Hello once again, all of you boob-sniffing, anus-berries!

    I've decided to write this blog post because I've got something exceedingly important to say about the current situation that each of us here in the western world currently seem to be overly engrossed by. I'm speaking, of course, about the current trend among reality TV show producers to slap a mop-dragging fuggasite or two across their show's demographically deprived viewing substrate every single time Honey-Boo-Boo's Mama decides to take the family out for a Rootin' Tootin' Wild-West Burger⢠at the local Pastry Farm and Family Fun Villageâ¢! Have you noticed this? I'm telling you people, this behavior has got to stop!

    Just the other night, I was throwing one into the missus from behind, and, as is always the case, the TV was on in the room and was tuned to some bitch-lickin' channel that was playing an entirely perfunctalicious, cum-lapping reality show. Well, imagine my surprise when, as my hangy-dangly man-nugget containment sack was slap-flappin' against the wife's taint-zoney delicious-bits and, across the screen, came clear evidence that a hard to spot, but extant nonetheless, fuggasite, of the mop-dragging variety, was being slapped directly toward me on the screen! I'm sure you could imagine my immediate dolly-lopping, turd-smearing dissemitude! Now, it is my contention that any one of you jizz-sniffing vulva-pokers, had you been in my position, would most assuredly have pinched your cocks, tickled your uvulas with the backs of your tongues, and screamed to high-heaven the words "OH HOLY MOTHER SMEGMA-SMEARED CHEESBURGER PATTIES! MY BRAINS IS A BOILIN' IN A HOME-MADE SOUP OF FROSTY, FROSTY SHIT-DRIPPINGS AND SALTY, SLIPPERY ANTELOPE CUM!" And, you'd be right to do so! As I'm sure you could guess, that was exactly my reaction, anyway. And, let me tell you something, Brutha! The Wife was none too happy about it at all. "Why'd you quit bangin' me and start into all that screamin?", she said. Well, I was so mortified by the preceding events that I cock-slapped that bitch three-ways from Sunday! Brothers, you should see the sizes of the huge, red penis-shaped welts she's currently a sportin' on her cheeks!

    Anyway, I ask you, my precious and most sexilicious, chocolaty, nougat-filled and fart-smelly readers: What are we going to do about this most vaginous of all problems that we are facing with these butter-colored, yeast-infecty type reality shows? I say there's only one thing to do! I want each of you to write to the producers of Honey-Boo-Boo (and, I'm not talking about no new-fangled, anus-raping, mosquito-cock e-mail writing, either! I mean good ol' slap-me-with-a-dildo, smear-me-up-with-axle-grease, and give-me-a-paper-cut-across-the-eye-hole-of-my-snatch-rammer, paper and stamp and drop-me-in-a-nipple-slicing-mailbox writing!) Write to those producers and say: "Hi! I watched your show! Your Honey-Boo-Boo show, and well, Sir, I ain't no none too pleased with your gratuitous use of mop-dragging fuggasites! And, furthermore, if you don't stop slappin' them things, I'm a not going to watch your show no more!" You go on and write that letter, and you just don't see if they don't no how change their poo-smelling, labia-stroking ways!

    Go on, now! Write that letter! You write that letter, Son! Go on! Write that letter!

    Thanks for listening, y'all! I know you love the fish-smellin' shit out of me, but thanks anyway!