Google Reinstates Adsense to The Man Blog

About 24 hours after pulling adsense from The Man Blog, google decided that my site wasn't so offensive after-all. I think they were scared that The Dude would follow up on his threat of sending the offspring of Henry Earl to do his bidding. Anyways, adsense is back up... for now.

Site Too Offensive... Google Pulls Adsense...

Alright, so The Dude is thoroughly pissed off right now. I check my page late last night and notice that my google ads have been replaced with a public service announcement. I've got a public service announcement... put my damn ads back up or I'm going to send the offspring of Henry Earl to do my bidding.

So I check my email, and it says the ads have been pulled because my sight is too offensive for most advertisers to want to advertise on. Offensive to who exactly? About 40% of my readers are bleeders (umm I mean women, if google is watching). So if it isn't offensive to them, who is it offensive to? I'm guessing it's FEMALE RIGHTS ACTIVISTS (read : lesbian), and CANADIANS!
Canadians? I dunno, probably not.

So I'm offered this. Clean up the site, and the ads can remain, otherwise I'll have to find outside advertising. Well guess what? I'm not cleaning up the site. I have a certain responsibility to the readers of The Man Blog to be tastefully tasteless, and that is how we shall remain. The Dude offers his word that this site will never be cleaned up due to lack of advertising. It just wouldn't be the same Man Blog as you have all grown to love.

So I guess I'll seek other means of advertising.

ADVERTISERS email me at cause_4concern@hotmail.com to discuss what we can do for each other.

READERS in the mean time, click the "BUY THE DUDE A BEER" button and umm... buy me a beer! I've put the button up last night and I am proud to say that I have already been bought 6 beers.

GOOGLE my site is too offensive huh? Well FUCK, SHIT, ASS, PISS, SEX, BLEEDER, THE POPE, and PARIS HILTON! Take that!

--The Dude--

p.s. - Readers please chime in on this in the comment section. I could use some support, and or some ideas. Show your love for "The Man Blog" and "The Dude"

Adsense sucks, use these links for sweet cash instead!

Woman Ties Record For Highest Blood Alcohol Content Rating With a .50

Rebecca G. Lingbloom, 45, has just tied the record for highest blood alcohol content in the state of Washington at a .50 (over 6 times the legal limit). In recognition of this stellar achievement The Man Blog feels that it is appropriate to devote this article to her. But, after reading this, The Dude (your fearless leader) has decided on a more interesting plan of attack. So I pose this question....

What happens if we hook up Rebecca G. Lingbloom with our very own Man Blog superstar Henry Earl? If you aren't hip to the Henry Earl story click here.

Using advanced technology only available here at The Man Blog laboratories, and under the watchful eye of The Dude, we were able to come up with exactly what Henry and Rebeccas offspring would look like.

Henry Earl
"The Drinkinest Nigga in Kentucky"

Not Actual Photo of Ms. Lingbloom
(some meth-head I found on Google Images)

Adorable Henry Jr.

If you would like to purchase a gift for their impending nuptials, Henry and Rebecca are registered at Leroy's Liquor and Waffles on 11th, The Quicktrip on Main St., and Burger King on Maple in Lexington Kentucky!

The Dude is a born matchmaker!

--The Dude--

Sell Links To Your Blog!

Conversation With A Telemarketer

So this seemingly sweet girl with a southern accent called the home phone today to try and get me to switch to a VOIP phone system.

TELEMARKETER: Well hello sir, this is Angie calling from Charter Communications to see if you have heard about our new VOIP phone service.
THE DUDE: (already knowing the answer) What exactly is VOIP phone service?
TELEMARKETER: Well sir, VOIP stands for voice over IP and....
THE DUDE: What exactly is IP?

TELEMARKETER: Well sir, IP stands for internet protocol
THE DUDE: Whoa, whoa... what'd you call me?
TELEMARKETER: I said internet protocol sir
THE DUDE: I thought for sure that you were calling me fat and bald
TELEMARKETER: No sir, I can assure you that I said internet protocol
THE DUDE: Protocol huh? Well let me tell you something about protocol little lady... The last time that I followed protocol I got shot in an attempted robbery. I was a security guard for 25 years (I'm only 25 years old) at Cinnamons Massage Parlor
TELEMARKETER: That's terrible... allow me to tell you more about...
THE DUDE: It was terrible. My wife left me for a guy that had both of his legs, wasn't in a wheelchair, and still had a functioning penis.
TELEMARKETER: My, my
THE DUDE: And the worst part is after the divorce she left me with this half-retarded dog that does nothing but lick himself, and shit... and then eats his own shit... and then vomits and I have to clean up the mess of shit-vomit or is it vomit-shit?
TELEMARKETER: Well sir, getting back to the phone service
THE DUDE: Ahh the service. Those were the good days, I had just met my Anne Marie. She was as beatiful as a Thai sunrise after a long night of drinking cheap whiskey and getting serviced by underage Thai girls...
TELEMARKETER: CLICK
THE DUDE: Hello? Hello?


I guess she had already met her quota for the month...

