Dear Evil Discussor... Is your blog really starting to suck balls?

Yes. Though some might argue it has sucked balls for a very long time. Perhaps, even sucking balls since its inception. And the fact that I myself wrote this question makes it even somehow more ball-suckier, wouldn't you say? This blog sucks balls in the way a guy might desperately try to suck his own balls, but never actually achieve his ball-sucking goal, always just barely unable to reach his balls for to ball-suck. See what I mean? My point exactly. Ball-sucky. If you're even still reading this ball-sucking blog, then I feel somewhat sorry for you. Perhaps it means that you too are, in some way, trying to suck your own balls (or if you're a lady, your lady-balls), each day hoping that your neck might crane just that little bit further, your lips might get that little bit closer, your metaphorical ball-sucking dream might get that little bit realer. But with each and every new day, the disappointing reality that you will never realize that dream. That your balls will always be hanging just that little bit out of reach. That you are not as nimble as you hoped and thought you might be. Or perhaps it just means that you're bored at work. Me, I only wish that that analogy had made any sense, that I could've wrapped up that thought just a little better, and that maybe, that that last paragraph wasn't so long.

Truth is, babycakeses, the joy is gone. I don't feel much like blogfucking anymore. You might come knocking, but the answer will now be "No, Evil cannot come out and play." And no, this is no desperately sad cry for attention goodbye tomfakery like last time. This is the real deal, my blogface doucheheaded blogtard nation. See, I can't keep up this demanding blog schedule. Emotionally, it's too draining. Nor do I care for you so much anymore, my sweet sad beautiful wildebeests. It sounds harsh, but come on, I called you "sweet sad beautiful wildebeests," and that's pretty loving, yes? I've let you toy with my lovestick for a while, but now you must let go of it. You must let go of my lovestick. You must. I've loved you all, but now, must yank my love away. Like a newborn babe from its mother's tender and swollen teet. And though it might cause us both much grief and unimaginable pain, and though that 'swollen teet' bit was pretty unnecessary, such is such, and so it is, and also, be that as it may. Besides, I conquered this bitchface of a blogworld, and now must move on to other forms of conquerage and recreation. Mourn me. Miss me. Dis me. Kiss me. Love me. Love me. Say that you love me. Or just pretend that you love me. I don't care. The dream is over. The douche has landed. The fucknose rides again. Does anyone else want to write this? Does anyone else want to go through the pain and anguish, the mental slavery, the suffering involved in coming up with the funny, the hilarious hilarity, the evilocity, every day or four? Cause little old Evil sure don't. He believes it's time he puts an end to this blogfoolery.

Who was Evil? Who was the man you loved and adored and dreamed of fellating? Who you shared your each and every morning with during those wonderfully fleeting, sepia-toned, wistfully hazy days of Spring/Summer/Fall '06? Who was he? Where did he come from? And why the fuck why? How did his blogstar rise so immediately, yet, like a Nigerian airliner, crash and burn just as fast? What powers did he possess, besides the power of sucking bad? Why must he leave so soon? Will he be back? Will we ever meet again? Has he even really left? Was he even ever here? Where'd he go? And, who the fuck really cares?

No one will ever know the answers to these questions, mon freres. No one.

Well, actually, not true. I will. But still. That doesn't help you, really.

So, yeah. Anyways. OK. Bye.


Yours,
E.D.

Dear Evil Discussor... Have you ever posted a question and not given an answer?

Dear Evil Discussor... Who would you like to hump this Hump Day?

Rachel McAdams or Ryan Gosling. Either one. Or both. Right there in the arrivals terminal. I'd hump them both in the face.

Dear Evil Discussor... Where are you? It's been almost a week with no new posts.

Firstly, stop whining. Secondly, thanks for asking. And tershiarily, I'm too lazy and bored to respond, so instead, will respond by linking you to a response I responded with many, many responses ago, way before you even loved me, you sad, little, blog-reading, me-loving sad person.

Dear Evil Discussor... Were you away for a week?

I'm back!
E.D. rides again!
Dr. Fucknuts lives!
El Dickface returns!
Up yours!

Dear Evil Discussor... Who would you like to hump this Hump Day?

Maybe it's because you have breasts. Or maybe it's, well, just because you have breasts.






























Anything with breasts, today you are my Hump Day Hussy.


previous Hump Day Hussaliciousness
Cute Little Squirrel
Verizon Customer Service Representative
Concha Libre, Blogger
N.Y.P.D. Commissioner Ray Kelly
Woman in the Next Cubicle
Entire 60 Minutes Gang of Correspondents
Lucy Van Pelt
Soledad O'Brien
Phoebe Cates

Dear Evil Discussor... Is this whole schizophrenic thing of you asking yourself questions and then answering them growing tired and meaningless?

Well, I don't ask all of them. Some of them are actual questions that are asked of me by my loyal readership and other retards. But, I do ask some of them. Like, this one, for instance. So, yeah, Me. Maybe the answer to your question is yes. But mind your own fucking business, douchewad.

Dear Evil Discussor... What are some of the even weirder-ass web searches that have led to this site?

Weird-Ass Web Search Update! Weird-Ass Web Search Update!

nipplage blog

This morning, someone in Gurgaon, India, in the beautiful state of Haryana, found this site by typing "nipplage blog" into Google. What? Ok. Yes. Fine. Now, I can't really comment on the flagrantly meaningless and pathetic endeavors people spend hours upon hours pursuing on the world wide web, seeing as I am right now writing this very weak and sad piece of drivel. But I can say this. The stereotypes are true. Those Indians are a smart bunch. Clearly well-read and well-spoken. Nipplage! How very proper of you, kind gent. And may your search for blogs about nipples be both pleasant and fortuitous, my very strange but well-spoken Indian nipple-fiend fetishy friend. If I was but a xenophobic racist assface douche, I might say, "Please, come again." But I'm not. So I won't.

Dear Evil Discussor... Was last week's Special Speed Round Question Day a total success or an utter failure?

Well, first of all, thanks for asking. Remember Special Speed Round Question Day Round Question Thing Speed Day Thing? I do. I remember it quite fondly. Let's take a second now just to remember how awesome it was. Yes. That's right. If my memory serves me well, I remember it to be awesome. Also, I remember its awesomeness. And I do recall, as well, how truly awesomely awesome it was. Yeah, I'd say it was a success. No. It was more than that. The word success does it justice not. It was so fucking successful, I'd say it was a fuckcess. So fucking fuckcessful, that I'm writing another post about it right now. And the fucking thing was over a fucking week ago. That's how crazy awesomely fuckessful it really was. Took me a week to even comprehend its enormity and enormous fuckcessfulness. And no, I'm not just writing this because I have absolutely nothing at all else to write about today, and am totally brain-deaded and douchefaced and fuck-nutted, and so, have had to resort to a slow, sweet stroll down the Boulevard de Nostalgie. It's because I believe something as special and wonderly as Special Question Round Speed Day Ass Fuck is truly worth commemorating. And I'd personally like to thank everyone who participated. It wasn't just me. Alright, fine. It was just me. But it was also, in some very, very, tinily small and insignificant way, all of us. The team. We all made Special Question Round Speed Day Thing Fuck the fuckcess that it was. One hand washes the other, right? Without questions, there are no answers, I think. You asked. And I answered. Brilliantly. Yes, you and me. Together, there ain't nothing we can't never do.

So, thank you. Though, let's never ever ever ever fucking do that again. Because, in retrospect, with the constant back and forth, the day-long communication between us, all the contact between blogmaster and blogtards, this site was essentially one small step away from being some sort of horrible awful chat room. Alright, it was actually no steps away from being some sort of horrible awful chat room. It pretty much was a horrible awful chat room. Which actually makes me totally fucking queasy. To think that, for almost the whole day I was almost in an almost chat room with you. So please, yeah, let's never ever even think of doing that again. In fact, let's forget we even ever did it once. From now on, you live your life, I'll live mine.

But besides all that, and my obvious hate and disrespect for most, if not all of you, here's to future fuckcesses together!

E.D.

Dear Evil Discussor... What are some of the weirder-ass web searches that have led to this site?

Sometimes, when all my evil deeds are done for the day, when my work is put away and I find myself at rest, I take a gander at the site numbers. That's right. I sit here at Evil HQ, in my Evil Underground Lair, in front of my Evil Computer, in my Evil Underpants and an Evil Ergonomically-Sound Desk Chair, and I tabulate the hits. The page views and loads. See, I like to know things. Like, how many people are reading this shit? And, for god sakes, why the fuck why? I check the referrals. How did your sweet doucheyface get here? And what the shit is wrong with you? Clearly, some of you come for the unbridled hilarity. Some of you, for the wisdom, wit and insight. And some of you, well, you're just visiting because you happened to type "Hairy stinky fat fucky vagina evil cats + mom" into Google, and somehow wound up on this site.

Here are some of the strangest, and some of the most unfortunate searches that have led this way. Some frighten me. Others, frighten me. And all of them, bar none, make me very much regret the fact that I ever started this blog in the first place, and became a cog in the very sick, often dirty, sometimes sexy wheel that is Al Gore's Internet.


evil dear

you can remove gum from your sidewalk by

FUCKY MOM

picture of evil thing

I+Hate+NYU

gay bulge pics

under gum scraping

blerds

fucky

asperger evil

why does bum smell

girlish hands

Bad smell evil

π

FUCKY MOM

sucky sucky fucky fucky

freaky fucky funny bunny

photos of people with dentures

lyrics "what the fuck chuck"

wonderly hilarious children's jokes

when to hump

Roethlisberger bad stomach ache

look at evil people

why people chew gum

shon gables and the view

trader joes evil

what does evil smell like

evilest man ever

marriage love sex china

sucky fucky 5$

sara Nussbaum

why my sweat smell so bad ?

fart in front of girlfriend wife

And, of course:

fat womens fucky sexy womb photos


Notice the repetition of "FUCKY MOM." Clearly a popular search on the web these days. And who hasn't spent hours on the web trying to compile some children's jokes that are both "hilarious" and "wonderly." Or, better yet, trying to figure out once and for all, "why does bum smell?" I suppose I should feel lucky. And special. And honored. That the totally fucking crazed and sad and disturbed guy/psycho killer who actually typed "fat womens fucky sexy womb photos" into a search engine, obviously looking for sexy photos of fat women's fucky wombs, instead, found me. And then, went on with his merry womb search. How rewarding to be but a passing participant in that searcher's very special wonderful web journey.



Yours,
E.D.

Dear Evil Discussor... Which is better? Cats or Dogs?

Dogs.

Do cats play poker?

No.

They hide under beds, and scurry away, and hack up hairballs, and claw at your door, and scratch your face off, and try to climb into your mouth and down your throat when you're sleeping.



look! more of these totally thoughtless useless not even interesting posts that i post when i have nothing at all interesting to say posts!
Dear Evil Discussor... Which is better? Boxers or Briefs?
Dear Evil Discussor... Which is better? Outdoors or Indoors?
Dear Evil Discussor... Which is better? Apples or Bananas?
Dear Evil Discussor... Which is better? Squares or Circles?

Dear Evil Discussor... Who would you like to hump this Hump Day?

Maybe it's because you can climb trees. Maybe it's because of your bushy tail. Maybe it's because you're so damn cute. Maybe it's because you're almost smiling in this picture as if to say "I may look all cute and innocent, but deep down I'm really one frisky mofo." Or maybe it's just because there's nothing in this world you would rather do, than spend all day and all night eating nuts.



Cute Little Squirrel, today you are my Hump Day Hussy.




past Hump Day Hussaliciousness
Hump Day Hussy #8, Verizon Customer Service Representative
Hump Day Hussy #7, Concha Libre, Blogger
Hump Day Hussy #6, N.Y.P.D. Commissioner Ray Kelly
Hump Day Hussy #5, Woman in the Next Cubicle
Hump Day Hussy #4, A 60 Minutes Hump Day Hussathon
Hump Day Hussy #3, Lucy Van Pelt
Hump Day Hussy #2, Soledad O'Brien
Hump Day Hussy #1, Phoebe Cates

Dear Evil Discussor... Is this where I will find my Special Speed Round Question Day questions answered?

Yes. It's Special Speed Round Question Day on Evil Discussor. I am answering your awful questions even as I type this. It's crazy! Trust me on that.

Dear Evil Discussor... Paper or plastic?
The Evil Discussor does not shop for groceries. The Evil Discussor hunts animals for his meat and farms the land for his vegetables. For microwave popcorn and hummos, however, the Evil Discussor uses Fresh Direct.


Dear Evil Discussor... Top or bottom?
Bottom. I'm a voracious reader. And that way I can read as well.


Dear Evil Discussor... Hanging left or hanging right?
Both. My biologically-astounding, genetically-miraculous, dopple-headed, lady-pleasing, pork-machine hangs both ways. Obviously.
On another note, your 'This or That?' style of questioning is beginning to bore my very easily bored evil mind.


Dear Evil Discussor... Do you not have a job?
Yes, amish, I do. But when your job title is Evil Mastermind, you make time for these sorts of things.

Alright fine, I'm only Senior Associate Evillator in charge of Evilocity, but I've heard talk of a promotion.


Dear Evil Discussor... Saline or silicon?
Spellcheck, young anonymous, can be the difference between the abundant brittle nonmetallic chemical element found naturally in sand, granite, clay and many minerals, or, the silicon-based synthetic substance in the form of a heat and water-resistant grease, oil, or plastic, that you use to make big boobies.


Dear Evil Discussor... Is Loyal Anon maybe the lamest and worst anonymous commenter in the history of anonymous commenters, failing so utterly in his attempts at both humor and insight, with comments that make very little grammatical sense, and are generally hard to make any sense of whatsoever, such as the question he just asked, "Is it completely necessary to wash-up after 'domless anal?'" and does he often make you sad, each comment of his leaving you more and more regretful of the fact that you ever started a blog in the first place?
Yes. Absolutely.


