Shout OUT!

HAPPY BDAY to Bella Baggins (7/6) and the BIGS (7/13)

Wednesday, December 23, 2009

Things that are cool to me

Jokey Jokemaker316 here, and I have compiled a list of things that are cool to me.

1) Myself

2) anything having to do with dante's inferno. Video games, updated books, etc. If there has ever been a book that needs to be made a movie, this is it. Cancel the Sex and The City movies, and put Horseface Sarah Jessica Parker in the 4th Circle of hell. She may even get an academy award for best makeup.

3) Really shitty R & B songs with fat basslines. The Whipsers - Rocksteady. Hall and Oates - I can't go for that. They appeal to me because I hope to be a DJ someday, and mix the basslines into my own brand of neo-electro-reggae-funk. My DJ name? Mc Supertricky Shadrach Shabadoo

4) MC Supertricky Shadrach Shabadoo - First CD name? Behold the Pale Sarah Jessica
Parker, the man who rode on her was Death.

5) The Chooch Punisher - he is a smooth. backhanded compliment-giving motherfucker.

6) Kung-fu DVD's - Life was simpler back then. I know kung-fu, so did you, we fight, Winner gets recognition, loser stays alive and gets to train and try again another day. Also, cool clothes that makes cool noises when you fight.

7) Making fun of other people. It keeps me sharp.

8) Letting other people make fun of you. It keeps you humble

9) Helping students - I did it the hard way, and if someone can benefit from my experience, i OWE it to them to help.

10) Call of Duty on the WII - Simple game, addicting as hell, and this may sound rascist, but the sound of screaming Japanese soldiers when you shoot them, is HILARIOUS.

11) Making up nicknames for people. Only people that interest/amuse/move me to the deepest corner of my soul get nicknames. And do not try to come with your own nicknames like shadez did. FUCK THAT. He is to be called Gooseberry from now on.
Johnner wants to be called fatman? NO. I say Fat Johnner.

12) assorted meats and cheeses. I like cheese and if you add meat, its a winning combo.

13) When people add to my lists. Please add to my list.


Friday, December 18, 2009

I posted up Dickey Simpkins


It's me, The Handsome RightHander. I saw Dickey Simpkins the other day. I bought a Streetwise from him. He then tried to sell me some pornos and socks. I guess if I watch porno, i would not want my feet to get cold. I tried to walk away, but he kept trying to clean my windows with old streetwise newspapers. I got so mad, I got out of the car, grabbed a basketball out of the trunk, and posted him up. Took the rock to the hole strong, knocked him on his ass, and then threw the ball at his face. Sad thing is, his defense was better than LUOL DENG. So I said: "Hey DICKEY, why not get back in the league? Is it because of your fucked up name?" He said "My real name is LaBurra Dixon Simpkins." I said: "Fuck it Dickey, you could still start ahead of Tyrus Thomas." I threw some change is his Dunkin Doughnuts cup, and sped off feeling better about myself.

The Handsome RightHander

Takin You Way Back In To Time...

Tuesday, December 15, 2009


Hey Nick,

Fuck you. Fuck you for making me angry. Fuck you for boring me with long winded blog pieces about shit nobody cares about. Fuck you for making me care about real issues. Fuck you for your rapier wit commentary about how fat johnner is. Fuck you for your biting sarcasm about how gay Fagmael is. Fuck you for reminding me that the price of being awesome like me, is eternal vigilence. But mostly, fuck you for the long winded blog pieces.


Mostly everybody

Thursday, December 10, 2009

a Plea from the Chooch Punisher, to you Bitch.


Have I told you how wonderful you are? When I am with you, I feel like a whole new motherfucker. Since you have asked me not to call you at work because I would flirt with the secretaries, I have decided to discuss your fineness through my blog.

I know we have known each other for only one and a half weeks, but I already know you are the girl for me. You are the only one I want to laugh with, talk with, and grind on the dance floor with. You are the only one I want to ride hard, and put away sweaty and wet.

