Showing posts with label Pervert. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pervert. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 8, 2026
Sunday, June 28, 2026
Drag Queen Derangement Syndrome
VERSE 1
You always like to brag about being offensive
But when it’s thrown back at you, you go on the defensive
It’s never funny when it happens to you
Just your strawman drag queen gay black jew
You think of drag queens more than they think of themselves
Even though not one of them is hoarding the wealth
Then you go on a rant about men’s mental health
Calm the fuck down, Chad, you did it to yourself
CHORUS
Drag Queen Derangement Syndrome
The kind of disease that puts you in the happy home
From the gates of agony to the puzzle factory
All because a dress-wearer just wanted flattery
VERSE 2
When you’re at a drag show, you get an erection
Then all of the queens need some witness protection
When you pull out a gun bigger than your own dick
And hold down the trigger for a symphony of clicks
Now all of the sudden, you’re the next Jesus Christ
And a shoo-in for employment with the incels at ICE
Now I know why you like to wear a ski mask
‘Cause you’re drooling like a dog when you see a queen’s ass
CHORUS
Drag Queen Derangement Syndrome
The kind of disease that puts you in the happy home
From the gates of agony to the puzzle factory
All because a dress-wearer just wanted flattery
VERSE 3
Your hard drive is a treasure trove of perversion
The only sexual relief for unlovable virgins
You got pics of Kamala in leather lingerie
But they’re fake as fuck, that’s why AI has an A
Deepfakes on AOC baring her breasts
But yours are much bigger, spinal health is a mess
Pictures of drag queens eating up all your RAM
And a ten-year-old girl posing naked on web cams
CHORUS X2
Drag Queen Derangement Syndrome
The kind of disease that puts you in the happy home
From the gates of agony to the puzzle factory
All because a dress-wearer just wanted flattery
OUTRO
You honestly think Michelle Obama is a man?
That must be the reason why you’ve got your dick in your
hand!
Thursday, June 18, 2026
Sunday, June 7, 2026
Monday, June 1, 2026
Thursday, March 12, 2026
Wednesday, February 18, 2026
Bron Breakker X Trish Stratus
I think you guys already know, but I'm going to say it anyways: this cartoon is poking fun at Vince McMahon, not Trish Stratus.
Tuesday, January 6, 2026
Monday, January 5, 2026
Monday, September 30, 2024
Lose Your Job
VERSE 1
“Get off the couch, I’m a beefy alpha male
You’re a little beta simp with the body of a whale
Stop shoving all those burgers right into your gut
Hit you with a restraining order from Pizza Hut”
Hey wait, do you work at Planet Fitness?
You think being macho’s gonna get you a mistress?
I think your Red Pills might really be steroids
I’m calling your boss, he’ll make you unemployed
DIALOGUE
“You gonna fuck with my greenbacks, Cancel Boy?”
You’re goddamn right I am
You’re gonna lose
your job!
You’re gonna lose
your job!
I’m gonna get you
fired!
I’m gonna get you
fired!
You’re gonna lose
your job!
You’re gonna lose
your job!
I’m gonna get you
fired!
I’m gonna get you
fired!
VERSE 2
“Hey, little lady, let’s make a million babies
In my cabin in the woods, not the ghettos in the hood
I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to pound your punani
Don’t tell nobody, least of all your nanny”
Hey wait, do you teach history at the school?
Do you make your kids watch Prager U and Tim Pool?
Makes me wonder if your students are virgins
We’ll see what the principal thinks of your perversion
DIALOGUE
“But…but…what about my income?”
Fuck your income
You’re gonna lose
your job!
You’re gonna lose
your job!
I’m gonna get you
fired!
I’m gonna get you
fired!
You’re gonna lose
your job!
You’re gonna lose
your job!
I’m gonna get you
fired!
I’m gonna get you
fired!
BRIDGE
I’m petty as fuck, because you had to suck
I don’t give a shit if you’ve got negative bucks
There’s a homeless dude who wants your job
But you brushed him off as a drunken slob
There’s an impoverished mom and her son
Who you love to tell that, “Trump still won!”
