Posts Tagged ‘Humor


Realism for the Day #3

Anything can be forgiven with cake. Even if you don’t like cake, cake can and will make it better. If you cannot forgive someone after they have made and presented you cake, you are probably a sour, cynical, angry, dry husk of a crooked human being with a small black lump of shit for a heart and it is by sheer hatred for everything in this world that you live on…

even I want to have a fucking tea party with a unicorn looking at this cake!


pissingblood’s grindhouse classic review: Flash Gordon (1980)

Although not at all a Grindhouse flick, or even widely considered a B-Grade film surprisingly – it does fit rather nicely in to my trash sci-fi collection. I do have to admit though that – despite the wooden performances by the cast, the low-budget special effects, and the not-so-subtle fetish and bondage gear – the only reason this isn’t thought of as a B-grade exploitation film is because Queen were responsible for the pretty amazing title song and music throughout. I guess that’s enough really… And before you ask, yes, the re-watching of this film and subsequent review was brought about by Ted. Now on with the review!

Flash Gordon is a harrowing tale that highlights the plight of the Lizard-Men of Mongo. (Not where you thought this was going was it?)

The Lizard-Men are easily the most oppressed people in the galaxy, maybe even the universe. The first example of the cruel and inhumane treatment of the downtrodden Lizard-Men comes soon after Flash Gordon , Dale and Professor Zarkov crash-land and are taken prisoner by Ming’s forces. The unwitting space adventurers are led to the Emperor’s Palace where a Lizard-Man, apparently being held captive is disintegrated before the earthlings very eyes for trying to escape. No trial, no just cause, just turned to atoms. This is only the first of many examples of the cruelty endured by the Lizard-Men of Mongo that we could find.

In Ming’s throne room all the different people of Mongo are in attendance, there to pay fealty to Emperor Ming. The obvious absence of any Lizard-Men party goes seemingly unnoticed and unchallenged by any of the other native Peoples. Not even by the Hawk-Men, the only other Mongoloid race who somewhere along the line got it on with an animal. After Flash makes a daring attempt to escape Ming’s soldiers using an American Football inspired style of fighting, is he then sentenced to death, Dale is to be added to Ming’s harem and become his sexual play thing, (Banging aliens is cool but he can’t treat Lizard-Men with any kind of decency? What the fuck, Ming?) and the Prof’s mind is to be wiped to become a slave or something.

In the dungeon, we see yet more Lizard-Men imprisoned behind bars, while Flash is being held in a rather compromising position barely clothed… This is where you start to get the feeling that the film is more sinister than just the persecution of Lizard-Men…

Flash Gordon, 1980, Sam Jones

With the intervention of Ming’s own daughter, Princes Aura, Flash is saved. His execution is staged and along with Aura escapes to the Arboria the kingdom of the Tree Men ruled by Prince Barin who also happens to one Aura’s apparently many lovers. The trend of sexual deviancy runs in the Ming family, I guess. Although now alive, Barin out of jealousy sticks Flash in a cage suspended in the Arborian swamps. There in the watery cell, Flash shares the cage with a Hawk-Man and two Lizard-Men who are forced to hold themselves above the slime and mud or drown. How the Lizard-Men came to even be in Arboria is a mystery, yet there they are, once more prisoners. Flash is even party to the wholesale discrimination against the reptilians as he helps the Hawk-Man but leaves the Lizard-Men to their own devices. Even when escaping Flash offers no help to the Lizard-Men. You would think for a man who carries the title of Saviour of The Universe that it would include all its inhabitants…

When all the people of Mongo are eventually set free thanks to Flash forging an alliance between the Tree Men and The Hawk-Men leading a revolt against Ming’s tyranny – not a fucking green-skinned humanoid in sight, I tell you! It’s a disgrace! For shame! For shame on you, Flash Gordon! For shame on all the Mongoloids who are party to persecuting the innocent Lizard-Men.

Now I know some denialists will jump at the chance to point out that the Flash Gordon film is not a complete and accurate depiction of life on Mongo. Yes that is true, but there are other examples of cruelty towards the whole Lizard-Man race even as far back as the comic strips from the 50’s!

Flash Gordon Comic Serial

3 counts of cruelty to Lizard-Men (which I am told were very easy to find!)

If you’re that sort of despicable, heartless cretin that can abide the sort of wholesale abuse on show in Flash Gordon you’d probably enjoy yourself to the point of re-watching the unadulterated 80’s cheese fest over and over again. There isn’t a moment in the film you won’t find something to revel in. Since you’re in to the abuse, you’ll probably note more than most the fetish and bondage gear that has been worked in to the sets and costume design. You’ll probably enjoy it so much you won’t be able to help but call up all your  sick friends and get them to come round so you can watch the slaughter and debasement of an entire species and then have a glorious BDSM orgy!

