Get to know Dane Barbados Jr.

Some of you seem to feel as if you do not truly know Dane Barbados Jr. Dane Barbados Jr., while clearly not your friend, wants you to know him. Towards that end, I shall educate you.

Dane Barbados Jr. hates with the intesity of the eyes of Hades:

-Breast implants and women with them...men too I suppose.

-People who talk in movie theatres.

-People who forget to turn their phones off in movie theatres.

-People who chew with their mouths open...like cows.

-People who talk whilst they eat.

-Short people.

-Women who bathe in that cheap fucking Victoria's Secret scented lotion and body spray.

-Skinny chicks.

-Women who feel that they can be stupid tarts because they are "hot."

-Paris Hilton

-English food.

-Blondes

-Muscular men who wear overly tight spandex shirts.

-Men whom do not read.

-People who don't drink water.

-Stupid people in general.

-People who say "conversate" instead of "converse."

-People too stupid to see the intrinsic comedy in everyday life and everyday people.

-Jimmy Fallon.

-George Lucas.

-Animated musicals.

-A long string of ex girlfriends.

-Cauliflower

-Men who fawn and preen over Asian women just because they're Asian.

-Ecstacy...and people who do it.

-Rapists...they should be castrated and be forced to eat their own deep fried genitals...with a side of cauliflower.

-Extremely muscular women.

-Paris Hilton.

-Most likey you.

Things Dane Barbados Jr. loves:

-why...Dane Barbados Jr. of course.

Dane Barbados Jr. Presents: the "Who Are You" Internet Personality Test

Following these instructions there will be a set of "yes" or "no" questions. For every "yes" you have add five points. For every "no" you have add two points. Your total number of points will determine who you most resemble.

Get ready.

Go!

-Have you ever gone to a brothel?

-In Amsterdam?

-And spent hours browsing the human finery?

-Then selected a fine, zaftig, specimen of femininity and taken her?

-Using her nubile, young, body to extract pleasures of the flesh illegal in many countries?

-Filling her orifices, to her delight, with thick pools of justice?

-And fallen asleep using her feather soft breasts as pillows?

-Only to awake to her and her twin sister cavorting over your rigid manhammer?

-And speaking unmentionable words in the dulcet tones that only a whore can deliver?

-And rending their swollen flesh?

-Relishing their breathy, screams of delight?

-And relieving yourself afterwords and falling victim to the dreaded split fork of urine?

-Exiting the water closet and finding said high-priced whores rifling through your wastecoat looking for your currency?

-And placing your sized 14's of justice betwixt their asscracks?

-Watching them fall in supplication in your shadow?

-And begging forgiveness?

-And spitting upon them before you throw stacks of twenties in their faces at escape velocity?

-Then strolling away with a Camel Light betwixt you lips?

-And a vodka martini and your hand?

-And a smile upon your lips?

-And saying to yourself "night well spent?'

-No?






...Because you're not Dane Barbados Jr.

You're the type of person who is confused enough to use the internet to discover a sense of self and identity.

Dane Barbados Jr. on: 50 Cent

My, oh my. For such a gang-banging, bulletproof vest toting, woman degrading, gun busting, "I've been shot lots of time" yelling, uberthug Dane Barbados Jr. feels that he seems awfully interested in this amorphous man-mountain's drooping D-cup.

And this abomination is hailed as the King of Hip-Hop? Just when Dane Barbados Jr. feels his opinion of the masses can't get any lower...well...you all see the picture I'm sure.

Perhaps there is a tempting slice of moist golden poundcake hidden beneath that sagging, sweating, mound of guytits.

...or perhaps Fiddy is a homosexual.

The world may never know.

Disgust.

Dane Barbados Jr. on: 50 Cent

My, oh my. For such a gang-banging, bulletproof vest toting, woman degrading, gun busting, "I've been shot lots of time" yelling, uberthug Dane Barbados Jr. feels that he seems awfully interested in this amorphous man-mountain's drooping D-cup.

And this abomination is hailed as the King of Hip-Hop? Just when Dane Barbados Jr. feels his opinion of the masses can't get any lower...well...you all see the picture I'm sure.

