Dane Barbados Jr. shares: Words of Wisdom

Many people do not know this, because their level of intelligence is akin to the smarts demonstrated by a lumbering housefly circling a pile of dung, sitting atop the chest of a willing and bored housewife in search of marital spice.

You may find it useful.

A blow to the ear from a cupped palm, when applied with necessary force, is capable of altering the air pressure inside the ear-canal to the point of bursting the eardrum and shattering the equilibrium of a cretin, regardless of size, which will lower them to a kneeling or laying position ripe for a kick to the vulnerable temple region.

This tactic can be utilized by nearly anyone and is more reliable and easy to administer than the trusty kidney punch.

For the ladies to give that extra "oomph" you may slip a flat piece of heavy metal (1-2 lbs.) into a glove, slide the glove onto your hand and administer the blow.

This move, known as "boxing the ears," was popularized in your American National Footballer League by the player Deacon Jones.

...this tactic is now punishable with an extremely large fine when used on the playing field.

Remember kids, Dane Barbados Jr. says: Incapacitate first, crush testicles and self-esteem second.

The more you know.

Dane Barbados Jr. Remembers: University pt.7 (pt.2)

At St.Mary's they have this annual weekend programme called "World Carnival" where they have carnival food, those large air-filled chambers that I belive you people refer to as the "moon bounce" and showcase (usually) shitty local bands.

World Carnival was an interesting thing, it introduced me to many parts of your American culture that I had not been accustomed to. For example Dane Barbados Jr., for the first time, ate a confectionary called "sweet potato fries" which had the approximate taste and texture of old shoe-leather, wrapped in burlap, soaked in tobacco spit and sprayed with radioactive orange dye.

Whilst I was walking back towards the bleachers, contorting my face into odd shapes and fighting the gag reflex brought on by the "fries" when I spotted Juliette. She beckoned me over. As soon as I sat down another band started playing. They were the "Kelly Bell Band" and played a form of music known as "blues." This "blues" did not exist in the homeland of one Dane Barbados Jr. and I was truly taken aback by how much I was enjoying it. Juliette also seemed to be quite the fan.

She took the soggy, leaden, trough of fries from my hand, threw them forcefully into the face of an overweight, passing, freshman, and drug yours truly into the grassy courtyard where she immediately proceeded to press her mismatched breasts against my sternum, trail her long-nailed fingers down my back and thrust her pelvis into my crotch whilst lifting her short skirt sligtly to reveal her untrimmed güterminaböxefrüden. After a few seconds of this I realized that this was her way of dancing. I was amazed.

After a rousing performance of Kelly Bell's song "Homegrown" Juliette was visibly aroused. Her erect, pink, braless nipples were poking through her sheer, white, dress shirt. And spots of red were showing high on her cheeks in sharp contrast to her pale alabaster complextion.

Without warning she grabbed the manicured hand of Barbados and thrust it under the plaid hemline of her pleated skirt, pressing it against her güchenväj (gutterloaf for you Americans...or perhaps stench blossom) and leaving me with a surprising palmful of sweet, fragrant, moonflower medicine, which she proceeded to lap from my cupped palm and fingertips like a well trained kitten.

For perhaps the first time in the life of Barbados he was stunned.

I hefted her 85lb, featherweight, frame upon my shoulder and strode back towards my room at Dorchester Hall.

I opened my door with a swift, piledriver kick, with Juliette still draped over my shoulder. My pierced and determined brown eyes stared with laserbeam intensity at my hairy, unkempt, roommate straddling his dumpy, frumpy, missle-titted, blond human mop-handle.

With supersonic speed I flicked my lit cigar butt squarely into the dungtick infested thatch of his scrotal hair, where it immediately caught like a small brush fire, sending up tendrils of black acrid smoke. Still over my shoulder, her bare ivory ass exposed, just laughed.

My roommate exited with utmost speed afterwhich his gullyscrumpet, spermbank of a girlfriend grabbed her skank-issue tattered and holed thongs and dingy, sweatstained white bra and escaped.

Like a triumphant Alpha Male I casually tossed Juliette onto my bed where in an Olympian feat of acrobatism she somehow unbuttoned and removed her shirt in mid air between my shoulder and my bed.

Now, in the interest of keeping my word that this bit of the internet would remain at least relatively worksafe I will not go into the details of our sordid encounter.

Sufficed to say that it lasted several hours, between us we went through a pack of sweet Camel Lights, a Portishead album, the Best of the Gap Band CD, seven condoms, three small tubes of KY brand lubricant, two pairs of handcuffs and several ice cubes.

It was bliss.

After the afterglow when in a rare display of post-coital respect and concern I told Juliette that I would walk her halfway to her dorm which was across campus. At the midway point, the school store, we bought a pack of coffin-nails to split where I had one of the most interesting conversations I've ever had with a female.

Now Juliette was one of the SMC theatre crowd. I think that every one of your learning institutions has these people, they even exist in my homeland.

They're all dark and act depressed, dress primarily and black and wear excessive eye makeup (both male and female). Love to court the Big White Nosemonster, trip out on "E" and have orgies. Oh and they tend to be 90% overweight and hideous.

