pound out a twenty-seven stanza obsessive love poem and post it all of his nineteen favorite erotic story websites. He burned the midnight oils for seventy-three hours and finally, with no proofreading...
The same GQP demanding we move on from January 6th, 2021 is still doing audits of the November 3rd, 2020 election.
Purveyor of Poetry & Porn
...realized later that he hadn't posted the poem at all, but had accidentally posted his grocery shopping list. Alarmed at first, he later was relieved that the shopping list was getting better ratings and more views than any of his poems ever did, so he relaxed and decided he should...
... take his dog out for a walk. They are hardly out the door when his dog immediately jumps on a passing female dog, who happily accepts his advances. "Holy shit, even my dog gets more than I do," he sadly laments, while the two dogs are humping away, oblivious to the rest of the world. After getting a pail of water to finally disengage the two fortuitous lovers, he takes his dog back inside, and, frustrated as ever, thinks it might be best if he ...
... were to become a cloistered monk, sworn to silence and celibacy. The thought of it caused his heart to palpitate, and fearing that it would be the wrong decision, he looked at his cell phone, which was twitching like a bitch in heat...
and recognizing the incoming phone number from Australia, he reminded himself of the necessity to create more shopping lists and post them for his adoring fans at his most favorite website. Cracking open his thirteenth beer before 10:00 a.m. ('It is 5pm somewhere in the world,' he thought and justified to himself); peeling down to his polka-dot, thong underwear, powering up his laptop, he joyously awaited its Windows 95 operating system to finish its self-diagnostics and unfold, while he performed his own self diagnosis upon...
The same GQP demanding we move on from January 6th, 2021 is still doing audits of the November 3rd, 2020 election.
... his psyche. He can't believes that becoming a monk actually crossed his brain. " Must be the Beer, or the heat.." he thought to himself as his computers boots up to the infamous blue screen of death. " Damnit!!!" He shouts, nearly spilling beer number 14. "Now What?" There was still the phonecall from Australia to attend to. He picks up his phone and....
Purveyor of Poetry & Porn
...and answers it, thinking it was someone important. He soon realizes it is just some phone sex operator he called the other day complaining that his credit card bounced and demanding reimbursement. Asking her "what else is new?" he tells her what she can do with her credit card bill and hangs up the phone and soon thinks he should really be....
tweezing those annoyingly coarse and abundantly long, nostril hairs. Checking himself in the mirror...
The same GQP demanding we move on from January 6th, 2021 is still doing audits of the November 3rd, 2020 election.
.. he suddenly sees an Equadorian Giggling Spider crawling across his back! So he quickly....
....made up a batch of llapingachos, which he knew the Ecuadorian spider would love. His fears were quickly allayed as his new arachnid friend tucked into the cheesy delicacies. He couldn't believe it when the spider started talking to him, asking if he could have a sip of his delicious chianti to wash down his dinner. At this point, he realised...
Purveyor of Poetry & Porn
...there wasn't going to be enough chianti for the both of them, and he definitely planned to get drunk that night. Thinking there must be a way to get the spider drunk on a bottle of Thunderbird one of his friends had left at the house, and hopefully get him to leave before it finished up all his liquor and food, he devised a plan to...
coax Mr. Arachnid into an alcohol chugging game. He slammed an old Arnold Schwarzenegger movie into his vcr machine and pitched his proposal...
The same GQP demanding we move on from January 6th, 2021 is still doing audits of the November 3rd, 2020 election.
laying out four tiny thimbles for Mr. A., each brimming with the stinking light yellow Thunderbird, praying that the end would come quickly for the gnarly beast. As he unveiled his plan to the spider, he twirled his fire baton as he spoke, as playing with fire always ...
... as playing with fire always singed the follicles from the legs of spiders more efficiently than waxing. As the spider reached for a thimble of tequila, he noticed how smooth his appendages were, and decided to finally try cross dressing. Now if only he could find a shopping companion, he would head straight to...
his web to show his partner. Then realized that without his leg hairs, he'd no longer be able to LIVE in the web because ...
all of the heterosexual spiders in the close-knit colony would probably bug him to death for fornication purposes. Thinking quickly, for a spider, he...
The same GQP demanding we move on from January 6th, 2021 is still doing audits of the November 3rd, 2020 election.
..uploaded a vlog about his latest attempt to melt the railroad tracks. The value...
Purveyor of Poetry & Porn
...of which could be quickly computed he soon realized by using this simple formula (x/4.2268 x 36^56) x 112.41 multiplied by the coefficient of friction of the tracks divided by the temperature of the fire multiplied by the sixth root of pi. Once he did this simple calculation in his head, he was able to....
...mutate himself into a dude who is the spitting image of DirtyMartini. He's on his way ...
to get his pooch, Pixie Frou-frou, "doctored" at the vets, after several litters of her poodles had to be shaved and their coats sold as dusters, for those hard to reach places. Thinking of hair and coat related matters, he wondered what happened to all those minks, now that they were no longer required to make fur coats. One thing led to another, and his trail of thought went in a totally different direction...
wondering if there was any truth to the oft cited myth about the growing population of gay reindeer on the Pole. He looked forward to...
... seeing some of those gay, pole dancing reindeer, and wondered if they would invite him to...
...teach them the Highland Fling, once they learned he was a master of it. He was reminded of how much fun he used to have in places where encountering something like gay, pole-dancing reindeer that wanted to learn the Highland Fling was the norm; but now, he could most often be found in places where...
Purveyor of Poetry & Porn
...good hot stories about gay, pole dancing reindeer doing the Highland Fling were relagated to a small sub-section of the story site he frequented during the day. He wondered if there was maybe another site on the net dedicated to stories about gay pole dancing reindeer doing the Highland Fling, or maybe he should just PM the owner of the story site he hung out on and suggest....
a humor category be added. Limericks and odes to flamboyant, fun loving ungulates could be just the ticket to bring in new talent, would be his argument; since this would be attempt number thirty-seven, he had to figure out the least repetitive way to approach...
The same GQP demanding we move on from January 6th, 2021 is still doing audits of the November 3rd, 2020 election.
...the pizza place, where he would draw up his presentation over a slice and a beer. Inspired by his surroundings, he quickly sketched out a pie chart supporting his proposition. Speaking of propositions, he spied a buxom young server headed to his table and decided to...
Purveyor of Poetry & Porn
...quick eat the rest of the pizza before she had a chance to steal any, he was a bit paranoid that way about food. Realizing that he had just ate his pie chart using real pie he had created for the presentation, he wondered how he would make his presentation when the buxom young server suddenly asked...
... if he ever wore panty hose. Shocked to realise that his secret, subliminal desire was known to the busty babe, he baffled blusteringly, and was dumbfounded to hear he had revealed his innermost alliterative desire had been...
to build a matchstick model of the the empire state building. His head was boggling with the caluclations on how many matches he'd need. Luckily he'd picked up plenty of matchbooks in the eighties during his bar trolling days. He ground to a halt when he realised that...
...decimating his collection would ruin his chances of ever getting into the Phillumeny Hall of Fame, which had been a dream of his since childhood. The only thing he wanted more than to be a foremost phillumentist, in fact, was to be a noted numismatist — and he was well on his way, having collected...