Melody Anderson, Dale arden, Flash Gordon

what is up with those guards masks?

Ornella Muti, Pete Wyngarde, Flash Gordon

not even trying to be subtle here!

If in the final scenes of the film the shot of Flash’s rocket ship crashing through the conveniently shaped window of Ming’s pink palace doesn’t plant the seed for some kind of penetration action at all… Even the most decent morally incorruptible of viewers can’t fight that kind of subliminal messaging. Even just looking at the screen shots again has got me feeling a bit funny… Look at the image below and tell me what you see!?

a phallic metal object flying in to a round pink hole? not a stretch of the imagination here, people…


advice for utterly inept man-things

This will probably shock a lot of you… I am in a relationship with an actual human female. A rather splendid relationship, I might add. With a rather splendid lady to boot. I know what you’re all asking yourselves, “That poor girl… What is she thinking? Has she not read this blog? Wait, is this girl made up?”

I assure you she is of sound mind, has read this blog before (unfortunately or fortunately depending how you look at it), and is totally not made up. If you weren’t all complete freaks, I’d put a photo up as proof, but from the search terms used to find this blog I wouldn’t want her image being a part of any of the troubling sordid things you’ll do to yourselves while looking at her… because she is astoundingly beautiful. You’ll just have to take my word on that, and from my track record on here you know my word is infallible.

here, have a picture of a cat instead

Being the thorough novice paramour that I am, and being the characteristically altruistic saint that I am, I’m going to put my sometimes steep learning curves here. Hopefully these will give you some pointers, tips, advice, whatever about how not to fuck up. At the very least it will amuse you a little or make the more sane among you cringe like someone is forcibly dragging your fingernails down a chalkboard. My real intention however is to not-so-subtly show my girlfriend that I am not a complete dunce and actually learn from my screw ups.

So here we go… My advice as it stands thus far:

Do not post your private jokes at each other’s expense on a public forum. Even if she dares you! You will feel like more of a douche if you follow through than if you hadn’t taken up the challenge. I’m almost certain this is a textbook example of douchery. In your mind, in that moment, it will sound like the funniest shit you have done all week. Ignore your mind! Your pathetic mind is male. With your male mates it would be the funniest shit you’ve done all week and they probably deserve the embarrassment they’ll suffer. The girl you are besotted with and who kindly indulges your stupid notions and tasteless humour – not so much.

No matter how fond you are of a certain body part of your significant other, your fondness should not be shared with anyone but her. You would think this is pretty obvious. You may think you are complimenting her in a roundabout way. You may even think you’re being roguish or maybe even sweet. To everyone else you are a gross fucking pervert. Fortunately, if you have any sort of sense, you will realise you are a gross fucking pervert, and feel suitably horrible and ashamed. If not, you are one creepy son-of-a-bitch, and should probably be banned from any sort of human contact immediately.

If there is the slightest chance what you’re doing fails to represent the lofty position she actually holds in your head, you’re doing it wrong. This is the big piece of advice in this post. I have managed to do this a few times mostly because I’m callous, sarcastic and slightly retarded. If you can help it, don’t be callous, sarcastic or slightly retarded. You should not do any of those things. Of course if you are those things, which I am, you best work on being sincerely apologetic… At least until you get them down to a manageable level.

If you didn’t guess, I managed to do all of these in one swift, brain fart. I just broke it down into manageable bits for you fucking retards. Now off with you. I have some apologising to do.


Not News24

My pet hate, for quite a while now, has been News24. It’s a sort of news website that I visit, in my attempt to stay abreast of what the fuck is going on in the world. They are not the only site I visit, and I usually scan news channels too. I use so many sources mostly because, I like to, and because News24 is inept at its designed purpose, since most of the time your attention will be dragged towards some article under which a heated argument is taking place. First mistake on their part is that they allow people, just regular idiots like you or I, to comment on the news, with pretty much impunity. Secondly, they allow any old fuckwit with an internet connection to post opinion pieces on their site. This is not only fucking retarded, but frankly insane.

literally breaking the news. I doubt they were ever first though.

I can hear some of you shouting, “But wait, you do exactly that, you being the arrogant fuck that you are, posting your opinions all over the fucking internet!” I do, yes. Happily I might add. The difference is I don’t post my illogical ramblings about things I don’t understand on sites that are meant to give readers cold hard unbiased facts about what the devil in green pants is going on in our country and the world.

