Hookers or Cake

I happened to make the acquaintance of a very nice lady,
she had a great set of tits.
In fact I found that I rather enjoyed placing my penis between her breasts and rubbing myself into a hot, happy mess.
well some years later she got cancer and they removed her fabulous bosom

and now I no longer know what it is that I am fucking

cancer, memories, death… cold empty space?

I can honestly say that I find all of this somehow much more fulfilling.

To be uncertain and afraid and yet still fucking

God would get tremendously bored if it weren’t for the devil. So I guess thats why we kept Phil around.

 We threw these parties where there’d be all the usual debauchery; sex, drugs and mad libs but then Phil would call up a pizza delivery boy and pay a sex worker ridiculous amounts of money to act out a 3 hour performance of a “very special Fresh Prince of Bel Aire” episode… you know the one where Will Smith yells “You are not my Father!”

Some of the performances were actually pretty good. We filmed a couple and I think one of em even won the Palme d’or at Cannes.

Ohhh maybe not. I think it was the Dukes of Hazard Kabuki re-enactment that won the Palm d’or that year and we won Cher or something.

pic via words by Hookers or Cake

Happy Thanksgiving from Hookers or Cake

“I haven’t been touched like that in ages,” Rose whispered to Stella after the mandatory TSA pat down.

“Hell I aint been touched period, in… well I guess its been almost 20 years.” sighed Stella.

The dormant oxytocin released into their systems as a result of human contact now produced a flush and rush of feelings and emotions.

“I need a fucking cigarette,” declared Stella standing up.

“Oh Stella, there aint a cigarette around here for twenty miles.”

“Bullshit!” Stella blurted. “I saw a smoking room next to that bar. Come on Rose, lets go get a drink.”

And the two of them tottered off in search of a Pall Mall and a proper Tom Collins.

Later that evening someone got a phone call. It seems that grandma had broke her hip, falling off of a bar.

words by Hookers or Cake pic via

(Source: )

A Charlie Bronson Thanksgiving (aka Death wish VII)

The bright recognition of ones own mortality, poops on the ol giggle parade.

Last night I was visited by 3 Elvis’s

The young, crazy vibrant Elvis

The fat, drugged old Elvis

and the massive dead Elvis

They told me to change my ways baby

that I was losing hydrogen and helium at my core

while expanding in mass.

then they asked me if I was going to eat that

they were pointing at a bare wall

I said no and stepped aside.

They tore the drywall from the studs and young Elvis thrust his manhood upon it making love to it in several different ways and yet somehow all at once.

Fat Elvis crushed up the parts young Elvis was done with. He snorted up the dust but the larger parts he cooked into a cosmic frittata using a red hot skillet.

Dead Elvis just held the whole scene in its infinite mouth - his massive mutton chops would close in upon it obliterating all light and sound. Then the giant horns would sound and the mutton chops lift and the whole cycle would begin again.  This repeated itself all through the commercial break during the age of Kali Yuga and then we went for ice cream.

I find the old picture

like a forgotten candy bar tucked away in ones boot

only to be remembered in the middle of a munchie fueled, drug

crazed search



It is in quiet moments like this that I meditate on thee

You break out and are upon me

like the warm shhuddering piss of a walrus at a breakfast buffet

I find myself helpless

and in awe of your immense power and grace



The Greek Chorus may taunt me

singing (to the tune of Camptown Ladies) “Johnny Cash didn’t have

a mustache - doo-da - doo-da”

but I simply smile to myself, because I know the truth…



Just because you don’t see a mustache doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

TGIF Bitches…

(Source: )

And the king bestowed upon me

a set of magical wrenches

encrusted with priceless jewels

but they were metric

and therefore fucking worthless

::::

40 dinosaurs having sex

Diplodocus got it going on y’all