Mac's Articles

    So I was chillin and maxing with my homies the Ruff Riders, when Biggie G dropped the most insane idea. We’d been smoking ass loads of opium from our brothas, the T-Urban Gang, and cruised over the Earf globe in my Pimp Chambers. That’s when it hit.

 “Hey man, let’s go get us some ho’s”, Biggie mumbled from inside my favorite bear suit.

    I was so blazed I couldn’t count the number of squares on the waffles stuck to my jeans but I remembered some ancient fart telling me of an island in the where ho’s of a different color stayed. I said cool and we packed our shit and hopped on the yacht and cruised. I don’t remember much of the trip, but I do remember Biggie scrappin with one of the porters, Tioopach or something. Anywayz, they both kickin it with da big man upstairs, and we pour one for da hommies before we get crunk.

     Anyway, we get to this island, jump on my S-class steed with the 24 inch chrome spurs and ghost ride it up to camp. By now I’ve sobered up because I need all of the burnt out senses I can muster. On the way out, we encountered natives.Oddly enough, there was not a single female among them. However, upon noticing to their crushed pelvises and shriveled, overworked junk, I quickly realized the men and I were in for quite the rewarding and painful trip.We armed our tranq guns and started the hunt for the famed Nymphosaurus Brex.

A few pages are torn and stained with a now yellowish fluid.

    It’s been three weeks now, and to be honest I’m frightened. Of the fifty I came with we number now in the teens. Manuel was the first to go; they must have snatched him in the valley clearing. I fear they hunt us in packs and exhibit traits of seeming intelligence.They’ve learned our military strategies and have adapted to guerilla sexfare.These are not the ho’s I first imagined.They are certainly of a different lineage.

 More pages torn and worn.A few bear imprints of sweaty skin, teeth, and something that resembles the outline of an areola.The words are now mostly scribbles with a few intelligible phrases visible.

 ….they’ve capt………………relentless nibbling, scratching and grind………….don’t know how much longer I…………..I seem to have some kind of importance here…………They’ve taken me to what seems to be their queen………………still hear the screams of…………..Manuel is Alive!!!...........queen has taught me new…………..Is it supposed to stay up this long?....................not pleased……….we found Manuel…………by some incredible amount of weight……….my god, they want us to bend over……

 On the last written page, among blood and yellow two words can be seen, but just barely

Sa…..f…eW….ord?

We've all heard the stories, the lies and a few of us have been ego fucked by Chris Hansen on "To Catch a Predator"  We all know the heartbreak and occasional physical injuries incurred when discovering a cheating girlfriend/boyfriend/spouse/favorite-donkey-show-artist.  But how do we catch our illusive and nymphos and satyrs without hiring expensive camera crews and overly scripted PIs?  Well kids, here are a few simple techniques to craftily ensnare the unfaithful.

For Men
Ink Mate: Remember the threats made by pissed off RAs that whoever pulled the next fire alarm would be marked by ink flow from the handle?  The same device applies to your girlfriend’s vag.  Simply insert the mechanism near her "Go button" and the next time she spreads for someone else, well, Doc Oc would be proud.

The Viper: Calm down, this is not nearly as painful as it sounds.  It basically works just like the renowned car alarm.  Program in your captain's key signature and the next time someone else unlocks her door, her legs will vie for the Guinness Book of Record's "Loudest Cooch" placement.

The Chinese Penis Trap:  Recently discovered by a lost National Geographic team in ancient San Francisco, the CPT does exactly what one wants.  Insert into your woman's love tunnel and watch the mayhem begin.  She might be able to explain the girl's night out, but hatching a whimsical explanation for why she suddenly sprouted a Siamese twin from her nethers?  I think not.  It is utterly important to first master the CPT before application.  Diagrams included, batteries not.

Shock Treatment:Simple and to the point.  Install this trusty device to his hump muscle and upon exiting a ten foot radius, the juice flows.Any attempt to “get jiggy with it” and the Wang Buzz 9000 delivers a hefty 20kV, 1.8mAmp lightning strike to the offenders’ uglies.Sleek and stylish, he thinks it’s snazzy schlong bling, you know it’s along the lines of Earnest Bows before You.Batteries not included, takes 4 double As, suppository battery pack recommended.

  The Green Goblin: Slip these affordable pills into his daily regimen, or into his drink like the old days, and watch as he spreads brightly fluorescing spunk around the neighborhood.On-the-side partners will quickly freak out and comment on your boyfriend’s new found abilities and he will quickly become the talk of the town.Caution, not FDA approved, side effects include, nausea, loss of balance, frequent explanations of ability to drive, the urge to hump everything in sight, and a condition known as “Fish Eyes.”

