Hobos Know How To Party

So, what are you doing for the new year?

Post by Bringing Funny Back.

I'm going to sleep so hard it'll seem like it's still 2012.

A Hobo Thanksgiving

Howdy and Happy Thanksgiving, folks. Jesus the hobo here. I realized I haven't written anything in a long while, not since my "techno hobo" post about the barcode and stuff. But it ain't for lack of inspiration.

Nope, as we're moving into the digital age with smartphones and whatnot, us hobos have gotta adapt too. I've been busy tinkering around with that techno stuff now, been designing an app for the smartphone that lets you listen in on scanner signals.

If you're in need of a scanner when riding the rails and you are in possession of a smartphone, you can download the application when it's available. I'm thinkin' of callin' it "Hobo Radio". I made it so you can set your location and it gives you many stations of railroads, police depar'ments, fire stations and much more. Just listening to it for a few minutes can get you information on which train is going where and whether or not you've been spotted by any suspecting eyes.

Anyway, I'm just rambling. Back to the subject!

It's Thanksgiving again. Most Thanksgivings for a hobo are pretty difficult. With no family to speak of, no warm house to lay your head, or a cozy fahr to brill yer meat over (no Hilton for the hobos, y'know), it's little wonder hobos gotta go huntin' if they want a nice meal and find a decent place to squat so's we can reminisce about all them thar things to be thankful for.

I'm pretty thankful, alright. Like for my small circle of hobo friends I call my "family". Every Thanksgiving we go cat hunting. Why cat hunting and not turkey or chicken hunting you ask? Well, cats are easier to find than turkeys, and hunting chickens usually pisses off chicken farmers who don't take too kindly to hobos in th' first place.

Many a hobo has been shot at or beaten by an angry chicken farmer. But at least we don't end up like the weasels, foxes, wolves or chicken hawks who dare to venture inside the chicken coops. No siree...we hobos stick to cats for Thanksgiving dinner. Strays mostly, because nobody misses them. Kind of like hobos and prostitutes. That's why serial killers murder our kind, 'cause they think nobody will miss us, or notice we're missing. That's another story for another day though.

So we caught ourselves a few strays yesterday. One of 'em was a little mangy, but I hadn't eaten for several days and I was famished, so I was ready to let the feast begin.

We settled inside an abandoned barn last night, after our cat huntin', and soon fell asleep. During my tossin' and a tumblin' I had a weird dream. A nightmare, really.

Fairly often 'round Thanksgiving time, or at the very least, times when my hobo family gathers to make a huge meal together, there's a comraderie that's like no other. This time in the dream, however, there was something about all of us going out and hunting cats that was different than them other times.

In the process of the hunt we killed many cats. More than usual, for whatever reason there was so many of 'em. And there was this fat-ass cat out in the area we were hunting, and again, for whatever reason, my kin decided to trap this particular cat and make it the centerpiece of our meal, because it was big and juicy. Made all our mouths water in the dream.

The next moment, we're all sitting at a huge table. I'm sitting 'tween my hobo clan. There was Groucho, Sleazy, Stumpy, Dopey, Raggedy Ann and Andy.

Groucho was grouchy which is why he was called that. Don't cross Groucho if'n you want t' keep your head. He takes no crap from nobody.

Then there's Sleazy, who's just that, sleazy. He spent most of his life on the street turning tricks with old men, but he's got a heart of gold.

Stumpy is a war veteran, fought in Vietnam or some shit, and he has no legs and is missing his left arm and his right eye. For all we know he could have lost them in a trash truck accident when he fell asleep in a dumpster, but you didn't hear that from me.

Dopey had used too many prescription drugs, so she's dopey all the time. She's just naturally high now and we have to look out for her or she can put herself in dangerous situations. One time we found her trying to snuggle up with a hibernatin' bear. That gave us all quite a start. So we try to not let her out of our sight.

Raggedy Ann and Andy are quite the pair, they look just like the fictional characters, and have been a couple for lord knows how many years.

So anyway, we're all preparing our kills for cooking. I'm watching as Raggedy Ann is holding down their cat and Andy shoves a stick in the cat's butt so he can roast it on a spit. A lot of air (or some other type of body gas) is released, and the entire cat caves in. It caved in flat like a deflated football to our surprise.

While that was happening, they're talking about something, I can't remember what they were saying. But it might have been "BLARGHEDY BLERGHEDY BLAR!" Maybe it had something to do with their deflated cat, but it's probably unimportant.

Suddenly the deflated cat jumped to life and struggled to get off the stick and almost got away, when Groucho grabbed a cleaver and chopped off all it's legs. Horrific scene for anyone to witness in real life, but just as horrible in a dream. I'm all for humane treatment of animals, even when ya gotta eat and have to kill it.