I am capable of bringing you to a state of orgasmic freakstasy that no other man could ever bring you to. You can try to find this level of sexual satisfaction with some other man, but know that if you leave me, I cannot guarantee that I will still be single when you realize that only I can satisfy all your senses. Then, you would be living in a cold, cruel, Chooch Punisher-less world, and I would not wish that upon you. You are too special to me. You have a great ass.

Damn, girl, you need to take the rest of the day off so I can break you off doggy-style in my bathroom.

Ever since we met 9 days ago, I knew you were the one for me. Your style, your rockin tits, and your class are beyond all compare. In a world populated with many fine women, you are without a doubt the most fine. Let the one and only Chooch Punisher take you out tonight or, if you are busy, tomorrow night to show you how I treat a lady as exceptional as you. Allow me to break it down Pimpalicious style, because fuck him, he stole my whole bit:

First, I will pick you up from your house in a white limousine and take you to the finest dance club in the entire city. The people at this club will be attractive and the beats will be pounding. We will not be in the club for a minute before we get on the dance floor. Even though the other people will be good dancers, we will be the best. When you bump, I will bump. When you grind, I will grind. We will move together like twins who happen to like to freak, minus the incest implications.

When you have foot pain form all that dancing, I will take you by the hand and lead you to the most romantic corner of the entire club and sit you down on one of the plush, red-velvet couches. While you rest, I will go the bar and purchase a drink for you, probably an Amaretto Stone Sour. Before I bring it back to you, I will taste it, demanding finer orange juice should it fall short of my expectations for you. Also, I will ask for less ice so that your Stone Sour is not diluted and watery.

While you sip your drink, I will stroke your hair and tell you such complimentary things as "You are like a fine statue carved out of sexy marble," and "Your eyes are like pools of creamy Italian Hazelnut-laced butter," and "You have nice shoes." You will know that I mean these things because they come from the heart, and the heart is always true. Especially to women with DSL's.

At this point, we will go back to my place, where I will prepare a dinner specially suited for one as lovely as you. While I am cooking the meal, we will talk about your life, your hopes, and your dreams. At this point, I will unthaw a deluxe bag of jumbo shrimp for you to sample as the appetizer. There will also be oyster cocktail and Valentina sauces.

Finally, my dinner of lobster, shipped to me that morning in only the coldest of ice from the finest lobster region in all of Maine, will be completed and placed on the table. Bibs with lobster pictures on them will be optional baby. Along with the lobster will not only be melted butter, but also side dishes. Some of them will be corn, peas, and baked potato. When the meal is over, we will have dessert and coffee.

At this point, you will be so turned on by this night of dancing and lobster that you will be dying to freak me wild. But instead of taking you to my bedroom to punish that chooch, I will build your desire even more. I will do this by leading you to my living room, where I will light a fire and hand-feed you the finest strawberries available. If you do not enjoy strawberries, I will have other types of berries at my disposal that can be fed to you in a sexy manner. Between bites, I will offer you sips of champagne in a glass made specifically to maximize your champagne-drinking pleasure. It will be shaped like my penis.

As much as you want to, you will no longer be able to control your desire. Neither will I. This is when I will put out the dangerous fire I started, because I do not have a fireplace. I will then lead you to my polar-bear-skin rug so we can do it all night long. You will cry for more, and you shall receive it. I will hit it until you can take no more. Then, when you are 100 percent satisfied, I will stop. After that, I will kiss your belly button and tell you how beautiful you are until you fall asleep in my arms.

In the morning, I will make you waffles that have chocolate chips embedded in them. There will coffee waiting for you, and there will also be a cup with cream and two sugars, just the way you like it, cooling on the breakfast bar. If you want toast, I will make it for you and offer you a mind boggling assortment of exotic French jams and jellies. There will also be leftover berries from the night before.