--The Dude--

p.s.- Drop by the comment section and send me a hello, a good or a bad comment, or some advice for what to write about next... Don't forget, The Dude will also answer questions if you need advice on a subject. --The Man Blog--

Did you know that companies will compete to buy links on your site? Click here... --The Dude--

Reader Mail

This is a question that The Dude received from a reader. The Dude is a very knowledgeable blogger and decided that everyone could benefit from his advice...

So, Dude, I wanted to ask your professional opinion about something. My sister has our 16 y/o (eek!) nephew staying over for the summer and WE ALL have noticed that he is constantly grabbing his junk bag when he's talking. I mean, I grew up around a lot of brothers and I don’t EVER remember any of them doing that!! It's a private joke between us girlies that he's suffering from "Itchy Ballyitis"...My question is, should anyone approach him about this? It's so not cool!! I told my sister to give him a pamphlet on male STD's from the local Planned Parenthood ['cause you never know] but she thinks that would be f-ed up. Opinion? I'm laughing again...its just SOOO unbecoming!!

--Somegirl--

Well Somegirl,
You being a bleeder and all, I wouldn't expect you to understand the age old tradition of checking the baggage. This is a rite that has been passed from father to son since way before biblical times.

Now for some history. Itchacus Scratchacus was the first recorded ball massager. He was known for constantly having his hand down his pants. Someone finally suggested to Itchacus that his wife Ho-Rae-Me had been sleeping around on him with his cousin Longschlong. So it appears that this scenario of itchy ballytis (good diagnosis by the way) was caused by infidelity, and therefore will be linked to VD.

However, not all cases are the same as Itchacus's. Jock itch could be a possible cause. Try some medicated powder. For laughs, make him buy it at the first Walgreens that has a hot girl around his age at the counter.

The Dudes recommendation... In The Dudes professional opinion, I don't feel there is much to worry about. He's only 16 so he probably just wants to feel down there every once-in-awhile to assure that his testicles have indeed descended. I doubt you have much to fear in the STD category. He's not of legal age, therefore it would be a virtual impossibility for him to have entered a strip club and left with a dancer (which is the cause of all The Dudes trips to the clinic).

Hope this helps you loyal blog reader. Continue reading, and don't forget to comment.

If you have a question for The Dude you can post it as a comment and if it interests me enough, it may be posted on "The Man Blog" so that everyone may benefit from The Dudes advice.

--The Dude--

Cyber-Sex Gone Wrong

I found this somewhere... quite romantic!