But no, let’s pretend you’re the real victim
And every minority’s a top-hat-wearing villain
DIALOGUE
“I got canceled! What’ll I do now?”
Pull yourself up by the bootstraps!
OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!
NEENER-NEENER CHORUS
You’re gonna lose your job!
You’re gonna lose your job!
I’m gonna get you fired!
I’m gonna get you fired!
You’re gonna lose your job!
You’re gonna lose your job!
I’m gonna get you fired!
I’m gonna get you fired!
Monday, September 4, 2023
Two-Sentence Horror Story: Pacific Blue Balls
Detective Miller placed a comforting hand on top of Francine’s and said, “I’m going to need the links to your revenge porn pictures so that we can gather evidence and put this creep behind bars. Also, I watch Pacific Blue for the riveting drama and I read Playboy for the articles.”
Saturday, August 29, 2020
It Drops the Key
Throwing turnips at Shy Guys and Ninjis left Princess Peach’s arms limper than spaghetti. Pulling vegetables out of the ground was never her forte and it showed with the aching pulses in her muscles and the kinks in her back. Why couldn’t she just jump on the enemies and flatten them like any other Mushroom Kingdom hero? Because this wasn’t the Mushroom Kingdom. This was Subcon. This was a world of grassy fields, stone temples, bees with lances, birds on flying rugs, and Shy Guys. Lots and lots of Shy Guys, whether the little red-robed, creepily-masked goblins appeared out of nowhere or filed one by one out of a magic jar.
Sweat glistened down from Princess Peach’s forehead, her long blond hair sticky and stale. Her royal pink dress had some dampness here and there, though it still served its purpose of allowing her to float through the air during a long jump. Her skinny bones flared up with pain after so much heavy lifting. Gardening was not her strong suit, nor should it have been. She hunched over and noticed the locked door in the side of a grass mountain. She had a vague idea of the next lifting job required of her, but didn’t want to entertain it too much lest there be even more sweat and aching. And anxiety. And chills. Lots and lots of chills. She gulped a wad of acidic saliva as she leapt down one of the tube-like vases.
Peach descended to the sandy surface at the bottom of the pit with grace and poise. The magical pink dress came in handy yet again, otherwise she’d be doing her heavy lifting with a broken ankle, soft sand aside. And in the middle of this pit was the ultimate test of strength, not only of her arms and chest, but of her intestinal fortitude. The massive golden key shined brightly enough to illuminate the dark pit. Plenty of rocks jutting out for Peach to make her escape. Dexterity wasn’t the issue. Evilly grinning golden masks were what caused Peach to tremble and sweat the most. They surrounded her in a half-circle, motionless, yet menacing. Their dark, curvy eyes gazed upon her with judgment and sadism, daring her to take the key.
She swallowed yet another lump of cold, salty saliva and inched her convulsing hand towards the golden key, yanking her hand away and flinching in anticipation. After some more futile attempts, she forced herself to grow a backbone and snatched the key from its resting place. On cue, one of the Phanto masks’ eyes glowed bright red and a deep-voice laugh echoed throughout the sand pit, causing some dirt to sprinkle below. The mask said, “It drops the key…IT DROPS THE KEY!”
Princess Peach shrieked in terror at the dehumanizing pronoun and leapt from stone to stone on her way out of the vase. She couldn’t believe her own speed. More importantly, she couldn’t believe her own strength. She had the balance of an athlete and the endurance of one as well. Sweat flew off of her face, but there would be a better time to wipe it away. She needed this key. She needed victory. And then…Phanto rammed his face into the back of her head and knocked her off one of the stones. The sand pit cushioned her rapid descent, but Peach held her skull and moaned in pain.
“It drops the key…IT DROPS THE KEY!”
