Sunday, August 30, 2015

Show Muscles Vs. Real Bullets

It's Dr. Triceps Meat here to tell everybody about the benefits of show muscles, by which I mean giant muscles that get the attention of the ladies and the boys, if you know what I'm saying. Thing is, show muscles don't get enough respect. Everybody knows about having the triceps meat, but haters still be hating on other muscle groups, much to my chagrin. Big pecs don't equal big boobies, folks. They have function as well as being pleasing to the eye.

I met some haters the other night who brought attention to my show muscles. They said that show muscles were all show and no bite. Rather than suplex them to oblivion, which was my first thought, I took pity on the fools and proceeded to lay waste to their asinine opinions. Just because the Amish don't have show muscles don't mean show muscles aren't all that. No argument should be won by citing the Amish. Show muscles can even stop bullets: just look at Fifty Cent. Recognize:

Show muscles give one the ability to crush an acorn between their man boobies or their buttocks.

Show muscles let you lift things, like small children or large men.

Show muscles pop when you put on a tight shirt.

Show muscles can be used as a human lifeboat in dire situations.

Show muscles allow you to be used as a human weapon.

Show muscles are built by protein and that can't be all bad.

Show muscles can build a house for you but maybe not as well as the Amish.

Show muscles have a particular odor that is pretty cool.

Show muscles are an antidote to the natural aging processes of the body.

Show muscles helped defeat Communism and Nazi-Germany.

Show muscles got a foreigner elected to the office of Governor in the State of California.

Show muscles boost your testosterone and make you more of a man.

Show muscles will inevitably out your friends who are secretly gay.

Jesus had show muscles which brought him back from the dead.

They were trying to tell me that my show muscles were useless against bullets. I mean sure, if you have a gun, show muscles aren't going to best that. Strong people are harder to kill; just remember that. Also remember the power of positivity, which is way better than the power of Bo-lieving. All you have to do is Bo-lieve? What the hell is that? New Daay!

Wednesday, August 26, 2015

Your Job Is Your Life

You understand what I'm saying, right? You know I don't like to repeat myself. I'm a powerful man, with powerful allies, who does awesome things you can't even imagine. One time, while sailing in the south Pacific, I had a Japanese free diver dive to the bottom of the ocean and bring up a baby kraken. I ate it right there on the spot, while it was living, and now I have the power of the beast. Can you comprehend that, peon? I guarantee you Bill Gates doesn't do shit like that.

So I'm a little tired of hearing about all of the poor working conditions at my company. The white collar workers are complaining about having to work 60 hour weeks and about how the company won't give them any time off for personal tragedies like family deaths or miscarriages. What a bunch of pussies, right? I don't bring my personal baggage to work. I lock it in a vault and then throw away the key, and then, sometimes, I randomly assault people and nearly beat them to death. That's healthy, okay? That's what you're supposed to do. Anyone who has a job is lucky to have said job. There are Chinese people who would murder your entire family to do the things you get to do. So suck it up and quit whining to the New York Times about how hard your life is. You want to know some folks who have it tough? Try working in one of our warehouses. It gets like one-hundred degrees in there in the summer, and you have to stand ten hours a day putting shit into boxes, and you do that long enough, you can feel your brain sliding out of your ear holes to puddle on the floor. I'm telling you right now that monotony is the worst thing in life. And these people live it for like ten bucks an hour. You don't hear them complaining much, do you? That's because they have no economic power. There's nowhere else to work. They are unskilled labor. They know that if they don't do a good job, I'm going to replace them with robots. Believe you me, we're working on it. Beautiful sex robots that can stand twenty-four hours a day and put shit in boxes with one hand and jerk you off with the other. God, I can't wait for the future.

Your job is your life. You were put on this earth to work for the company. Let me explain it to you in a way you might understand. You need money for food, water, shelter. You lack the creative brain of someone like myself, so you need to find a company to leech off of. That's where we come in. You give us your life, and we give you money, which you are free to spend however you want. Economics 101, asshole. As far as you're concerned, we are God. Do you complain to God? I bet your ass you don't because you're afraid He'll smite you. Well, be afraid of my wrath, peon. I don't want to hear anymore goddamn complaints, or I swear, everyone will be replaced by a sex robot. It's going to happen anyway, but I'll delay it as long as I can. Just as long as everyone's a good worker. Have a nice day.  

