All scans via The Groovy Age of Horror, the internet's foremost Fumetti authority.
This guy’s got sex on the brain- literally. His sperm have somehow made the pilgrimage from his balls to the Mecca of his mind and taken control. It’s not in any of the panels, but apparently they’ve commanded him to pour acid into this poor woman’s vagina and get his rape on. Also not pictured, the effects of sticking your dick into an acid filled vagina. The outcome can’t be good. As for the in-come…
Babel Fish Translation: Thus... I overflow into you!
Later that evening, at the coroner’s office…
Babel Fish Translation: The sperms, males and females, are coupling themselves with frenzy.
That’s right. Anthropomorphic spermatozoa burst forth from the comely corpse with a resounding SFUZ! Then they crack open a bottle of vino and start having an ovum-less orgy. Bet you didn’t see that coming.
But this party is far from over. The zombie jizz- not content to copulate with their own kind- take it to the Navy Yard, where they happen upon a poor unsuspecting prostitute. Quicker than you can say Swuz! Fiz! Zik! they are all up in that shit like a sailor on shore leave. It looks like the start of a worldwide epidemic, but lucky for us, the mutant spoims are killed by the street walker’s gonorrhea filled gash. Crisis averted.
The whole thing is basically an elaborate parable for safe sex, and should be required reading in high schools across the country. Because lust is the fire which warms you in the night, scorching the edge of your soul. It’s fatal if swallowed, a love too much to hold, a deadly poison, a hot and heavy load.
A Parallactic Pictures Production
of a film by
DOWN THE HATCH
A nightmarish tale of fatherhood and breakfast
Posted in Bestiality, Film, Rape, Sexuality
Tagged 2011 Bumper Contest, Alien, Altered States, Chicken Blowjob, Cooking, Down the Hatch, Eggs, Fantastic Fest, Fatherhood, Nightmares, Vomit
Check out this nifty little video we shot to promote the upcoming LitReactor launch. It’s called Procrastination, and deals with a subject I’m sure most writers are familiar with. Procrastination. It features a winning performance by veteran thespian Brian James, as well as a healthy dose of the internet’s favorite thing- cat antics! It used to contain an hilarious masturbation scene (it’s no secret that masturbation is the greatest time burglar of all), but we trimmed it in the interest of mass appeal. Still, it’s worthy of your attention. You watch now!
And while you’re over there, don’t forget to sign our mailing list to receive your free PDF of exclusive writing advice from authors such as Chuck Palahniuk, Steve Erickson, Bret Easton Ellis, Craig Clevenger, Neil Gaiman, and Jack Ketchum. The internet is already abuzz with its praise.
I'm glad we see eye to eye on this.
What’s the best way to incapacitate a sexy female vampire intent on exsanguination? How about a nice clove of garlic, right up the ole pooper shooter? Experts agree, wooden stakes are too messy, and not nearly as much fun. Plus, if you ruin the body, you won’t be able to impale it with your flesh stake later on. So butt play it safe. Protect ya neck by seasoning her ass-neck. Bung that hole and add some zest to that Transylvanian tossed salad.
Babel Fish Translation: ZOKK!
Babel Fish Translation: Suffering atrociously for the single vicinity garlic.
But how do you determine whether a refined young lady is a vampire or not? You don’t want to go around cramming vegetable matter into the anal cavity of every woman you meet. (You should wait until at least the second or third date for that.) So what’s a sexually dysfunctional vampire hunter to do? Why, make like Pee-wee Herman and get some shoe mirrors, of course! Then you invite the bitch over to dinner and do some panty peaking. If you catch a mirror full of muff, you’re all good. But if her vagina has no reflection, that means she’s a vampire, and you should run out and get the most bulbous piece of garlic you can find.
Babel Fish Translation: It compliments Gustave! You are also a perfect cook.
Babel Fish Translation: They are own sweetheart, in order to make a childish action similar
Posted in Comics, Sexuality
Tagged Ass Play, Dracula, Fumetti, Garlic Enema, Invisible Vagina, Jacula, Pee Wee Herman, Sexy Vampires, Vampires, Van Helsing
Move over Bo Derek, there’s a new queen of equine eros in town- is what I’d be saying if this were the year 2001. Unfortunately, I’m a little late to the Godiva game on this, so we’ll have to play with the space-time continuum a bit. Just like 1984 came and went without fulfilling Orwell’s dystopian predictions to a tee, there was no way Kubrick and Clarke could have foresaw this aberrant agape in their futuristic vision. 9 cinematic years later, in 2010, the crew of the Leonov and Peter Hyman spoiled the mystery of the first film by revealing the nonsensical hippie message of the imposing monolith- peace and love (a message that would later be recycled in Jim Cameron’s abysmal The Abyss). If we knew back then (2001) what we know right now (2010), we wouldn’t be the King of the Ladies, we’d extend that message of love beyond the Ruskies to the animal kingdom and start fucking horses.
