Tuesday, February 06, 2007

Let's speed up "the Aging Process"

Let's pretend that this is the last ever Balvenie scotch ad featuring the Balvenie Weenie™. How would you like to see the mouthless douchebag perish?
• Beaten to death with a folding chair by a Biker at an AA meeting.
• Burned to death in the basement of his Mom's house because of a fire started by his faulty hotplate.
• Chokes to death on a single beer nut in a jam-packed bar.
Please leave your scenarios in the comments if you want.
To read the previous 8 Balvenie Weenie™ posts, go here.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Bleeding to death from the pie-hole forcibly cut into his smug mug (via a broken bottle of Balvenie, natch).

2:18 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

The bottle of Balvenie itself finally gets fed up with his douchebaggery and bludgeons him to death. That or tertiary syphilis from a shemale prostitute.

2:59 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Bikers go to AA meetings?

3:10 PM  
Blogger Maulleigh said...

I go with A.

I'd beat him with a folding chair cuz he'd totally be like, "I don't have a problem; YOU ALL have a problem. I just have to be here because the court says I do."


3:17 PM  
Blogger David said...

Autoerotic Asphyxiation.

Gone Splendidly Awry.

4:03 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Our brief time together is over; I just realized google is hosting your blog. You know, the infinite dossier compiling overlords of data services?

Google knows. They know everything about you, and ...it's for sale. Or free for the asking if you're "In".

Ciao, baby.

4:04 PM  
Blogger Emily McAdams said...

Blunt force trauma to the head with a Fleshlight.

5:23 PM  
Blogger Moda di Magno said...

Ranter darling:

The Weenie should be pickled in a bottle of that crap. Shove him in head first and put a cork in it. Bury the bottle for a hundred years and then put him on display.

That or a good, long, painful cartoon case of cirrhosis of the liver, with maybe a little esophogeal bleeding.

I feel better now. Please do away with the little shit.

9:51 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

He perishes in a sea of weakly alcoholic smelling blood during a failed transplant of his hardened cirrhotic liver. A scandal and a wave of general repulsion ensue when the body is mistakenly disposed of in general refuse and later washes up, fully intact (aside from the trunk incision) and eerily mouthless on the shore of Staten Island.

Cheers, laddie, we hardly knew ye.

6:04 AM  
Blogger copyranter said...

I am so so proud of you sick sick people.

7:56 AM  
Blogger Chris said...

He is eaten by a great Wite-Out Shark.

8:41 AM  
Blogger Unknown said...

He lights a cigar, which ignites his toupe. He pours his Balvienie on it to put it out, only to have the fire completely engulf his head and bowtie. Paniced, he scrambles across the page and is shot by a member of the Mujahideen from page A3.

1:05 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Alone and old. An empty bottle of dreams and balvenie by his side. ciao bitch.

6:45 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Fleshlight accident

3:35 PM  
Blogger Unknown said...

He drowned trying to laugh while drinking his Balvenie.

3:52 AM  
Blogger Unknown said...

Four words - "Up to the elbow".

12:25 PM  

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