Monday, August 24, 2015

SummerSlam Verdict

I do plan on doing another podcast with the goons, with SummerSlam being a main topic of discussion, but because I am creatively spent and have nothing else to write about, let's go over last night's epic bout of sports entertainment.

First match: Randy Orton vs. Sheamus. One of the most boring matches of the night, which I expected. These are two solid guys who've been over-pushed and over-viewed. The fans love Orton, but he's nothing special in the ring. Same goes for Sheamus. Thankfully, it was over quickly and was solid enough not to spoil the evening.

Tag-team match: New Day vs. Primetime Players vs. Los Matadores vs. Lucha Dragons. New Day got the belt back! Didn't expect that. They are easily the best thing in the WWE. Between Big E's sexy dancing, Kofi's acrobatics, and Xavier's ridiculous mic work (Big E's got the market cornered on triceps meat!) you can't go wrong with these guys. They are the best heel stable around.

Dolph Ziggler vs. Rusev: Another boring match. The feud between these two is stupid. Lana and Dolph look like the bad guys, and the crowd was more interested in seeing Lana naked than watching anyone wrestle. So much for the so-called Divas Revolution. Gotta love Rusev's flag, though.

Neville and the guy who plays the Green Arrow on the WB vs. King Barrett and Stardust. Not a bad match. Was over quickly, and Neville got to do the Red Arrow. The celebrity didn't embarrass himself. Wonder if Stardust is going to get buried again. Would be a shame.

Ryback vs. the Miz vs. the Big Show. Another yawnfest. Ryback won, which was the result everyone expected. The Miz is old news, and the Big Show should retire. Was somewhat entertaining, though.

The various Divas teams wrestling for nothing. No belt on the line, no reason to care, really. Too much Brie Bella and not enough Sasha Banks. They want Nicki to hold the title long enough to surpass A.J. Lee, but throwing all these teams together isn't going to make people care.

Cesaro vs. Kevin Owens. Cesaro looked a little bad in this, but it was a good match. Kevin Owens needed the win bad, considering he hasn't won anything since defeating John Cena on RAW in his debut. He looks like the kid who dunked you in the toilet in middle school. Despite that fat body, he's an amazing wrestler.

Shield vs. Wyatts. Roman got booed, and the crowded chanted "Roman is sleeping" while he writhed outside the ring for too long. Reigns is not over with the crowd, no matter what Vince wants to happen. He should turn heel and develop some personality. Bray Wyatt becomes buried even further.

Seth Rollins vs. John Cena. Hey, John didn't win! That was a surprise. Having Jon Stewart come out and hit him with a chair was strange, but what the hell, I'll take it. Seth's run hasn't been very smooth, but he's a hell of a performer. I hope they book him better in the future.

The Undertaker vs. Brock Lesnar. A great match that was ruined by its confusing finish. I was very surprised that the Undertaker wrestled as well as he did, considering he's fifty years old and looks like he lives in an alley. Brock dripping various bodily fluids was gross. Obviously the rematch is coming for Wrestlemania. I just hope the Undertaker can find a warm cardboard box to sleep in before winter sets in.

Overall verdict=B. I was entertained and surprised. That's all I really ask for out of wrestling.

Friday, August 21, 2015

The Delicious Taste of Schadenfreude

It tastes so sweet, doesn't it? Like the tears of angels. That self-righteous son of a bitch finally got his. "There is a god," you say, licking your chops. In a just world, everyone gets what they deserve. Hypocrisy results in ironic misfortune. Those who don't lift the seat up when they urinate eventually sit down in a puddle of piss. The serial adulterer was being cheated on the whole time. That monkey that threw shit at you at the zoo had his whole species wiped out due to habitat loss. You deserved it, monkey. Enjoy being another footnote to humanity's grand march toward progress.

The problem, of course, is that that monkey was just one of many. There are plenty of shit-throwing monkeys getting away with it scot-free, is what I'm saying. This monkey's species might be suffering from habitat loss, but they aren't in danger of going extinct any time soon. Crazy fundamentalist Baptists that raise their women to be submissive baby-machines still lurk in the shadows like Lovecraftian horrors. Honey Boo-Boo's grotesque mother can be found in any trailer park or Walmart aisle. The desire to watch these train wrecks, these human disappointments, also exists in our own hearts. We compare ourselves to these fools; we laugh at their idiocy while giving them more influence and legitimacy. I am better than them, we say, confident in our self-assessment. We don't realize that the shit-throwing monkey is just doing as it was taught to do.

