I can only imagine this is the gym where that slag who threw the cat in the garbage can is bulking up to defend herself from hoards of innocent, adorable animals. God knows when an innocent cutie wittle bunny might need to be tossed in a wood chipper or a few fluffy wuffy foxies nonchalantly cast into a coal furnace. It’s hard work being a total cunt. And if you think the workout equipment is creepy, you should definitely avoid the macrobiotic juice bar. An entire pony carcass counts as “macro,” right?

Being a serial killer can get hectic. There are secret chambers to sound proof, ligatures to organize and lifeless bodies to masturbate on. But every once in a while it’s nice to carve a moment out of your busy GTL (gore, torture, laundry) schedule for a little party time. Maybe grab one of these paper mache sculptures by Andy Ainger and turn it into a pinata. Call up your serial killer buddies. You can reminisce about your cold, distant fathers over a few brewskies before beheading this bad boy with your favorite scimitar. Just be sure you don’t fill it with that crap generic candy because things could get really, really ugly.

Sometimes when you talk, my eyes glaze over. It’s not that I’m not listening. It’s just that I’m fantasizing about how to kill you. And on the off-chance I decide a dray of man-eating squirrels is the most efficient and eloquent method, I know just who to have commemorate the moment: Scott A. A. Bibus, Rogue Taxidermist. If you like to keep the contents of your stomach in your stomach, you may want to skip his Dead Animal Art site. But if you prefer to keep your used lunch on your keyboard, have at it.

This is going right next to my horse show ribbons and my Odyssey of the Mind honorable mention.

Philosophers have speculated the human heart is the seat of the soul. But now that I know it has a fortune inside, I’m going to be twice as murdery. So excuse me, won’t you, while I find out if the human colon is filled with Pu Pu Platter.

Via Slipcast.

I bet the two BO-reeking hippies sitting next to me on the plane right now would just love this pillow couch. They’re both piled up into the kind of steaming, pretzel-shaped, bile-summoning sleep heap that only people with tapestry wraps, birkenstocks and beards can achieve. I hate them so much that I hope they’re reading this as I type it. Hey, space-wasters! Can I call you Sequoia and Chrysalis? I bet I can. Please barter your handmade dreamcatchers for this couch so that you can sleep like normal people for ten minutes before I smother you with enough pillows to choke a recycled Vegan horse.

This metal band poster is awesome because the artist screenprinted it with human blood. It’s such a hit that he’s been commissioned to screenprint Justin Beiber’s tour posters using virgin tears and pubescent vaginal discharge that’s perfectly normal, sweetie, and nothing to be concerned about.

Vexed by varmints? Don’t call the Orkin man. Call upon the powers of Satan. These Varmint Voodoo dolls are the last resort for anyone too lazy to get up and squash bugs the old fashioned way… with your massive, throbbing erection. The seller claims these dolls don’t come with any hexes, real or imagined, but I claim that I was at home watching TV the night of the murder. So, you know, take it with a grain of salt.

Sharp thorns on roses and huge claws on kittens,
Bright silver shanks; stealing derelicts’ mittens,
Brown paper drug parcels, leather sex swings…
These are a few of my favorite things.

Cream colored quaaludes and dead Standard poodles,
Dumbells with skull contact, brain bits in oodles,

Vases topped with gaudy gigantic rings…
These are a few of my favorite things.

When the I wear one
And I punch you
(‘Cuz I’m raving mad)
Your jaw splits and you bleed to death on my bed…
Destroying my maaaaaattress pad!

These are headphones that look like bullets and boy do I have a deal for you…

Achieve the same look for less. I’ll shoot you in the actual ears for free. But the only sounds you’ll hear are the sweet release of death. I mean, the only sounds you’ll hear are the exclusive sweet release of death!

via Clint

Did you know you can get blood transfusions from pigs? Well, most people can’t, but your fat ass can. I’m sorry, I didn’t really mean that. You look really pretty today and I love your hair…especially that patch on your upper lip.