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Dear Murray

i just moved to LA from Dayton, Ohio and I have noticed that I am having problems getting laid. Telling them about my 80’s theme band “Pink Rock Glitter” doesn’t seem to impress them, and all I can afford is a damaged rental car from this werid pakistani guy on Cahuenga Blvd. I am wondering now if it’s a good idea to tell them that I am a nude photograper, because that should get me laid, right? Now my question is: How do I get started? I have no experience. Any ideas?

Jesus H. fucking Malmsteen Christ. I thought Great White did away with all of you a couple years back.

In fact, I still have a copy of the newspaper:


First of all, you should get your band all together in one place, pile your instruments in a pile in the middle of the floor, remove all of your leather and feather boas, and place them on top. Now, instead of doing what the five of you would NORMALLY do when faced with this situation, I want you to set fire to your pile. Problem 1: solved.

Here’s the secret to getting women to pose nude for you: you have to pay them. Lots. The hell did you get the idea that they gonna just drop their panties ’cause you got a zoom lens? You’re gonna have to work three jobs just to support this hobby. besides, buddy. i read craigslist, too. the word is out. your lens ain’t zoom.

Now leave me the fuck alone.

Categories: Dreams and Delusions Limp Dicks

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Dear Murray

Dear Murray a tasty, tasty bitch beloved and feared by hordes of basement-dwelling illiterati and their fierce antagonists, the Grammar Nazis. He single-handedly turned the webcam whorefest of Myspace into a lively commerce of ideas, including whether or not the TUBGIRL photo will ever be topped as a postmodern expression of the inexpressible. According to web historians, he has inspired more photoshop projects and syphilis jokes than Britney Spears (who he has been repeatedly linked romantically to). He is also rumoured to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby, a disciple of Cliff Yablonski, and the second gunman on the grassy knoll. Although he could not be reached for comment, he reportedly resides in or near the tent cities along the LA River Basin, third right after the walrus sunning station.

He has vehemently denied all charges that he is any any way responsible for that rash your wife claims "is from the heat".

His primary function is doling out advice; the inspiration sprang from an endless and eventually dull repetition of fucktards failed to heed his words.

A secondary result is a dysfunctional family "round table" of people who contribute innumerable one-liners and personal experiences, rarely related in any way to the actual question.

It is estimated that tens of thousands of readers have "LOL'd" approximately 5,395,645,694,167,467,105 times, with the toll expected to rise.

He is immune to kryptonite, chlamydia, and brainwashing.

Wikipedia has banned PENCILTITS's entry, debating the relevance of his tasty bitchiness.