Perhaps there is a tempting slice of moist golden poundcake hidden beneath that sagging, sweating, mound of guytits.

...or perhaps Fiddy is a homosexual.

The world may never know.

Disgust.

Dane Barbados Jr. on: Mathematics with Kate Moss

Dane Barbados Jr. must confess. He was not planning on updating today, he really wasn't. But fate, it seems has conspired against him. There comes times where something is so hilarious that it demands his attention. This is one of those times.


The fashion world is "shocked" by the revelation that 85lbs. supermodel Kate Moss does cocaine.

Dane Barbados Jr. shall reiterate for the slow class:

Kate Moss + Supermodel (less than) 100 lbs. + cocaine =

NO FUCKING SHIT GENIUS.

The Fashion world I, Dane Barbados Jr., present you with the fabulous runner up prize in this year's...

Dane Barbados Jr. Remembers: University pt.8

Day the next dawned in the eyes of Dane Barbados Jr. I went about the morn like I did nearly every other morning...with copious amounts of nature's embrace, a round of two of your delightful American "videogames" and an epic battle or two at the superlative game of spades.

The roommate and I, with Tomas having awoken from his drunken slumber, knew that it was naught but a matter of time before Scorch walked into our room seeking asylum. We also knew that he would recieve naught but jeers and hazing for having stuck his surely diminuative manhammer into a veritable beartrap. We were not to be dissappointed.

Some smoke hazed, vodka dazzled, hours later there was a knock at my chamber door. It 'twas Scorch and oh did he ever walk into a solid wall of our pointing fingers and ear shattering gales of laughter. It was bliss.

To his credit he took it like a true champion, bearing our verbal abuse with little more than a smirk as he took a titanic hit from our instument of smoking and parked upon the loveseat.

He patiently waited for our derisive catcalls to die down before dropping the proverbial sword of Damocles and said:

"Yeah, well...SHE BLEW MY WHY TOM SLEPT ON MY FLOOR!"

We were aghast...well Tomas was. The roommate and I were too busy trying to breathe around laughing.



If that were the end of this tale it would prove a completely underwhilming ending to such a long and rambling tale to be sure. Thankfully there is more.

The centrepiece of the room of Dane Barbados Jr. was easily the card table. It was a geometric cube constructed of styrofoam that the roommate created for a sculpure class. It was topped with a sheet of every day cardboard and epitomized the cigarette, weed, liquor and cards, seedy atmosphere we strove to attain.

Upon this cardboard we wrote all number of memorable and hilarious out of context quotes. Perhaps one day Dane Barbados Jr. will see fit to share them with you. Needless to say "she blew me while Tom slept on my floor" made the cut.

As we knew that the slovenly gutter-snipe would make her way into the room eventually we transcribed the quote, circled it, drew arrows and surrounded it with a ring a detritus, making sure it could be seen.

Then we partook of nature's embrace yet again.

Some hours later there was a knock upon the door and in entered the trollop with her usual brain dead entrance line: "anybody want to smoke some weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeed?"

"Sure, sure" we all said, snickering amongst ourselves.

Amid bonghit the moment arose...it was sheer grandiosity. To this day Dane Barbados Jr. has NEVER seen a human being's eyes as wide as hers. It was truly astonishing.

She placed the instument upon the floor and strode out of the room where Scorch, Tomas, the roomate and Dane Barbados Jr. immediately burst into appendix-liquifing laughter.

Some forty minutes of smoke later the golden bladder of Dane Barbados Jr. needed to be relieved, I opened the door...

...and tripped over the slumped form of the strumpet in my doorway. She had been sitting there crying for forty minutes. I laughted at her and went amongst my business. When I retured she was no longer where she was and I entered the haven...to hear the sobs of the trollop from inside my closet.

We ignored her as she sat there for a few hours and went about our business as people came and went around us.

Eventually she left...and returned, multiple times a day, every day seeing the report of that night's festivities on the table. Returned to the room where she was openly despised. Returned to the room where she was mercilessly mocked. And she was not disappointed.