Call now and find out what your partner’s up to at the wee hours of the morning. If you don’t trust him/her, just remember the number on your screen and drop us a line at 1-800-662-4328, that’s 1-800-NO-CHEAT. Operators from India, all the way to Jersey the are on the line 24/7 waiting to confuse the hell out of you and connect you with the resources you need. Because who wants late-night to know your partner’s getting their dips stuck in someone else’s sugar?

So a selection of CH's typical night commenting crew was at it again this fourth night of June when the not-so-surprising subject of porn arose.....hehe, erection.  The only problem was the initial topic of conversation was fast food, a completely different field.  However, after a rather insightful observation by HollywoodH, the two genres we're compared and shocking similarities came to light.  Let's immerse ourselves in the thick layers of fat and astroglide and search the gutters in hope of chuckling next time any one of us make a pit stop at the nearest house of grub.

Happy Meals:  Everyone loves chowing down on a small, cutely wrapped afternoon snack with a surprise inside.  Espescially priests and registered sex offenders.  Be it a pink taco, or something along the hotdog line, few can resist receiving or handing out these colorful bags of joy.

Milkshakes:  Nothing like a nice cold, soft, yet firm container of yum.  And for you real freaks out there, some come with real milk.

French fries:  Always a little salty and in some establishments a little sweet.  These hardened pipe bombs of flavor come in a variety of forms not unlike the mighty mini soldiers standing at attention around the world.  There are curvy, floppy, short, long, thick, thin, undercooked, burnt to a crisp, super-oily, and just right.  Snack on a few, but remember, take it easy on the teeth.

The Hamburger:  Simple, yet delicious.  Fresh meat between two toasted buns, who can resist?

The Cheeseburger:  Basically the hamburger with a little extra in the landing zone, no complaints.

Spicy Tacos:  Usually found below the border, these hot and saucy treats may sting the tongue, but they're worth every bite.  Careful not to indulge too much though, next day shits are the worst.

Condiments:  Go ahead, dress it up a little.

The Double Quater Pounder with Cheese:  For all of you with a hefty appetite, these puppies sure do satisfy.  Their monster curves and voluptuous helpings of beef tend to overpower.  Some dare to take on these juicy helpings while many shy away for fear of smothering or inevitable absorption.

The Drink:  Who could resist a good meal without sucking on some scrumptious juices before, during and after?  It could be through a straw, or straight from the well-formed lips of the holy cup itself, depends on the user.

While we happily munch away in whatever establishment we so desire, let us remember that no matter what we eat, we will eventualy become it.  So do the right thing folks, use protection, those napkins don't catch stray drippings for no reason. 

So as about 10 of you know, the Roland Garros tennis competion French Open thing is going on right now.  As long as I can remember my dear sweet mommy has watched those crazy fuckers knock fuzzy round objects back and forth over a reject fishing net while refusing to count points like competent human beings.  And as long as I can remember, I too have watched out of sheer amazement.  Then I got to thinking, why the hell do I pay attention to this redundant sport that keeps repeating itself?  After a few pancakes and quick trip to stare at my bass, a few blatantly obvious reasons back handed me in the face.

1. Amazon Death Screams-- To this day I have never watched a tennis match without screaming back at the over-excited players and/or line judges.  It seems every three vollies everyone on the court hatches the insane idea to start grunting, moaning, and screaming like howler monkeys in heat.  Granted during the womens' matches it's a bit of a turn on. 
2. Redundancy-- I'm blessed with the simple gift of being easily amused, so watching the crowd look left and right three thousand times reminds me of a couple of strung out lemmings slowly saying "no" to a crack dealer in a clown suit and I smile.  Don't ask.
3. Moments like this. 
   
4. Maria Sharapova, need I say more.
5. This woman is a man and I am working around the clock to prove it.
   
6. Clay courts are like slip and slides of doom.  You finally get up enough speed to make it to the shot and despite vigorously applying gorilla glue earlier that day you somehow manage to slide halfway down the baseline.
7. I've always wanted to see one of the ball kids get nailed in the head and have to run the other way like all those cartoons taught me.
8. Finally, if in the event WWIII broke out I vote we stand behind Venus Williams, because dear sweet mother of all things holy how does she not instil primal fear into your very bones?
   
   
   

Thus this timeless sport reverberates around the world, bringing joy to all those who like serving up a wicked ace on your opponent's bitch ass.  Why no men's tennis you ask?  Because everything said above already applies and I'd rather play raquetball.  Blue balls ftw.