All comics by botard

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by botard
2-19-04
Once when I was a walrus I ate a couple of slices of Penguin Poop cake and got so sick that angry toasters shot out of my pee-hole at 7,000 miles per hour.
Then one of the toasters circled around in some Red Baron maneuver and started firing pop tarts at me. But it was bad because they were Watermelon S'mores flavor and I'm allergic to flavor.
One of them glanced off my pancreas and made me poop thirty rubber vaginas into the waiting mouth of my Uncle Ned, who was wearing liederhosen. Purple Liederhosen.
Uncle Ned's head popped off and revealed himself to be the Cobra Commander from GI Joe. Then he died. I think it was because he had sex with giraffes, but I don't have all the data yet.
I forgot about the toaster but it was okay because that crazy actor-guy Vincent Gallo came to my rescue and pummelled the toaster to death with a prehensile hemorrhoid.
(Rubber underwear is very chic in Taiwan)

 

by botard
2-26-04
I used to get into fights with speakers all the time. Usually they would win. And my ass was always sore afterwards.
By speakers I mean those things that attach to your stereo and go 'ba dum ba dum ba dum' a lot. Sometimes it does other stuff but I forgot.
After the last fight we had, I got up, put a band-aid on my ass, and we both sat down and smoked a couple of cigarettes. We reminisced about the time Marv Albert turned out to be a perv.
Then the speaker was like, "We should call him Perv Albert from now on!"
HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!!
(The last time I laughed this hard a space shuttle crashed.)

 

by botard
2-26-04
I had a bellyache earlier. I think it's because I kept trying to taste my own farts.
But that didn't work either, so I tried to eat other people's farts. I figured I'd just be swallowing air, so how bad could it be?
But I forgot that farts are the air that surrounds your shit sometimes. So every big gulp of fart I swallowed probably made millions of tiny poop creatures go in my belly.
And that would suck, because all the foreign poop creatures would breed with the native poop creatures, and the purity of my poop creatures' ancestry will be tarnished!
So I'm just gonna have to poop 'em all out and start over. That'll teach 'em!
(Once I slept with a fat hooker, but it was platonic)

 

by botard
2-27-04
I like to say the word 'stuff' over and over again until people get annoyed.
Stuff stuff stuff! Stuff stuff stuff! stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff! Stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuffstuff stuffstuff stuff stuff stuff.
Stuff stuff stuff! Stuff stuff stuff! stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff! Stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuffstuff stuffstuff stuff stuff stuff.
Stuff stuff stuff! Stuff stuff stuff! stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff! Stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuff stuffstuff stuffstuff stuff stuff stuff.
By this time, several people would have threatened my life and the prosperity of my gonads.
(I haven't told the Liebowitz family in my attic yet that the war is over.)

 

by botard
3-01-04
I need lots and lots of caramel just to survive, I swear! I have a prescription and everything!
And I didn't even have to take secret pictures of the doctor putting the tongue depressors in his butt, like the time I got him to give me a prescription for hookers!
Or the time when I found copies of some nudie magazine called 'Unconscious Patients' in his medical bag with the pages stuck together.
When I found the magazine and told him, he gave me a prescription for video games and sent me home! On the way out I stole some cottonballs.
No, this time I just called his wife and told her that her husband sometimes makes me punch him in the cock with my tonsils. The next day I had a prescription for caramel!
(once I poo'd on my dad's nose when he was sleeping)

 

by botard
3-05-04
I make pancakes every morning for the guy that lives under my mom's bed because she tells me if I don't, she'll gut me like a pig in a slaughterhouse.
I still can't figure out how this guy lives under my moms bed, you know? All I ever hear is that squeaky mattress, like he's underneath it, punching it for long periods of time.
Then the guy makes a really loud yell, as if someone punched him in his no-no spot or something. Sometimes my mom will make a weird noise, too, but not always.
Then the mattress stops being punched. But if the guy yells first, maybe he's not the one punching the mattress, right? Maybe my mom is on top of the mattress punching it until the guy yells at her.
Either that, or they're just fucking.
(my left nipple can make chocolate milk)

 

by botard
3-26-04
So I was getting done up the butt hardcore the other day by some dude I met in Germany. My head kept slamming against the wall because he was tagging my ass pretty rigorously.
While I was eating paint chips and drywall, I realized something extremely crucial that I suppose I should have known a long, long time ago: I'm not gay.
But there I was, being pounded from behind like a punked-out white boy in prison by a Teutonic Titan, who had a member so huge I swear I could feel it hit the back of my throat with each thrust.
Then I realized if I'm not the gay one, Arnold Schwanzenpumper back there had to be the gay one. I mean, he likes to do guys up the butt! Then I had another epiphany: I'm not a guy.
Yeah, those were HIS balls floppin' around back there, not mine. It was quite a day for revelations.
(One time I fell down a rabbit's hole and he asked me not to be so forward.)