Why would you want to hear or read someone’s comments about the news? The so-called, man on the street’s perspective. It’s like listening to a fat old shirtless man standing by his fence talking to his equally fat old shirtless neighbour, spouting their views of current affairs. No! The very idea of it seems ridiculous, because they don’t know a thing about current affairs that I don’t! What they know is exactly what you’ve read fed back through their biased opinion. Can anyone really be surprised then when racists, extremists, the religious and all manner of social rejects join in?

the spear of the nation, Brett Murray,

this is what happens when the man on the street speaks… pointless!

I’m not going to blanket every commenter as being a fat old bias man, some of them may very well have a rather balanced rational comment to share. Some might even be woman. (My obligatory sexist comment for this post) Really though, those few people who know enough to make those comments are lost in the deluge of brainless opinion shouters.

The news had it right back in the day when the news was delivered via a newspaper, radio or television programme that offered no way for the public to broadcast their feedback. You got the facts, full stop. If it was discussed, it was done so with family, friends, co-workers, and occasionally strangers in the line for the bus. If something said was stupid or ignorant it only affected those unfortunate enough to be present at the time.

Now, these same people you avoided in the bus line and sat as far away from as possible have a platform to let the stupid fall out and be read by millions. There are no benefits to this. This person is not shedding light on a matter. They’re clouding it with their own bullshit. The only thing that comes of it is it gives your growing disgust with humanity credence. At least it does in my case.

Then we come to the blog posts…

I have this blog and I write for other blogs and sites. The people who search out the blogs I write for are looking to read the sort of stuff I write. (or if search terms are to be believed, “grannies to fuck”) My point being is, that what I write is not news or even entertaining to everybody, and I know this so I am not about to go on to a news site trying to get people read what I write!

half of my readership

the other half of my readership… and yes, they read my blog half naked wearing socks…

So, why the fuck, am I coming across blog posts on a news website? Is this news? Does this deal with the cold hard unbiased facts of current affairs? Is this person an expert in a field that I may somehow benefit from, from reading what they have to say? Will I understand anything about what’s happening more? Is there insight, intelligence, anything of value in this drivel that I am reading?

The short answer is, no! These people are writing, often with no style or any degree of skill, what they think. What they think, is utterly pointless to me. If you feel what you have to say is that important, start your own blog and dispense your brain farts to your heart’s content. I mean it. I am encouraging you to do it.

If you’re good at telling people what you think, after a while, you will get told as much by the number of readers you have. Eventually if you actually are good and it’s not just the person you fuck, the people who must really love you and your pets reading your blog. People will recognize your greatness and ask you to write more, and so your words will gain an even greater audience.

Your audience will have been earned, by perseverance, hours and hours of writing and a smidge of talent. You were either thought-provoking, relevant or entertaining. You were something. You weren’t just being a complete arrogant drooling pion who piggyback on the popularity and credibility of a “news website” to dispense your twaddle. I call you arrogant because you believed you had something floating around your soft head that everyone should read. You don’t. So don’t. Stop.

There we have it… Does this rant have a purpose? No… Not really. I had some time on my hands and decided to write this instead of work or wank. Just maybe you found it thought-provoking or relevant or entertaining. Perhaps a sliver of all three, I hope.


what happens when you get sick of job hunting? this…

So, not that anyone would know, I am on the job hunt… again. It hasn’t been long, and the old familiar frustration hasn’t taken long to resurface. The thing about familiarity is that it comes with a barge load of contempt. To say that the frustration has come back with a vengeance is an understatement. I should probably be ashamed of myself for what I am about to show you, but I thought it was amusing. It also serves as a bit of a cautionary tale to those unlucky enough to decide to try make a living off words. It’s not to put you off entirely though, I do love the work that I do, but to choose this life is to have the constant reminder that you will be rejected far more than accepted.

This is an email I received from, probably a very nice lady, who I contacted about a junior copywriter position. I’ve been doing freelance copy and design, with a short stint as an AE, since I left college 3 years ago. We emailed back and forth a few times and this is, safe enough to assume, the last correspondence between us (It actually wasn’t. She replied to this email and was super nice and understanding, which made me feel even more like a dick).

To: Pissing Blood

From: (Lady who sent me the wrong email at the wrong time)

Hi Pissing Blood

Thank you for sending through your portfolio, unfortunately your experience is not suitable for the position advertised. I will keep your details on file for future.

Are you looking for positions in Durban or Cape Town and what are you currently earning?