What am I trying to say? I don't know. Maybe we shouldn't keep these monkeys in the zoo. Maybe they should go back to the wild and try to live their own lives. Right now they exist so that we can derive pleasure from their misfortune, and really, that's perverse. You give a monkey a stage and pretty soon he's throwing poo at everyone and everyone's covered in poo. I don't care how schadenfreude tastes. It's got poo in it.


Tuesday, August 18, 2015

Tweets that I will Never Tweet

1. Oh my God, I just ate a pound of stroganoff, should I call the hospital? #Imgonnaexplode

2. You'll pry my gun from my hand when I'm dead #Getthisgunouttamyhanditisstuck

3. Batman is the best superhero #Batmanisgay


5. Tweet, tweet, motherfucker #TwitterSucks

6. I can't express how I feel in 140 characters #WHATISATWEET

7. Trump for President #DestroytehGovernment #FromInside

8. I don't skip leg day, I run #Iwanttofitinskinnyjeans

9. Not sure how this Twitter thing works #I'mOld

10. When did the pound sign become a hashtag? #Don'tBelievethelie


12. Inspiration garbage #LifeisPoo

13. Who eats apples? #Dotheygrowontrees?

14. Never understood the fascination with dinosaurs. Don't you know they weren't real? #DinosareSatan'slie


16. Whats the Next They're Gonna Invent That I'll Not Figure Out HOw to Use? #Old #Depends


18. Winny the Poo is not a bear #CartoonThing #HoneyAintThatGood

19. Meat is murder #EatAlltheVegetables #Havingtheruns

20. #Hashtag #Hashtag #AMIDOINGTHISRITE?

Monday, August 17, 2015

Hanging with the Goon

Greatings and salutations, ya'll, I'll have ya know it was just my birtday! That's rite, teh Goon is now thirty years of age. Who wouldve thought Id make it dis long? When I was a kid, a German Sheepard took me in its jaws and carried me into da woods to teh Goblin King an I was annoited "Teh Price who Will Cometh." Since den, my days have been numbered, an as far as I'm concerned, every single day since has been a gift. Udder den dat, I've had to survive amongst my kin, whihc is no laughing matter, lemme tell ya. Slack hit me wit a crowbar when I was ten and dats why I see prancing faires ever now and then. Willy tried to drown me in the toilet just teh udder day but I survived cuz I got teh family gills. Lets juust say teh Goon is a surviver. Lemme tell ya bout my birtday.

Uncle Thom came down early in the morn wit an ice cream cake an he showed it to me wit a big smile on his face an then he ate it all in front of me and said "Happy birtday, moderfucker." Now dis is tradition, so it didn't bother me nun, even though ice cream cake is my most favorite thing in teh world. When I tried to leave teh trailer my brothers gave me a sock party an I passed out in the grass for bout an hour. Dis is also tradition, though I can't remember why. Later I woke up an dey was dragging me behind a truck through teh woods, wooping an hollerin' and carryin' on. I got caught on a tree stump an lost one of my fingers. I was pretty pissed by then; there ain't no sense in taking a man's finger on his birtday, so I stormed off an hid in teh park awhile. I got some toilet paper in the rest room to help slow teh bleedin. There was a little fairy child in dere, an he told me dat it was almost time for me to retern to teh Goblin King an take my rightful place by his side. "Will dey give me sock parties on me birtday?" I asked him. He gave me a strange look and shook his little head. I don't think he knew what I was talkin' bout.

I teh park I found a hobo drinking a bottle of gin, so I hit 'em wit a tree branch an stole his liquor. From then on, things started going rite fere teh Goon. I beat up some teenagers in teh park and took dere skate boards. I skated into town an threw up in a garbage can. Down at teh river I found a dead fish that I poked wit a stick for bout an hour or so. Somehow I ended up in the junkyard where I took a good long nap in an AMC Gremlin. In my slumbers I spoke to teh Goblin King an I told him I wasn't ready to give up on dis life, naught yet. "Sure, it might get bad," I tell him, "But dere's always enjoyment to be had, provided yere easily entertained." He told me I was wise and dat they await my comin'. That's something to feel good bout, don't ya think?

