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

a nuance epifitinite of nothingness

yo, yo yo, Im a yo-yo, nothing pleeezes me more than mz ella hooper getting her new fav werd from me, no not a faggot bible, a werd: cretinessness, its a gr8 verd, malifluous & nebulous, she makes me wild with passion our ella. word.
sewer ferret, now theirs an investment, also Im doin a special on combined volcano & spontanius combustion insurance, for as little as two dollars a day, one can rest safe assured that no volcanoes or earthquakes will fuck yr life up, (excludes western states & territories, for that u need Uncle Bloodnuts premium package) & for the small price of two dollars extra , one can sleep safe in the knowledge they wont catch fire spontaniusly in ones sleep, sounds silly? are u really that reliant on modern science? it happens all the time, it claimed a fair share of spinal tap drummers... , anyways Im not one to judge, just think it over.thanks , Legs

that pervert therapist

Yo, just woke up, its overcast, QOTSA blasting, getting around to recording soon, drums will be added when Mr Martini is out of hospital (he had a stroke) , kinda sounds like melvins meets fu manchu and maybe some doo wop, we'll see.
Nihilism, the belief in nothing, I believe in nothing most days, some days Im into zen, some days Im into nothing. Had the same reoccuring nightmare last night ive had since I was about 3, kermit the frog tries to root my sister, he gets decapitated and Im stuck in the washing machine, I should really ask Reks wot it means, she's a psyciatrist, not one of those lamo child molesting both-a-sexual psycolojists that claim theyre a psyciatrist and try to bum u & wont shut up about jesus, like that Ron  weirdo who tried to hump me, he bears a strikeing resemblance to the pervert who's number 1 on the FBI's most wanted, hope he gets castrated too, if any FBI agents read this... sssh he shouldnt be too hard to catch, he works in mental health on the south east coast of NSW, anyway if he doesnt get busted I urge anybody who gets sexually harrassed by him (even hugged) to knee him in the balls, or any pervert for that matter, anyway im off topic. gonads.
Heres some of my favourite werds: Vagina, Gonads, cunt, dogface, malifluous, cornucopia, Satan, Jesseism, panama, dog shit, mangina, vadjee, kama sutra, legion, apocalypse, root, sprung, serendipitus.... fuck.

feces, no one likes a snitch.....

Today as I walked from my trailer home, to the post box I glanced down the hill, & .... (dum dum da dee dum) saw the dreaded 'shit sucker', a poorly designed sewerage removal truck, with a giant pump, poorly designed as in: U get a fine layer of methane in the air for a three hundred square meter radius, it stinks, it sticks to yer clothes, ur teef, godang methane every where.... faeces seems to be a reoccuring theme in this blog, very well indeed, wot else is my blog but an excuse to talk shit?
off topic: wot would U do?... when ur best girl gets seduced by a manwhore who chestrates, car break downs, rape fantasies, plays hero, steals love letters, love song mix tapes? weirdo.
back on topic: the shit sucker reminds me of weens invention, the shit mister, it sprays a layer of shit on the whole audience. It also reminds me how the fuzz ( not the rad 60's rock band, one of their many copy cat bands (in name only) failed and continue to fail Mike Patton (aka Mr Poo Poo) 's loyalty tests, they narked, they complained, they called security, they suck. They also failed Antwan the swans loyalty test, this was after ina drunken haze, danny apologised to keidis and made up with him, (not made out) cos lifes too short to make enemys, just enemas, anyways we was in LA, and they failed the test. the lesson, no one likes a snitch. peace out, one love Xox DoNkEy CoCk!

revenge, love & the correct use of a portaloo

LOVE: love is fickle, at times beautiful & drunk, heres a few thangs Me learnts:
1. Locking the object of ones affections in a portaloo and threatening them u'll tip it over if they dont be ur friend doesnt work, I tried this with Heath Ledgers sister Amy once, to this day she calls me weirdo. THE CORRECT USE OF A PORTALOO: Gibbo has this down pat, the same day Me Lock-ed Amy in the loo, Gibbo pushed a portaloo over while the guy from Violet femmes was taking shit, he was coated in feces, sperm, urine and dirty needles, Gibbo (not his real name (DUH!)) went on to rock out this festival to early in the day , for a redneck bluegrass band....
 Revenge: Revenge or Vengence, Hell, even a good old fashioned Vendetta, its pretty fuckin sweet.
The portaloo (or portapotty as we calls it in Amerikkka) is a great invention, sadly they didnt have them at Mondo Cane in the park, or we probably wouldve pushed it over whilst Joe was doing wotever perversion that the tight ass  , who ripped me off over a bottle of cheap cats piss wine, was doin in the portaloo. Ill get him back....
RELIGION: I have had religious experiences, Jesse always used to tell me,the true religion: it was a mixture of Satanism, Zen Buddhism and the belief Jesse was the son of god sent to earth to die for my sins and rise from the grave to roll up a spliff of the lords finest Orange Kush, kinda fucked with my head after a while, but it was better than the christian dogma my faggot foster dad spewed all day and night, faggot or not, he was a BORE , a white trash bore, with more AVO's than a womans refuge.
MUSIK:  Music rocks, I love country music (not hillbilly) , metal, folk, psycedelia, musicals, music is god, music cheers me up, We used to sing whilst we toiled in the fields, gospel, irish nationalist songs, most music is good, as a musican, the enemy of all good live acts is the horrid infliction: THE BOGAN.... Bogans hate teenyboppers, i hate teenyboppers with no taste, Bogans are stupid, they rag on Teenyboppers for wearing band t-shirts, fuck them, they support a band, good for them, money in the bank.... Thanks for yer Time xox Donkey Cock

