Category: Thursday Transmissions
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A zany and profane ad for a survey on my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
Hey you, I would like to put my giant weiner away, wind it around my thigh, tuck it into my sock and ask you some questions. Please help me so I can get back to myhotmom dot com and get motivated to get back to writing. https://form.typeform.com/to/QYCbTtI8?utm_source=xxxxx#first_name=xxxxx
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A zany/profane ad announcing a survey on my website (the last one didn’t work but now we fixed it)
What the nemesis fight is happening, all you superspy mofos who’ve engaged in a 100mph car chase with 90s style euro-goons, flame-jump-transitioned to the top of a bullet-train, only to find yourself in a hand-to-hand melee where you’re punching/kicking/wrestling in an attempt to gain control of the one knife and one gun that somehow manage…
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A zany and profane ad for a survey on my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
Hey you, I would like to put my giant weiner away, wind it around my thigh, tuck it into my sock and ask you some questions. Please help me so I can get back to myhotmom dot com and get motivated to get back to writing.
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A zany and profane ad for a survey on my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
What the Caveman Yearning is happening, all you office-bound clickety-clackers who’re clickety-clacking away at some infernal piece of data-sorting BULLSHIT when the urge to doff all civilized life washes through you and inspires you to purse your lips and start aggressively bobbing to an imaginary set of primal drums—DOO-doo doo-doo-doo DOO-doo doo-doo-doo—then gallop around on…
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A zany and profane ad for the changes to my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
While I’m proud of my accomplishments as an award-winning Man Whore, I’m a low-key dude who—just like the rest of you low-key dudes—enjoys making ape-noises and trying to see if I can use the Force by trying to move the baaaarely out-of-reach remote control using a curled-hand gesture and an intense-ass stare. Yeah, that’s why…
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A zany and profane ad for upcoming changes to my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
What the swamp-dick is happening, all you neglectful meat-slingers who build up a plethora of cheese and ectoplasm only to loosen the draw-strings on your shorts and cause mass-seizures across half the continent, Bigfoots crawl across the forest ground, begging in their strange, horn-like language with tears matting the fur on both their cheeks, paint…
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A zany and profane ad for upcoming changes to my website (yep, that’s what AI thinks I look like)
Bezos busts through the wall, sighting in on me with dozens of unnecessarily visible aiming-lasers, mounted on the shoulders of his billion-dollar mech-suit. “What the fuck?” I jump out of bed and cover my gigantic penis with a nearby pillow. A band of shadow descends on his eyes. “Penis…ROCKETS!” No time to think—I leap and…
Kent Wayne 