Posts Tagged ‘Humor’

Jared Leto: Gay-est of Non-Gays?

We regret to inform “All the Single Ladies” out there, but Jared Leto is gay. Like, really, really gay. He’s got his hair flared-up. He’s wearing sunglasses without the full tint, and he’s wearing leather. On a regular day, in the summer, he’s wearing leather. Come to think of it when is Leto not wearing leather?

jared leto gay

However, there still is no actual “proof” that Leto likes the cock as much as, say, Lindsay Lohan, Cameron Diaz, or even Tila Tequila (although he dated them all), but we’re on to him.

But why do we even begin to think this, you ask? Well, we answer that with another question: What’s gay-er than gay? I mean, short of naming your emo rock band 30 Seconds to Mars.

How about firing your band team management a month before you release your new album? With a tour in the work, Leto went balls-out into an “I’m the boss” tirade, citing artistical difference (he actually didn’t cite anything. we’re just saying that.), and complaining about the direction and focus of the CD.

I know, I know, we’re not actually talking about the whole gay thing. Well, before we just always thought he was a beautiful little actor who also jumped around in front of his playful, wrist-cutting band. But after being made aware of the fact that he once said he was “Gay as a goose”, we just had to take it one step further.

So, no, we don’t have any concrete evidence. But we get a feeling this guy will uncover the truth:


This was the last thing Leto had up his ass.

(Editor’s Note: We doubt Leto is actually gay. But it’s funny to ponder about it.)

Halo Cloud in Moscow Capturing Nation’s Attention

The only thing funnier than a good joke or someone getting kicked in the nuts is thousands of people searching through theĀ  internet to find information on something that isn’t even real.

At least, that’s what scientists are saying. Here’s a video of the complete, utter bullshit:

We’re not against alien invasion, home invasion, or any kind of invasion here at LGO, but we are against shitty driving and even shittier camera holding.

Fuck these mindless bastards who try to document the ending of our time with such lack of focus and zero direction. It’s a damn good thing this Halo Cloud thing was just a bullshit story. Otherwise, I’d be hearing “the real thing” from a bunch of talent-less ass clowns. And we just can’t have that, now can we?

Yout Gotta See it to Believe It: Football Player Hits Himself

Seattle Seahawks’ fullback Owen Schmitt either made a complete ass of himself on Sunday, or he made himself officially become one of the biggest badasses the NFL has seen in some time.

I’m leaning toward the former.

Gus Frerotte, eat your heart out. What a jackass.

YouTube’s Finest Vol. 1: Community Channel

Why filter through Youtube to find the funniest videos out there, when you have us here at LGO to do it for you? If you haven’t had the luxury of stumbling upon Community Channel (Where Cool Comes to Die), take a look at their latest:

“Mind My Spot”

Look out for Community Channel‘s new site that will be coming out soon!

Cats “Just Chillin'”, So Back the Fuck Off


There were 37 cats randomly meandering in Daniel Hopkins’ abandoned house when officials went inside last Saturday. Hopkins had passed away while at a relatives, and authorities entered the home after complaints of loud noises and faint smells.

Apparently, however, these cats were not owned by Mr. Hopkins. In fact, according to their “leader”, they owned him.

evil cat

He called himself “Mr. Nice”. He was a fine-haired, black cat that sat with this writer for an interview, and gave me information about the deceased Mr. Hopkins, as well as the cat’s humble abode.

“They call me Mr. Nice because I ain’t fuckin’ nice, you see? We cats don’t kid around. Throw a string in my face, and I take it as an insult. You’re not playing. You’re gambling. Get it?” Mr. Nice was very determined to inform me and the other authories that this was indeed “their” house, and that they had muscled Mr. Hopkins out of the mortgage years ago.

“Listen, you, we’ve been paying for this here house for years, okay? Does it look like a human has been living here? There’s shit on the walls, on the window sill, and the AC is sky high every day and night. Don’t even talk to me about the electric bill.”

I did. I mentioned that they hadn’t paid any bills or their mortgage for over seven months, and that unbeknownst to them, if they in fact did not know, Hopkins has been residing in this very house for that very long of time.

“You must be joking.” Ruffles, a furry, snowball-ish white cat said. I’ve been flinging my shit around this house like a monkey for the past seven months, and that jackass has been watching the whole time? Good riddance. He never cleaned my litter box, anyways.”

I was fortunate enough to escape with minor scratches, as Mr. Nice swiped me with his right paw as I attempted to take a picture of him.

He was even more upset when the authorities entered as I was leaving the house, and the cats were all made aware that the house was being closed-off by the city.

“It wasn’t fit for shit to live in. And I do mean shit. It was a sewer’s ass in this place. Dirty fuckin’ cats.”