wot would aristotle do?

Gettin drunk, i dont have time to think, as ive reiterated constantly, thinking is pedestrian, all those monkey majic motherfuckers, who tell us we create with thought, never met my english teacher, she could read (a bit) she gave me points for origianlity, banahl cynisiscm, all the good shit a semi- nihilistic narcisist would need, then about five months from the end of year exams, Im fuck-ed u-p, some bitch steals (borrows i dunno) my creative writing and woop-di-fukn-do gets  scholarship with it, the autistic lolita type scab, dejected and suffering from intense migranes i throw the rest of my notes in a muddy puddle, cos my ex was being stalked by some douche who took credit for all my hard work, love letters, mix tapes, with no intent to let the communist ( iwas pretty paranoid) jewish liberal lesbian bitches win , I wrecked all the chances I had for redemption and oral sex, any way here I am a PHD in surgery, music and law (from the university of california) Im a semi literate, bordoline psycotic , labourer with an axe to grind with the english department of my old high school, I live in turkey, a town called cunt (with two litlle dots above the U, Classy!) , my town is full of c*nts, poor, some ugly, some weird, some tasty, but all of them : 'C*NTS'd , anyway, far from me , the classic over acheiving generation Y baby boomer doobious funkateer to out think u, Im on the mend, Im wary of faggots ( my old therapist was a poof) I brush my teeth, i dont smoke reefer, I even drink less than U , I had a breakdown after Uni, (they happen every now n then, mostly after the death of a loved one) so Im back in a trailer in cunt, sometimes i wake up screaming cos i dreamt ive been probed by aliens, it sounds cool, but it blows goats. Thats all, my two bob, my spleen vented, im gunna eat pringles & listen to king tubby. peace Y'all XXox DoNkeY CocK!

December sux

I know it aint december yet, however i haves a gripe (surprise!) all my neices and nefews is born or gunnaa be born in december, as if presents werent styngy enuff @ that time-o-year, I had a dream; I woke cursing my brother and sista (U BASTARDS!) flamin sagitarians, dont get me wrong, love is the best birfday present and christmas is ment 2 b abouts givin... give me a freakin break, nyways they is just lucky i get great presents via fan mail or id be way more pissed off, I wonder if my understudy/double gets presents on my birthday? really makes me almost think, but negator, i dont think, people who think have too much time on their hands , neon orgasms & everpresent degradation awaits me come december..... BAH HUMBUG!

dinosaur rock n dope fiends

they shit me, rock stars, satirists piss me off more, alligory and hyperbole have a place in popular culture, just in small doses. anyways me and u have alot in common dear reader, we're both human (some would argue subhuman) and the humanist outlook in reference to satire negates a whole quadrant of underated acts, both mytholojikal and real. take donkey cock for example, he's been in a shit load of bands: nearly all just solo acts but these names are gnarly: Pihranalingus (a semi riot goy act) atomik Vadgee (similar yet worse), cannibal chikens and the wasabi dildo's (a weenish band) , Soulfista ( a rare country rock/pisstake act) Soulfista was a spontaneous rock n roll fluke, badness was tuning joinseys geet to a very complex tuning, Joinsey was getting drunk and the band was ready to go, so Badness starts jamming, the aucostic geet man wasnt havin a 'nigger' on  stage with him, cue rascist outburst ( badness finds it funny cos he aint black and is mostly irish) , the crowd roars as the rock from badnessz geet drowns out the pussy hillbillys crappy ballad, some drunk yobbo screams "shut up and get off stage", so badness freestyles a song called :' shut up n get off stage", Uncle Bloodnut jumps up and smiles his rat with a gold tooth smile, "soulfista" is borne.... they played about 2 or 3 shows, witha whole buncha fakers, some try to mime to d.c.'s geet,, some have crappy reasons for banning chord structures and techniques, so it fails (for now) another example of dinosaur rock, damnation awaits but we dont care, as long as we get a limo and our oranj hair.....

