Alright, I’m not saying that this baby is going down on a goat, but I’m not NOT saying it, either.
Listen, Rembrandt, I love you and all, but uh… that hand, man. That hand.
Master of Light and Shadow, sure. Master of Anatomy? Fuck no.
And lo, the God Child did turn his gaze upward, his neck craning, turning, rotating – the sound of dry twigs snapping, leathery skin pulled taunt around an unnatural, boney fulcrum — one rotation, two, three. A wheezing, short breath. Then nothing.
Is Jesus Christ gonna have to choke a bitch?
Quaiddddd… Start the reactorrrrr…
wow. such christ. very paint. awesom.
That moment when you realize the baby swaddled next to you has most definitely pooped himself. We’ve all been there.
Real talk: deep down, we all know these babies probably had it coming. Babies can be real dickholes sometimes.
The title fight at UFC 200 B.C.E. was epic, guys.
Aw, how cute, he has an outie! Wait, what’s what? You’re saying that’s not his belly button? I — oh… I see. But then where’s the rest of his, uh, Holy Trinity?