Friday, August 14, 2015

Mitch R. Singer's Most Inspirational Quotes

"Life is a box of chocolates that God stole and smashed in your face."

"Birthdays are a tally kept to tell you how little you have left to live."

"Jesus had himself taken out. Why shouldn't you?"

"Kiss me like a dog."

"Bark when I tell you to bark."

"I've got a knife in my back pocket, and my sail set with the wind. Wherever I go, I hope they have plenty of liquor."

"That back alley trap had eyes like a giant squid, and a pair of knockers like bowling balls."

"Sweetness is the ichor that kills."

"No one wants to find religion. Religion finds you."

"Take my guitar picks, I don't want them anymore."

"The last man that told me what to do got syphilis and a bag of rocks for Christmas."

"What problem ails you that a case of Miller Light won't fix?"

"Sometimes I'm so sad that I can't get up to take a shit."

 "Money is opium for strangers."

"Never met a dwarf that didn't like to eat catfood right out of your hand."

"Cats is the definitive work of the twentieth century."

"Whatever she had going for her, it ain't workin' no more."

"I'd rather eat a leather shoe than sing at the Grand Ole Oprey again."

"Hank Williams saw the abyss and the abyss stared back."

"I carry a camera around at all times so that they'll know how I died."

"Meat is not murder. It's what I got in my pants."

Wednesday, August 12, 2015

You Gotta Have that Triceps Meat

This is a public service announcement. Listen y'all, you have to have that triceps meat. You know what I'm talking about. We gotta see that medial head. It's gotta hang low, sweet chariot. I wanna be able to gauge your max bench when I see that triceps meat. I wanna be able to put it on a plate with some hot sauce and eat that shit up. Yum. Lotta nutrition in triceps meat, you know. It's a delicacy in some countries.

It's questionable how exactly one gets that triceps meat. Some say you gotta do a lot of dips with weights dangling low around your dingy. Others say that pushdowns are good enough, but don't listen to those folks. Truth is, you either have the triceps meat or you don't. You gotta be born with it. It's a gift. You can lift all you want, but that ain't going to do it for you. I was born with the triceps meat. There are great things in my future, you can bet on it.

You can't do steroids and get that triceps meat. You can't pray for it and find it on the altar. You can't steal it from another, though many have tried. Triceps meat is forged to the bone, you know. That shit don't come off. There's no adhesive to bind it.

Some of you have no idea what I'm talking about. That's okay. You weren't chosen. The ones who matter know. They got that horseshoe shape bulging from their striated arms. They can't wear normal t-shirts. Nobody challenges them to an arm wrestling match. Their mommas ain't ashamed of them like your mommas is ashamed of you.

You know I gotta PhD in triceps meat studies? Soon as I left the crib, they handed me my diploma. My friends refer to me as "Doctor Triceps Meat." I'm cool with it. As you should be.

You gotta have that triceps meat, folks. Best be hanging out with somebody who does if you don't have it. Find that dude and stick to him. Only he can save you. He's your boyfriend now. Best give him the keys to your heart, 'cause that triceps meat sings a sweet, sweet song. It is a forbidden tune, a siren's lament. You don't go back to real life after experiencing triceps meat. Believe you me.

You gotta have that triceps meat. I can't stress that enough.

Monday, August 10, 2015

The Consummate Politician Apologizes

Yeah, they're making me do this shit again. Hello, people, I'm trying to run a campaign here. I don't have time to apologize for all the stupid things I say. That's like the point of me as a politician. I say stupid things. I do stupid things. Somehow, people still vote for me. It's like they don't care who is running their country. You know what? I just try to get past it all and do the best job I can.

Sure, maybe I shouldn't have implied that the debate lady was on her period. But come on, didn't she look a little hormonal? You can never tell with women. We should make them wear a star or something so that we know when they're riding the red tide. Imagine how much easier life would be. Really, most of the problems in this country are caused by menstruating women. That, and illegal immigrants. Black people do a lot of bad stuff, too, but don't quote me on that. Hah, go ahead. The demographic I appeal to will love that.

By the way, does anybody understand why women have a menstrual cycle? Isn't it kind of weird? What the hell bleeds for five days and doesn't die? A fucking monster, that's what. All women are monsters. You marry them when they're one-hundred and fifteen pounds, and then they gain like ten bills in the first year. Then they sue you for alimony and take the cake. You're left with a bunch of whining brats and a sexually transmitted disease that the bitch got from the pool boy. That's why I castrate all of my pool boys now. Learned that lesson the hard way. Won't get fooled again.

Ever notice that the media seems run entirely by hormonal women? Most of them are lesbians, too. Ever try reasoning with a dike? It ain't possible, I tell you. I think they're vampires. I've never seen one in the light of day. They only come out after dark like the morlocks. Come on, what woman in her right mind rejects the penis? They used to think that all the gays were insane. I still do. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

The truth of the matter is that I have them scared. See, I'm not the ideal candidate. I don't have a perfect family or a squeaky-clean history. I'm not as photogenic as they would like. I don't respond to questions with platitudes or roundabouts. I say what I fucking think. And I'm going to keep saying what I fucking think. This is America, assholes. Freedom of speech, people. If the common folk want to elect an idiot, then they are free to do so. Isn't that democracy in action? Are you telling me you want to oppress the rights of the common people? Okay, Hitler. Anybody with any brains will be voting for me. The right choice. Though I'm not Pro-Choice. An abortion should be done with a coat hanger and a good push down the stairs, not in a doctor's office. I think that might be my new slogan. God bless this country.

Friday, August 7, 2015

I Am Running for President

This looks like a face America can get behind.

Next year's presidential election has given us such a diverse collection of assholes that I've decided, hey, what the hell, I'm running for President. I give everyone permission to write my name in. If elected, I will honor the office by dismantling as much of the federal government as possible, which is what all you conservatives want. We'll see how it turns out. Be careful what you wish for.

My main promise to you all is that I will establish a totalitarian system that abolishes our current representative democracy. Face it guys, it isn't working. Only rich dicks get elected by the establishment. Every four years you have to vote for some sleazebag who thinks he knows better than anyone else. I have enough honesty to admit that I don't know how to solve America's various problems. I'm not going to try to rationalize with you, or plea to your instincts. I'm just going to do what I want, without explanation. Let's go over some problems that I'll attempt to solve.

Gun violence--Nobody owes a gun without a Presidential decree. I think this is fair. People kill people, not guns, but people use guns to kill people, right? That's the whole point of owning an AR-15. You want an AR-15, then ask me. Just don't ask me again if I say no. There will be detention camps. They will be no picnic, I can assure you of that.

Federal prison system--I'm getting rid of it. All of it. You commit a major offense, then your ass is grass. Minor offenses will be fined. If you can't pay, then off to the work camps. The Romans had a good system.

Drug usage--You don't need them, all right? I'll let people smoke marijuana, but it won't be cheap. Anything harder than that, well, get ready for a work camp or have the cash to pay a hefty fine.

Our crumbling economy--The dollar will be abolished and replaced with Goon Bucks. Goon Bucks will be tied to a gold standard to placate all those old school crazies. Communities will be self-sufficient. More farms will be established. Jefferson's agrarian paradise will be realized. The gas tax will be much higher. You don't need to leave your community. It's your home. Forever.

Religion--All religion will be outlawed except for Goon Worship. Every community shall have a small shrine dedicated to me, your fearless leader. Every day you shall leave a dinosaur toy and a protein shake before it in my honor.

Global warming--The gas tax will cut down on our fossil fuel usage. Green spaces will be government protected. There is no such thing as private property in the Goon's America. I reserve the right to possess your land and establish a wilderness refuge. You weren't going to do anything decent with it anyway.

The difference between me and the other candidates is that I admit my craziness up front instead of hiding behind a wall of platitudes and cliches. You want to fix this country? Then vote Goon.     

Thursday, August 6, 2015

Predictions for SummerSlam

Bleed, John, bleed.

Summerslam is only a few weeks away, which means that the WWE is preparing to pull out all of the stops in order to satisfy its huge fanbase! Well, not really. The WWE does not care about the fans. It's Mr. McMahon's show, and you better enjoy your PG sports entertainment. Let's go over some reported matches.

Numero Uno--Seth Rollins versus John Cena for the Heavy Weight Belt. Honestly, the Rollins championship run has been mixed. He's a great wrestler and solid on the mic, but the writers (who I am fairly convinced must be a race of barely sentient chimpanzees) have given him nothing to work with. We have a champ who can't win without help from Kane and J & J, who runs when the going gets tough, and who taps out. At this point you have to wonder if Rollins' career will survive. Why is the WWE so reluctant to push new superstars? Is Cena going to wrestle forever? The guy is in great shape, but he's 38, and as his Raw match showed, he's only one bout away from a severe injury. The truth of the matter is that Cena sells t-shirt, and after the Hogan controversy, Vince is going to turn to his money-maker. What about the future, though? What about the sizable portion of the fanbase who are tired of seeing John Cena win every single match?