That day will never leave the memory of Dane Barbados Jr. I'm sure that many of you will think me heartless and cruel. That many of you will think me not human.

Well you're right. I am heartless and cruel and I'm not human. I'm better than human.

But believe me, if you had to endure the slorish mechinations of the strumpet for the amount of time that I had to you would have basked in her downfall and destruction as much, if not more, than Dane Barbados Jr. did.

This is the truth.

That is all.

Dane Barbados Jr. Remembers: University pt.7

There was a girl I went to University. The group of people with which I associated which nearly all hated this girl.

Now knowing Dane Barbados Jr. as you do you may think this hatred stemmed from the fact that she was below me. This is not true however. Many of the male faction hated her for her cock-teaserish ways whilst they tolerated her for her whorish ways. To illustrate, by University's end this girl had been romantically attatched to all but two of the males in our wide group, that's about 8 different gentleman, all in the same loosely affiliated group of friends. Whorish.

Let it be known that constant smoke of nature's embrace over my stay at University had dulled Dane Barbados Jr.'s hatred of humanity as a whole and made me, to my disgust, a much nicer gentleman. I attempted to give this strutting harlot a chance. Even going so far as to give her my bed, my shirt, my towel and my shampoo to put to use after she drunkenly projectile vomited all around my dormroom. I wish now that I hadn't.

Her most horrid character flaw was unrepentant Drama Queenery. Many a time would she enter into my room, where none cared for her, attempting to buy happiness with nature's embrace, only to end up sitting in the hallway kneeling outside my room crying. Or even better (or worse if you're of a womanly type) sitting in my closet crying.

She would talk the illest shit behind the backs of friend or foe alike and spread rumors of all color whether true or not. This is but a small sampling of her subhuman qualities.

Well you must imagine my surprise when the roommate keyed open Scorch's door and we heard the much disgused shrill, whiney, voice of our shared hate Marina proclaim from the general, darkness shrouded direction of Scorch's bed, "Is that Toooom?" ...no that is not exaggeration, she had the oft annoying habit of stretching out the syllables of names.

Upon realizing the creature that was in Scorch's bed the roommate and I turned and looked at each other with identical looks of shock, before, intrepid individual that I am, I flicked on the light getting a glimpse of Gahenna and shoved Tomas into the room, slamming the door shut and running back to my dormitory, giggling like a vapid schoolgirl.

Even then I knew that I would be laughing about this night for months to come.

I didn't know the half...

...to be concluded.

Dane Barbados Jr. Remembers: University pt.6

So there we were, the roomate, the snore-monster, and Dane Barbados Jr., all in nature's embrace and loving it.

Gingerly we finally decided to accompiany Tomas on his declared mission to retrieve his spectacles. We ventured over to the dorm where Scorch lived. The roommate and I, Dane Barbados Jr., tried calling him over the intercom to no avail. Tomas, in he blessedly inebriated state took his turn yelling into the intercom "C'mon man! I want me specs! Why are you being so whack? Whaaaaaaa! Gimme my specs! Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

Now whilst you my think that your humble narrator is appoximating crying with "whah" you'd be, as usual, wholly incorrect. That's actually what Tomas said. The hilarity...though, admittedly, you'd have to have been there.

Needless to say, our intercom assult was for naught. As Scorch lived on the ground floor we then proceeded to batten his window with all manner of hand-held detritus. To no avail.

We sulkily sat with the whining Tomas, smoking a joint, waiting for our next move. Our saving grace came in the form of a fat girl. A fat girl not weilding a formidable slice of poundcake, no, but instead the magnetized identification card needed for entry. T'was bliss.

We shoved Tomas inside and made our way to Scorch's room where we knocked furiously for a bit. Had I been sober, of course, I could have rended the shoddy door asunder with my Herculean might. Such was not the case.

In a rare stroke of genius, and quite after it's primary usefulness, the roomate remembered that he was privvy to the combination to Scorch's room. Success was at hand.

The roomate punched in the combination and opened the door. What was behind it led to months of comedy...

...to be continued.

Dane Barbados Jr. Remembers: University pt.5

So Dane Barbados Jr., with roommate in tow, ventured into the night high off of nature to retrieve the sleeping giant.

