermitage: Management have made the hotel a hooker-free zone. On the upside, if your father was a jackal, BRITNEY sometimes stays here and looks like she'll soon be on the rebound.
WANT TO BE A PROSTITUTE? BUT LACK THE EDUCATION? TRY...
INDIAN PROSTITUTE FOR PROSTITUTE APPLICATIONS, WHICH ARE NOW AVAILABLE AT WWW.INDIANPROSTITUTE.ORG
No, no, no. No need to thank us now.
AND FROM EARLIER THIS WEEK:
SKULLGAME PERSONAL OF THE MONTH: Woman 4 MMMMMMMM
WE, OF COURSE, RESPONDED EXPRESSLY TO RECEIVE HER PHOTO. PRESENTED HERE FOR YOUR CONFUSED AMUSEMENT.
"38-year-old housewife seeking a little excitement and a scenario that runs thusly. You (any age, any race) meet my husband in the hotel parking lot. He brings all 8 of you to our room. You all fuck me all at once, take turns fucking me, beat me up, piss in my mouth, cum on my face, spit on me, fuck my ass and my pussy at the same time, verbally abuse me, treat me like a pig for as long as you can keep it up.
One last thing: NO MARRIED MEN cuz I just don't play that.
Email a photo of your cock to missjoykitty@yahoo.com"
BILLY BOB THORNTON REPORTEDLY “GIVES NOT A FUCK” THAT EX-EFFEXOR CASE OF HOMEBITCH ADOPTS A SKINNY IN GROTESQUE CASE OF ETHICAL EGOISM.
"I AM A MULTIMILLIONAIRE. NOW GIVE ME YOUR PICKANINNIES!!!"
LOS ANGELES (SkullGame) -- BILLY BOB THORNTON, certified pimp motherfucker and SkullGame enthusiast, told reporters Tuesday afternoon that he “couldn’t give half a fuck about what a bitch does with his alimony payment after she’s already huffed down Brad Pitt’s dong and fucked her own brother”—adding, “dry-humping HALLE BERRY was a hell of a better way to spend a day than counting ANGELINA's meds and tying her to the goddamn water heater for days on end.”
Jolie, who adopted the orphaned Zahara Marley last month, could not be reached for comment as she was supposedly too busy reading Ayn Rand and justifying her own filthy rich existence by answering Feed The Children junk mail in some futile attempt to make the upper 1% look like it gives a shit about the bottom 99.
“I’m not even going to act like I care about what’s going on in Sub-Saharan Africa, what with all the pussy, drugs, and royalty checks I’m swimming in day after day,” Thornton remarked from his southern California mansion that is decorated with the hides of former charity cases. “Angelina is a little more deluded; she thinks that if she takes some spare change every week and buys these kids graham crackers that somebody, somewhere, will actually go watch that piece of shit movie she just did with her new faggot of a boyfriend. Me? I’m a bit more of a realist.” To which he then slipped in a DVD of Ducktales and proceeded to laugh maniacally.
When asked to comment on Jolie’s new tabloid love interest, Thornton said “She only gives head for the first 6 weeks or so anyhow, just like the rest of those whores, and then it’s all about talking and shit. I think he’ll do fine, seeing as how he’s half-a-homo anyhow. I mean, if you can put up with somebody who used to be on Friends for years and years then I’m sure you are enough of a pussy to deal with Angelina’s charade.”
“Rail?”
TOM "SLAPPY" SIZEMORE EVEN WONDERS WHY HE AIN'T IN JAIL YET.
"THIS IS FROM MY NEW VIDEO. IT'S CALLED I'M FUCKING YOU RIGHT NOW! IT'S GREEEATTTT...."
Troubled actor TOM SIZEMORE is battling a rare medical condition that leaves him sexually insatiable. A quality that has his potential cellmates at Soledad beside themselves with ass-raping joy. The star was recently diagnosed with priapism, which doctors believe could have been caused by years of alcohol and drug abuse. Either that or the steady supply of high caliber ginch afforded by being a rich sonuvabitch.
