Monday, February 29, 2016

Musings from Valhalla: Ex Parte: Sex Par-tay





I don’t fuck where I work, that is simply sound strategy, keeps me free of complications and entanglements.  This includes when I am in the court room, even though I do cases around the country, being a HOT SHOT in sports law.  That doesn’t mean I don’t use my mesmerizing sexual magnetism and God given alpha charisma in my profession….after all I need to act in the best interests of my client.  Having the jury lust after you, is as lead counsel, the best and completely legal form of jury tampering.  The fact that I also have the judges wetting panties or popping boners, also leads to many callings in my favor.  It doesn’t hurt that my masculine appeal doesn’t also act to distract opposing counsel.  The fact that I have to stretch and flex a few muscles while they are doing what they do…mere coincidence.





While I hate suits and find them confining, they do tend to flatter what I got going on….shoulders as wide as Texas, tapering down to a narrow waist, broad thick chest, and an amazing bubble butt pressed against the suit pants testing their tensile strength.  I have won cases with those glutes alone.  




I make sure I take opportunities to approach the bench or the witness to show off that ass to full effect, and the love-struck judges always allow it…especially as I make sure to give them a peek at the goods as well.




Not only does having a magnificent body pay dividends in my profession, but being incredibly handsome with a winning smile, doesn’t hurt as well.  Makes my points doubly persuasive.  Sometimes the jurors don’t even hear the points I am making, locked in as they are on these strong virile features, green eyes and pearly whites.   This is especially true of those who don’t know squat about sports or athletes, and are not well disposed to the whole jock world….the words just wash over them, and they sit entranced and ensorcelled, nodding like bobbleheads to everything I say.  Juries love me….they really do!


Judge: Mr. Mule, rebuttal?
Jury: ♥♥♥♥♥ Fap! Fap! Fap! ♥♥♥♥♥

You can tell who the “strokers” are, they always maneuver to sit in the back of jury box…and I suspect a number of judges are when it is my turn to present and shine, polishing their knobs under those black robes from the added security of being behind the bench.  I have even thrown a large number of court stenographers off their game. My boss calls me “a highly effective litigator” which is fancy lawyer speak for COURT STUD.



Being a court stud, is particularly useful when you are handed a weak brief and need to enhance it through sheer charisma and personal presence.  It also helps given that most cases at some point go to arbitration for a negotiated settlements, that with a flash of a  smile, and a certain amount of flexing through my suit, I have the opposing counsels unbuttoning blouses, fanning themselves, fidgeting in their seats and/or stroking madly under the table.  Their strong “handling” of the case tends to lead to deals in my clients favor and interests.  It is how an alpha court stud rolls. 


I rule in favor of  ♥♥♥MULE♥♥♥,
 umm...
I mean the plaintiff represented by MULE

Monday, February 22, 2016

Musings from Valhalla: PSAs FROM MULESBLOG








According to new FCC regulations, Mulesblog is required to post a certain amount of PSAs each year in order to comply with New Standards for Internet Discourse 12 (NeStaFID12). #ThanksObama.   So Let’s Get this Shit Over With!










Don’t Get Your Ass Took:

You Know You Thought about it, So Come Clean:



Texting While Walking is Bad...Mkay?



The Dangers of Netflix and Chill:





Overcoming Insomnia:



Selfies:



Online Piracy:

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

Musings from Valhalla: Why do I fight?



"You like to fight because you're a cave man, Mule!"



That is one point of view...but here is MINE:

"Other than Sex and Lifting, there is nothing like
digging your knuckles into someone's face or chest
after you have sent that arm flyin' at 'em
 like a cruise missile."


Anyone with sufficient testosterone enjoys fighting.  If you call yourself a man and you are revolted by fighting and/or watching other men fight, then you should have your testosterone levels checked, because they are indubitably low.  You might want to also lay off the tofu, as that shit jacks up your estrogen, and makes you grow a pussy and want to ban boxing and MMA, and shit. 





