Today, I was inundated with = avatars on Facebook.

Those that felt strongly enough about gay shit manipulated their profile pics to show support for men fuckin men and chicks lickin chicks.

That’s all it comes down to.

What makes you different/gay?

You choose to stick your dick into some non traditional shit that doesn’t coincide with who your neighbor chooses to stick they dick into.

If I’m a dude who is bothered by the fact you don’t want to compete with me in porking women I’m attracted to…That would make me a retard.

You have a six pack,  love gossip, Broadway shows, old movies, fashion, feelings, Beyoncé, Jimmy Choo, and all things fabulous, except the mc Fabolous.

Thank God I’m not in competition with you.

 God bless you for not wanting to holla at the Dominican chick with a donkey ass sitting across from me on the Orange Line.

 Your man purse, Diesel sneakers, and funny ass ways make it clear to her that my bum ass is her only option on this train if she’s looking for romance.

Gays in the male or female variety have no baring on my life whatsoever.

Boston Police, IRS, Child Support, Judges, lawyers and Irish people… they seem to be recurrent pains in my ass…no homo.

I can’t recall the last time a homo sunt me, discriminated against me, hated on me, or disrupted my day to day operations.

Furthermore, Hip Hop, which I’ve been dumb enough to invest my life in… has panned out to be pretty fucking gay.

LL Cool Gay J

Melle Mel

Russell Simmons

Sean Combs

Prodigy

Mr. Cee

Cam’ron

WTF?

I’m not enough of a fag to change my Facebook profile in the name of faggotry, but I am enough of a rational man in the year 2013 to say “I couldn’t give a fuck if you’re 6’5″, broccoli, and bend over for Bubba in your bedroom.”

For me to go out my way to effect your life when you aren’t fuckin with mine  ultimately makes me a fag of the supreme order.

In 20 years this country will look at this “debate” as primitive.

Do you, homo’s…I’ve got plenty of enemies, and your not one of them.

Marketing is an amazing art.
Urology Associates Of Cape Cod invested in a commercial to drum up some business. Vasectomy business that is.
Act now during March Madness and receive a FREE PIZZA after your nutsack is clipped!!!

Wonder how the gynecological community is gonna try to milk March Madness…

(more…)

sleezytrees Says:
February 13th, 2012 at 7:10 am   

My Whitney story goes something like this:

Never have I been real close with my dad. I love the guy, but we would go hours in a car together and not say a fucking word.

My dad is pretty much emotionless, unless he is screaming on me and my family.

One day, I think it must’ve been whenever the Bodyguard came out.. not sure what year, I was riding with him somwhere. At this point, the song was on the radio 24 / 7.. I mean, I knew every lyric, every note, every single piece of the song. Everyone did. It was like months after the release..

So the song came on in our old 1990 Dodge Caravan – which I think was brand new at the time, I was riding shotgun with my dad and I tried to change the station when the song was on. I mean “I will always love you.. ” It’s not exactly a song you want to sing along with your dad too.. He was more of a Doobie Brothers, Neil Young, Simon and Garfunkl type dude.

I never saw my old man go into such a fit of rage as I turned the dial. “WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?”

“Huh?”

“TURN IT BACK, TURN IT BAAAACCCCKKKKK”.

“You like Whitney Houston Dad?”

“TURN IT FUCKING BACK, I DIDN’T TELL YOU TO CHANGE IT”

Fear inside me welled up and I quickly turned it back to the station. I looked at my dad’s face and for the first time – I didn’t see my dad, I saw a man in love (no homo). Something about Whitney’s voice touched his soul. Whitney brought out the human being in my father.

That was the power of Whitney Houston. She could melt ice.

.

Here at JTTS, we give thanks daily for the opportunity to stare deep into the heart of darkness, i.e. the mind of our readers, on a daily basis. Seriously, you have to be a sheltered nerd or a sick fuck with deep-seated issues if you are checking this blog every day, but to actually send something into the abyss of our Gmail inbox takes a level of depravity and courage that few people possess. Now let’s pull back the curtain and see what horrors (and sometimes gems) will be revealed from the JTTS Male Sac.

Clancy Returns

I have to give some level of begrudging respect to Clancy. Having stepped into the arena before, this aspiring Peabody rapper came with “that super-psychedelic, outer-space, racially charged, kill your uborn fetus shit” (credit, Sleezy Trees) and was promptly clowned on arrival. He retaliation was weak, which unsurprisingly got him mentioned again…that’s just the way we work around here I guess. So imagine my surprise when I find young Clancy eager to get back in the fight with this tersely worded e-mail: “check the new music video, see if theres anything you can talk shit about now guys.” We’ve never needed to be asked to talk shit, Clance, but thanks for serving this one right up on a platter for us. The resulting video is one of the best Mac Miller Chris Webby Sam Adams Clancy joints I’ve ever heard; there’s a lot of squinting intently and earnest hand motions and a lot of that cool way that rappers nonchalantly adjust their snap-backs. Not only does he look like a bratty teenage version of Paul Wall, but he’s rocking those expensive ass braces too. You know that shit ain’t cheap. And the quality is top-notch: Mom used Tide XL to make sure that Sublime tee was looking fresh for the video. I should note that I watched the video on mute as not to fall into the trance of his hypnotiq lyrikz, but I know at one point he talks about “dropping a dookie in your vocal booth” which I assume is some trucker stop code for mouth rape. Congrats Clancy! You are working up to legend status.

(more…)