Now at the University at which Dane Barbados Jr. attended, there were a fringe group of pseudo-hippies who were affiliated with the theatre. They loved Nature's Embrace. This group happened to be known by both your narrator and Juliette which lead to the conversation.

With little in the way of warning Juliette broke out with:

"So yeah, I blew 'Jack' once...he tasted terrible. He needs to wash more. I also blew 'Jason' once too...really, really small."

There was little Dane Barbados Jr. could do in the face of such frank and honest whorishness...

...other than to once again applaud my rule of never exchanging spittle under any circumstances.

I bid Juliette goodevening and knew that, in her, I had discovered the only female in all existence in perpetuity who was not only the sexual equal of Dane Barbados Jr., but also a match in wit, charm and fierce ego.

She and I had several more encounters over our stay at St.Mary's but that first left things changed forever. Never could I look at her as naught but a recepticle for my pearled and valued seed and never could I allow myself to be used as a walking manhammer for her satisfaction.

We knew that we were the perfect match for one another. But we also perfectly knew that to embrace such a base relationship would breed naught but hate, scorn and resentment.

The only time I've found the ability to respect a female that was not the Matron Barbados.

Do not expect such tender memories from Dane Barbados Jr. in the future.

You have been made aware.

Dane Barbados Jr. Remembers: University pt.7 (pt.1)

Today, whilst nursing a bottle of Patron tequila (the dirtiest of dirty liquors, even the most expensive variety tastes like the post coital sweat of a Bangkok whore...trust Dane Barbados Jr. on this one) trying to drown out the memory if a particularly unsatisfying bit of carnal revelry.

Though it is doubtful that many of your ilk could share this experience but Dane Barbados Jr. will continue unabated. Today whilst out on the town your humble narrator came upon a very choice bit of fluff.


Just the type of Dane Barbados Jr.: very tall (around 5' 11"), not too thin, short, spiked red hair, ample C-cups, firm, rounded posterior, long legs, copious peircings and eye makeup. A sure deal one would say.

Then after the requisite charm session we absconded to the bedchamber where I was met with utmost disappointment.

I swear it upon the hallowed and sacred crest of the clan Barbados that there is nothing worse in this world than bedding a gorgeous dame and she just lays there. Just lays there and takes it. No moans, no screams, no gyrations, no fingernails scraping the back, thrusting hips. Just an experience akin to dryhumping driftwood. To mounting a freshly purchased piece of lawn furniture.

Boring and plain. The screaming and adoring line of brickhouse goddesses at my feet proclaim Dane Barbados Jr. as an expert cocksman and they cannot be wrong.

So after throwing this zombiefied slattern from my bed and tossing a rumpled pile of American bills in her wake I lay here, typing on my laptop, and remembering.

I'm remembering a female from my University days. A bit of a female Dane Barbados Jr. to be honest.

She was a total and complete whore. The type of female that ordinarily Dane Barbados Jr. would hate and shower with spent cigar ash and discarded cigarette butts. This girl (let's call her "Juliette") was different though. Where as most whore deny categorically that they are, in fact, whores and have a powerful lust for the varied and sundry penises of strangers Juliette was perfectly in tuned with who and what she was.

For her being a whore was an act of defiance and empowerment. She knew what she wanted and cared naught what people though of her for embracing her needs and nature. An admirable quality to be sure.

I had an introductory Literature class with this girl and was instantly intrigued by her ascerbic wit and biting sarcasm. She held the general disdane for humanity that is shared by yours truly. Though taken in individual pieces she was not up to the quality that Dane Barbados Jr. demands in his concubines. She was short, had bleached blonde hair, did not shave or trim her pubic mound, possessed a spot of the dreaded "long-toe" and was rail thin. Thin enough to shave a finely aged block of bree with her razor sharp hip-bones. Oh and she also had improbably misproportioned breasts. One was a full and hearty C-cup, the other was a more modest B. A full cupsize difference.

Despite these many and severe flaws Dane Barbados Jr. was smitten. I watched her from a distance for awhile, we exchanged minor pleasantries and I bided my time. I couldn't size her up, though by that time I had surmised that she would be a fantastic lay. The polor opposite of the boring and run of the mill missionary snooze-fests that I had been accustomed to. With this, like all else, Dane Barbados Jr. would not be wrong.

Dane Barbados Jr. Hates: Southern Maryland III

Anyhow back to the tale.

There were the five of us. We, predictably I know, once again partook of Nature's Embrace. Dane Barbados Jr. was feeling the vibe, trying to distract myself from the horrid cumbucket in front of me when a sixth joined our motley crew.

He was "Stacy's" brother. A perfectly friendly, perfectly vacuous and braindead, young man whom we'll call "Yousef."

Yousef was a friendly enough chap, merely lacking even the barest of intelligence that God (not Dane Barbados Jr...the other God) gave a housecat.

Mere seconds after Yousef's entrance Stacy and the olive complected beauty decided that they wanted to arm-wrestle. Topless arm-wrestle.

Oh you heard the dulcet tones of Dane Barbados Jr. correctly my children. Stacy shirked her blouse and bra to arm-wrestle...WITH HER BROTHER IN THE ROOM.

