Guess What’s in My Mouth Right Now

I know who you are. Oh yes, I do. You’re sitting there, not focusing, poking away on your keyboard like a fat little pigeon. I’ve got your number.

So, while you’re here, GWiMMRN:

A) The immortal words, “This town needs an enema!” *fweeeeee*
B) The not-so immortal words, “And why do we fall? So we can learn to pick ourselves up.”
C) Hot white gobs and strings, or why I never eat mayonnaise, cheese sauce, or anything whitish and goopy
D) Thomas Fries, or why the internet really really should be regulated for content or at least given a rating of some kind by a responsible governmental organization if there is such a thing
E) Two good friends
F) Two other good friends, one of whom is very shy
G) A big, fat unregulated cock

UPDATE: The answer might perhaps be H) Two more good friends:

GIGANTIC. It is a word usually reserved to describe my penis, but now, it refers to the things that may or may not be in my mouth right now. Guess:

A) A sudden change in the Earth’s orbit as a result of the fart I cut in bed last night.
B) The Golden Age of My Balls.
C) A minor in physics and a major in chemistry, if you follow my drift.
D) Huge balloons.
E) Huge melons.
F) A big, fat cock.

Listen to the miserable bee. Slap him. And guess what’s in my mouth right now:

A) The ancient form of Chinese divination known as the I SPOOGE
B) Wienerschnitzel
C) Arnold Schwarzenegger, governor of California
D) The Artist Formerly Known as the Cheese Collecting on My Dingus
E) The real Pirates of the Caribbean
F) A big, fat, salty sea-dog’s cock

When you’ve drunk your fill of piss-infested Holiday Inn pool-waters, then you can talk to me. Until then, cherish me and my insanity:

GWiMMRN:

A) That stank ass air they got in the tube leading from the airport proper to the airplane proper.
B) That new airport security machine they got that looks like the Dr. Who telephone booth where you step in and get felt up by short blasts of air all up you body.
C) The pleasant, yet firm voice of the Dr. Who Airport Security Booth described in Letter B, that tells you “You may now exit,” but I heard “You may now excrete,” and so I evacuated my bowels all over the floor of the machine.
D) That next time, I’m going to remove my pants and underwear before going into the Dr. Who Airport Security Booth for a proper blast of air up my chafed anus.
E) The cell-phone I set to vibrate and have strapped around the underside of my enormous cock.
F) The many, many telephone calls I make to myself throughout the day from my other cell phone.
G) The messages I leave for myself, like, “Hey, how’s that feel?” and “Grow up.”
H) My being tired and losing patience with all of you non-Focusing retarts.
I) A big, fat hill-billy cock.

The “Patron Saint” may have hacked this website to try to make it his own, but he proved himself to be particularly stupid in his choice of passwords. “GROW UP” is not an acceptable password, and I guessed it on the first try. Anyway, I’ve come back from my long trip to let you know what may be in my mouth right now. Your sacred duty is to guess what it is:

A) Trail mix with tasty little bits of dried dogpoop
B) Blibdoolpoolp
C) The Holiday Inn Indoor Pool, now containing an unacceptably high urine-to-water ratio thanks to my insistence that it was a personal commode
D) The sweaty, hairy, appallingly smelly hillbilly I was forced to sit next to on the plane home, complete with yellowed tank top, dirty jeans, and suspenders
E) The horrible realization I came to, once I saw who I’d be sitting next to on the airplane, that there really is a God, but He truly despises me and wishes me ill
F) Sunburn
G) A chilled glass of Hefeweizen with a nice slice of lemon floating in it
H) A big, fat blistery cock

“Hello.”

“I am Deroy Murdock, so-called ‘Patron Saint’ of GWiMMRN.”

“I am here to tell you that I am nothing of the kind.”

“This website is a horror that should never have been birthed.”

“If I had the time to respond to the appalling misuse of my name and character, let alone all of the false statements attributed to me here, I would be responding right now.”

“But I don’t.”

“And I’m not responding.”

“If I were to respond, I would say one thing.”

“That thing is, as you’ve undoubtedly guessed, is ‘GROW UP’.”

“At any rate, I have now taken control of this DIGUSTING excuse for a blog.”

“It is now mine.”

“Henceforth, it shall be a clean place.”

“Not an obscene wreck.”

“When I find the time out of my busy schedule, I shall post here again.”

“Until then, I must insist that you GROW UP.”

“So GROW UP.”

“And if you don’t like that, you can just gobble my ass cheeks.”

“Thank you.”

I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of being told to GROW UP. Sick of it.

Just guess what’s in my mouth right now and cut it the fuck out with the life lessons:

A) The Man from G.R.O.W.U.P.
B) The Man from U.N.C.L.E.
C) The Woman from S.U.C.K.M.Y.D.I.N.G.D.O.N.G.
D) The Gormless-Looking Asian Broad from S.H.A.R.K.S.H.A.R.K.
E) The Man from T.H.E.H.O.L.I.D.A.Y.I.N.N., which I will be soon and really don’t fucking want to
F) The Sick Fuck from M.U.L.T.U.M.E.S.C., which is that pussy-flavored drink that you add milk to like Ovaltine
G) The Man’s Man from B.I.G.F.A.T.C.O.C.K.

For my 450th post, which I timed perfectly to coincide with the 2006 July 4th celebrations, I have, in my wonderful wisdom, decided to give you yet another opportunity to guess what’s in my mouth right now. Celebrate the Founding FATHERS and GWiMMRN, 1776 style:

A) David McCullough’s lies and slander against our clean, reputable, and toothsome fighting patriots of 1776.
B) Melancholy.
C) Several anatomical wax models with holes in all the right places, if you follow my drift.
D) A big ol’ jet airliner.
E) The Man from B.A.R.F.B.A.G.
F) A musket. Yeah, a fucking MUSKET. You got a problem with muskets?
G) A star-spangled, hot dog and hamburger wearing, saluting and jizzing big, fat American cock.

Sis-boom-bah. Rah. Rah. Rah. I’m the most patriotic sonofabitch you’ll ever meet. Grab your red, white and blue pinwheels, hold on to your jimmy-hat and GWiMMRN:

A) Superman, AKA the Anal Bead Master of the Homoverse.
B) Neither corn nor Superman, as it turned out.
C) Illegal fireworks.
D) The eagle, which has landed.
E) Patriotic swim-wear.
F) Hot dogs.
G) A weird, untraceable smell.
H) A patriotic, pre-Fourth-of-July cock with sprinklers and red, white and blue pinwheels and frosting with ants all over it.

UPDATE: The answer may now be I) A special 4th O’ July message from Deroy Murdock, “Patron Saint” of GWiMMRN:

What’ll it be? Corn… or Superman?

A) Corn.
B) Superman.
C) Corn.
D) Superman.
E) Corn.
F) Superman.
G) A big, corn-fed Supercock.

UPDATE: The answer could also be H) Harpers’s pregger porn starring Britney Spears.

UPDATE UPDATE:

MY PENIS WAKES YOU UP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.

MY PENIS ‘TIS OF THEE.

ANGELS PLAYING TRUMPETS HERALD THE COMING OF MY PENIS.

MY PENIS CONTROLS INTEREST RATE FLUCTUATIONS IN BETWEEN GIVING PEARL NECKLACES TO YOUR WIFE.

GATHER AROUND THE CAMPFIRE AND SING SONGS ABOUT MY PENIS.

TRUST IS SPELLED “MY PENIS IS ALWAYS RIGHT.”

MY PENIS IS A CAPTIN OF INDUSTRY.