Love, deceit & strip poker

Dutch door action. yup, those bitches know how to party, anyways, Donkey Cock wrote a love song or sonnet for his gal Nell, A: cos he's a romantic cunt & B: cos hes a literary primate... so heres goes;
Were tha best pardners this worlds ever seen together were Mr & Mrs Boombastic, but sometimes its hard to find time to tell u, u aint spastic, ur the bloom of my heart, ur mind body n soul are fantastic, Ive got the gal, she's gunna tear us apart, Ive got the gal, she's gunna declare jihad on my heart.

Now if that is not the most romantic drivel ever to spew out on da internet, hell, dang.....
it may not be tennison, but who can beat that fella? the man was a god.
my elbows hurt, my gonads are fluctuating in size, my brother wont play with me.... wot?

epicness, a state of nihilistic integrity

bethovens ninth, is epic, it makes my beer drinking epic, im narsisistic not bitter, mebe cynical but not over thoughtful, if i was bitter, i'd be pissed the guy from that godaweful 80's band devo appropriated my classical compositions ( I wrote them in East Timor when we was deployed * good for morale) i could be pissed off my ex girlfriends engaged to a walking penis implant, i digress, im feeling good about myself, the  music makes me feel like a norse warrior or somethin, a german templar night (who just boosted a motor cross bike) i could be bitter, resentful and generally an asshole, but Im a grownup, my gal wont give me permission to be grumpy, so u can stick ur negativity, yr social democracy, yr marxism, yr fascism, yr scientology, yr mean spirited christianity UP YOUR ASS!
is slef norweigen for self? it would be cool if it was, then my grammatical errors would make me appear a wordier donkeycock, not a semi drunk politically incestous literary vampire, woteva that means.
hell im not willing to bet on any of yer stupid sujestions, im just gunna sit here and sober up...... starting now!

thankfukdatwasntadedratinmyshoe

That wasnt a ded rat in mine shoe, praise allah! praise JAh! i had a dead moose, or maybe mouse in mine shoe last week, it squelched in my toes and stunk my hovel out, fuck ya lord, hallelujah!
if nobody smells it does it really rot?

yo yo yo donkey cock back up in dis thingo

psychosis: any serious form of mental affection or disease.

As the seratonin  pumps thru the now defunct frontal lobes of my indignant mushy brain, I no longer crave the animalistic frontiers once the urge of mine impulse. Catatonic stupor breeds misdirection and consquently I lack the brain power to finish (or start for that matter) a cryptic crossword, not one to complain my lackluster and somewhat neurosistic narsisism compell me ever onward, to write this blog, purge evil thunkings and to lust after women, young 18 year olds who need the donkey cock, Its like Owl Broadhurst says " Lead u thru the desert, Im always by yr side,  i never loved a woman who left unsatisfied, Im yer dingo lover , dont turn yr back on me" 

nothing happens, as usual, my consciousness doesnt register that shit, this blog aint epic, it aint cult, aint no gay death cult, aint no movement, aint no poofter nangusology... fuck y'all aint no substitute for all y'all womans, I be donkey cock!

last dance for the ressurection of donkey cock

last dance (likely) ressurection , yea boii, me into zen, aint no truth to the rumours, a mixture of psycosis, energy & caffeine, hell we give more money to wiiffiii tan we give to homeless kids....
just gunna rise as Donkey Cock with his donkey cock brothers in tow , yea we used yr demo cd for skeet shooting, no offence inteneded, but we dont dig honky juda-xian indie rock crass shit, u cant polish a turd!, LA is hell, dunno how yr stay ended, but mine was like butch in pulp fiction, yea i woz a bare knuckle boxin champ, & no i did not beat no body to deth, just like that, all y'all hippies zoned out, thinkin of pinko philosophy to recite at me, hell i aint no pinko, but i sure aint no fascisto....
Yo y'all womans, y'all lovley, if u can read this and dont talk shit bout me yuz a lady of phosistication....
gas chamber awaits all y'all waiting to whack this Donkey, This Donkey left orders to liquidate mufuggaz lookin to cash in on a deth of yours truelly or even danny himself, focus , nihilism is the opiate of the superior, how much of this bullshit can one take before the empathy overwhelms the sense of decency? aint no honour in yr polished turd american dream, based in yr backwoods missfired ozzie false sense of cognitive distortion, aint no room on the lael for u , aint no fakers backin no loser, wotchoo think we suckaz?

end times for our mcbastardists

narcosis: a state of sleep or drowsiness.

Im sleepy, sleepy but wide awake, I did plan to post a Blog yesterday, however, My computer crashed, I bet it has somethin to do with quoting Bordo, a alpha and omega an appetite for worms, worms in my mushy seratonin soaked post apocalytik frontal lobes.....
As boring as it gets here, its better than L.a., we dont wake to gun shots & earthquakes,we wake to mcfucking kookaburras & David Allan Coes; Take this job & shove it, theres no race war, no full frontal nudity or eccentric poofters stalking the last mcbastard, even without the strip clubs, we gots it pretty sweet thank god im a country boy....
sleep eludes me, no doubt somethin to do with my caffeine intake, or possibly some form of paranoia, thank u miss fackler. I had a point, with no memory of wot it woz, Im gunna just babble on an overintellectual fashion till i run outta space... exestetual narcosis, sleep of the giant, igneous ejacualation of never present occultist zyphropodic nothingness, nothing as sweet as nothing before the big bang, no election of our supreme overlords, hologramik cyber fascists debating the exact point of rebirth, rebirth of a collective consciousness sucked thru a worm hole, spaggetified hallucinations from government supplied psychoactive nihilism.... all held true and proper by the land of the free, home of the slaves....

blog from uranus

Ola amigos, hows life? mines ok, hitting my thumb 5 times this morning was a bummer, 3 times is a strange accident, 5 times is a conspiracy.... hmmm.
gots my soul music pumpin, im jet lagged from daylight savings, its one big yawn of a sitchiayshun.
Guiness brain freeze for the old donkey cock, chillin, cold chillin, kickin it new school, donkey cock doesnt have to beg for sex, the pussy just rolls right in...
80's was wack, 90's was shithouse, generation Y was the laziest generation, we dont care, a generation of artists, post modern, some even post post modern dignitaries, lords of the absurd, raised on GTA and second hand smoke, none of those pussy love drug generation bitches, it was about the decadent special K suburban nightmare & nonchalant violence, group sex with multiple netballers & awkward mornings after, wakin at noon, workin from 4 in the mornin on a fishin boat , knockin off at seven, sleep then sleazy encounters with womans that may or may not be ones half sista, cold chillin like i sed.
Things change, theirs plenty of money in bricks and mortar, dancin the funky chicken and the great epifet of pushing boundaries so far the very heart and soul of our generation gets weirder than societies construct designed to imprison our collective consciousness, we dont drink as hard, we love our gals more, we dont do drugs, just alcohol and country music. donkey cock never used hard drugs, never will. as te night closes in, slower, doobiousnesser, soul chicken, chicken hawkin'... try not to think about it, thinkings stupid & dangerous, i wouldnt do too much of it. peace y'all xox Donkey Cock