Bella Morte "Find Forever Gone"

I had no idea this was going​ up today​,​ but my lates​t direc​toria​l effor​t is now onlin​e!​ This is the music​ video​ for "​Find Forev​er Gone"​ by Bella​ Morte​ off their​ new album,​ Beaut​iful Death,​ which drops​ this comin​g Tuesd​ay.​.​.​


Happy October!

I missed...

Toilet paper should come in rolls of plush, absorbent, flushable gloves...not awkward, difficult-to-maneuver, foldable square sheets. Each finger on T.P. Gloves™ would provide for easy insertion, allowing you to get in there and really dig out any unwanted brown moisture (or unpleasant crust, depending on how long you typically sit on the toilet reading Cosmopolitan with an open hole)...then again, T.P. Mittens™ would offer a unique scooping alternative for those of us with looser anal cavities.

Most importantly, the palm coverage of these revolutionary new products would prevent mishaps (like the one pictured above) from constantly happening to innocent people around the world.


Go to www.anewlow.net for more poop.

Has anyone ever jacked-off a turd?

I'm just wondering if they break apart in your hand...

The Joker and his Midnight Tokers.

The Dark Knight was incredible. Heath was amazing.

...but I'll be damned if there isn't some MAJOR postmortem ass kissing going on.

I'm sad to say I overdosed (ouch!) on hype before seeing it myself.

"A fantastic representation of the Joker!" Totally.

"Way better than Jack!" Better makeup than Jack.

"Insanely disturbing!" If this is your first PG-13 movie experience, let me tell ya, the bad guys do more than twirl their mustaches in these flicks! You might wanna sit down for this one!

"He was on prescribed medication (that ultimately killed him) because he was so tormented by the role." Maybe he was tormented by the roll...I got a sub once and they put it on some sort of garlic/onion roll. I was tormented by smell of my ass for the rest of the night.

"Guaranteed Oscar!" If you're one of the people going around saying this, you probably went right out and put a trendy memorial sticker on your car when some random kid in your high school wrapped his around a tree.

Anyhow, sorry if I've taken your lord and savior's name in vain, people...but, really, that name is Heathcliff. Quit being so silly.

Ready, aim...ejaculate!

This is your lucky day
for any time you wish to spray
your bodily fluids my way...

I will lie down on my bed
tuck my legs behind my head
and I will gladly spread.
...but do not be misled
my bulls-eye is pink, with touch of brown, not red.

six-word Starbucks reviews

Lemonade Blended Beverage
Cold, chunky, lemon scented corn syrup.

Grande sugar-free Vanilla Latte, "skinny," no foam
Muddy water for cuntish old hags.

Mocha Frappuccino
A coffee-esque, toilet flavored McDonalds milkshake.

Starbucks Brewed Coffee
Ground fresh...bagged, shipped...served stale.

Caramel Macchiato
Celebrate your appreciation of tooth decay.

a light at the end of every flesh tunnel

Have you ever had one of those farts that ripple up your buttcrack and erupt from its crest--instead of just spilling from the designated hole? I had one while I was eating my cereal this morning. My posture wasn't quite 90 degrees and I may have been favoring the left hemassphere, so I figured I was just sitting wrong...

...and then it happened again at work. While I was standing.

I'm pretty sure my cheeks are in top condition and I haven't been inserting many foreign objects into my diarrhea faucet in recent weeks...so I have no idea what's causing this phenomenon.

Part of me finds this amusing...but a greater part of me fears the formation of an odorous brown patch on my lower back.

The solution?

I've invested in an economy pack of cotton balls to stuff along my crack, held in place only by the sticky perspiration naturally found within that region after a morning jog.

However, fearing the powerful gust may prove too much for a mere cotton barricade, I've also invested in a "picnic pack" of bendy straws that I'm hoping I can rig into an elaborate fart rerouting system. I'll tape them together, creating a "gas line," if you will, that would start at the northernmost ridge of my ass, sending the farts up my spinal column, over my right shoulder, down my arm and out the sleeve of my jacket.

Not only would I thwart an unwanted scented "tramp stamp," this method would also give the illusion that I have magical powers--such as a sprinkling of foul fairy dust from my fingertips, or bolts of rancid heat from my palms. Whenever I feel gaseous, I'll shake the hand of a coworker, pinch the cheeks of a baby or fingerbang a bedridden elderly woman against her will.

You see, folks...when nature fucks with you, you need to take a deep breath and compose yourself. With a clear head you can turn any negative into a positive, just ask those silly H.I.V. fanatics.

What a "lovely" day.

I got back to my house 20 minutes from the time I'd left, with a thirst for more than just the morning coffee in my right hand. It is Tuesday, a day in which new music and movies are released nationwide on digital formats for our consumer needs. I hadn't anticipated any particular new releases, but I knew I'd find something, anything to put further stress on my iPod's hard drive in no more than thirty seconds of riffling through the iTunes store.

I hit the 128 kb/s jackpot when I discovered AFI had a new album out!



I immediately purchased the album and gulped down my coffee with great anticipation as the songs downloaded to my computer and transferred over to my iPod. I cancelled my 12:30 business luncheon and went out for a long nature walk to really absorb the new songs; to take in every note and become one with the music.

I'd like to share with you my review as it appears on iTunes. I typically write six-word record reviews, but this release is so special, so enchanting...I felt the need to go above and beyond--a reflection, if you will, of the album itself.

(click to enlarge)

dog urine on couch cushion

Looks like I'll be sleeping on the floor tonight.

Hopefully it's still wet in the morning so someone knows to clean it up.

fluffy pillows

When you press one of these down on a baby's face, it has trouble breathing.

D.W.I want more excitement in the local section.

Tony, is this your idea of a joke?? It's like I always say--drunk driving isn't funny unless you have to stop at a car wash on your way home to spray the remnants of a pregnant pedestrian off your windshield.

Give your readers something a little more riveting next time, and remember: aiming for the sidewalk is like aiming for the front page.