Davezilla: Clean Humor, Filthy Comments

(Based on yesterday’s post…)

Crossing the casino floor (I’m legally prevented from saying which one by a NDA so profound I can’t even comment if it’s on this planet, let alone something as simple as it’s name) is like wandering through a menagerie of Darwinism (indeed, and participants in the Darwin Awards). Though the dude sucking back the eighteen pound hamburger pictured above has never hopped on his electrified fat-mobile and zoomed through the double-wide front doors to drop a few bucks before eating himself into a grease-coma, more than a few of our ‘guests’ (we don’t call them customers because apparently they feel better about being fist-fucked over impossible odds than if we called them ‘marks’, ‘shills’ and ‘rubes’) are surely competing with him for the last chicken-fried french fry.

Read more »