2 Responses to “Celeb Jones Is Here”

1. mr. manners Says:
   April 13, 2008 at 11:55 pm

   A Gentleman Never Discloses Who Sucked Him Off
   By Charles Dubno
   the ONION May 18, 2005 | Issue 41•20
   I must say, the quality of discourse in this country has taken a sharp plunge of late, not only among the ruffians and ne’er-do-wells from whom one expects coarse speech, but among gentlemen of letters and esteem. I have, with my own ears, several times in the past week, heard the elder sons of prominent families introduce into mixed company subjects formerly reserved for private discussion among gentlemen. It pains me even to raise this point, but following a string of recent events, there is no question that the adage bears repeating: A gentleman ought never to disclose who sucked him off.
   This needn’t mean a gentleman must limit the discussion of his exploits to his journal. If a gentleman has met a young lady and taken her to his digs, it is his right and privilege to tell his friends and coworkers about the encounter. However, it is the mark of a true gentleman to omit his lady friend’s name from the discussion of her pussy’s tightness.
   Why, I had assumed that this custom and others like it were universal and well understood, but as long as I am spelling out the Rules of the Gentleman, allow me to introduce several other equally important but oft-neglected guidelines.
   Should a gentleman find himself alone with a lady, he should not simply undo his pants and come in her hole. A gentleman knows that it is good manners to coax his lady friend’s heels as far above her head as they will go, to “split the reed,” and perhaps to turn his lady over and give it to her “doggy style.” A gentleman knows that a true lady enjoys a moderate amount of hair-pulling and ass-grabbing, taking these attentions as marks of affection and virility. However, a gentleman knows where to draw the line. He never lodges his lady friend’s head between the couch cushions.
   A gentleman occasionally will have more than one guest at his home. Should he see that jealousy is breeding between the two ladies whom he is hosting, a gentleman does not say, “Whoa, ladies, there’s enough of me to go around!” The gentleman, valuing decorum and discretion above all else in his paramours, gently guides his guests’ heads from his penis and informs them that if they do not act like ladies, he will have to ask them both to leave.
   When up to his nuts in a lady’s guts, a gentleman knows that it is quite impolite to smoke, talk politics, or take phone calls. Should his cell phone ring, the gentleman says, “Excuse me, I need to take this.” He withdraws his penis from his lady friend and keeps his phone conversation brief. When he has completed his call, a gentleman gently reinserts his dick into his lady.
   Of course, a gentleman who is not a smoker keeps an ashtray on his balcony for his lady friends who wish to smoke.
   It should go without saying that, once he has arranged for a paid lady of the night to meet him at his home, a gentleman does not jerk off several times while awaiting her arrival, in order to “get his money’s worth.”
   A gentleman knows that accidents happen. While it is an unfortunate and boorish behavior that should be kept to a minimum, a gentleman always apologizes to a lady after he mistakenly shoots his load inside of her.
   A gentleman never comes in a lady’s eyes.
   While he knows that a lady gets pleasure out of pleasuring him, and he will occasionally increase the intensity of that pleasure by gentle force, a gentleman will never choke a woman on his cock.
   If a gentleman wishes to attend to a lady’s pleasure through oral manipulation, no matter what the state of affairs below, he always politely completes his task. A gentleman ought never to fan his hand in the air, grimace and make a show of removing a pubic hair from his teeth, or compare his lady friend’s vulva to two strips of partially grilled fajita meat.
   A gentleman knows that it is considered good manners to have an unopened toothbrush on hand for his lady friend, in the event that she should like to freshen up after eating his ass.
   Breeding needn’t amount to priggishness. On the contrary, a gentleman knows that good old-fashioned manners will likely increase his social engagements, once word gets out that he is not one to splooge and tell. But I beg the reader, for the sake of tradition and all that is decent, to remember that a true gentleman does not ever, under any circumstances, go ass to mouth.

2. from The Onion Says:
   June 3, 2008 at 8:40 pm

   I’ll say it. I like to fuck. I do it a lot. And sometimes it gets me into unfortunate situations. Like right now. Right now I am royally fucking fucked.

   See, I went to this big dinner party the other night, trying to stay out of trouble, but lo and be-fucking-hold, who’s there but one of the fuckfiends from our sales team, wearing fuck-me pumps and this little green skirt. So I fucked her. Twice. First time quick, second time slow. And then I fucked her friend Michelle (a great fuck), and Michelle’s boyfriend, Alec, and his ex-girlfriend Rina, who’s a fucking Persian sex goddess. Same bed, same night.

   Fucking incredible fucking.

   Then it hits me: Fuck. Rina is my boss’s daughter, that fucking fuck Alec fucked my sister last year, and my damn wife told me last week that if I don’t stop fucking other chicks she’s going to “walk out that [fucking] door and never come back.” And it takes a fuckload of nerve for my wife to say that.

   But look, I’m not some two-bit fuck who fucks up and then expects some other fucknut to clean up his fucking mess. A man’s got to take some responsibility or he’ll never amount to shit. I fucked my way into this, and by God, I’ll fuck my way out.

   I’m so far the fuck up shit’s creek, I can’t see straight, but that’s my own fucking problem. If I’m between a rock and a hard fuck, I’m going to choose the hard fuck every time. No regrets. I saw an out-of-this-fucking-world gorgeous piece of ass-meat, and I pounced like a fucking cougar. Any fuckhead who thinks I should have fucking walked away is a fucking fucktard and I’ll say it to his fucking face, the fuckface.

   But fuck if I know what to do next. If my mom were still alive, I’d cry on her fucking shoulder. Man, I really stuck my fucking cock in it this time.

   I know a lot of fuckwads who wouldn’t do fuck-all about this predicament, just fuck off for a while and wait for the whole thing to blow over. But you see, that’s just not this motherfucker’s style. What the fuck ever happened to accountability? I can be a real fuck, sure, but I fucking finish what I start, and not just when I’m fucking.

   In the end, I only see one way out of this: more fucking. Much more. An all-out, nuts-in-the-guts fuckfest. Yes, one false-fucking-move and you’re ass-first in a fucking genuine clusterfuck real fucking quick—but do I look like a green-eared sportfucker to you, fuckrod?

   Item Number Fuck on my agenda? Swoop home like a fuck-falcon and fuck my old lady like I love her. Keep fucking the skirt girl, plus hot-fuck Rina to keep that screamer quiet. Then line up a pity-fuck-and-suck with that fat-fuck deli chick, roll on out for a balls-out fuckfest with the redhead twins (ménage-à-fucking-trois, for you French fucks), and a three-day, four-night fuck-stravagaza down to Mexi-fucking-co next weekend to see the fuckable Miss Esmerelda.

   At the end of the day, I don’t really give a fuck. These women can fuck me around, but they know not to take it too fucking far. You know why? Because you don’t fuck with a fucker, that’s why. And if you fuck with a fucker like me, you’ll end up being the fuck that gets fucked. Simple as that.

   Fuck.

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