We knocked on the door of the room where we had stashed Tomas and he was swiftly, with applause, thrust into our arms. We prodded him back to our dormitory, laughing all the way. Once back to the room we decided to partake a bit more of nature to congratulate ourselves on a successful expedition.

Despite our haze we realized that Tomas was without his characteristic spectacles. Upon inquiring of him as to their location he notified us that he had left them in the room of another friend "Scorch" of the dormitory we had just left.

We, due to laziness, attempted to convince Tomas that he would not need said spectacles but he did not agree and in his drunken stupor proved more adamant than ourselves. We each took turns calling Scorch, half a dozen times at least. To no avail. We knew he was there, though we knew naught why he was not answering.

The next phase of our exciting night was about to begin.j

To be continued...

Dane Barbados Jr. Remembers: University pt.4

I, Dane Barbados Jr., have been spending too much time wading in the mediocrity of your internet and entertainment and not enough time updating my story, the real story. This must change.

So I will share with you another story from University.

As fate would have it whilst I was at University, I was saddled with a roommate. He was not a horrible stort of fellow, but like you all, he was clearly beneath me. He did, however, have quite the interesting group of friends whom would visit every now and again.

One of these young turks answered to the name of Tomas. Apparently, as Dane Barbados Jr., was to learn, Tomas was legendary. Tales had been told, and songs had been sung about his ability to snore at crystal-shattering, window-smashing decibel.

It was truly awesome to behold...and utterly unbearable to tolerate.

I could not find the wherewithall to deliver a trachea-compacting blow from my heel, I was awash in a wave of marijuana induced apathy, but my roomate and I wasted no time packing Tomas off on an accquaintance.

At the heady hour of four in your A.M. we recieved a call from this accquaintance demanding Tomas' swift removal as the din created by his mighty, slumbering, gasps, were keeping the entire room awake.

Grudgingly, and giddily we gave chase.

To be continued...

Dane Barbados Jr. on: Hillary Duff

Ah Hillary Duff. So sweet and innocent, so above reproach.

I, Dane Barbados Jr., used to hold Ms.Duff as being beyond the vengeful scope of my wrath. Although I didn't hold her to be particularly talented in any major way I gave her credit for being so bland and sacchrine, content to inhabit her rectagular, block-of-wood body, and be an upbeat, positive role-model for young girls everywhere.

Alas, those days were naught to last apparently as Ms.Duff seems to be another fine inductee to the halls of the cocaine and semen clientelle of the fabled Hollywood Diet.

The Horror:
You're still young Ms.Duff and are still and idol to millions of your vapid, young, American girls who are chomping at the varitble bit to attatch themselves like cultural leeches to anything or anyone that can provide them with an identity, since they are too lazy to formulate one for themselves.

It's not too late Ms.Duff. It's not to late to put down that vial of cocaine, to spit out your manager's greasy, diminuative phallus, to pick up a sandwich or delicious slice of poundcake.

Nor is it too late to redeem yourself and avoid a vicious sized 14 kick of indignation to the box.

Only you can make that change. Do what's right.

Remember kids, Dane Barbados Jr. says: No to cocaine. Yes to poundcake.

Dane Barbados Jr. reveiws: Transporter 2

Ah Transporter 2. What an odd film indeed. It's shallow, it's loud, and it's easily one of the most unrealistic films ever viewed by one Dane Barbados Jr. The titular, always besuited, Transporter Frank Martin (Jason Statham) performs feats that elevate the film to comic book proportions.

In one scene there is a bomb placed on the underside of his pristine Audi (they make sure you know it's an Audi) and he cannot leave the car. His solution? He speeds his car towards a ramp (in a convenient junkyard) hits the ramp launching the car 60 feet into air INVERTED! And scrapes the exposive device off on a hook dangling from a crane that he glimpsed in passing earlier in the film.

...Lest I forget, he also dodges bullets in one scene.

Now you (in your eternal dimness) may think that Dane Barbados Jr. did not enjoy the film but the fact is that, as you well know (if you know anything), that Dane Barbados Jr. will not lie to you.