Because what the monolith knew that we earthlings did not, is that the physical act of love between humans and horsemanity is as old as time itself. Hence all the centaur fossils found by Indiana Jones and Sean Connery over the years. Creationists believe centaurs were created by God and coexisted with Adam and Eve and the dinosaurs in the Garden of Eden, but science knows the sexy truth. It is high time we got back to our rutting roots, when “taking a trip to the glue factory” meant something entirely different than it does now.
Sex and the Country
Posted in Bestiality, Books, Celebrity Shit Heads, Film, Music
Tagged 1984, 2001, 2010, Angelina Jolie, Arthur C. Clarke, Bo Derek, Bolero, Centaurs, Extreme, George Orwell, Horse Sex, Indiana Jones, King of the Ladies, Mr. Ed, Peter Hyman, Sarah Jessica Parker, Sex and the City, Stanley Kubrick
I know most of the freaky weirdos that visit this blog don’t come here for my witty brand of irreverent humor. Don’t lie, I’ve seen the search engine stats. You’re into bizarre shit, I write about bizarre shit. Google does the rest. Chances are you discovered thejabber while searching some horrible combination of fetishes that by all rights should have the FBI beating down your door.
But maybe- just maybe- some of you are more than the sum of your kink. Maybe some of you are writers. Writers looking to hone their craft. Or maybe you’re a book nerd, looking for a place to geek out. If so, allow me to present my latest writing venture- it’s called LitReactor.
LitReactor is a new website from the team behind ChuckPalahniuk.net, and will be devoted to the craft of writing and all things literary. We will be hosting a groundbreaking writer’s workshop; monthly classes taught by published authors and industry professionals; as well as an online magazine devoted to news, reviews, interviews, and articles.
The site goes live October 1st, but if you sign up for our mailing list now, you will receive a free compendium of exclusive writing advice from authors such as Chuck Palahniuk, Steve Erickson, Bret Easton Ellis, Craig Clevenger, Neil Gaiman, and Jack Ketchum. So head on over, and while you’re there, like and follow all the requisite social networking affiliates, which will feature supplementary material, not just content recycled from the website.
We’ve got a ton of great things planned, and look forward to sharing it with you all. And for those of you addicted to the flippancy of thejabber, don’t worry, we’ll still be churning out offensive material to clog the tubes of the internet like so many toilets.
Posted in Books, Writing
Tagged Bret Easton Ellis, Chuck Palahniuk, ChuckPalahniuk.net, Craig Clevenger, Jack Ketchum, LiReactor, Literature, Neil Gaiman, Publishing, Steve Erickson, Writing Classes, Writing Workshop
Oh, internet. Just when I think I’ve seen it all, you show me something wonderful and new.
Diary of An Unborn Child was conceived anonymously (just like me!) and published by some Jehovah’s Witness rag in the year of our lord 1980. It is the first person narrative of a developing fetus who can’t wait to be born, but, unbeknownst to him, is actually headed for that great uterus vacuum in the sky.
No one wanted to claim responsibility for the bastard, until a creepy-ass troubadour came along and adopted it as his own. He set it to music, punched himself in the nuts, and took it on the road. His name was Mark Fox, AKA Lil’ Markie, a repressed child molester locked in a perpetual state of arrested development.
Is it rape if she enjoys it?
This grown man would travel from church to church, performing for adults in his prepubescent falsetto, singing songs about aborted fetuses and alcoholic fathers who still get to go to heaven because they accept Jesus in the end. (The alcoholic fathers, not the fetuses. Everyone knows aborted babies go straight to HELL because they haven’t been baptized.)
The whole spiel is meant to tug on the ole’ heartstrings of you pro-choice heathens, but has (ironically) taken on a LIFE of its own on the internet. It is unintentionally hilarious and extraordinarily creepy. It makes me wonder- what happened to Mark Fox as a child that he chose to regress to that stage of his emotional development? Was that when the bad man touched you, Mark? Was it someone you trusted? Did you cry out in that high-pitched voice, the same one you use when committing your own acts of molestation? Because it’s not you that’s raping those kids. No, it’s Lil’ Markie. He makes you do it. It’s the only way to shut him up, isn’t it?
Posted in Music, Religion, Sexuality
Tagged Abortion, Child Molesters, Diary of an Unborn Child, Diary of an Unborn Fetus, Lil Markie, Mark Fox, Opie and Anthony, Pro Life, Reproductive Rights