Through this display of caring and thoughtfulness, you will see that I am the one for you. We are like two slightly different colored beads on a single ancient necklace. We are so right together, it hurts to even speak your name when you are not around me. Do not doubt my words. Believe me when I say this to you. The chooch Punisher will capture your heart, and punish your chooch.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Obama baby mama drama

President Obama announced he is sending 30,000 more troops into Afghanistan. This is costing a lot of time and money, but it's totally gonna be worth it when we get the Gold Medal in War. That's what this is for, right? Or does Afghanistan have vast reserves of Twinkie cream or the secret to the sexless orgasm? Eh, whatever. We all have to do busy work from time to time.


Yep I said it

As you know, a couple of aspiring reality stars recently crashed a dinner at the White House. We don't need a couple of people with no influence who are famous for no reason walking around the White House. That's the President's job. You see what I did? That's how you satire, jigga!


Wheres Leo DiCaprio when you need him

James Cameron's long-awaited Avatar is hitting theaters next week. It's going to revolutionize film. Because no one has released a movie with an offensive budget, no story, and shitty CGI before. Hundreds of them, you say? Well surely no one thought to trick the audience by dressing it up in the utterly worthless 3-D format. A dozen this year, you say? How do you respond, Mr. Cameron? "You assholes liked Transformers. This diamond and hundred dollar bill sandwich is really filling."


Men wif big teefeses

Donny Osmond recently won Dancing with the Stars. Wait... Donny Osmond won on a show with "Stars" in the title? Was November Irony Month? It all makes sense now. I kept wondering why I got sent to jail for burning the homeless. Yeah, they're "real people." You got me, Judge Henderson.


What would we do baby...sha na na naaaaa!

Meredith Baxter-Birney came out of the closet. The "secret homosexual" closet, not the "Who the fuck is Meredith Baxter-Birney?" closet. Anyway, between her catching gay, Michael J. Fox being infected with the shaky-wobblies and Tina Yothers contracting Tina Yothers' Disease (which results in being Tina Yothers) you have to believe God really fucking hated Family Ties. Except for Skippy. No one can hate Skippy.


More Please!!

It's December and I am dreaming of a white Christmas. Actually, I'm dreaming of a melty turquoise Christmas. And sugar plums are fighting lesbian dragons in my head. This LSD-nog is fantastic.


Friday, December 4, 2009

Pimpalicious year-end review.

Hello Bitches,

Damn. The last year has been full of challenges and heartbreak for Pimpalicious. His one true girl continues to ignore his many heartfelt pleas to join together again like two stars that have collided in outer space and formed one larger, red-hot star. It fills Pimpalicious with much sadness and causes him to take long, slow walks in the rain, but Pimpalicious has to accept the fact that she will not be coming back to him.

The plan to seduce Michelle Obama in both body and soul has also not moved forward during the last few months. She and her people have stopped returning Pimpalicious' phone calls, and his letters, and the elaborately arranged fruit sculptures he has assembled from the earth's most exotic produce. Also, I think I am on some kind of FBI watch list now.

Making matters worse, my main man Fagmael has not returned the many text messages I have left asking him to kick it at the clubs this evening. He may be getting his body waxed, but still, come on, Fagmael. At least hit me back to say that you are currently indisposed. Tonight, I'm afraid, Pimpalicious is on his own.
But rather than wallow in dismay, I have decided that I will treat myself in the same manner that I normally reserve for the fine ladies of my life. I can say that I am very much looking forward to this evening, as it should be quite special.
Let me break it down for myself.

First I will dress in the finest pajamas and/or loungewear that my closet has to offer. I will try several options, but will ultimately avoid the tailored set of red silk pajamas since they make me sad. This is because I have worn that outfit on many previous occasions, including the time my one true girl brought her friend Oprah into our bedroom on our two-month anniversary. Oprah was very impressed with our lovemaking, and for good reason. We were, and remain, very good lovers.
Once I have selected an outfit that accentuates my masculine attributes yet feels soft against my ebony skin, I will spend 10 minutes in front of the mirror looking for any wrinkles or imperfections. At this time, I will also see how the clothes hold up against many different sexual poses and stances.