It is not like I am out to start start shit...but I do FINISH IT, and have a great time doing it.  If you won't fight for what you believe, won't take a stand, won't defend those who can't fight for themselves and not let yourself just get pushed around...then you just not a man, that is all there is to it.  Might as well cut off your juevos and dongler, and appear on the cover of Vanity Fair.






Some might say: "But Mule, you can stand up for yourself, just use your words, not your fists".  This tickles my funny bone because IRONICALLY  it is my words that get me into most of my fights. Diplomacy has never been one of my strong suits.  I can bench press a fuckin' bus, but I can't muzzle the wolf within me--to NOT say what is on my mind with candor and bluntness...well it just feels like I am castrating myself.






It ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward; how much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done! Now, if you know what you’re worth, then go out and get what you’re worth. But you gotta be willing to take the hits.

No gloves, No shirts,  No pussies...
that's a real fight



Men challenge you. You’re walking on the streets minding your own business, when another dude a dozen feet away is moving towards you from the opposite direction. Suddenly, he side steps to get right in your way. He knows he’s in the wrong, but he expects you to move out just for provocation’s sake. The chicken game has started: the first man who changes his path loses. As he realizes you’re not going to move....


.....and it's ON!!!!!!





Thursday, February 11, 2016

Musings from Valhalla: 6'3" and Bullet Proof



Strollin' down the high street gettin' admired by my fans, people know who I am round here...damn local celebrity son. 





Two thugs think they tough, shit mouthin' off at my strong assed self. I'm like **** this shit, and start crackin' skulls. 


Hit one and he went down like a sack o shit, other guy tries pussyin' out and shit sayin' how it weren't his fault. I don't give a S**t!  




F*cks be hollerin' sayin' this guys got a gun, he then pulls it out and shoots me. Luckily my jacked muscle fibers stopped the bullet, turns out I got bulletproof skin or some sh*t...



I knock him the F**k out then go on with my daily business. Ain't sh*t son.


Vignette: Raged out in bank


Here is an old gem from way back in March of 2009:




Raged out in bank
Went in to get money cash, ‘cuz I couldn’t find the debit card. My ID has been expired for over a year, fuck waiting a whole day in the DMV! The fat fuck cashier, ‘bout mid-40s, bout 5’3” an’  ‘bout 3fiddy pounds SERIOUSLY says: “Your ID is expired I can’t give you any money.”

I say, “You have been giving me money for the last few months and never had a problem with my expired ID and you are telling me that you can’t give me my money, my money from my bank account! You didn’t say that last week, what’s wrong having a bad day today or something?

She says: “I am sorry but your bad attitude won’t help you.
I said: “Listen Fat Ass, it’s my money and my fucking bank account, so get your fat ass off that chair and get me my money.”

She said: “I am not going to tolerate this attitude, I will call the guard!”

SERIOUSLY?  So I said: “You fat fucking fuck, you fat fucking bitch and your fucking bad day, you fat fuck, get your fat ass out of there and get a better attitude, fat bitch!

I can't believe how that obnoxious customer talked to me today,
 and yet  for some reason I can't stop masturbating over him
.


Mind you, this is Friday in a bank with dozens of people in line, and I looked at the chick, and said “You fat fuck”, etc.  But it gets better: So the fat fucking bitch calls the guard  and this fucking fat fuck guard waddles over...I’m a thinking: “How many cheeseburgers you gotta drive into that gut to look like that?

So the fat fuck guard says: “Big Fella, you making a huge scene, you needs to get off the steroids, and you’re banned from coming to this bank, if you comes here again we will call the cops!”
Now mind you there's more muscle in my left nut than there is in this fat fuck guard's entire body...I’m a seriously thinking I should just drop him...give him the ‘ rock bottom and the ol’ ‘people’s elbow FTW!



Did someone call for security?  Has anyone seen my feet?


...yeah SURE he's got a gun... but I’m a pondering if my jacked muscle fibers can stop a bullet...use my jacked up muscle fibers like organic body armor or some shit …’ cuz I’m a planning on ripping his balls off and slap him to death with them...this fat fuck guard can't do shit if he's a pile of entrails on the floor...!