As soon as Peach regained her vision, Phanto’s hideous face came into focus and she screamed in a high pitch death howl once again. She scurried into the corner of the pit with the golden key still in hand and curled into the fetal position, shaking, whining, whimpering, and doing her best to avert her ocean blue eyes from the monstrosity floating in front of her. She covered her face in her arms, but felt the warm air of Phanto breathing in her ear. The longer she held onto the key, the deeper the breaths became. Some of these breaths were accompanied by growling sounds. And then…Phanto spoke again…
“Rape vans…if they were called surprise vans, more women would get into them, because everybody loves a surprise…”
Peach screamed yet again and crab-walked towards another corner, the key still in her possession. Her heart thumped in her chest loudly, threatening to explode like a hand grenade. It slowed down just enough for her to ask a question. “Wait a minute…you…how can you…you know?”
“I can still use my mouth!”
Peach yelled.
“And my eye sockets!”
She yelled again and tried to escape by scratching and clawing the dirt walls. She got a few feet at best, but slid down on her royal pampered butt every single time. Giving up was her best option as she sat down and allowed tears to pour from her eyes.
Phanto floated over to her and started breathing in her ear again. That air. That warm, thick, horny air. “If it makes you feel any better…I would have chased you even if you didn’t have my key! Ooooooohhhhh, my!”
Peach sniffed in between ellipses. “You’re…you’re disgusting…you’re so gross!”
“I’m not the one who’s shagging a fat plumber in shit-covered overalls!”
As Phanto laughed at his own remark, Peach’s face boiled red with anger, her arms trembling for different reasons than physical labor and traumatic fear. With the ease of a bodybuilder, she chucked the key at Phanto in hopes of smacking him between his frightening eyes. The key passed right through him like the ghost he was and he laughed some more. “Was that supposed to hurt? You really shouldn’t have let that key go. It doesn’t vibrate…but it can still keep you company for when the fat man can’t save you…”
“Eww, yuck!” Peach dry-heaved on the sandy floor while Phanto continued to chuckle at her. Once all the bile was cleared from her throat and the snot drained from her nose, she scowled at her nemesis, folded her arms, and said, “You know what? I’d rather get killed than listen to another one of your bad jokes! Are you going to kill me off or are you just going to laugh at me like a moron?!”
“What do you think?”
“You know what?! Forget Subcon! Forget King Wart! I don’t need this key anymore! I wouldn’t go inside that grass mountain if there was a blizzard outside and my melons fell off from frostbite!” She marched over to the key and wielded it like a club.
Phanto snickered again. “Young lady, you already tried that and I’m still here. I’ll always be here. I’ll always be in your darkest dreams. I’ll always whisper in your ear and tell you how lovely you are. I’ll always give you kisses that don’t smell like fire flowers and mushrooms. I’ll always…”
“Screw this key!” Peach tried to break it across her knee, but to no avail. Instead she danced around holding her bruised knee in pain while Phanto laughed at her some more. She then threw the key on the ground and tried to break it with various rocks she picked up.
“Young lady, what are you doing? Stop!”
Peach didn’t listen. She pounded the key with stones larger than the last. The golden key flashed and flickered, but wouldn’t break. Instead of seeing the brilliant golden colors, Peach saw dark red. She smashed more rocks…and more…and more….Muscles bulged from her arms, her strength further encouraged by Phanto’s pleas for mercy. The key illuminated and deluminated over and over again…until it cracked and the brilliant light was no more. A deep-voiced death wail echoed across the sandpit and Phanto dropped to his doom, smiling no more, glaring no more, and shining brightly no more.
Princess Peach wiped the sweat off of her forehead with her white gloved arms and plopped backwards against the wall, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. Her heart slowed down. Her skin cooled off. Her sweat dried up and formed a sticky residue. “You know…” she whispered to nobody in particular. “Maybe there’s a way I can pick the lock. Or maybe I’ll just kick the door down. Or maybe I’ll throw some more vegetables at it.”