Satisfied with my choice of wardrobe, I will then lead myself to the bar, where I will create a sensual cocktail that will be extremely refreshing and put me in a more relaxed state of mind. The cocktail will be delicious, but unlike anything I have ever tasted before. I will make it appear as if I'm creating it on the spot, but its incredible sophistication and balance will make that seem unlikely.
But I can say with absolute certainty that, yes, the cocktail will be invented then and there.

Then it will be time to create a sumptuous meal for myself. The meal will no doubt consist of scallops seared in butter and tenderly sprinkled with appropriate herbs and seasonings. I will also sauté some asparagus as well as that cauliflower I bought last week, because if I do not cook it tonight it will probably go bad. All of these items will be slowly and seductively put into my mouth where I will savor every bite. There will also be bread. If need be, Pimpalicious can always order out.

My appetite successfully whetted, I will take myself to the living room where I will light a fire and hand-feed myself strawberries. I will look at myself in the mirror and say reassuring things as I do this. Things like, "You deserve love," and "You are handsome and in shape and have an extensive wardrobe of clothes that all fit very well." I will also say "It's not your fault" several times. It may be hard for me to fully believe the words coming out of my mouth, but I will want to believe them as my voice will be filled with sincerity and seductiveness.
I will then take a long, hot shower. Damn.

Once I have dried myself off with fine Egyptian cotton-blend towels, I will beckon myself to my bedroom, and it is there that I will reach new levels of ecstasy and pleasure. Three times. While this will be very satisfying, it will in the end be much like going to see the band Jodeci and realizing that K-Ci is not there that particular evening. Just JoJo. It is simply not the same thing, but it will still be very, very good. I will sex me up all night long.

The next morning I will lay out an assortment of bagels and any flavor of cream cheese that one can imagine. I will also have freshly squeezed grapefruit juice. Over breakfast I will contemplate how, despite the setbacks I've had over the past year, I can still be secure in the knowledge that I can treat myself to a fantastic evening all by myself and, no matter what, I am one of the sexiest men on the planet and will remain so until the day I die. I will know this to be true as I eat my breakfast. I will say that it is my deepest wish that 2010 is a much better year for Pimpalicious.

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Tiger Tiger Woods y'all

Once again a lesson in pimpology--pussy makes money fools! Stop tryin to get your lil dicks wet! Let us count the ways in which Tiger's dumb ass fucked up.

1) turnin a nanny to a housewife. If you can't turn hoes to housewives what makes a nigga think a bitch that cleans shit for a living is a good choice? Okay this bitch already got the skills to be a housewife--she's been cleanin for a living. But damn...

2) fuckin wit second rate bitches whilst being a first rate balla type nigga. Step yo game up Tiger!

3) lovin' them hoes. Look niggas, unless you plan on leavin your wife for the side bitch, why are you textin and callin the side bitch? Matter of fact, why you married? PUSSY MAKES MONEY! Marriage TAKES money! So unless you plan on turnin your wife out...

This is why Pimpalicious don't even have a phone. Bitches are the most jealous creatures on earth--the bottom bitch don't even want Pimpalicious LOOKIN at another bitch. But Pimpalicious keeps her in line--cause she knows Pimpalicious keeps a stable of hoes and her ass can get replaced with the quickness. But I digress...

Niggas need to back up and think to themselves WWPD? As in What Would Pimpalicious Do? So here I offer what Pimpalicious would have done if he were in Tiger's shoes.

First off, every pimp and ho I know would be in VIP at that club in Vegas.

No contact with them bitches after 1) they refuse to work that ass for cash or 2) Pimpalicious is slippin and actually fux a bitch. Unless that bitch is bringin a friend or she's bringin a friend willin to slang ass Pimpalicious has no words. Better catch a trick and step off.

Pimpalicious only hollas at the finest of bitches. No waitresses and club hoes. No help. No way Pimpalicious takes the nanny recommended by some rich white dude--too pretentious. If that bitch ain't a down ass bitch then it's a waste of time.