Warmest Regards,

(Lady who sent me the wrong email at the wrong time)

wtf, kid, fuck you

exactly my reaction

And my response…

To: (Lady who sent me the wrong email at the wrong time)

From: Pissing Blood

Hi (Lady who sent me the wrong email at the wrong time),

A pleasure. Not a problem. Not a line I haven’t heard before, but thanks all the same.

If I may ask a question before I answer yours, which by the way, one of which I find rather personal but will answer anyway. How is one supposed to get this elusive type of experience if one can’t even get a junior position? I am genuinely confused by this ever present requirement that I can never meet.

Now to answer your questions… I am looking for a position anywhere. One where I don’t earn minimum wage after studying for 6 years would be great… Yes, I earn minimum wage! Well to be fair, R300.00 more than minimum wage. (I had actually earned minimum wage that month) Interestingly, by my calculations, if I hadn’t seemingly wasted my time and money studying I could be earning, with a very conservative estimate, around R7 000 p/m by now.

Even more interestingly, I spoke to a “lady of the night” one unfortunate night waiting on the wrong street corner for a lift, that earns that kind of money in a weekend! Not even full days work either, only working nights! That sounds pretty grand to me. So I’ll take anything, anywhere, where I can write or get paid to debase myself only slightly less than selling my body. Could you find some noble employer or trick to throw that kind of cash my way? I wish you the best of luck.

Thanks for your time.

Best Regards,
Pissing Blood

P.S. I don’t mean it personally, you can only imagine how many similar replies I’ve had in the last few years.

P.P.S. I understand if I get blacklisted because of this too…


tales of fail: things grandmother’s eyes have seen

Yup, that time again… There isn’t really any way to ease in to these. Perhaps you should just reside yourself to the fact that you’re about to kill a small, innocent part of your soul and you’re going to laugh through its last pitiful death throes without even noticing until it is too late.

I have had numerous platonic relationships with members of the opposite sex. I take it as a good sign that I am not completely dysfunctional when it comes to relationships with woman, which is not a feat to be scoffed at looking at my track record. This is one of them…

A fateful night that started in the kitchen of my soon to be fuck buddy’s parents place, in the company of her grandmother visiting for the weekend while her parents were away… It was pleasant and jovial start and we assured the sweet old dear numerous times that we were no more than two people who simply enjoyed each others company. This of course was true at the time. I don’t lie, and I certainly don’t lie to other people’s grandmothers. It’s part of my charm that manages to struggle to the surface on occasion, and this just so happened to be one of those occasions. Granny thought me a lovely lad, a bit of an odd dress sense, but perfectly lovely.

The plan for the evening was that I would be shown around my mate’s neck of the woods. I mean her neighbourhood, not her other “neck of the woods”. That part was entirely unplanned and I think surprised everyone. We headed out into the night with granny’s blessing to go be young. Which to us meant go get retarded drunk. The alcohol and conversation flowed that night. Every possible facet of life and what it all meant was discussed as we bar hopped around her little town. I probably discovered something profound and meaningful in all that talk, but it was obliterated by the amount of tequila I poured down my throat. I believe the count was up to 15 tequila shots, when we eventually crash landed back at her place both shit faced and ready to suck face. This incidentally, planted the seed for a strategy I would employ for years involving getting blind drunk, talking incessantly, and then pulling out my penis. If you ever plan on using this method I can vouch that it has about a 100% chance of your penis being played with, but only about a 30% chance that it won’t be by you. Some are thoroughly charmed by your straightforwardness and some are inclined to strike out and scream for help. C’est la vie.

pop art, comic book, woman slapping man, pervet getting smacked

happens more than I like to admit

We were just in middle of passionate love-making… To the casual observer it looked like two drunk people making a good go of fucking on the couch. When the inevitable happened, a lesson that I never really learnt in the years preceding or since that night, that when I have had that much liquor, my dick won’t cooperate with anyone. My dear friend and current object of lust was trying her damnedest to get a rise out of the offending appendage when unbeknownst to us, our skin on skin slapping must have alerted her grandmother to something not quite right happening in the house. She knew the sound even if she couldn’t quite place from where and when. She sat up right, hopped out of bed with the agility of a much younger woman, wrapped herself in her old lady night-gown and made her way through the dark house like a fucking ninja to investigate the origin of the strange but familiar sounds. What she found was two pale naked bodies lit only by moonlight engaged in what can only be described as a blow job. She stood for a moment, shocked, unable to believe the scene in front of her. I, being the only one able to look around the room was equally stunned and speechless. It seemed like an eternity that our gazes locked, watching horror creep over each other’s faces. Both our cheeks going crimson, hers from anger, mine from being sucked off, until there was nothing to be done but to break the silence. There wasn’t exactly silence if I’m completely honest. I’m certain there was a slurp or two in those few milliseconds.

