Category: Echo

What the dick-lips are happening, all my fellow mid-coitus contemplators who’ve taken a moment to stare down at the tiny flaps at the end of your piece and struggled not to burst into laugh— What are you—FIVE???  Never, EVER contemplate the hilarities of sex (of which there are many) before you’re about to grunt and…

What the sex-sacrilege is happening, all you people who’ve gotten a little too routine with your smash-time and are now fighting the temptation to hum the Star Wars Attack Theme at the moment of penetration or pretend you’re on a roller coaster while hitting it from behind by screaming maniacally and throwing your hands in…

What the fart-cloak is happening, all you creative nasties who’ve used nearby excuses—dogs, squeaky gym floors, loud music, ghosts—to conceal the fact that you’ve selfishly decided to pummel the shit out of everyone’s noses with your disgusting flatul— Hey, stop being a sociopathic dickhead and suck that fart in like a low-brow Superman!  People deserve…

What the scrotal fold is going on, all my juvenile-minded fellows who’ve crumpled up your sack and employed its fleshy malleability to express a wide variety of characters that include mythical figures, cryptozoology, and most of the gods from the world of Cthul— Hey man, that right there is one of the ugliest body parts…