The odd thing was there was no blood when Groucho cut that deflated cat's legs off. As a matter of fact, it looked like the nubs where the cat's legs were had completely healed over as quickly as they had been chopped off.

The cat struggled to move and to run away, but it only managed to fall over. Pretty soon it inflated and floated off the table into the sky and flew away. I stared in awe at what just happened, not realizing it was a dream 'n all.

Around this time, I realized that the entire family is in the middle of discussing Andy and Raggedy Ann's marriage and how her first marriage was just a marriage of convenience. At first, they just got a civil union, but later on decided to get really married...whatever that is. Raggedy Ann then went on to say that she married her current husband, Andy, because it seemed like it was meant to be, but now that the cat they caught was causing a scene it made her have her doubts.

Raggedy Ann blamed Andy for the problem. Andy blamed her for being raggedy. Groucho blamed them both for not making sure the cat was dead before they started to prepare it. Stumpy was hitting both the cat and Dopey with an umbrella. Sleazy was running off into the woods cryin'. Everybody was a hollerin' and a screamin'.

They was all arguin' and a arguin'. Back 'n forth and back n' forth they went. I couldn't believe how badly our Thanksgiving was turnin' out. We became a typical dysfunctional family in that moment. It all made me sick to my stomach, and frankly, it ruined my appetite and my desire for any kind of family gathering ever again.

And then I woke up with a start.

Now I'm not much in believing a dream has any specific meaning, if dreams have any meaning at all. Having a dream about humpin' your dog doesn't mean you forgot to take the trash out last Tuesday. It just means that during REM sleep your synapses fire in a specific yet random pattern and trigger a series of nonspecific visions that have no basis in reality.

Or maybe they're just the brain's way of working out your troubles so ya don't go batshit insane. I got no idea. I'm a hobo and I've yet to see anything, one way or the other, to the contrary.

But that's the last time I ever sniff glue right before bedtime or eat another cat again. I'mma stick to eatin' vegetables and roadkill. And at least the family is still together for now. Happy Thanksgiving.

Innocent Until Proven Guilty

I didn't do it.

Jesus The Hobo Enters The Digital Age!

Hola, howdy, and hi. It's Jesus The Hobo. You might remember me. I'm the guy who urinates in your bushes once a week? Anyway, I've been working hard on this project (not really), finally raised enough money (begged for it all) and come up with a QR Code for people to use.

What's a QR Code, you ask? QR Codes are two-dimensional barcodes that are easily scanned using any modern mobile phone. This code will then be converted (also called "dequrified") into a piece of interactive text and/or a weblink. For instance, you walk around in the city and notice a poster for an event that seems interesting. You take out your mobile phone, scan the QR Code and you instantly get more information and a link to a website where you can purchase your tickets. You don't have to type or remember anything. It's just that simple.

Now you can follow me on your mobile devices. How cool is that? Just scan this handy QR code into your smartphone and you'll get all the hobo action you could ever want. Let the mayhem begin!

disclaimer: I claim no responsibility for the following disclaimer. I claim no responsibility for damage to your mobile devices. I claim nothing. It's not my fault, and don't blame anybody I know or work for either. This product is meant for debauchery purposes only. Any resemblance to real persons or opinions, living or dead is purely coincidental. Void where prohibited. Do not fold, spindle or mutilate this. For every credibility gap, there is a gullibility fill. Anything you download can and will be used against you. Any opinions expressed are my own, and generally unpopular with others. Apply smileys liberally throughout the above as needed. If that doesn't help, take two Valium and call your analyst in the morning. Any disclaimer issued by me is subject to change without notice...and frankly, I don't need a disclaimer - I own this damn thing.

Santa's Prostate Exam

@southpawmegan Okay...but it doesn't look so good. I'll take that $20 now. twitter.com/Santa_4_reals/…

— Black Santa Claus (@Santa_4_reals) November 27, 2012

The life of a homeless mall Santa is tough.

Big Bird is a Hobo

Collecting unemployment or a new career as a door-to-door bird seed salesman -- either way, sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.  -  Jesus

Historical Facts Are Like Silly Putty

You can twist, mold and stretch the truth. Yes? Spasiba, comrades!

NASA Mars Photo Leaked – Hobo Found on Mars!

Hobos from Mars (not to be confused with Rock Stars from Mars).

Abrascam Lincoln: Box Office Killer

Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter...can anyone explain this to me?? 10-year-olds are writing Hollywood scripts again, aren't they?

Even though I'm just a hobo, my opinion is that this is a stretch...really it is. I can come up with better crap than this...in a coma.

No srsly...check it out man.

