Freshly Riffed 23: Dick Jokes Off The Port Bow!

10 Mar

Welcome back to Freshly Riffed, the only web series that bleeds acid, which is a real bummer at our monthly blood drive.

Can I take blood instead?

“I said BLOOD, not acid! God, look what you did to the orphans!”

According to my cheesy fake moustache, Freshly Riffed is where I make fun of the titles of Freshly Pressed blog posts. Also, I really can’t pull off the “Hitler Stache” look.

(Or can I?)

Each title will be linked to the original author, because of THE DEVICE. If you are one of the original authors, guten tag! Come on in, clean off your feet in the orgy pit, and remember: All mockery is for mockery’s sake only, and should not be taken seriously.


Business With A Side Of Pleasure: This is the worst restaurant I’ve ever seen. The business is cold, and the pleasure smells like old cheese.

Nakji Bokum, Or, Old Ones In The Sink: Ugh, I hate when I get Old Ones in the sink. Nyarlathotep makes an awful strainer.

This just got... incredibly erotic.

He does kinda look like noodles, admittedly.

Why I Hung Up My Competition Heels: Competition Heels may look like regular heels, but they actually give +2 to charisma.

No More Lies: Can I still have limes?

Your Artificially Intelligent Agent: It’s the James Bond/Portal crossover you didn’t know you wanted! Staring Chell as Bond!

(GlaDOS plays the villain. The Space Core is the love interest. I made a chart.)

Our Heroine: Well, it’s nice of you to share your diacetylmorphine, but I think I’m good. I prefer good old fashioned cocaine, thank you very much!

Just sayin', is all.


Fashion Shmashion: No, don’t “smashion” fashion! You have to ration fashion (with passion) in your ashen coloured mansion!

In Cranston!

(Thank you,

Instagram: Creating A Generation Of Fauxtographers: Oh god, that pun is worse than mine. I hope you’re proud of yourself.

America’s Long Withdrawal From Afghanistan: “Come on, man, score me some Afghans! I’m jonesin’ real bad, man.”

“No way, America. Last time you got a hit, you pooped in Germany’s toaster.”

My Mind Is My Battlefield: And just like a battlefield, my mind is smelly, muddy, full of dead people, and you probably don’t want to leave children there.

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