So now we know Tiger ain't a pimp. He has finally earned his Black card though (and I don't mean American Express). The rich white folks gave Tiger one of their immigrant slave girls to marry and he ran and tricked off with three other white women. If that ain't a Black man's story I don't know what is.

Deliciously pimpin and pimpin deliciously bitches

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

Dinner with the Devil

Wow, I wonder how many of you freaked after reading that headline....DINNER WITH THE DEVIL! Relax, I am happy to report that I have my soul intact and better insight into this enigmatic fool. I guess sometimes it just pays to be in the wrong place at the right time, but I will let you decide.

For one, the Devil is not red. Likes red, but doesn't prance around with red skin or a pointy tail. Call me disappointed when I didn't see any horns, but the number six does play a role. Yeah, amazingly the Devil likes the number 6. Satan did reassure me that that doesn't mean everyone who likes the number 6 is evil, but it can't hurt to be a little apprehensive. That's the thing about the beast, the bastard is actually friendly. There isn't all that burning and misery all the time. Nope, at least in the beginning there is banter, wish fulfillment, jokes, and even dancing. Oh yes, the Devil dances, but not really with you...likes to lead and all, but you learn to deal with it. So over dinner, the devil never knows what to order which I found disconcerting at first as well a few other things: no desire to order for itself, mumbles a lot, and constant indecision. I mean I guess when you spend eternity in hell you really have no idea how to act in general public. Oh, and the beast is always cold. Good lord, I mean always. In a hot room, Satan does nothing but bitch about how much warmer it could be. I take it back, the Devil is a Little red...burns easy under the sun (Glory of God?) which brought me hours of fun as I would poke the burnt flesh. Come on, who wouldn't inflict some measure of pain on the Devil?

Back to my point...the Devil is crafty. Hard to figure it out at first but really the warning signs are always there. LUCY, (my nickname for this horrid bitch) loves to fuck with you, and make you uneasy. Simple little shit like, throwing fits in public or in front of family and friends. People will stare at you and start blaming you like you did something wrong and all the while this freak of nature is laughing on the inside. Lucy also loves to mess with your mind by making you believe what you just said is not what you just said. You can proclaim "hey....I didn't know this wouldbe so much're not so bad Beezlebub!" and you will get "DID YOU JUST CALL ME A BITCH? YOU DON'T LOVE ME? NO ONE LOVES ME!!!!" Gets real awkward when your at a dinner function and people are just staring at you like you wore a Hitler outfit to a BAR MITVAH. Yeah, Satan is a real muthafucka...

Here are some helpful tips I have gathered that should help you out in detecting and dealing with LUCY, because at some point you will. The bitch loves to infect your loved ones even for fleeting moments.
  • During Holidays if the person you're with starts bitching like they are on fire because you have to see your family, slap them like a dog with a newspaper. Lucy hates that and your loved one trapped inside this possessed body will appreciate it. (they call Lucifer the beast for a reason)
  • Sudden bouts of crying followed by anger and shouting, followed by a serene calmness that is straight out of the exorcist means you exit stage left. You really don't want to be exposed to this type of behavior for extended periods of time. It gets REAL annoying!
  • the Beast tries to convince you your family is evil because they are treating you like family. That has to be wrong because family is never nice...they are EVIL. Seriously, if at this point you haven't walked away your really dumb or too stubborn for you own good, but mostly dumb!
  • Promise of change...that you requires you change to fit inside your new box of eternal pain. Forget happiness who needs that?

Ultimately, if you around the Devil you will feel desperation, hate, anger, and a tinge of jealousy. Run, don't walk, and surround yourself with love as quickly as you can. This includes family and friends who care for you. Hell, go to a ballgame, or hit up a bar and hug the bartender. In general, it is a best practice to hug people..if they have big 'hearts' even better.

Dinner with the Devil isnt all that bad though...where else would I get so many fucked up stories and countless hours of jokes. Lucy has to be good for something even if it is just to be the center of my cautionary be it.


Rolling Stones - Sympathy for the Devil