Category Archives: Music

Jenna Haze Quits Porn To Be With Greg Puciato, Greg Puciato Quits Being Cool To Chair Wrangle For Taylor Momsen

Note: This blog post should be used for entertainment purposes only and is not to be taken seriously because A) I am a huge fan of The Dillinger Escape Plan, and B) Greg Puciato is a badass and could probably beat me up through the internet.

Puciato-Momsen

So… back in January we learned that Dillinger Escape Plan vocalist Greg Puciato was totally dating porn star Jenna Haze. This just weeks after he went shitzoid on mushrooms, an incident which required the dispatch of 6 police officers, several EMTs and an entire fire truck (your tax dollars hard at work there, people).

Now I know rock stars will be rock stars, but neither of these things sat well with me. Particularly because I don’t view Puciato as a quote unquote “rock star.” (Is it redundant to put “rock star” in quotes after prefacing it with quote unquote?)  No, I don’t have anything against porn stars- they have kept me company many a lonely night- but this seemed like a slide towards the douchey behavior normally reserved for people like Dave Navarro and Tommy Lee.

Don’t get me wrong, I can see the allure of fucking a porn star, but taking one home to Mama Kin? Everyone wants a freak in the sheets, but I’ll take a nun on the streets, thank you very much. This just goes to show that men can be as emotionally motivated as women, and what starts out as the fulfillment of a fuck fantasy can quickly morph into a co-dependency nightmare.

Because after you’ve had your fill of acrobatic mushroom sex, what reason is there to stay in this type of relationship? I mean, Greg comes off as a pretty intelligent dude, so what can he possibly find intellectually stimulating about THIS?

But what the fuck do I know? Love makes you do crazy shit. Like play chair wrangler for Taylor Momsen, she of the previously underage chest meat. This, more than the porn star dating and recreational drug use, has me concerned. I don’t want to be that guy, going on about “keeping it real,” but how do you go from THIS, to this:

I guess we’ll have to chalk it up to artistic growth. It just goes to show, the less you know about your heroes’ personal lives, the better. As long as Ben Weinman doesn’t kick him out of the band for doing drugs and Dillinger continue to make ball-blistering music, I’ll be happy.

As for Greg and Jenna’s relationship, I truly hope they’re happy. Turns out, Haze recently retired from performing; maybe she did it for him? She’s taken similar dick sabbaticals in the past. From Wikipedia:

During most of her time at [Jill Kelly Productions], she performed exclusively with women, out of loyalty to her then boyfriend, an industry cameraman.

I can’t hate on that. And the pair make a cute couple, even though Greg is looking a little too Jersey in some of these pics.

The Soundtrack To My Lovemaking

Nerd Sex

Remember when I got that Spotify invite from Douchey La Femme in Linkin Park? Well, I’ve been making good use of it, and I want to share the fruits of my labor with your languid loins. So without additional adieu, I present to you, for your listening pleasure, my very first playlist- The Soundtrack To My Lovemaking.

This guaranteed panty-dropper features such cock-rockin’ jams as “Can’t Fight This Feeling” by REO Speedwagon (not gay), “Making Love Out Of Nothing At All” by Air Supply (not gay), and “Turbo Lover” by Judas Priest (totally not gay). It’s also got some Wham!, Swayze, and Styxx for dat ass, so come get some.

Don’t be caught with your pants down without these pipe-layin’ classics. Trust me, even if she doesn’t want to fuck you, she’ll let you stick it in just so she can hear the end of “Headed For A Heartbreak.” Hell, she may even stay and cuddle a while to see what’s next. And don’t worry about getting her in the mood. If your ministrations don’t make her wet, getting double-teamed by the soulful duo of Philip Bailey and Phil Collins will. She’ll be so preoccupied with the melodic meat in her aural canals that she won’t notice yours betwixt her sticks. And if she is filled with disgust and regret the morning after and decides to report you, who’s gonna believe her when the police sketch comes out looking like the cover of No Jacket Required?

So what are you waiting for, lazy dick? Hurry up and download The Soundtrack To My Lovemaking. It’s like rock n’ roll Rohypnol.

Poosh Poosh in tha Motha Truckin’ Boosh!

Is it weird that my mother used to rock out to this song when I was a kid? I came from a strict christian family where I wasn’t allowed to watch anything but Disney movies until I was 16, yet crankin’ this song in the car was no problem. Same goes for “Relax” by Frankie Goes To Hollywood. Did she not know the songs were about cutting through the vaginal underbrush with a throbbing flesh machete and some poor jizzlobber’s attempt to hold back while he’s balls deep in a mustachioed leather daddy’s hairy asshole, respectively? Or did she think I was so naive that I wouldn’t make a connection between the undulating rhythms and unsubtle euphemisms (although, Relax, don’t do it, when you want to cum isn’t really a euphemism, now is it?)?

Seeing ones sacred mother sing along to “In The Bush” is even more embarrassing than seeing Nicolas Cage as Donald Kaufman do it in Adaptation, which brought back all sorts of suppressed feelings from my childhood. Thanks, buddy. I had only just gotten past the trauma.

Angelina Jolie Has Taken Her Love of Sarah Jessica Parker A Little Too Far

Jolie-Horse-4

Wilb-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-bur!

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.

Angelina Jolie Horse

Sex and the Country

Diary Of A Creepy Kid Toucher Who Sings About Fetuses In A Baby Voice At Your Local Church

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.

Creepy Lil Markie

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?

