Hurculean Bald Spot in the Wind

On the interstate the other day making my way to school minding my own business when I noticed it. A bald spot up ahead. It was like a light tower warning incoming vessels from the dangerous shore ahead… except it wasn’t warning anyone. This light tower of baldness was a means of distraction I suppose. Once I locked mine eyes on this glowing bald-spot reflecting headlights and the setting twilight sun it was game over for me.

The man presumably has worked his way through the education system, finished with a bachelors and landed a Nine-to-Five he’s used to give value to his likewise generic life. His children, now men, are out of the house and it’s his time to shine. But no, he’s not boring. He’s not lame. No world, he’s not generic by any means. He’s purchased a Green BMW 3-series Convertible, and he’s making a statement. He is expressing himself now!

Look at my FUCKING BALD SPOT!

Unknown to him, what the man has achieved by virtue of his excellent genetic code and the aging process was something entirely more exceptional. The giant radiating bald spot on the top of his dome. It scares women and children. It can with a single blow dismantle the entire Union Pacific rail system. It can provide incubation and bring to normality a 3 month prematurely born baby. It can weld aluminum. It can do deep sea diving. It can overcome terminal velocity – that’s right folks you heard me.

Cruising in his favorite token of success, his Green 3-series BMW Convertible, the world passes him by and he could be no happier. Just him, his drop-top, the road, and his bald spot – the epitome of the 4-seater ‘vert owner.


What I’m getting at is this. Don’t buy a 4-seater convertible unless you’re an older guy with an out of this world, badass fucking bald-spot. If you’re not the above, don’t get one. Their extra length more often than not results in a loss of torsional rigidity and a public exclamation of “I’m out and I'm proud.” Not that there's anything wrong with that, but you need to consider whether that's the message you're trying to express or not.

Lindsey Lohan you filthy ginger child

I'll only provide a link to the scumbucket(Lohan, incase you needed clarification)

Lindsey Lohan you filthy ginger child. I really don’t know anything about this girl/woman? How old is she? Is she an actress? Singer? Is she one of those recent “I’m rich so look at me waste myself on drugs and alcohol under the spotlight” girls like Paris Hilton? You know what, it doesn’t even matter. Whether she’s the daughter of an oil tycoon or the wife of a professional athlete, what matters is I don’t know who the fuck she is. The only thing I do know is that I’ve heard her name more often than mine in the past year and that is absolutely unacceptable.

Lindsey Lohan you filthy ginger child. You look like shit. You look like shit. You’ve insulted an American Great. One of the proudest moments of our country was when Marilyn Monroe hit the spotlight and spread her beautiful (and surely God-crafted) tits and twat for the world to see… and for many millions of men to ogle for many years to follow.

“Lindsey Lohan makes like Marilyn Monroe in Nude Photoshoot.” Lindsey Lohan you filthy ginger child. After looking at these pictures… all I can say is “Thanks.” Thanks Lindsey Lohan. Oh no - I’m not appreciating the fact that you showed us your beloveds (or lack thereof)… I’m thankful for the fact that you look like shit. You have just helped emphasize exactly how fucking great Marilyn Monroe looked. You look like shit. You look like shit.

Lindsey Lohan you filthy ginger child. You know the day you’re found bare and bruised in your own pile of excrement on the side of an interstate is not far away, and you’re bringing it on yourself. I could only hope it happens sooner than later. Lord knows we don’t need another set of your pepper-skin carcass images going around damaging the eyes and imagination of many millions of men for many years to follow.

Lindsey Lohan you filthy ginger child.

St. Valentine's Day

(thank you Google Images)

Flowers, hearts, love, lust, poems, dates, dinners, romance, frilly, fairy, feline, fanny, fuck, and face.

Saint Valentine, for whom do you send your love? Hallmark or not, isn't it just oh so touching today? Hopefully for most - touching anus, vagina, cunt, twat, tits, and cock.

To the girls - Today I watched as a flower delivery-man walked accross the street to bring flowers to his next VICTIM OF LOVE! (DUN DUN DUN). What was really sad was the way the women all around responded to his flower-ridden trot across the street. As a boat would stream across the the lake and send wave ripples of harmonic frequency in a V shaped pattern (perhaps for Valentine on this Saint Valentines day)the women around were immediately summoned by the flower-bearer's presence and chatter raced accross them. They commented either to themselves or their partners about the flowers and what a lucky little lady was to soon receive in exchange (presumably) for her similarly blooming labia. So to the ladies who do not receive flowers today... please remember you have your own beautifully rewarding flower just below your belt. Make use of it on this Saint Valentine's day, share with all around you - your flower is one that many can enjoy.

To all the guys - Get Some.

Mothery Mary y Jesus Christi - A possible new theory?

Couple years ago this thought ran across the head of mine. You my find it grossly offensive, but I hope you can take from it a little golden nugget... a nugget you may wish to dip in a delightful cup of honeyglaze.

Imagine if.

Mother Mary was an over-developed hermaphrodite. She actually had both fully developed organs – functional ovaries and functional testicles. After many years of “discovering” her unique body, one day a miracle occurred. She successfully inseminated herself using her own ejaculate. As most of you know when two of a like seed are mixed generally the baby is born with some disabilities whether mental or physical. Nine months later Mother Mary gave birth to this shining beacon of life – Jesus. Jesus however was different from a young age. As it turns out he was autistic. At the time however autism was nearly unheard of, so people were unaware that he had a mental disability. And so he lived his life to the fullest. He learned to hone in on his abilities, and began to impress every person he came across. Word traveled throughout the region. As the word of his abilities moved from person to person the stories became more and more extravagant. Impressed and curious people began traveling from far and wide to witness the amazing. Over time he acquired many followers, and so went the story of Christ, our savior.

Quit your imagining. I mean this can't be too much crazier than what the Good Book tells us today can it? I'm sorry, if you're steaming shake that shit out with a little chicken dance. Chicken dance, Chicken dance my darlin, Chicken dance.

My first entry

Hello and welcome to the blogderbeast monsterblog. What's Blogderbeast? Blogderbeast is a fucking awesome title I've given myself for my monsterblog. Whether you're small or big, left or right, colorful or not, you must agree in the world of blogs there is nothing more awesome than a blogderbeast. Blogderbeast could be anything you'd like to imagine. Let it run wild! Is blogderbeast Andre the Giant's kid brother? Is blogderbeast the Senator Jeff Jackobson of Ohio (this guy blogderbeast?) Is the blogderbeast your mother-in-law? Is the blogderbeast the ghost of Christmas past? Blogderbeast is whatever the hell you want - and that is why it is the most awesome ever in blogging since forever.

My name is Aren and I'm probably too lazy to ever post again, but hold on to my trousers because I'm so full of shit they're fallin right off. Thanks for reading and I look forward to looking forward.