“Or maybe you can work out a deal with me!” Phanto glowed back to life and grew bigger in size, laughing louder, laughing longer, and laughing powerfully enough to create a cyclone around him, kicking up sand and dirt everywhere. Peach screamed once more as she held onto a jutting stone, her high heeled shoes flying off and into Phanto’s growing mouth, which now had a snake’s tongue and vampire fangs protruding from it. He grew larger…and larger…and his eyes burned with red neon. He opened his mouth in an attempt to chow down on his victim.
Phanto’s gigantic fangs clamped down over Peach’s hips, causing her to sit up in bed and gasp for air. Even after finding out this was all a nightmare, her heart wouldn’t stop thumping and her sweat made her feel like she was being water-boarded. Nonetheless, she plopped on her back and breathed a sigh of relief, provided she could catch her breath in the first place.
She turned her head and smiled at the man laying next to her: a chubby Italian plumber who would never hurt her, who always rescued her when she needed it, and who loved her unconditionally through thick and thin. She patted Mario on the shoulder and kissed the back of his head. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
Mario rolled over to face Peach and said, “Goodnight, babe!” in a familiar deep voice. And then came the familiar glowing red eyes. And the familiar golden mask. And the familiar evil smile. Mario was wearing Phanto’s face like the Halloween costume it was and Peach’s heart finally couldn’t take it anymore. She rolled off the bed and went into cardiac arrest. As her vision faded to black, Phanto floated over her and said, “What was that you said about killing you instead of making jokes? Oh yeah…I remember…” He gave her a “goodnight” make-out kiss just as she passed into the abyss.
Sweat glistened down from Princess Peach’s forehead, her long blond hair sticky and stale. Her royal pink dress had some dampness here and there, though it still served its purpose of allowing her to float through the air during a long jump. Her skinny bones flared up with pain after so much heavy lifting. Gardening was not her strong suit, nor should it have been. She hunched over and noticed the locked door in the side of a grass mountain. She had a vague idea of the next lifting job required of her, but didn’t want to entertain it too much lest there be even more sweat and aching. And anxiety. And chills. Lots and lots of chills. She gulped a wad of acidic saliva as she leapt down one of the tube-like vases.
Peach descended to the sandy surface at the bottom of the pit with grace and poise. The magical pink dress came in handy yet again, otherwise she’d be doing her heavy lifting with a broken ankle, soft sand aside. And in the middle of this pit was the ultimate test of strength, not only of her arms and chest, but of her intestinal fortitude. The massive golden key shined brightly enough to illuminate the dark pit. Plenty of rocks jutting out for Peach to make her escape. Dexterity wasn’t the issue. Evilly grinning golden masks were what caused Peach to tremble and sweat the most. They surrounded her in a half-circle, motionless, yet menacing. Their dark, curvy eyes gazed upon her with judgment and sadism, daring her to take the key.
She swallowed yet another lump of cold, salty saliva and inched her convulsing hand towards the golden key, yanking her hand away and flinching in anticipation. After some more futile attempts, she forced herself to grow a backbone and snatched the key from its resting place. On cue, one of the Phanto masks’ eyes glowed bright red and a deep-voice laugh echoed throughout the sand pit, causing some dirt to sprinkle below. The mask said, “It drops the key…IT DROPS THE KEY!”
Princess Peach shrieked in terror at the dehumanizing pronoun and leapt from stone to stone on her way out of the vase. She couldn’t believe her own speed. More importantly, she couldn’t believe her own strength. She had the balance of an athlete and the endurance of one as well. Sweat flew off of her face, but there would be a better time to wipe it away. She needed this key. She needed victory. And then…Phanto rammed his face into the back of her head and knocked her off one of the stones. The sand pit cushioned her rapid descent, but Peach held her skull and moaned in pain.
“It drops the key…IT DROPS THE KEY!”