Winner: Cena.

Dos--Brock Lesnar versus the Undertaker. Brock Lesnar is awesome. Raw was constantly saved by his beastly presence, and together with promoter Paul Heyman, he's pretty much the best thing WWE has going. The Undertaker is a legend, and proof that they don't make them like they used to. But why are these two getting together? The whole past year was spent building up Lesnar to take the belt from Rollins. I know that the Taker is pissed about the streak, but he's a fifty-year-old man past his prime. This will probably be a cool match regardless, but it's further proof that the WWE has no eye for the future.

Winner: The Undertaker.

Tres--Ryback versus the Miz versus the Big Show for the Intercontinental Championship. Ryback finally got a push early in the year, and it's no wonder. He's not amazing in the ring, but he looks like Goldberg and fits Vince's idea of what a wrestler should look like. The Miz is old news in the ring, but he's humorous on the mic. The poor Big Show probably should have retired since the company has no idea what to do with him. This match is as preordained as the Rollins--Cena bout.

Winner: Ryback.

Cuatro--Bray Wyatt and Luke Harper verses Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose. This is my most anticipated match of Summerslam. I'm not crazy about Wyatt and Harper as wrestlers, but their creepy cult thing is pretty cool, and they make convincing villains. Reigns was pushed too early by the WWE, but the fans have accepted him now, and this is the guy that's probably the future. Ambrose deserves better, and he's more over with the fans than Reigns, yet he doesn't fit the McMahon idea of a giant roid monster so who know what'll happen with him.

Winner: Reigns and Ambrose.

Will we feel like this at the end of SummerSlam?

Tuesday, August 4, 2015

Writing for the Creatively Challenged

Writing can be pretty tough. Most of the time, the problem is finding something to write about. Because I am a creative person, I never have the aforementioned problem. I have so many topics to write about that I thought I would share them so that everyone can write about something. Remember to keep your prose concise and to mind your adverb usage. No one likes a person that over uses adverbs.

Topic One: Hotdogs. How much do you know about hotdogs? They are kind of gross, yet somewhat satisfying. I bet everyone else would like to know more about hotdogs. Maybe you should write the Great American Hotdog novel. Then everyone would finally know where hotdogs come from, and how they are made. I'm going to bet that they don't grow on trees, but what do I know? Someone, please, educate me.

Topic Two: How Dogs Can Stand the Things that They Eat. You ever wonder how dogs can eat nasty things like feces and dead animals? So have I! Is their sense of taste more or less developed than ours? Maybe they have extra taste buds. Maybe if we had those extra taste buds, we'd be chowing down on cat poop and dried up grass. Sounds like masterpiece material to me. Somebody write this.

Topic Three: Boobs. Doesn't really matter what you write about them, just include a lot of pictures. This should be a coffee table book. Entitle it "Breasts of the World" or something to that effect so that it sounds a little classy and not pornographic. I dunno. I don't think enough has been written about boobs.

Topic Four: A Guide to Lawnmowers. This could help out a lot of people. Picking out a lawnmower is difficult and stressful. You have to know how big your lawn is and how much money you have, and those are two facts that I'd rather live without knowing. I'd rather just know what the best lawnmower is and buy that.

Topic Five: The Fattest People of All Time. Who are they? Was Henry the Eighth one of them? Roseanne? That guy you saw at Walmart who fell off his motorized scooter and couldn't get back up? I think you could write a three part series on this topic.

Topic Six: Safest Places to Put Your Penis. Once again, this book could help out a lot of people. It is a dangerous world out there. You don't want to just put your penis in anything.

Topic Seven: Guide to Over the Counter Drugs.

Topic Eight: The Best Dinosaurs.

Topic Nine: Beautiful Animals.

Topic Ten: The World's Quickest Masturbators, and What They Beat-Off To.

Topic Eleven: Yourself, and How You Are a Most Special Person.

Well, that's pretty much it for now. I hope this has been helpful. Good luck to you all in finding something to write about.