(Night's Watch voice): Aye, #fyrefest was a nightmare made real. (beat) But then came the thinkpieces.
Just had tiny explosives planted in my neck. About to fly a glider into #fyrefest to rescue the https://t.co/gMJboQj5II webmaster.
I'll like you I'll "@" you But there ain't no way I'm ever gonna RT you -- Tweetloaf
Me too. And kinda disappointed in humanity. https://t.co/2eyFdhwyiL
It's like hurricane winds outside tonight. And I got a pool party tomorrow. Anyone know a wig shop I can trust?

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Thu, Oct 23


@ 12:00 PM

The good people at Axe Body Spray have introduced a new product. Finally, men can buy a bottle of liquid that, when sprayed on their bodies, makes them smell like chocolate.

I can't think of anything more seductive on a steamy beach in the south of France than smelling like a fat child who has made a big messy-messy with his candy bar.

But the Axe company doesn't do thing by half-measures. "We've potentially fucked up the OUTSIDES of thousands of men. But what can we do to fuck up their INsides? Especially the inside-the-head part, which is usually full of thoughts and, when you go to sleep, pleasant dreams? Can't that space be filled with unease and, at night, screaming?"

Well, they did it. Here's the product "mascot" for Axe Chocolate Body Spray:


In the commercial, this voodoo-eyed treat-demon walks the daylight streets. Only the commercial takes place in a sinister moral vacuum where, instead of cutting this sweaty, ebony monster to pieces with shotguns, citizens lick, bite and at one point TEAR HIS GODDAMN ARM OFF. I can only assume the pop-eyes and permanent rictus come from being driven past the point of sanity by the constant abuse, pain and horror.

Hey, maybe the Three Dark Davids -- Cronenberg, Fincher and Lynch -- could combine forces and make a movie called MASCOT RAMPAGE. I'd happily script it for them.

Here's the pitch. The Burger King "King":


And the Duracell Puttermans:


Are brought to life by the evil, gibbous zombie-rays emitted by Mac Tonight:


They slaughter a suburban family and use their house as their headquarters. In the basement, mixing the blood of the dead with the mud and grease and grubworms under the pulled-up basement floor planks, they fashion a chocolate golem. Mac Tonight uses his pointed, Maria Shriver-like chin to carve a sigil onto the golem's chest, and it pulls itself to its feet. They send it out into the world, to seduce bulimic women back to the house where the Puttersons...disassemble...them.

And the Burger King broods on a throne made of skinny, chocolate-smeared legs. In the background, Mac Tonight sings "Dream Lover".

Fade to chocolate-y black.

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