Mr. Mooney is a household name in Australia, though the US media breakthrough occurred only last June during TurtleGate — c.f., TurtleGate Day one (1), two (2), and three (3): the Pulitzer caliber investigative coverage conducted by Lewis Samuels, FTVS’ neighbor and founder of the now defunct postsurf.com.
Video allegations of exotic Turtle molestation proliferated rapidly, attracting accolades from FTVS staff and readers, and criticism from most non-FTVS staff and readers, whose lack of theology failed to grok the inherent beauty in the mixture of seafood and sex. Indeed, FTVS has advocated for the enjoyment of sea creatures with the mouth and with the cock on frequent occasions.
I followed the crew for ten (10) days while they filmed in the Sumatran wilderness. This endeavor resulted in Andrew Mooney’s new and groundbreaking profile video, which is currently attached to the cover of this month’s Waves magazine. The film exhibits his precise skills in the moving water, as well as several other talents resembling those of yogi Anthony Walsh, and amphibian Laurie Towner; but most importantly, the movie features a four (4) second face shot of yours truly, FTVS editor Jack Colt, in the credits. Yes, dear reader, this is success.
B&W photography by Jack Colt, all rights reserved.
These groundbreaking seeds were initially sown by FTVS’s favorite mind explorer and Cal alum Alexander Shulgin (co-author of the penis-inflating monographs PiHKAL and TiHKAL). Dr. Shulgin is the subject of a new documentary, which weaves a tapestry of narcotic libertarianism. Yes, Shulgin created, synthesized and self-tested more than two hundred (200) mind-altering chemical compounds. The film is inappropriately titled Dirty Pictures, and does not include gratuitous footage of the cocks or vagines.
The motherfucker is Thomas Alexander Bruso, a bearded gentleman famous throughout the Oakland area and also the internet area. Mr. Bruso is an expert, shall we say, at doing the right thing at the right time in the right place.
Let the Motherfucker himself do the explaining in the brief documentary below. Keep in mind that this film should have won an Academy Award for best documentary because being a motherfucker is much more theologically palatable than being a social worker for dolphins.
To the uninitiated FTVS reader, the history of Jungle and Drum ‘n Bass might appear long and dark, not unlike the negro phallus. However, it is in fact short and pallid, not unlike the honkey phallus. Yes, dear reader, this is besides the point. Phallus girth and pigment are not the issue.
To put it simply, self-identifying Junglists tend to look like Gollum and Deadmau5′s bastard child; and female followers that indulge in and enjoy the quick-tempoed brokenbeats tend to be rave scabs.
All of this is quite distressing, considering that the genre itself is robust and infinitely more sex-provoking than the current shitwave of releases under the moniker of electro (or whatever degenerate genre it is that is so wrongly masturbated by other online publications).
So, the point is this: the documentary below displays the origins of the jungle movement, and is worthy of your devoted perusal.
Readers, there is an inherent tragedy in that the youth today have shit taste in electronic music. Perhaps this is so because the adolescents have a poorly construed sense of lineage and genealogy.
Accordingly, peruse the documentary film below, and fellate your understanding of the roots of rave.
This pièce de résistance provides coverage of Liam Howlett, SL2, Kevin Saunderson and Cubic 22. Post Hacienda yet pre-Ministry of Sound, the film focuses upon the most pleasurable of all epochs within electronic music’s antiquity: 1991.
Please note: those of you servile enough to be uninitiated in the ways of SL2 should immediately and relentlessly pursue an investigative voyage into their origin. They are, after all, the Justice of their day, but certainly less sodomizing and irrevocably less French (same difference).
Movie critics are not unlike chlamydia or gonorrhea: very exasperating and inconvenient when you are lusting for the full hermeneutic stroking of the mind and cock.
Of course, never has this been more palpable than when the film critic community recently took it upon itself to question the irrevocable supremacy of 2009′s greatest movie: 2012.
Make no mistake, dear readers, this film is more exceptional than a blowjob and lasts even longer. Tragically, that herpetic squadron of film analysts over at Rotten Tomatoes has castigated this masterpiece, directed by the superlatively homoerotic Roland Emmerich, having granted it a mere 39% on the Tomato Meter. Why? Because the “plot is thin” and the premise “silly“.
Yes, of course, because the world public was relying on this film to deliver an allegorical vignette of mankind’s constellation of philosophy.
Expanding upon this logic, FTVS hereby gives Schindler’s List a 5% on the Slut Meter because it failed to “deliver the laughs”, “lacked color film with nominal special effects” and “featured only many Krauts and Jews”.
It is universally known that the perfidious Albion — also known as Pommyland, or Britain — has never contributed much, if anything, to humankind.
Shockingly, the Pom bastards and trollops have finally bequeathed something upon the rest of us (aside from bad teeth, bad food, and of course slavery) that is not merely mediocre, but downright resplendent.
Peruse these videos, and try to forgo your understandably violent prejudice against the Redcoats whilst conducting your surveillance. David Attenborough‘s voice is a carnally erotic force, similar to Jack Colt’s bald-headed yogurt slinger (but not as colossal or positively thrustic).
URGENT UPDATE: Understanding the difficulty of breaking history’s norm, Britain removed said videos for reasons unbeknown to FTVS. Ergo, this shiteous stain of an island justly reclaims its position as having contributed nothing to man’s great march of progress. To be continued.
Of course, FTVS is not trying to burglarize from the PhD dropout honkey who wrote Stuff White People Like, which is, naturally, now one of white people’s favorite things (you just can’t win with the cracker — s/he is infatigable).
Let us digress. The point is, and has always been, that Jemaine Clement is featured in a new film that will soon have the Caucasian nation roaring in laughter. FTVS is currently trying to shuffle its rigorous schedule to accommodate an interview with Mr. Clement, but for now, a trailer must suffice.
FTVS is very pleased to announce its newest award, similar to the Pulitzer Prize but with more prestige and underage sodomy. The FTVS Roman Polanksi Award celebrates the finest things in subversive reproductive deviance – also known as surprise sex.
For this inaugural dispersal of dominion and eminence, FTVS feels it is very important to give the award to Roman Polanski. He has flawlessly engineered sex with underage girls for decades, always with the utmost protection (Quaaludes) and an intricate, circumscribed disregard for American injustice. Instead, he marches to his own beat, and beats off to females who are at the height of their capacity to enjoy Powerpuff Girls.
The indefatigable Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy are the seminal miniaturists who lay the tender, inviting foundation of modern democracy and theology. FTVS was pleased to see them perusing cocks and breasts large and small at the Folsom Street Fair.
The duo’s film, 48 Hours, is the finest moving picture of all time – it possesses the geometry of a nuanced, cleansed quim socket. Please see Rotten Tomatoes reviews for averment, and understand: the six (6) percent of analyses against this chocolate-swirled cinematograph were scribed by Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. Under pseudonyms, of course.
Why does our dearest Mahmoud hate this movie? Because Nick Nolte and Eddie Murphy are amazing Jews. Also because they have fornicated thousands (1000s) of women, mostly Persian.
Let us stay on topic.
FTVS captured an exclusive first look at their new film, Another 48 Hours II. Between scenes, the actors were salivating over the hairy chests and firm buttock of well exercised bears. And sometimes frolicking with severely over-mammarized women. And maybe smoking crack while getting bobo from a prized tranny. FTVS gives this movie ten out of ten (10/10) stars, one hundred percent (100%).
Paul Valery wrote Les opinions des personnes qui n'ont pas refait leur esprit selon leurs besoins réels et leurs pouvoirs vérifiables -- n'ont aucune importance qualitative. His aphorism captures the will of FTVS to bring to the masses quality, informed, and unapologetic reflections and commentaries on the state, potential state, and future state of the world.
FTVS is BA, KP, and JC. Three educated young men currently residing in the USA who spent the last three years actively studying the human condition by living and traveling together. We have occasionally fornicated with each other's women.
The astute and loyal FTVS reader remembers that FTVS Editors enjoy wetting their sticks on occasion; that is, indulging in surf related activities during sexual jaunts to various tropical and impoverished nations such as Indonesia. On my last trip to the great Muslim archipelago, I ventured to a remote shore near a small ‘hooker’ town where I happened upon a gang of fine gentlemen led by big wave surfer Andrew Mooney.
Video allegations of exotic Turtle molestation proliferated rapidly, attracting accolades from FTVS staff and readers, and criticism from most non-FTVS staff and readers, whose lack of theology failed to grok the inherent beauty in the mixture of seafood and sex. Indeed, FTVS has advocated for the enjoyment of sea creatures with the mouth and with the cock on frequent occasions.
I followed the crew for ten (10) days while they filmed in the Sumatran wilderness. This endeavor resulted in Andrew Mooney’s new and groundbreaking profile video, which is currently attached to the cover of this month’s Waves magazine. The film exhibits his precise skills in the moving water, as well as several other talents resembling those of yogi Anthony Walsh, and amphibian Laurie Towner; but most importantly, the movie features a four (4) second face shot of yours truly, FTVS editor Jack Colt, in the credits. Yes, dear reader, this is success.
Movie critics are not unlike chlamydia or gonorrhea: very exasperating and inconvenient when you are lusting for the full hermeneutic stroking of the mind and cock.