 

by botard
4-29-04
OMFGITIJSM ANISGTSBMM MGMAMATIH TCHBWLFP
That means: Oh My God I Think I Just Shit Myself And Now I Should Go To School Because My Mom Might Get Mad At Me And Then I'll Have To Clean Her Bunghole With Lemon Fresh Pledge.
On a related note, why don't we ever see any Palestinian pitchers in baseball?
Those people have been throwing rocks for HUNDREDS of years!
They could probably knock a pimple off a baby's eyelid at 100 yards with no damage!
(Every time I close my eyes I see Sade)

 

by botard
6-22-04
i want to talk about stuff i hate. dont you hate it when all sorts of people come up to you and are all like Oooh youre so hot and Ooooh youre so sexy?
i know i do because sometimes ill be in a kindergarten all a-whackin off and smackin my balls against building blocks and the janitor will show up and be all Ooooh youre so sexy.
and im like Listen buddy take a number cuz this hot mama is too hot to handle! but sometimes i just throw thumbtacks on the floor and punch him in the nuts.
im all like You old man i dont want your wrinkly old penises so put them away and let go of my sisters clitoris before her vagina teeth bite your hand clean off you dumb lesbian.
so then ill use a ruler to lever stuff up his butt and scratch my name in his ballskin but then he gives me a certain look and im like Sorry dad i didnt mean it.
(i think beer is an appropriate gift for a childs first birthday)

 

by botard
7-27-04
man if i could tell you all the stuff that happened to me id probably have a real good memory. but since i dont ill just tell you about the stuff that hasnt happened to me okay?
i havent ever had so many black men in my ass that i started to get delirious and thought maybe i really was Jim J. Bullock like my parents have suggested all along.
also i haven't flown wingman to any brash young fighter pilots whose headstrong attitudes get them into trouble and im always bailing them out of court martials and keeping the sarge off their backs.
neither have i made it impossible for a plucky young lawyer to gather all the facts in the case to prove his clients innocence only to find his client might not be so innocent in the first place.
the last thing i havent done is masturbated furiously to a Michael Bolton album with a badger in my ass until my penis was raw and I cried myself to sleep. Ok, that one i actually did.
(men aren't as tender lovers as rabbits are)

 

by botard
10-06-04
i personally think that buildings should be made of gummi bears and all bugs and insects and creepycrawlythings (that means you, biped) should be stepped on.
thats so they dont eat our gummibuildings and clouds should all be bright purple and flash messages like "theres some hot lesbian sex right around the corner" and aunt jemima would be real.
and she would be involved in a four-way marriage with me and mrs. butterworth and the quaker oats guy, who just got out of a longterm relationship with toucan sam, and now the quik bunny is jealous.
we could all live in a yellow submarine named mr. skunklefuck and it could stick its tongue out like a doggy and fetch balls and eat special snacks just for doggy submarines that make him superstrong.
Then we could get into all sorts of wacky hijinks and then mr. skunklefuck would piss himself or something and we'd be all like "oh, mr. skunklefuck! youre the best!"
(my dad is really just a microwave radio antenna)

 

by botard
1-19-05
So I was in the midst of reading the complete works of Chaucer when in my haste I appeared out of nowhere and commenced to engage in fisticuffs with myself.
I was quite disturbed, as any man worth his salt, and other condiments, would be, had he the chance to become engaged in fisticuffs with himself.
I wondered, in the midst of the fisticuffs I was engaged in with myself, why and how did I become engaged in fisticuffs with myself?
I managed to beat back my assailant, who was engaged in fisticuffs with me, and pushed him bodily into my blazing fireplace, wherein he ignited on contact and burnt to cinders in mere seconds.
I then realized that I'd not engaged in fisticuffs with myself at all, but I'd gotten pants-pissing, drawers-soiling drunk and fallen face-first into my fireplace. Plus, my face was on fire.
(my skateboard is made of marmalade)

 

by botard
1-20-05
my real name is antonio bigbonio telephonio the fifth and im actually a renaissance inventor who travelled forward in time to warn everyone about the apocalypse.
actually my name is juan miguel hairgel and im a spanish philosopher who travelled forward in time to warn everyone about ass cancer.
really though my true name is jon bon van gina and im a rock star from the 1800s before they had rock and i travelled to the future to warn everyone about my massive penis.
on second thought my real name is probably thurgood mcdaniel flaptastic unclefunkenstein and im a pimp from the 70s who travelled to the future to warn everyone about Jesse Ventura.
my real name is leovanovich mcdonovich fyodyskrysyech and im a russian ballet dancer who has travelled into the future to warn everyone that ballet fucking sucks and people really cant travel in time.
(sometimes i pretend im a baby carriage)

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