Weeding Out the Weakest Links


Here’s a love letter I gave to Marilyn’s fine ass. Yeee.

Not hotlinks that lead to unreputable pornography sites. Not the cufflinks you thought would be funny to put in the microwave that one time. I’m not talking about a package of Jimmy Dean that your autistic little brother left out on in the sun that nobody found until your alcoholic dad barbecued last weekend and threw it away and then kicked your dog cuz he was frustrated either. I’m talking about the idea of Natural Selection, a proven form of EVOLUTION, and I’m aiming that last comment at the one Fundy who visits this site*. Take that, Fucker. Thanks for visiting the Hammy tho, seriously….appreciate it…homophobic bully motherfucker.

*Mathematically there has to be at least one, right? We get more hits on this site than you might think, and I think that’s dandy.

While I’m not picking fights with virtual personality archetypes that I’d like to punch in my day-to-day life, but fucking (buttfucking, lol) don’t because I’m an adult and I don’t punch strangers randomly in public, I proceed to fuck myself up every day I’m fortunate enough to wake up.

This is being typed by the world’s clumsiest person.

I am that person. And that person is a damn good writer who you should read more often. I’m also like really good when it comes to sex. I’m great at that shit, an idiot savant if you will…ask the first sophisticated and attractive looking lady you see next time you’re out in public, she’ll vouch for me. And by “vouch for me” I mean she’ll call the police and have you arrested because walking up to sophisticated women you don’t know and asking them about their sexual relations they’ve had with a dude you know from the Internet would probably get you a really shitty hi-five, and who wants one of those? Generally speaking most women are out of practice when it comes to hi-fiving, that’s why I said that. I haven’t had a job in 7 months, so it’s safe to say I’ll be out of practice, and therefore shitty at the next one with the foresight to hire a goddamned sex champion like yours truly. Hopefully they take that into consideration when they see that I’m no fucking good at whatever they hired me on to do, naw ‘mean? Yeee.

Octopus Mike: Sex Champion

See that dude in the picture? You’re looking at Octopus Mike: Clumsy Sex Champion. But we have things to discuss….moving on…

I have quite literally, no joke, broken my skull 7 times throughout my lifetime…yes…fractures, like you did to your arm when you were a kid and you got candy and all your friends signed your cast, even the girl you liked that had braces.

I moved recently and damn near knocked myself out on a nightstand….at it wasn’t during sex champion practice…..which would be either masturbation or maybe sex with homely people. Well I’ve done a fair amount of both in my day and I’ll tell you my masturbation technique is pretty fucking out of this world, so that’s not a spring training type scenario. I’m thinking its at least on par with a wild card playoff berth. Homely chicks can range anywhere from exhibition games to Triple A to Dire Straights’ Walk of Life music video. It’s fun, definitely, but its nothing you brag about to your grandchildren. Ironically enough, that grandkid’s grandma would most likely be one of those homely chicks….unless you knocked up your hand, and if you did that, congratulations. You just beat science. You fucking divided by zero you out of this world genius sonofabitch, what the fuck is your secret? Also hilarious to myself, and Marilyn will “vouch for me” on this, I sometimes refer to masturbating as shooting off some knuckle children. Holy shit, I’m Nostradamus. I just had a vision…here’s a prophesy for you: You’re never going to see your family again if you don’t liquidate your bank accounts and send me all your delicious, gooey liquid money juice. Fuck yeah that stuff is refreshing. Try it sometime.

Back to me being clumsy. I basically just proved it to you…… You might say this article had a point to begin with, but that along the way, I “clumsily fell off the track” and went off about a bunch of random bullshit. Awwwwwwwwyeeeeeeeaaaaaaah that’s right. Y’all were a part a science experiment just now. But you beat science when you beat your meat, and frankly you really can’t beat that, so it looks like I’ve been beat after all, holy shit that was hard to say, I’m beat, so I’m gonna beat it, then I’m gonna go to bed and beat it. Beat that.


Regards to Your Knuckle Children,

Octopus Mike
Clumsy Sex Champion, Blogger, Philanthropist, Washer of Dishes, Dance Instructor, PhD