I loved this film and left it feeling a sense of satisfaction the likes of which can only be met with spending an evening with comely, zaftig, triplets.

Though you should know what you're getting into. And any semblance of realism and physics is not that.

The plot device in the movie is a deadly virus that happens to be a lovely shade of flourescent green. The antidote, of course, is a matching day-glo shade of purple. Pure comic book, Incredible Hulk, colors. Huzzah.And who could forget the lovely, blonde, blue eyed, eternally lingere-clad skeleton that serves as the scowling henchwoman. I suppose she will appeal to the sad, cobwebbed, libidos of teenaged males and losers worldwide. Dane Barbados Jr. kept wondering if anyone would feed her a sandwich.

And the CG...oh the Playstation 2 quality CG...superb. And NO I'm not being sarcastic.

The action of the film was superb. As the film is called "The Transporter" it should go without saying that the car chases are top notch featuring, seperately, Frank Martin behind a Lamborhgini, a jetski; and the highlight, the Audi in a parking garage with a finale of such macho, adrenaline-fueled, utterly rediculously wondrous finale that Dane Barbados Jr., in a fit of unusual charity, will not spoil.

Also it should be noted that, to his credit, Jason Statham seems to have performed his own stunts which results in fantastic fight scenes the likes of which I though were dead in cinema.
The kind where the camera is pulled back far enough for you to actually see what the fuck is going on and track the action. Not the cookie cutter, over edited, super closeup fight coreography of late.

In finale I will mention the unfortunate sort who sat directly behind myself in your multiplex. This befuddled, inbred, gentleman was not smart enough to know what kind of movie he was getting into and felt the need to procliam "yeah right" and "get the fuck out of here" whenever some impossible feat occured on screen. You can imagine how often that must have been. All it took was a well placed five across the eyes to silence him, earning Dane Barbados Jr. more unwanted adoration from the unwashed masses.

In short, see the movie. Enjoy the rediculousness of it all. And remember the lesson it gives: If ever you cross a psychotic, murderous, skeleton wearing naught but skimpy lingere and layers of caked on eye makeup...

...offer her a sandwich.


Hollywood remake update: The Fog.

Dane Barbados Jr. on: Stupid fucking ignorant racist in the aftermath of Katrina

A terrible thing has happened in your American south. A horrible, terrible thing. To not make light of, or degrade the tragedy of this thing Dane Barbados Jr. will not comment upon it.

Dane Barbados Jr. will however make mental note to find and bludgeon to death these horrid she-bitch man-whore swine who dare to call themselves newsmen to cover their petty racism.

But a fool would think that the racism of times past doesn't still exist in your America. It is not what it once was but incidents like this serve but as reminders that these pandering pigdog whores will expose their idiocy even in the face of such tragedies.

I watch your television, I see the looters in the disaster area that was once the fabled city of New Orleans. And, curiously, I see that all of, meaning a full 100%, of these looters are Blackmen.

"Odd" Dane Barbados Jr. thinks to himself, "odd indeed." It seems impossible to me that only Blackmen would be smart enough to take what they need from destroyed stores to live.

And then I found the above article. It seems that only the colormen are "looting." The Whitemen are all "finding."

Funny how that works out isn't it?

Let me tell you all this. In my glorious Shangrila-esque country, racism does not exist. We are all above such pettyisms and foul-fuckery.

Let the soothing words of Dane Barbados Jr. lull you into a blissful dream: If I, Dane Barbados Jr., had but the opportunity to meet these beer fucking, horse-sucking, cumdumpsters, I would issue upon them a horrid beating of Herculean proportions the likes of which hasn't been doled out since the days of hearty Goliath.

If you share the antiquated, golgothic, sisterdiddling views of these shallow, racist, reporters please, for your own sake, discontinue the veiwing of my site. You simply are not possessed of the intelligence and grace neccessary to truly enjoy my works.

...and it is only a matter of time before I complete my research into administering a well placed kidney-shattering blow through the internet.

Remember kids, Dane Barbados Jr. says: Fuck sycophantic, underhanded, fatherless, racist whores. They are beneath me.