I can only imagine that you're as disgusted as I was and still am.

Even the site of the tight body and firm breasts of the olive-complected molly could keep Dane Barbados Jr. in that room. It was not happening.

I retreated into the living area, stretched out on the couch, and succumbed into the silky, sensual embrace of the Sleep Demons...

...only to be awakened by the olive-skinned molly loudly exclaiming "there's a MAAAAN on that couch!"

At being so rudely awakened but the caterwalling Dane Barbados Jr. did what came natually. He hurled one of is sized-13 Italian boots in the general direction of her head.

Though, alas, being muddled by the combined efforts of Sleep Demons, Nature's Embrace, and finest Belvedere mine aim was not true.

Then the molly decided that she was ready to brave the Earth shattering crotch of Barbados. She slid on the couch next to me, pressed her topless body to mine, her long, erect, nipples threating to draw the blood from the very chisled chest of Barbados. She trailed her thin, long-fingered hands to the waistband of my slacks...when Dane Barbados Jr. came to an epiphany...

Here was a slattern. Swarthy? Yes. Toned? Yes. Perky bosomed? Oh yes. Dark haired? Yes.

But then again she was a familiar of Stacy, a sexual unknown, I had just thrown a rather large and heavy implement at her head, and above all else, lived in Southern Maryland.

Once the muddled mind of Dane Barbados Jr. put those puzzle pieces together he did the only sensible thing: He gently placed a large, silk-covered, foot directly in her crotch region and used it to lovingly shove her from the couch onto the floor.

Then Dane Barbados Jr. slept the sweet and serene sleep that only comes after a particularly ribald bout of carnailty or a satisfying bit of Bastardry.

The next morning she wsa nowhere to be found. Later after a breakfast of Krispy Kreme donuts (truly the finest thing to EVER come from the Americas) and Nature's Embrace, my associate came up to me and asked: "So...did you hook up with whatshername?"

To which I issued a hearty backhand chop and a "no" to which he replied:

"That's a good thing man. That chick is like 32, she's an ex-Marine, has two kids, takes a couple of classes here...

...oh, and she LOOOOVES the cock."

All your humble narrator Dane Barbados Jr. could do was shake his head.

Dear sycophants,

If ever you are unfortunate enough to find yourself in St.Mary's County Maryland, or surrounding Southern Maryland you must remember: no matter how attractive she is, no matter how easy she seems, she more likely than not has kids, is a loser, and is a gigantic, disease carrying, whore.

Thusly, Dane Barbados Jr. hates Southern Maryland.

You have been enlightened.

Dane Barbados Jr. Hates: Southern Maryland II

To continue...

To escape the bowel-churning rage I was feeling about the bonfire Dane Barbados Jr. decided to retire to back to the house, "Green House" as it's known.

Immediately upon my grand entrance a porcelain-like bottle blonde throws herself into the burly arms of Barbados and says on a wind of cheap whiskey: "Oh my GOD! Are you El Torres? I'm looking for El Torres' paaaaaaarrrrtyyyyy. And I'm roooooolllllliiiiiiinnnnnnnng. Want a blowjob?"

When faced with the opportunity to recieve a oral satisfaction from a skinny, alabaster-skinned, blonde who's tripping the light fantastic on ecstacy many of you would fall to your knees and thank your God for the opportunity.

Dane Barbados Jr. however is not a loser like many of you. I grabbed the 85lb. barbie doll by her shoulders, lifted her from the ground, and deposited her atop the overflowing garbage pail.

As the swarthy, debonaire, gentleman that I am every, rolling, piece of shit there assumed that I was this "El Torres." Even a modern Adonis such as Dane Barbados Jr. can only break so many jawbones, implode so many kidneys and shatter so many clavicles whilst in Nature's Embrace. Eventually, with my fists dripping blood and splittle I relented and claimed the guise of "El Torres."

This tale is long already and there is still much to tell so I'll just say that my stint as El Torres ended with many an effeminate, pseudo-hippy, uber-prep, Hitler Youth male emmasculated and many a social-climing, gold digging, underfed, over sexed, high classed whore in training in tears.

At the end of that first night only five remained: Barbados, my associate, my host, his horrid woman (whom we'll call Stacy) and a fairly attractive, olive complected lass.

Another brief aside on "Stacy."

The first time I met this trollop I found her mildly attractive. Short, dark haired, well put together.

That all ended when once I was in St. Mary's, sitting on the couch with a vodka in one hand and a "blunt" in the other when this gutter-snipe came across my field. The unholy stench that followed was enough to (literally I might add) make my eyes water. Never in the life of Dane Barbados Jr. has there ever been a human being (let alone a female) to create that level of body odor.

It was a thing alive, it actually seemed to thicken the air as she passed, I could feel it's greasy sinews crawling up my nostrils, trying to make my gorge rise.

Also, puzzlingly, this confused cum-bucket shaved her legs and her motherbox...but not her armpits...and she has black hair. Disgust.

Anyhow, back to the tale.

Ugh...my God. The memory of that is enough to stagger Barbados even now. I must continue later.

Hold your breath.