Sizemore's manager says, "He can have sex nine times without stopping. Which is under par for the average Hollywood type who's fucking everyone...out of everything....as often as possible. His condition explains his sexual addiction. He's in the midst of a massive depression, what with having to fuck all the time, being rich and taking all the drugs he can shovel in his piehole, but he's making tremendous progress. Especially if by progress you mean fucking all the time, being rich and taking all the drugs he can shovel in his piehole."
Tucker claims Sizemore's addiction prompted the actor to rig video cameras up around his house, which for the past three years have documented his activities with a string of women he has lured back to his California pad. Three such tapes have been allegedly stolen and are expected to be released on the www.skullgame.com.
CALLING ALL MEXICANS!!! CALLING ALL MEXICANS!!! WITH OR WITHOUT BMX BIKES!!!
"Hello. My name is JENNIFER STEELE and hot on the whorish heels of my highly touted art installation entitled MY ALL MIDGET GANGBANG, I am bringing forth to you...an all-Mexican gangbang!!! Well I guess all-Mexican except for me. Anyways, the movie is slated to shoot in L.A. in mid-August and I'm seeking Mexicans to come give me the hardest pounding of my life. Be they bus boys, gardeners, pool jockeys, arugala pickers, painters, those guys with the little ice cream carts with the bells on them or just the guys with the bags of oranges standing by the freeway offramp. I will fuck them all. Since I've been going to all these conventions, I have to say all the Mexican fans stopping by my booth are so hot I want to throw them down on my table right then and there. And I don't mean Latino. I mean full-blown fucking MEXICANS! With the goddamned sobreros and everything Mexicans! I want names like Hector, Paco, and Angel to be fucking me every which way possible. I want descendants of over-the-border, strawberry pickers and auto-mechanics bending my ass over and calling me Mami while they all violate my various orifices."
Submissions should be sent with photo and contact info to jennifersteele69@hotmail.com. All gangbangers will be tested by AIM HealthCare.
SKULLGAME'S SERIOUS SEX POSITIVE SKANK DISCUSSION--PORN: BOON OR BANE?
YEAH YEAH, BABY. I 100 % PERCENT UNDERSTAND ALL OF WHAT YOU'RE SAYING...
SAN FRANCISCO (SkullGame) -- In a recent tete a tete, SkullGame's pajandrum VINNIE ROSE debated the benefits of heterosexual porn with a sex positive feminist who while willing to debate didn't want to contribute to "the sewer that is SkullGame," by having her name appear in print here; a decision that you can be sure we'll honor, MS. ANN OSMOND.
ANN OSMOND: Yes. I understand the attractions to erotic materials but it seems overridingly negative to me and distorts ideas of what should occur between men and women.
VINNIE ROSE: You're 100 % right. I've felt that for a long time myself.
AO: Really? But you're like Mr. SkullGame!
VR: Baby, I just do that for the money [shut the fuck up...DON'T laugh!!! I'm working here!!!--Editor].
AO: Well anyway [picking up and into a righteously indignant quasi-lesbo rage], I'm just not so sure that pornography is all that good for women.
VR: I'm not so sure that HETEROSEXUALITY is good for women. Knuckled under to the psychic and emotional dictates of men who are half as smart as you and twice as unworthy. It's...it's DISGUSTING.
AO: YES! That's exactly what I've been thinking. What are you doing?
VR: I just hate what we've been driven to do. [rising while clutching crotch.] I hate it so much. So much that I'm going to PUNISH myself via the hated organ that stands between you and me and harmony. Ooooooo....I hate it soooooo much. I'm going to strangle IT!!! No!!! NO!!! I can't!!! But I must!!! LOOK, LOOK, how it's fighting me!!! Help me!!! You grab it too!!! Oh, oh, OHHHHH...look out it!!!! It's going for your FACE!!!! AGGGHHHHHH....Jesus. Fucking Shit. I...I...think we won....Did it spit in your face? The truly last act of a desperately doomed organ. But together we, you and me, womyn and man, have conquered our gender-based biases and emerged stronger. And prouder. And more sleepy and in need of a beer and a sandwich. Which it'd be great if you could get for me on your way out sister!
STRIKING ANOTHER BLOW AGAINST THE MAN!!!
