PART ONE.
WARNING.
If you don’t want to see a picture of my balls, leave now.
Seriously, I’m not dickin around today, I’m posting a picture of my balls.
This blog post is not suitable for anyone not willing to get a laugh off of something so childishly un offensive it’s offensive.
If you’re offended by balls, this is not your post.
Don’t worry. There’s no shaft in the picture. It’s not meant to be porno, it’s just meant to be some silly little fun, but you know how that goes, one minute you have your balls out, the next minute people act like you’re jerking off in their cereal, which on some level might also be funny.
Anyway. Just fuck off if you’re conservative, today’s post might not be for you.
This post is not suitable for homophobes, obviously. It’s a man’s balls. Homophobes tend to not like those things. Boo hoo.
It’s also not for up tight wanna be punks, and general mainstream types who think chuck tailors make you raw and tattoo’s are some kind of rebellious thing. Open your mind people. Punk is deeper than anything and everything.
Not trying to explain what punk is or what punk looks like is the punkest shit out there.
This post isn’t for people turned off by feet smell, and people who complain that other people are “weird” or “fucked up” or whatever assholes say about fucked up weirdo’s as they do whatever they do that offends people because it’s not what those particular people do and want to see within the walls of their perception.
I saw this guy dancing the other day and I actually thought to myself, “whoa, what a weird guy, dancing like that. To music and everything. What an asshole.”
Then I realized, the guy dancing was a million times cooler than everyone else because he was doing what no one else was doing. He was having fun, while everyone else was sitting around wondering what everone else would think about them if they were dancing wildly alone.
Why do we always bash people who are different but then claim we want to be cool and different, then do nothing that’s actually cool and different?
We suck balls.
This blog post certainly isn’t suitable for you if you want some of that same old same indy music and electronic remixes ready to insert into your laptop for your next big dj gig because unless people want to dance to my balls, there’s nothing in this blog post for rockin a party.
So people, what I’m trying to say here is this, if you don’t want to see a picture of my balls, leave this blog post alone, because that’s exactly what I’m doing here today my friends and fellow seekers or artist truth.
I’m posting a picture of my balls.
So let it be known that this aint some internet gimmick.
This is just me, myself, and ei. (A little German humor for ya.)
Just me and my two best friends. Hangin out.
I mean, this IS an art blog, right?
Fuck it, I’m gonna do what I wanna do and if I wanna post a picture of my testicles hangin out of a pair of woman’s panties I have all the right in the world to do it.
And maybe you happen to be the type of person who wants to have a peek at what my balls hanging out of a pair of woman’s panties might look like, and, well, if you are, then who the hell am I to deny you that simple pleasure.
(Maybe pleasure is the wrong word.)
Regardless, at the very least, I hope you’re at work getting paid to deal with this level of childish bullshit, and don’t say I didn’t warn you over and over again, and even one last time for all the marbles (pun intended) I’m not kidding, I’m about to post
Happy Monday fuck-o’s.
Mother Fuckin David Deery 