Courtney Stodden Is A Forty Year Old Transvestite Prostitute

Hutchison Stodden

For those of you feigning outrage over the marriage of Courtney Stodden to that aging lesbian who was on Lost for like five seconds:

Whoever the fuck she is, wherever the fuck she came from- she is not 16. Look at her face.

Stodden BodMaybe she is a cougar from the future, whose cryogenically  frozen head was thawed and grafted onto the body of a much younger woman. Or maybe she was mauled by a dog and needed face replacement surgery, and the only available donor was a 40 year old transvestite prostitute. Maybe this is a brilliant piece of post-modernist performance art commenting on the sexualization of children in the media. Or maybe she’s just some old-ass gold digger who works out a lot, pulling a fast one on a creepy horndog.

Or maybe, this whole thing is a fucking publicity stunt perpetrated by a second rate TV actor and a wannabe celebucunt.

You can’t tell me this video is serious. Are people that deluded about their creative capabilities? It literally sounds like the inside of an asshole. For those lucky enough to have missed it, but masochistic enough to press play, I present Courtney Stodden performing her debut single, Don’t Put Your Old Man Jizz On Me (Because The Ending of Lost Sucked).


Alright, maybe it is serious. This bitch is dumb as a bag of retarded hammers. Are you ready to cringe? Get ready to cringe. Here she is talking to some cable access priest with a speech impediment whose only sexual experience involved a notary embosser and the underside of an altar boy’s bean bag. Makes me want to stab humanity in the uterus.

I Got A Spotify Invite Via That Douche From Linkin Park

Mike Shinoda Douche

And so can you, because apparently they’re still available. Just click-tickle dude’s prison pussy goatee and claim it. The link’s been up for over ten days, so either they gave dude a shit-ton or no one gives a fuck about this band anymore. The ones Coke gave away were gone in 60 seconds like Nicolas Cage’s sanity, so you make the call.

I didn’t even know who Mike Shinoda was; I just Googled “Spotify invite” and a link to his website came up. After I posted the link on Facebook, all “Who the fuck is this Shitnola dude?” I was lambasted with the type of colloquial pejoratives that are persistently popular amongst the kids these days. Stuff like gay weenus lover, fecal cootie butt toucher, and the like. But the joke’s on them, because they actually knew numb nards by name. Suckers!

You’d figure by using this link, your account would be pre-loaded with Linkin Park’s shitty back catalog, but thankfully that is not the case. So use this gift wisely and go check out something good, like the new Masto-tune (Black Tongue), or Cool Night by Paul Davis. Or don’t. Because like the song says, in the end it doesn’t even matter. Shit-nuts may care whether you like his music or not, but it’s no skin off my dick.

Bangable Racist Folk Singers No Longer Singers Or Racist, Still Bangable

Lynx and Lamb Nazi Hot

Via The Daily

A few caveats:

1- They’re still making offensive art- offensive to people with good taste, that is!

2- They’re fucking hippies now. In my book, that’s worse than being a Nazi (at least from a fashion standpoint.)

3- They’re still kind of racist. Lamb claims she is a fan of diversity, but when asked about the holocaust, she had this to say-

I just think everyone needs to frickin’ get over it. That’s what I think.

What a sweet little Lamb!

Nazi Twins Art

Frankly, now that they’re of age and not as racist, their  appeal is kind of lost on me. And what’s up with the hair on blondie? She looks like an old, bloated Debbie Harry. Is she the cancer one? Because if that’s a wig, she can do better. If not, she needs more chemo. I just might have to revoke her bang status. She can still watch me and her sister, though.

Don’t know what the hell I’m talking about? Click HERE.

Every Teardrop Is A Waterfall That Flows From Chris Martin’s Vagina

What’s wrong with Brian Eno? Doesn’t he have any veto power? Or is he just a figurehead at this point, asleep at the wheel while the band walks all over some greenhorn engineer? Because a producer with integriballs would have told Martin, “Don’t go chasing waterfalls.”

“But Brian, Gwyneth needs these tears to lubricate the arid wasteland between her thighs.”

“That’s what Madonna’s tongue is for. Come back when you’ve got some lyrics that don’t sound like they were written by an adolescent girl.”

Dawson Teardrop Waterfall

WARNING: Listening to the new Coldplay song may result in a bad case of "Anus Face," AKA Renee Zellweger syndrome.

Instead, old man Eno wakes up at the end of each session and dumps a shit-ton of reverb on everything before calling it a day. Then hip soccer moms everywhere validate the whole farce, reaffirming Mrs. Paltrow’s reign as king of the middle-aged vagina rockers.

Santa Hopes Your Fucking Pussy Explodes

Santa Malsesso

He sees you when you're sleeping

Some holiday music to accompany this post

Someone must have been very naughty to make Santa this angry. I always suspected he was a dirty old voyeur, and probably banged a few housewives in his time, but I had no idea his kink was this sadistic.

Santa Dynamite

Boom! goes the dynamite.

English translation cobbled together via Babel Fish:

to how much it seems, to you it appeals to feel the orifice clog to it must… therefore you will go crazy for these two candles containing waxes plastic

Orifice clog?!?!? Sounds ominous. Still unsure of Santa’s nefarious plans for the dynamite? Click the above picture to find out IN GRAPHIC DETAIL (link not safe for holidays.) Or you could just skip to the end and play connect the dots. Enjoy!

Pussy Explosion

Fumetti strikes again. And you thought the Japanese were kinky.