As soon as Peach regained her vision, Phanto’s hideous face came into focus and she screamed in a high pitch death howl once again. She scurried into the corner of the pit with the golden key still in hand and curled into the fetal position, shaking, whining, whimpering, and doing her best to avert her ocean blue eyes from the monstrosity floating in front of her. She covered her face in her arms, but felt the warm air of Phanto breathing in her ear. The longer she held onto the key, the deeper the breaths became. Some of these breaths were accompanied by growling sounds. And then…Phanto spoke again…
“Rape vans…if they were called surprise vans, more women would get into them, because everybody loves a surprise…”
Peach screamed yet again and crab-walked towards another corner, the key still in her possession. Her heart thumped in her chest loudly, threatening to explode like a hand grenade. It slowed down just enough for her to ask a question. “Wait a minute…you…how can you…you know?”
“I can still use my mouth!”
Peach yelled.
“And my eye sockets!”
She yelled again and tried to escape by scratching and clawing the dirt walls. She got a few feet at best, but slid down on her royal pampered butt every single time. Giving up was her best option as she sat down and allowed tears to pour from her eyes.
Phanto floated over to her and started breathing in her ear again. That air. That warm, thick, horny air. “If it makes you feel any better…I would have chased you even if you didn’t have my key! Ooooooohhhhh, my!”
Peach sniffed in between ellipses. “You’re…you’re disgusting…you’re so gross!”
“I’m not the one who’s shagging a fat plumber in shit-covered overalls!”
As Phanto laughed at his own remark, Peach’s face boiled red with anger, her arms trembling for different reasons than physical labor and traumatic fear. With the ease of a bodybuilder, she chucked the key at Phanto in hopes of smacking him between his frightening eyes. The key passed right through him like the ghost he was and he laughed some more. “Was that supposed to hurt? You really shouldn’t have let that key go. It doesn’t vibrate…but it can still keep you company for when the fat man can’t save you…”
“Eww, yuck!” Peach dry-heaved on the sandy floor while Phanto continued to chuckle at her. Once all the bile was cleared from her throat and the snot drained from her nose, she scowled at her nemesis, folded her arms, and said, “You know what? I’d rather get killed than listen to another one of your bad jokes! Are you going to kill me off or are you just going to laugh at me like a moron?!”
“What do you think?”
“You know what?! Forget Subcon! Forget King Wart! I don’t need this key anymore! I wouldn’t go inside that grass mountain if there was a blizzard outside and my melons fell off from frostbite!” She marched over to the key and wielded it like a club.
Phanto snickered again. “Young lady, you already tried that and I’m still here. I’ll always be here. I’ll always be in your darkest dreams. I’ll always whisper in your ear and tell you how lovely you are. I’ll always give you kisses that don’t smell like fire flowers and mushrooms. I’ll always…”
“Screw this key!” Peach tried to break it across her knee, but to no avail. Instead she danced around holding her bruised knee in pain while Phanto laughed at her some more. She then threw the key on the ground and tried to break it with various rocks she picked up.
“Young lady, what are you doing? Stop!”
Peach didn’t listen. She pounded the key with stones larger than the last. The golden key flashed and flickered, but wouldn’t break. Instead of seeing the brilliant golden colors, Peach saw dark red. She smashed more rocks…and more…and more….Muscles bulged from her arms, her strength further encouraged by Phanto’s pleas for mercy. The key illuminated and deluminated over and over again…until it cracked and the brilliant light was no more. A deep-voiced death wail echoed across the sandpit and Phanto dropped to his doom, smiling no more, glaring no more, and shining brightly no more.
Princess Peach wiped the sweat off of her forehead with her white gloved arms and plopped backwards against the wall, breathing a heavy sigh of relief. Her heart slowed down. Her skin cooled off. Her sweat dried up and formed a sticky residue. “You know…” she whispered to nobody in particular. “Maybe there’s a way I can pick the lock. Or maybe I’ll just kick the door down. Or maybe I’ll throw some more vegetables at it.”
“Or maybe you can work out a deal with me!” Phanto glowed back to life and grew bigger in size, laughing louder, laughing longer, and laughing powerfully enough to create a cyclone around him, kicking up sand and dirt everywhere. Peach screamed once more as she held onto a jutting stone, her high heeled shoes flying off and into Phanto’s growing mouth, which now had a snake’s tongue and vampire fangs protruding from it. He grew larger…and larger…and his eyes burned with red neon. He opened his mouth in an attempt to chow down on his victim.
