A few years ago I came up with the idea of taking bands out of their own videos, and leaving whatever remained intact. Well, I went and did it. This is the first installment of ROCK N B-ROLL! The first offering is from Def Leppard (minus the band), so sit back and enjoy this 49 second version of ‘Rock Of Ages’. It’s better this way, don’t you agree?

24 year-old Anthony Merino is a stud.

I can say that with unabashed admiration and an entirely unwavering sense of my own sexuality.

His MySpace page (now defunct) is testament to that statement. Competitor in Fear Factor, practitioner of the Martial Arts, owner of sports cars and collector of very foxy and well-endowed women.  He enjoys classical music when he is “studing.”

He may appear to be your average jock, but listen to that ladies, this man has style and class. After a long hard day of hitting the books and the weights,  Tony wants nothing more than to enjoy a cold one.

As he describes himself: “I work hard, so I party hard, that’s my motto.”

And party hard he does.

Or should that be “party stiff?”

You see, dear reader, in addition to “weight training, playing football, making mix dance/club mixes, and going out to the hottest clubs in NYC,” Anthony also enjoys bumping uglies with the recently deceased. That’s right ladies, Anthony is a necrophiliac.

The first chink in Tony’s armor is subtle, but there for the trained eye to notice. He lists in his books section Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman. Obvious. Gaiman is a goth icon, and we all know that goth leads an interest in all things dead which in turn leads to eventual necrophiliac tendencies when coupled with individuals who contain an unyielding sense of passion, as exhibited by one Anthony’s choices of favorite movies: Too Fast, Too Furious; which is arguably the most romantic slice of homo-erotica ever filmed. He was able to see past the the facade of underground racing circuits and machismo to the heart of the movie; two men and their inability to properly express their white hot desire to engage in some hot, hot man-on-man ass-fucking. Hence the repetitive double entendre with automobile jargon and rooster-chesting. Anthony decided a course of repression was not for him.  He would stop fighting his deepest desires, fling open the floodgates and let love loose.

He says that “I never seem to have enough time to do all the things that I would like to do.” So modest, this man of immeasurable love. And although he makes this claim, events would lend evidence that he was genius enough to combine his love of histo-technology, his field of employment, with his undying love of loving the dead.

On Halloween evening of 2007, Anthony was caught red handed with his purple-veined member inside the body of a 92 year-old blue-haired stiff.

You call him dead granny fucker.

I call him true romantic.

How many of you are passionate and spirited enough to look beyond the confines of mortality for true love? Your feeble flesh may not be able to court the dead and romance rigor mortis, but that is your cross to bear, not Tony’s. He is enlightened. He can love a woman in all stages of life, even in the absence of. His fingertips work like magic on the zippers of body bags. His tongue can thaw cold and stiffened muscle.His white hot cock will put a little rouge into even the most frozen of cheeks.

Both sets, baby.

How many nights found our boy Tony slick with sweat? Not from burning calories down at the local gym rubbing his rock hard body up against other hard bodies, but from his own fevered desire. The local paper opened to the obituaries in one hand, and his other wrapped around his stiffened, purple-vein throbbing cock. Teeth clinched against each other as he madly stroked his inflamed member, picturing a tagged toe. Imagining running his hands up a pair of varicose laden thighs. Slowly tracing a cold and stiff labia, an ice cube clitoris with his burning tongue.

“Come here Gramma, let me melt away those blues.”

Anthony may beat off to the thought of necrophilia so much he gets a hard-on every time he opens the fridge, but he is no pervert.

You certainly may shout your socially programmed adjectives, but you cannot deny truth when it slaps you in the face like a cold dead fish. Anthony may choose to call himself a fighter, but he is first and foremost a lover. To take the steps he has is to exhibit intestinal fortitude most of us cannot even comprehend. All over this country of ours morgues and mortuaries are full, thousands of souls lay inside cold meat lockers, souls that only wanted to be loved.

To be touched.

To be caressed.

Not out of a sense of obligatory or familial sympathy, but true love and passion!

Come on, do you see that body?

Why waste it on the apathetic living?

Anthony chiseled his physique with years of discipline and sweat and blood and tears into one fine corpse-fucking gorgeous machine.

His paramour is 92 years young, and crying tears of joy as I write this.

As you accuse him of “desecration!,” she is sweetly whispering “consecration.”

In this installment of ‘Moments With Dave’ our good pal sits down at the piano to plink out a little blues melody to serenade his two cats. Nothing says the blues like sleepy, tired pussy!

It’s strange how and when ideas come to me for new designs, and today was a perfect example of that. I was taking a poop earlier and my brain shouted out ‘Oh yeah, scissor me!’, which came from an episode of South Park. Then my brain said ‘Scissors are doing it for themselves.’ So, I got inspired and whipped up these designs and put them up in the t shirt section of this site. Get one (or a bunch of them) today!

Here’s the latest installment of ‘Moments With Dave’. This time, Dave shows us how easy it is to make a sandwich. This one happens to be baloney, and he sings the Oscar Mayer classic “The Baloney Song”, with accompaniment from the actual kid from the original 70′s commercial!

Sing along if you know the words!

And for those of you who are too young to remember the original commercial the jingle came from (and for those of you who want a walk down memory lane), here’s the 1973 classic: