The Dogs Of War
Sometimes I get a little carried away with the photoshopping and the whole linear style of thinking escapes me. It’s true. Perhaps you’ve noticed it before. I’ll start with a premise that might bring a few yuks, touch some hearts or empty some stomachs.
But before you know it, I’m adding in things like lurid boner-sausages (why?), the moldy monkey-fuck Donny Douche (a frequent MJ guest contributor) complaining about the potato salad to setup the old “a-boa-constrictor-is-crawling-up-my-ass” gag (what’s the point of this??”) and Joe’s Tampon Taser and bandolier loaded with ammo…Heavy Day loads – full plastic jacket (war related, but unnecessary).
While I can’t control the Graphical Tourette’s, I refuse to be ashamed of my condition. I fully embrace it. I indulge myself in it. I roll around in it like a dog in dead fish guts.
Because I can.
HAPPY 4TH OF JULY – GOD BLESS AMERICA
To the War Room: