He did whaaaaat?

Happy belated President’s Day, beautiful babies and gentlemen. I have some festive words for you to ponder: We hold these truths to be self-evident! When Thomas Jefferson committed these eight words to paper* (Parchment? Stone?) in 1776, who is to say what he intended them to mean? Historians? People that read books? Not being a “historian” or a “person that paid attention in school” myself, I don’t know. I speculate it was something about how rad it was to wear a wig, or how dead-sexy a good pair of knickerbockers and a puffy pirate shirt looked together. If I were to take those words under my wing and explain to you what they mean to me, what “truths” would I hold to be “self-evident?” They are as follows:
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This is the last thing I’ll ever write as a 30 year-old. And it’s going to be about a guy that looks like this:

Hey man, what’s your name again?

Mr. CooL ICE. I think the capped L at the end of CooL is somehow necessary, like he would have had to especially request that - “Make the L big! No, keep the o’s small. Now make some awful skulls! Hey, how much for a bikini top on the back of my head?”

That thing does look like a tiny bikini top to me, but given the general artistic tone of his ink work (and by “artistic tone,” I mean things Middle School boys - and the girls who play softball - draw in their notebooks during class) I would have to say they’re sunglasses. On the back of his bald-ass head. Maybe I’m completely wrong and it’s actually the silhouette of a phone handset. Or a travel sleep mask thing. I don’t know! What I do know is he was probably super pissed when he saw that the L on his back “CooL” wasn’t capitalized. Look closely at that poor sonofabitch getting tattooed in the lower right corner - “All right, I get it - you’re fucking Mr. CooL ICE. Please stop flexing at me?”
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Push aside that heaping basket of Freedom Fries, and listen to what I have to say, fellow Americans. First of all, cut down on the Freedom Fries, your ass looks like you have a garbage bag filled with pebbles stuffed in the back of your jeans. In addition to that, eating all that greasy food will make you shit something out later that looks like a wet monkey. At any rate, what I have to say is this: girls don’t fart. As soon as I hear they do, then it means the terrorists have won. (read more…)