But then I look at the gun again, and I’m a like:  “...fuck it... I don't give a snail’s kunt..." and I high tail it out of there before they call the cops and that’s why—to make a long story short—I’m against any moar bank bailouts!




Monday, February 8, 2016

Out of the Cobwebs: Collecting on a Superbowl Bet


As we just had a Superbowl win by my home team THE DENVER BRONCOS, You know the Mule revels in equine glory!





 I thought it would be a good time to go down into the cobwebs and pull out this old bottle to celebrate.  This is an oldie but a goodie with more than 60 footnotes!




So look back on this old chestnut, Collecting on a Superbowl Bet  as you are still basking in Superbowl fever!


Friday, February 5, 2016

Vignette: High School Reunion










When the invitation for my 5 year class reunion came in the mail, I almost had a laugh. You see Mule even back then I was an alpha male pimp with 17 inch pythons even back then. I know a lot of you readers graduated as 105 lb. geeks soaking wet, and high school was hell for you, I was KING of my school(See Kicked by a Mule), and had nerds like you wetting their pants. I wonder if I would still make their knees knock.







After graduation, I got even bigger and now sported 20 inchers.  My past time in college and  law school have been lifting and fucking.  I have built my body into a rock hard temple and as awesome as I was in High School, when some of the faculty and staff see me strutting into the reunion, there will many a boner and wet panties as they get a gander of how much more awesome I have become.  I was looking forward to seeing Billy Wilcox again  (See Swirlie) and hanging out with old  my football posse.




The invitation said "suit and tie", but if you know me, I'm just not a suit and tie kind of guy. I walked in dressed in my usual tight blue jeans, aviators and beater, with my massive guns, I don’t think I was going to hear a peep of protest from the AFCs, Jock Sniffers and Fetch-n-carries…and certainly not from any of the ladies. 






I also was carrying my homemade protein shake: 1 jar of Natty PB, 2 scoops of cottage cheese, one can of tuna, and a cup of oatmeal, all blended with skim milk.  Don't make that face, it is DELICIOUS!






I walked in, lats flared and my adrenaline pumping. I was walking around like I owned the place. Two former classmates approached me.





Sniffer#1: “Hey I remember me Mule, we had algebra, geography, English and chemistry together…

Me:  (Not remembering him at all.)    “Sure kid, um….

Sully” offered the sniffer.  “Remember you used to call me Sullied his shorts

Yeah, yeah good ol’ Sully!”  I crushed his hand in a vise like grip and walked off still clueless as to who the fuck he was.

Sniffer #2: Oh hi, Mule, remember me? Yeah we had good times together, lot’s of laughs. Remember that gag where you and your buddies used to strip us Marching Band guys naked, wrap us in Saran wrap and tie us to the flagpole and other landmarks. You got a lot bigger man. How ya been?



"Mule is so cool...heh heh...
...heh heh heh"


Was I really that mean in High School? I don’t remember it being like that, but these dweebs certainly had a different take on H.S. than I did. But for all the hell I might of put them through, some of these jokers were looking at me with adoring, worshipful eyes.



JS: Mule is the greatest! Isn't he?  ♥♥♥sigh, sniff, sigh♥♥♥





Well Billy Wilcox had been less than forgiving, but that was 2 years ago and we had got past that.

I caught two of the rich snots: Cyrus and Martin sneering at me from their table.  I guess they thought they were not talking loud enough for me to hear them, but I did.  “Look at that juice monkey, he is even more of a meathead than he was back in H.S.  I heard he went first to Duke and then Georgetown, I guess they have quotas for gorillas at those schools, because he certainly didn’t get in on his brains.”

Now those jerks I remember. Silver spoons in their mouths, they thought they owned the world. I felt the rage burn up inside of me. I grabbed each of them by the throat and dragged them into a back room, where I beat both of them unconscious with my sledgehammer fists. "How you like being DONKEY KONGED by this gorilla?"-- I screamed at their motionless mauled bodies. I relieved them of some cash, and expensive switch timepieces (waste not, want not), and hung each of their bruised and bloody carcasses on either side of a large coat rack for the janitor to find.