Dear Evil Discussor... Did someone actually ask that last question or was that you?
That was me.


Dear Evil Discussor... How about that last one?
Me again. But let's stop this, Brain, or we could go on like this forever, k?


Dear Evil Discussor... Is this what it's come to?
Indeed, Chris, this is what its come to. Or, is this what it always was? And also, were those italics used appropriately or not?

Maybe it's correct, what you infer. That your once great and greatly magnificent blogmaster has been reduced to a pathetic shell of his former self. A circus freak. A sideshow. That he is now the Bearded Lady of Blogging. The Dog-Faced Blogger Boy. That he has become both Ang, and Chang, Siamese Bloggers. Its true. I am the Tri-Titted Wonder. You want to look away, but you can't. You are enthralled, and disgusted, by my metaphorical triple-breasted action. Don't look away, Chris, don't. Not even for a second. Stare at all three of my breasts. Embrace me. Embrace them. They are milky and soft. Pillowy, some say. Like the softest soft clouds. Go ahead. Touch them. For free, this time. You know you want to.

But more importantly, let's get back to embracing me. As I am. As the pathetic, snivelling, attention starved blogster with, clearly, way too much time on his hands, that I have always been. Love that. Love me. Love love.


Dear Evil Discussor... What is the sound of one hand clapping?
I don't know, Copyrantyface. But I do know this. I am amazing at what I do. And this here rapid fire question ingestion session is an obvious testament to the powers of my undeniable blogging prowess. And you, you are not half bad either, CR. Each day, "doing your thing" for all of the world's enjoyment and entertainment. Enterjoyment, really. Or, likewise, Enjoytainment, if preferred. Scuse me if I get a little emotional here, but this whole Special Speed Round Question Special Day Thing has drained me a tad, leaving me a wee bit nostalgic, in a 'weeping on the floor naked in the prone position' kind of way. May I just say, on behalf of the whole blogging community: God bless you, Ranter. Bless your sweet little ranting heart. And bless every one of your posts. Even the really half-baked awful ones. Those dreadfully boring ones that you clearly just mail in to fill some sort of personal quota. God bless those ones too.


Dear Evil Discussor... Are you a "Freegan"?
and
Dear Evil Discussor... Again... Are you a "Freegan"?
In response to both of your questions, New Anonymous Retard, maybe I am, maybe I’m not. But one thing’s for sure. You are, most definitely, a new anonymous retard.

Also, in the future, try to make your questions slightly different. Makes it more interesting.


Dear Evil Discussor... So, has this been fun for you? (It was for me)
Amish, although it might have seemed like it, we did not just go out on a date. What's next? Are you going to try and kiss me on the porch?

Anyhow, good to know you've enjoyed this. This, my personal test of will and amazing feat of bloggy strength. It is also good to know that my blogging powers know no limits.


Dear Evil Discussor... Did you have online sex with Rep. Mark Foley?
If you want politics, go to The Drudge Report or Wonkette or Ebaum's World Of Extreme Backyard Bareknuckle Fighting and Awesome Motorcycle Wheelies and Also Probably Some Anal Fisting. But leave my current events-free ass alone.


Dear Evil Discussor... Do you and rantypants hang out? I have (sexual) fantasies about having the two of you at the same time.
First, if your fantasies are only brackets sexual, then, I'm afraid that's not quite sexual enough for me.
Second, the idea of my naked manstick anywhere near Copyranter makes me nauseous and disgusted and, fine, a little bit hard.
And third, how do I even know that you're a woman? There's so many freaky deaky dumbheaded fucknosed anonymous commenters around this stinkhole of a blog, that I'm sure would get off on playing the part of a damsel, and probably would love nothing more than to enjoy me and maybe the Copyranter sans-knickers. So you see, I'm a little bit cautious and a tad crazy paranoid about the whole tryst thing. Prove that you're a femfem.

Dear Evil Discussor... Is it Special Speed Round Question Day on Evil Discussor?

Shit yeah it is!

You ask a question on the comments page. I answer it. Promptly. And in my own indelibly hilarfious fashion. Just like that. All within the hour! Maybe!

It's kind of like how this blog usually works. But faster!

It's crazy. And amazing. And so the fuck am I!

It's fucking freaky awesome! And so the fuck am I! Again!

Right now, as we speak, my fingers are perched ever so slightly above the keyboard, waiting for some crazy furious type-writing action.

Please. Do not make my fingers wait. This will upset them. And trust me, you do not want to upset my fingers.

So, on the count of 3, ask away! Do your worst! Or your best! Whatever the fuck!

1, 2, 3, Go!





I said "Go!" you sweet fucker!