reflective nothingness from the rectums of a thousand monkeys with typewriters

so ten peeps read it? so fekn wot? I know Im a pessimist, hell, I know im a narsisistic nihilsist, I make up werds, i make up spelling, a horse, a woman, both of them u ride,ur breakin my balls...  so fekn wot? Im a tattoo artist, I do dragons n all sortsa shit, this blog shouldnt make u think, thinking is dangerous and in most cases stupid, I paint, pix of jesus as a robot,  all sortsa shit, u dont know me, mebe u know me a bit, but for all the spying u do, fek ya, ya dont know me, I haves a new gal every week, Im not gay, not even Bi, I just suck at relationships, Im a narsissus, I make up spelling, im into kama sutra, tantra, pissing, spanking  all sortsa shit, go ahead,tell my momma, think i give a fuck? All this liberal proto fascist cancer u call common sense, get faaarked, we can worship wot we want, i dont love Jesus, I cant stand him, Im into islam, zen buddhism, i was a scentolojist for a while, but that is the most dogs dick suckin religion ever, its fekn orrible... so before u talk / act like u know me, shut the hell up and relate. fettucine is good for wot ails ya!

Donkey Cockism, the grey stench of gorings armpit

Classy Blog eh? Mind mush mutates metaphisically, a polymorphic entity absorbed thru the walls of the subconscious inner self, fettucine is great for wot ails ya, despotik nuerotoxins jab the epicentre of muscular entropy, nobody ever gave me good advice, nobody ever raised me to believe in a weird paradox, Where would christianity be if jesus got 15 years with the possibility of 8 with good behaviour? Christianity is sick, a cosmic Jihad on a race of mathematicians, the worms feast on the flesh of a dying breed, too crazy to be reborn , to shallow to die.... the rhythms of old mother earth, bouncing a backbeat, jibbering, jiving, spinning James Brown in his grave, the everpresent nothingness of possibillity, mother earth, aborting the human foetus one ciggarette at a time... where will it end?

are u drinkin with me jesus?

are ya drinkin with me jesus?, who wouldnt ask that question? & who wouldnt be tempted to kick his ass, as blasphomus as it may be, who would walk away victorious? does jesus know martial arts? would he start shiverin and piss his pants? would he have some great psycological grasp on the scenario, impervious to danger & talk his way out? If u kicked jesuss ass, what would that make u? megamessiah?
pc cunts, klingon punks feck off!, I love my bushpig mossad.... rock rock rock n roll jonestown.....
all this unchristian stuff makes me horny, with no love for sports, no chance of christian salvation, the worm turns, alpha and omega, an apertite for chinese technocracy, a complete lack of grammar and speling , since me graduated with a degree in surgery, music & psycology, im still a daredevil, still 666% exterminus blood sport, hippie rednek, anyways, fuck literacy, my year 12 english teacher couldnt read, & she expelled me for reefer, sometin ive since stopped smoking,no more weed, just pussy... im a secret agent, lady ( a loner dotty, a rebel) nashville dont want me, i just wanna poontango.... wang dang....how would jeusus fite? i'd just pull his robe over his head & stomp him, if i was ten years younger, now days id just buy him a middy of vb & spew in his lap.... klingon punks feck off!

we need to stop thinkin' keep drinkin

heartbreak, the word rolls off tongue, like a clover or somethin that rolls better than aforementioned thang, the apparatus, built to fly, wings a mess of mesh and broken dreams,chilli sauce in the eye, reminiscant of the maceing he recieved by his buddys fiance at the perfume counter of a big-ass department store, the eyes twitching, bemusement at the non-lethal excrement fired into the iris like napalm on a gook baby, how long will this dream take to become a reality?, syphoning emotions, the dark recesses of the soul, churning like so much butter, homogensied, like a def doctor eating the magnaplasm, directing the absurd abcess of procreation thru the wings of an angel, as the sun sets over las angeles, the darkness decends on motor city, detroit rejects the infant soul, too innocent to ride the rapids, dark storm clouds decending over the oblique parasites, worming thru lethargic love loss, from a soul too evil to be reborn in hell, born into the self righteous, yet eccumenical hypocritical christ like ambition, the forces of nature set about to relive and rebirth the mescaline soaked soul, giant cockroaches gnaw at the deafening cacophany of explicit, mangled detriment, hallucinations, determined to envelope reality, the fine line between desperation & empathy reborn in satan or buddha or allah, however the son of darkness appears, the referee despises the iconiclapse, intimate rejection far flung from eternity, exposes the intermitant descecration of the holy spirit, Momma, why dont u love me?