Next stop I headed to the bathroom, where I stripped down to my posers and oiled up my body. "Time to show them all that I am STILL their god damn KING," I told myself, psyching myself up. I felt like Eminem before the rap battle in 8 mile.

I headed to the stage, pointed to the DJ, indicating for him to start playing my song. "Welcome to the jungle" blared throughout the room, as I began my posedown. Side Chest, Back double, Most Muscular, I showed off every pose in the book. I watched the stunned reaction of male classmates, while women flocked with five, ten and twenties. "Take it off, Mule!" When I hit the crowd with my signature lat flare, the screams were deafening. One girl even fainted. My old football posse then joined me on stage, and shirts and pants were coming off and muscles bulging and straining in display.  I got a whole lot of phone numbers, and was fucking women left and right for the next few days, pussy was raining down on me like manna from heaven.  Cuckolded quite a few men that weekend.


BEST REUNION EVAH!



I  dressed and started to walk out. Someone grabbed me by the arm. Tiffany Brown. Nicknamed "Pass Around Brown" for her reputation of having the offensive line run a train on her under the bleachers. She still looked the same. Hot face, nice body, huge tits. Been there, done that!   "...Fuck do you want?" I snarled at her.

Tiffany: "Well, I thought that was really amazing. My husband's body is- well, not that great. I mean, he's rich and all, but… his name is Cyrus Warminger, maybe you remember him?"


Yeah I remember him,”  I thought, “I just hung his unconscious wreckage on a coat rack

But I actually just said: “So Tiffany Warminger, now

I can’t find my husband, and I am feeling rather…lonely” she said batting her eyes.  Well, once a sloot, always a sloot.  

No doubt she is also banging the pool guy and the gardener.   Still the idea of cuckolding Cyrus made it all the more worthwhile.

Look Tiff, it wouldn’t be a proper reunion if we didn’t fuck for ol’ time sake!

I led her into the back alley where Tyrone was doggy styling Mrs. Martin Rykowski,  Martin being the other guy hanging from the coat rack.  Tyrone was one of my old football posse. Good guy, although with a temper, and we were often rivals.  I gave Tyrone a nod, and began hiking up Tiffany’s dress with one hand, and pulling down her panties with the other, as I backed her sweet tush against the wall.

I fucked her pussy, and then had her lick off her pussy residue and the dribbles of semen that didn’t make it inside her.   The I instructed her to fully slob my knob.

She knew what she was doing. An absolute Hoover Vacuum.

Me: “Hey Tiff, remember the time convinced me to ask you to the dance, but then when I showed up at your house you had forgotten I had asked you and when I showed up like a chump in as suit and carrying a box with a corsage you were already leaving with Cyrus?

Tiffany: (mouthful of dong) "Mmmm?? Mmmm."

Me: “Well, I never got to tell you how I felt about that. Had to call Rhianna up at last minute to be substitute sloot! Embarrassing!

I pulled my dick out of her mouth and jerked off in her eyes. Two shots of baby batter in each pupil.
Tiffany: “Oh god, what the fuck! I can't fuckin’ see!

I left her blinded and cursing in the alley, but I heard later she got fucked by Tyrone, Jared and Malcolm from the old Posse.


BEST HIGH SCHOOL REUNION—EVAH!


Monday, February 1, 2016

Musings from Valhalla: Things I know!


Excerpts from My Politically Incorrect

Multi-volume Memoirs




-If you're impressed by physiques you see on the cover of Men's Health Magazine then fine but I'ma striving to be a monster ... NOT some middle aged soccer mom's eye candy... fuck that shit!



-You don't need money to get laid.... you do need money to date tho



-Girls that say big cocks are overrated either have a bf/husband with a small cock or never had a big one before...



-Things Not To Say To Your New Girlfriend's Parents: Which one of you taught Sara to give such great head?




-The girls be lining up to suck mah dick and the guys want to be my friend for the leftovers...




-Blondes are for practice...



-When I  look at me in the mirror, after my shower, I think WOW.. I'm so hot, if  I was a chick I 'd fuck this guy ...!!


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