Wellhung: Hello, Sweetheart. What do you look like?
Sweetheart: I am wearing a red silk blouse, a miniskirt and high heels. I work out every day, I'm toned and perfect. My measurements are 36-24-36. What do you look like?
Wellhung: I'm 6'3" and about 250 pounds.I wear glasses and I have on a pair of blue sweat pants I just bought from Walmart.I'm also wearing a T-shirt with a few spots of barbecue sauce on it from dinner...it smells funny.
Sweetheart: I want you.Would you like to screw me?
Wellhung: OK
Sweetheart: We're in my bedroom.There's soft music playing on the stereo and candles on my dresser and night table.I'm looking up into your eyes, smiling. My hand works its way down to your crotch and begins to fondle your huge, swelling bulge.
Wellhung: I'm gulping, I'm beginning to sweat.
Sweetheart: I'm pulling up your shirt and kissing your chest.
Wellhung: Now I'm unbuttoning your blouse.My hands are trembling.
Sweetheart: I'm moaning softly.
Wellhung: I'm taking hold of your blouse and sliding it off slowly.
Sweetheart: I'm throwing my head back in pleasure.The cool silk slides off my warm skin.I'm rubbing your bulge faster, pulling and rubbing.
Wellhung: My hand suddenly jerks spastically and accidentally rips a hole in your blouse.I'm sorry.
Sweetheart: That's OK, it wasn't really too expensive.
Wellhung: I'll pay for it.
Sweetheart: Don't worry about it.I'm wearing a lacy black bra. My soft breasts are rising and falling, as I breath harder and harder.
Wellhung: I'm fumbling with the clasp on your bra.I think it's stuck. Do you have any scissors?
Sweetheart: I take your hand and kiss it softly.I'm reaching back undoing the clasp. The bra slides off my body. The air caresses my breasts. My nipples are erect for you.
Wellhung: How did you do that? I'm picking up the bra and inspecting the clasp.
Sweetheart: I'm arching my back. Oh baby. I just want to feel your tongue all over me.
Wellhung: I'm dropping the bra. Now I'm licking your, you know, breasts. They're neat!
Sweetheart: I'm running my fingers through your hair. Now I'm nibbling your ear.
Wellhung: I suddenly sneeze. Your breasts are covered with spit and phlegm.
Sweetheart: What?
Wellhung: I'm so sorry. Really.
Sweetheart: I'm wiping your phlegm off my breasts with the remains of my blouse.
Wellhung: I'm taking the sopping wet blouse from you. I drop it with a plop.
Sweetheart: OK. I'm pulling your sweat pants down and rubbing your hard tool.
Wellhung: I'm screaming like a woman. Your hands are cold! Yeeee!
Sweetheart: I'm pulling up my miniskirt. Take off my panties.
Wellhung: I'm pulling off your panties. My tongue is going all over, in and out nibbling on you...umm... wait a minute.
Sweetheart: What's the matter?
Wellhung: I've got a pubic hair caught in my throat. I'm choking.
Sweetheart: Are you OK?
Wellhung: I'm having a coughing fit. I'm turning all red.
Sweetheart: Can I help?
Wellhung: I'm running to the kitchen, choking wildly. I'm fumbling through the cabinets, looking for a cup. Where do you keep your cups?
Sweetheart: In the cabinet to the right of the sink.
Wellhung: I'm drinking a cup of water. There, that's better.
Sweetheart: Come back to me, lover.
Wellhung: I'm washing the cup now.
Sweetheart: I'm on the bed arching for you.
Wellhung: I'm drying the cup. Now I'm putting it back in the cabinet. And now I'm walking back to the bedroom. Wait, it's dark, I'm lost. Where's the bedroom?
Sweetheart: Last door on the left at the end of the hall.
Wellhung: I found it.
Sweetheart: I'm tuggin' off your pants. I'm moaning. I want you so badly.
Wellhung: Me too.
Sweetheart: Your pants are off. I kiss you passionately-our naked bodies pressing each other.
Wellhung: Your face is pushing my glasses into my face. It hurts.
Sweetheart: Why don't you take off your glasses?
Wellhung: OK, but I can't see very well without them. I place the glasses on the night table.
Sweetheart: I'm bending over the bed. Give it to me, baby!
Wellhung: I have to pee. I'm fumbling my way blindly across the room and toward the bathroom.
Sweetheart: Hurry back, lover.
Wellhung: I find the bathroom and it's dark. I'm feeling around for the toilet. I lift the lid.
Sweetheart: I'm waiting eagerly for your return.
Wellhung: I'm done going. I'm feeling around for the flush handle, but I can't find it. Uh-oh!
Sweetheart: What's the matter now?
Wellhung: I've realized that I've peed into your laundry hamper. Sorry again. I'm walking back to the bedroom now, blindly feeling my way.
Sweetheart: Mmm, yes. Come on.
Wellhung: OK, now I'm going to put my...you know ...thing...in your...you know...woman's thing.
Sweetheart: Yes! Do it, baby! Do it!
Wellhung: I'm touching your smooth butt. It feels so nice. I kiss your neck. Umm, I'm having a little trouble here.
Sweetheart: I'm moving my ass back and forth, moaning. I can't stand it another second! Slide in! Screw me now!
Wellhung: I'm flaccid.
Sweetheart: What?
Wellhung: I'm limp. I can't sustain an erection.
Sweetheart: I'm standing up and turning around; an incredulous look on my face.
Wellhung: I'm shrugging with a sad look on my face, my weiner all floppy. I'm going to get my glasses and see what's wrong.
Sweetheart: No, never mind. I'm getting dressed. I'm putting on my underwear. Now I'm putting on my wet nasty blouse.
Wellhung: No wait! Now I'm squinting, trying to find the night table. I'm feeling along the dresser, knocking over cans of hair spray, picture frames and your candles.
Sweetheart: I'm buttoning my blouse. Now I'm putting on my shoes.
Wellhung: I've found my glasses. I'm putting them on. My God! One of our candles fell on the curtain. The curtain is on fire! I'm pointing at it, a shocked look on my face.
Sweetheart: Go to hell. I'm logging off, you loser!
Wellhung: Now the carpet is on fire! Oh noooo!
Sweetheart: Idiot

--The Dude--

Never Mow the Grass Again!

This one definitely gets filed in the "man-ventions" category...

Click the pic for the complete story

By the way, just to clarify before I start getting threatening emails... a "man-vention" isn't necessarily invented by a man, it is just something that "The Dude" spots that can make a mans life easier. So if a man-vention is mentioned in myblog and it was actually invented by a

bleeder (read : woman) then don't threaten to burn my house down.

Anyways, back to the story... This handy little gadget can cut the grass all by itself. The mower itself is a gas powered, econo-safe (read : tree-hugger) thing of beauty. It recharges itself at a special spot in your lawn, and then gets to work. It's engine is less noisy than a traditional mower so you can relax while it does all the work.

Now, if only we could get items that are this innovative for other walks of life.

What would you ask for if scientists could invent anything to make your life easier?

--The Dude--

Dead F*ck

Wow, this story is utterly amazing. READ HERE

A man in Seattle spent all night smoking reefer and having some in-and-out time with a prostitute, goes to 7-Eleven for some beer, and returns to find her dead.

So, instead of calling the police, this guy decides it's wise to keep her in his bath tub for 3 days while he figures out what to do. He ends up calling police to report her death, but not before digging a hole in his back yard to bury her.

All in all, I must say, this is still better than a lot of the dates The Dude has been on.

--The Dude--