“I don’t give a shit, man. I’m not pickin’ up a damn thing.” Mr. Nice muttered, as he and the rest of his gang line-up to exit the house.

It was an interesting afternoon, one high-lighted by my first actual conversation with a cat, as well as cats that took-on human personalities. I wasn’t sure, but when I looked out of the corner of my eye, I saw one smoking.

And Sir Charles, a chubby, brown and orange, handsome tabby, was swiping one of the officer’s wallets…

cat in lineup

He was made an example of.

Abandonded Car “Still Pretty Pissed”


Let’s cut the shit. If you don’t believe I have a conscience and a soul, you’re both a jackass and a liar.

Is that why, 10 years ago, you’d whisper sweet nothings into my ear when you changed my oil, waxed my exterior, or changed my tires?

That’s right, bitch. I’m on to your ass.

I’ve been counting the days, friend. And a reunion between me and you is coming.

Oh, it’s coming.

But really. I’m pretty pissed.

You didn’t have to just leave me here, just sitting by myself, in the middle of nowhere.

I know you couldn’t avoid the deer. It wasn’t just lying, dead, in the middle of the road, or anything.

It would have been impossible to swerve out of it’s way, you know, with no other cars anywhere near you.

And maybe it would have been easier to see it if it wasn’t completely light out.

What? Are you fucking kidding me?

Seriously. How irresponsible/stoned were you that day?

I mean, I thought we were tight, man.

I was the classic, vintage car, and you were the ballsy, cool stoner kid.

We had a good thing going. Until you ran over a dead fucking deer in the middle of the day.

Now my engine is shot, I’m all dried up, I’m rusting to shit, and some fuckers sprayed graffiti all over the side of me.

I’m not trying to be a dick. But the least you could have done is call Triple A, get me towed somewhere, or sell me to another dude for 10 bucks.


But not this.

Not just leave me here to face an endless eternity of lonely nights, drunk college kids fucking in my backseat, or the small chance someone eventually lights me on fire.

You know, for the fuck of it.

Just do me this one solid.

Admit you’re an idiot for running over that deer, and find a way to get me to a salvage yard. Put me out of my misery.

Just, seriously, get me the fuck out of this place.

Chronic Masturbator Tops “Personal Best”


Yeah, that’s right.

After weeks of searching for just the right place to do it, and the right materials to use, I accomplished my feat.

I really don’t have to go into much more detail, I’m sure.

Alas, I will.

I successfully masturbated 7 times when I was a junior in high school. Lotion. Pamela Anderson. And then there was the couch.

Other experiments were born and died that day, but we don’t really have to dwell on the mistakes our youth brought on us.

Let’s just say that June 13th was a fantastic mix-bag of porn, new websites I’d never heard of, Cinemax, and, as I stated before, Pamela Anderson.

But that was then, and this is now.

Just yesterday, I found myself all alone. No one to awkwardly knock on my door. No roommates barging in at the wrong moment.

I could turn the volume up, and let the dirty happen. And I did. I just did.

It was truly a magical day.

And I bet I know what you’re thinking. “Sick. Just sick. That fucker jacked his shit eight times. That’s disgusting.”

Right and wrong in the same thought, fair friends.

Lucky number nine.

That’s right. I was in top form. Refined, well-oiled. Well, you get the idea.

My goal here is not to disgust you. More, to enhance my image as a member of the public, by being completely blunt and honest with you, regarding my sexual endevours.

It’s not that I wish for you to take part. Oh, God, no. I’m a one-man show, by all accounts.

I just want to be accepted.

I know I’ve been gaining wait. My eyes aren’t what they used to be. And my strength is waning.

But I practice what I preach. Literally. And I just wanted you all to know that, in my own privacy, I am a master of my domain.

And it’s not a bad thing.

I’m not out taking pictures of 12-year old girls, raping young, hot joggers, or going to strip clubs every Friday night.

No, I’m a good guy.

I keep to myself, stock up on lotions and free sex sites, and check my e-mail for those freebie videos every god damn day.

Because that’s all I have to live for these days, and as pathetic and sad as it very well may be; at least it’s honest.

It’s just that beautiful/ugly truth.

That fine line between perversion and hottness, I proudly walk.

At least what I do is something that the majority of the world does, or has done. Albeit, I went at it 9 times in a 24-hour period, but you get my point.

This is all more than I can say for my neighbor, Ted Radlefield. The fucker with the long white hair.

It’s like a naked George Carlin is staring into my window with his binoculars. And smiling.

But, I digress.

I just wanted to get the word out that I’m not a pedophile or a hermit.

Just a guy doing his thang.