Never has my taste in humor been more questionable than at this very moment. If you don't laugh at these, feel free to throw your stones. If you do laugh, then you probably see what I was getting at here. The last picture ties it all together. Sort of. ~ JH
Apparently, Constant's sister Diarrhea and her
husband Dysen Tery are also buried nearby.
As best as I can read, these brothers died on Christmas Day
in an accident on the train tracks. Boy, talk about your Losers!
This is where Beer goes to die. Rest in peace, hops.
(Look, they even thought to put a barf pot right next to it!)
Whoa, you blinded me with science there. Warn a brother!
I'm guessing Mr. and Mrs. Whizzer can't be too far away.
The Butt Brothers – sounds like a really bad vaudeville act.
So long, farewell, auf wiedersehn, good...
Suddenly, I'm hungry. I wonder why...
I guess this means there'll be no more sequels, huh?
So...where's the Wight Man?
Hey, that's no way to speak of the dead!
Sure, sure, but...was it EPIC?
It's alive, it's alive, it's alive! Aaauuuggghhh!!!
Whomever was in charge of designing this nifty
tombstone was a...well, you get the point.
I'm sorry for your...loss of Loss?
Everything old is new again. Bling, Bling!
That about sums it up.
Seriously, it's gotta be lunchtime, right?
Oh, yes. You're dead.
I'm surprised this gravestone isn't flatter.
If I had a name like Ludwina Puke, I think I'd go ahead and die too.
Seriously, Johanna. Wasn't there a nice man
named Smith you could have married? *sigh*
That's a pretty accurate description, too.
What is this, some kind of mass grave for a brothel?
You were just having a little fun, you said. It
wouldn't kill you, you said. Ha! I said. Told ya so!
This tasteless post is probably one of the Worst ones I've ever done.
Let me see...is it...Jimmy Hoffa, maybe?
It's okay to laugh. It's a coping mechanism.