Phanto’s gigantic fangs clamped down over Peach’s hips, causing her to sit up in bed and gasp for air. Even after finding out this was all a nightmare, her heart wouldn’t stop thumping and her sweat made her feel like she was being water-boarded. Nonetheless, she plopped on her back and breathed a sigh of relief, provided she could catch her breath in the first place.
She turned her head and smiled at the man laying next to her: a chubby Italian plumber who would never hurt her, who always rescued her when she needed it, and who loved her unconditionally through thick and thin. She patted Mario on the shoulder and kissed the back of his head. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
Mario rolled over to face Peach and said, “Goodnight, babe!” in a familiar deep voice. And then came the familiar glowing red eyes. And the familiar golden mask. And the familiar evil smile. Mario was wearing Phanto’s face like the Halloween costume it was and Peach’s heart finally couldn’t take it anymore. She rolled off the bed and went into cardiac arrest. As her vision faded to black, Phanto floated over her and said, “What was that you said about killing you instead of making jokes? Oh yeah…I remember…” He gave her a “goodnight” make-out kiss just as she passed into the abyss.
Saturday, September 29, 2018
Time's Up
OPENING LINE
I see your gaslight and I raise you a scorched earth!
VERSE 1
The nightmare in her head
Isn’t limited to the bed
Never forget the shit they said
Never forget they wish her dead
CHORUS
Time’s up, you filthy animals!
Time’s up, sexual cannibals!
Time’s up, you phony god!
Put down the staff and rod!
VERSE 2
Call it witch hunt if you’d like
Carry your torches and your pikes
Thump your bible, preach your sermon
You’re still a bunch of toxic vermin
Your brutal past isn’t going away
No matter how many times you pray
Face the music or go fuck off
Her life is not yours to rob
EXTENDED CHORUS 1
Time’s up, you filthy animals!
Time’s up, sexual cannibals!
Time’s up, you phony god!
Put down the staff and rod!
Time’s up, Mr. High and Mighty!
Time’s up, Mr. Gaslighting!
Time’s up, Mr. Law and Order!
Time’s up, Mr. Sexual Torture!
VERSE 3
As long as you’ve got the magical R
It doesn’t matter if you’ve lowered the bar
Your sheep will follow, continue to swallow
Your bullshit until the inside is hollow
EXTENDED CHORUS 2
Time’s up, you filthy scum!
Justice for all, a free pass for none!
Time’s up, you barbarian!
None of this is hilarious!
Time’s up, you cockroach!
The plank is yours to approach!
Time’s up, nowhere to run!
Time’s up! Time’s up!
Tuesday, June 19, 2018
Don't Call Me That
Don’t call me a racist, don’t call me a sexist
Don’t laugh at my failures, don’t pray for my exit
Don’t call me a monster, don’t call me a perv
Don’t call me the ugliest motherfucker on earth
Don’t call me a weirdo, don’t call me a psycho
Don’t text your threats at me with a million typos
Don’t call me a piggy-pie, don’t call me fat
Don’t look at me like you’re disgusted at that
Don’t call me a sinner, don’t call me the devil
Don’t even suggest I’m on the lowest level
Don’t call me a rookie, don’t call me lazy
You’re nearsighted and your vision’s hazy
Don’t call me something you can never take back
What are you smoking? Weed, tobacco, or crack?
Who told you those lies? The leader of a cult?
Whatever it is, it’s getting really fucking old
Speak only for yourself and for nobody else
When you buy your own lies, the bullshit sells
I’m not going to heaven, I’m not going to hell
I’d rather stay at the dingiest no-tell motel
Rather die on the toilet of a McDonald’s bathroom
Than on the battlefield serving your holy platoon
Don’t call me your prisoner of your losing war
Don’t call me a ghost you should always ignore
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
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