Shit, you get one with a good enough crust and it’ll club a motherfucker into the ground like a fence post.

Bonelessius barbequeum Wingius

Isn’t the rapture supposed to be like… the first step of the apocalypse? Cause I’m lookin around at the state of things right now and uh…

There is no “too soon” to joke about dead nazis.

Feet are pointed the wrong way. Unless he snapped his spine in half and spun his neck on a 180, that ain’t his.

There was even a song called Never Go Walking Without Your Hatpin.

Dammit, now I gotta go get me a sketti.

Mostly because almost nobody knows it exists in the west.

It’s an experiment I’ve been trying: if I have nothing to say, I don’t say anything. I’ve found I tend to make myself look like an asshole far less often this way.

Fillin that whole establishment with uppercut.