Here we go:

Once upon a time there was a young boy named Joseph. Joseph was 12-years-old and lived in Salt Lake City, Utah. While walking home from school one day, a blue rabbit jumped out from behind a pile of dead zombie babies and tackled Joseph to the ground. But just when he was about to let out a scream for help, Joseph realized that the blue rabbit was only licking his face, not trying to bite it off.

At that moment, Joseph decided to keep the blue rabbit as a pet. And on the way home he decided to name his pet blue rabbit "Conk."

When Joseph and his new pet finally got home, guess who was standing on the front porch? That's right, it was Joseph 's mother, Marge. And boy was she surprised to see a blue rabbit following Joseph into the yard!

"Whut in tarnation in th' world is that?" shouted Marge (Marge ain't too edumacated, so cut her some slack).

"It's a blue rabbit," answered Joseph.

"UH, DAH, I can see that, Joey, but what on earth is it doing here?" said Marge.

"It's my new pet!" Joseph snapped insolently.

"Oh you think so do ya?" remarked Marge. "I wouldn't get yer hopes up. You know how yer pa hates them blue rabbits. But, well, I s'pose you can keep him 'til yer pa comes home."

And with that Joseph grabbed Conk by the scruff of the neck and led his new pet into the house -- even though he knew his father was probably going to disapprove.

Well, Pa can just SUCK IT, right?

Hey, it's my script, and it's not
my problem if you don't like it.

Once in the house, Joseph and Conk played and played, but then Joseph's favorite television show, "Taxicab Confessions" started. At that point Joseph forgot all about Conk who was having an unsupervised run of the house. And Conk enjoyed himself to no end.

That is until half way through the show when Joseph was brought back to reality when he heard his father shout, "Fuckin' 'ell!! Joseph! Get your ASS in the bathroom...NOW!!" Joseph rushed into the bathroom to see what all the fuss was about.

When he entered the bathroom, there stood his father, Gordo, pointing toward the coat rack which was lying on the floor.

"Will someone please explain that?!" asked his father. Then, as Joseph followed his father's finger to where it was pointing, he instantly knew what his father was so upset about.

There, smack dab on the end, clear down to the middle of the coat rack, was the biggest piece of rabbit shit he had ever seen! "I don't EVEN want to know how that got there," muttered Gordo. "But you had better get it cleaned up now! And you had better get rid of whatever it is that could have done such a thing!"

Well, knowing his father as well as he did, Joseph knew there was no sense even asking his father if he could keep Conk for a pet. So without hesitation, Joseph set out to find where Conk was hiding.

After a few minutes of looking, Joseph discovered Conk crouched beneath the table that was adorned with the cloth that Joseph's father popped his back zits with. "Come on, Conk, it's time to find you a new home. And hey, don't look at me that way, I'm not the one who did the dirty deed on the coat rack!" scolded Joseph. "Thanks to you I'll never get to have my own pet rabbit!! And so then Joseph led Conk out of the house and down to the local Five and Dime. The Five and Dime had a pet section and Joseph knew the owner would find Conk a good home.

So after saying good-bye to Conk the rabbit, and thanking the owner of the Five and Dime, Joseph walked backed home and attempted to drown his sorrows by slamming down a half dozen bottles of bourbon. But Joseph 's pity party came to an abrupt end when his father reminded him about the mess he had neglected to clean up. And low and behold, midway through the clean-up, Joseph suddenly became thankful that someone else was going to have to do it from now on.

However something snapped inside Joseph's head -- he vowed revenge on all blue rabbits from that day forward -- he thought of nothing more than destroying every single blue bunny he could smoke out. But sadly, Joseph spent the rest of his days at the asylum drugged up on Thorazine and Lithium.

And that's how the Book of Mormon was written.

The End.
(or is it?)

See? Isn't that like TEN TIMES better, even without the fancy special effects? Psh, I thought so. :D

 J.J. Abrams and M. Night Shimshamalamadingdong can't even write shit THAT good. :P

Run, rabbit, run.

The Death of a Culture

Aug. 22, 1920 - June 5, 2012

 You don't have to burn books to destroy a culture. Just give them a Kindle. =P

Jesus has Left the Building

There is nothing wrong with your computers. 

Do not attempt to adjust your monitors. I am controlling transmission. 

If I wish to make it louder, I will bring up the volume. If I wish to make it softer, I will tune it to a whisper. 

I will control the horizontal. I will control the vertical. 

I can roll the image, make it flutter. I can change the focus to a soft blur or sharpen it to crystal clarity. 

For the next hour, sit quietly and I will control all that you see and hear. 

I repeat: there is nothing wrong with your computer. You are about to participate in a great adventure. 

You are about to experience the awe and mystery which reaches from the inner mind to — 
The Completely Out-Of-The-Way Limits.