grandma, gun

visions of my future

Granny broke her granddaughters concentration and the silence by shouting, “So this is what just friends do?!”. She didn’t wait for an answer, thankfully. She blurted something about getting dressed and going to bed while making a hasty retreat down the corridor back to her room. Our dear friend, mortified at being caught with cock in mouth, covered her face and understandably took a minute to curl up and die a little inside. While she did that I located my scattered clothes and pulled them on ready to make my exit. I was a gentleman though and waited when she went to check that Granny hadn’t died of a heart attack. I fought my initial instincts then to get the fuck out the house and run before Gran came back with a weapon of some sort. When our, now dressed, mate returned she insisted on account of my drunk state that I still spend the night, albeit, on the couch, fully clothed and far away from her. After some whispered debate, I finally relented when I realised that the situation was far more embarrassing for grandmother and granddaughter than it was for me. I was also assured nothing violent would happen to me while I slept so I reluctantly agreed. We made coffee and sat on the aforementioned couch, and laughed at how the night had ended. To me, a rather good indication that we were to stay good mates.

That morning, I awoke with a pounding head, tongue like sand and cock that felt thoroughly used. I was greeted by the sounds of Granny and one of her friends having Sunday tea while I was passed out, just feet away. I pretended to be asleep for as long as possible but eventually I had to relieve my bladder. I can’t say I’ve ever had such an awkward morning before or since. Then I haven’t been caught completely naked with a future generation’s head in my lap since then either. Strangely, Granny agreed not to tell anyone about what the three of us had shared that night and it seemed like it ended there. That is until a few years later, when our mate’s mother, who I managed to make multiple good impressions on and was on great terms with, hinted that she had been clued in on what had happened on her lounge suit all those years ago. In my shock and embarrassment, I’m afraid I probably didn’t offer up a very good apology at the time… So, Mrs “Mate’s Mom”, if you ever read this, I really am sorry I got my balls out and all over your living room… and I’m sorry you just read the details of what happened that night now.


everybody loves a trainwreck… especially me.

Dear Jesulbub,

I would like to give thanks to you for putting morons on this wet rock called Earth and then letting them loose. Their antics, although infuriating and sometimes scary, at times, offer me great amusement when I need it most. Like just the other day, when I was in the middle of a particularly stressful week, you let one of your many morons skip merrily on to the interwebs and it clicked it’s way on to twitter, where this particular child of yours, managed to fuck up a major international brand’s image for South Africa in the space of one afternoon… I sat in my office and followed the carnage with great interest, and I am thankful for all the laughs as I watched it spiral out of control ending with a big bloody nuclear fallout of an explosion, that was the public’s backlash at stupidity.

Your’s Forever Grateful,

P. Blood

I know I can say some pretty sexist and misogynistic shit on this blog. I am aware of it but I do it anyway. I try to make up for it usually by including some form of apology or admission that I am being a dick… It might not be enough, but then I don’t particularly care if you’re offended. This is a personal blog about nothing, just because I happen to have followers and readers doesn’t make me responsible for anything. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. There are plenty of other yawn worthy blogs to entertain your small minds out there. Even after saying that, there is some stuff I won’t write here or anywhere else for that matter… Like the dumb shit some ass hole, sitting in Durex’s offices somewhere in South Africa, started tweeting. Whoever let this mouth breather near a computer and explained to him (it was definitely a dude. No woman would have made those jokes) how to use twitter, clearly didn’t go as far as explaining what he was doing and the impact it would have if he managed to piss people off. Oh man… Did he piss people off. I have been trying for over a year to get that kind of hatred aimed at me. Clearly, I’ve been doing it wrong. All I need to do is remove my brain, let a 100 chimps shit all over it, stick it back in my head, and let the monkey crap spill out…

Gladly shit on your brain, old chap. But, whatever for?

I like all  social media we have available to us these days. It’s benefits out-weight the negatives by far, but like I explained to some new small-town friends and family, it is still a relatively new technology that we haven’t fully learnt to deal with yet. Our society is still catching up in a way. It is very apparent that not everyone is up to using social media properly, and with the appropriate level of restraint. I have faith though, that one day it will be no more complicated or unfathomable to even the dullest of light bulbs as using a telephone. If anything,  DurexSA’s twitter tragedy, will hopefully be a lesson to others, that letting any old wannabe keyboard jockey that talks a lot, manage your brand’s social media, is not a good idea, because it potentially leads to…

DurexSA gives it a whole new meaning, don't they?

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