 

Apply caution. Do not attempt to drive or operate heavy machinery as vision will be affected. Legal high, self hypnosis. Warning: may cause blurred vision, eyes will explode! CAUTION! I repeat: EYES WILL EXPLODE!!!1 8D

On that note: Ladies and Gentlemen, Jesus has Left the Building.

Izquierdo I say!

 

If you're not a part of the solution, there's good money to be made in prolonging the problem.

There is a joke about dead horses going around .... entitled ... "Beating a Dead Horse."

(click to enlarge)

From the American Indian Group (the Dakotas), there is a tribal wisdom that when you discover you are riding a dead horse, the best strategy is to dismount.


However, the corporate strategy often tries other strategies with dead horses including the following:


1. Buying a stronger whip

2. Changing riders

3. Say things like, "This is the way we have always ridden this horse"

4. Appointing a committee to study the horse

5. Arranging to visit other sites to see how they ride dead horses

6. Increasing the standards to ride dead horses

7. Appointing a tiger team to revive the dead horses

8. Creating a training session to increase our riding ability

9. Comparing the state of dead horses in todays environment

10. Change the requirements declaring that "This horse is not dead"

11. Hire contractors to ride the dead horse

12. Harnessing several dead horses together for increased speed

13. Declaring that "No horse is too dead to beat"

14. Providing additional funding to increase the horse's performance

15. Do a cost analysis study to see if contractors can ride it cheaper

16. Purchase a product to make dead horses run faster

17. Declare the horse is "better, faster and cheaper" dead

18. Form a quality circle to find uses for dead horses

19. Revisit the performance requirements for horses

20. Say that horse was procured with cost as an independent variable



In summary:

1. Acquire dead horse

2. ????

3. PROFIT

Drug Sniffing Dog

original pic source: Seth Casteel

Cocaine dog is getting high on his own supply. Every drug sniffing dog has his day.

TSA PSA

You ever seen a Yeti when a dozen condoms of coke burst in his belly?

Things Longer Than Kim Kardashian's Marriage

Somebody's been VERY naughty this year.

Completely and Utterly Safe Sex

These days, safe sex isn't just a good idea, it's a matter of life and death. Here are some valuable tips to help you "play it safe"...especially when you might be bumpin' uglies with quite possibly the ugliest of unkempt folk out there in the streets.

*Do not blow dealers for crack; blow regular citizens for cash (or wholesale electronics that you can pawn for cash), then buy the crack directly.

*Think about parents' nude bodies during foreplay; resultant loss of erection will prevent potential unsafe sex.

*Don't fall for lines like, "God protects his servants in the clergy from harm."

*Do not, no matter how many peers may pressure you, allow anyone to get to third base with you.

*Before unsafe sex, think to yourself what the kids will look like.

*Make sure all open sores on penis have thoroughly dried and scabbed over before use.

*When taking four cocks in the ass, make sure to have an equal amount of cock in your mouth to reduce the risk of CHI imbalance.

*Before fellating an anonymous man in the back room of bar, be sure to ask, "You don't have AIDS, do you?"

*Douse penis liberally with D-Con roach spray before penetrating ape.

*You CAN get it from kissing...so be sure to tear out your partner's tongue and spray Lysol in their mouth before any mouth-to-mouth contact.

*To prevent radiation exposure, use only lead-based condoms.

*Before the use of condoms, unroll completely and check for any holes. The easiest way to do this is to inflate them with the power of your lungs...you can also find many available children to do this for you. Just tell them that they are balloons.

*If you must engage in unsafe sex, take time out before hand to hope for the best. Because we all know abstinence isn't always a realistic answer.


Happy (Safe) Fornicating!



**Note that the aforementioned material may or may not work for everyone. It is up to you the reader to exercise caution when having unprotected or protected sex and knowing what the risks associated with those are. If you actually take any of the advice in this article seriously then you need to seek emergency psychiatric help at your earliest convenience and the author(s) take no responsibility for your poor judgment and choices. Good day.

Cool Things I Post on Facebook Since I'm Such a Pimp

Der Übermensch is pretty frickin cool. Although the value of shaving your balls with a tuna can lid should not be underrated. You never know when that skill may come in handy.

Still, I think I should probably have included my 'likes' for First Aid For Dummies and Eunuchs Anonymous pages in that screenshot.

But first I must shave my balls with a tuna can lid. After absorbing tip #391, I believe my knowledge on the complex subject is quite thorough now.

During the intermission, here's a dog raping a cat to porn music:

Adoption Stains

Facebook captcha FAILs

Darn those orphans and their adoption stains!

Now I see why those adoption stains were such a problem.
But at least they found a solution!

Cooler Things I'd Post on My Facebook Wall if I was Taken Seriously as a Film Critic

"As far as Harry Potter characters go, Snarkface MacBumblefuck is particularly intriguing."

What a Day for a Daydream

The Energizer Bunny has nothing on me.