Tag-Refucking Day: The Hunk Boat?

Pick two words to describe yourself. Ha, I can do it in three: THE HUNK BOAT.

No matter how full and adventurous your life has been up to this moment, this is the hardest you’ve ever seen five pairs of panties struggle to contain penises. These thongs are each a sarcastic response to whoever asked these hunks to cover themselves. They look like what a maitre d makes you wear at a restaurant that requires underpants. I’ve named these hunks Burt Mustang, Tabasco, Jersey Chicago, Wetfuck Wentworth, and Fauxbio only because I think it would really hurt their feelings if I referred to them by the color of the speedos these naturally nude beefcakes are furious to be wearing. Let’s check out the back of the box.

Yes! On the back these hunks can party! There they all nakedly are– Buns Mustang, Coy Penetration, and the Triplets– Moist 1, Moist 2, and Chance Saturday: Tampa’s Nudest Boy ’94. Let’s stop here and make one thing clear: I love naming hunks. And I’m looking forward to seeing if this video really is 90 minutes of ordinary outdoor activities done with flopping dongs. Because it says in the copy they are hot fraternity brothers? So these hunks aren’t even going to fuck? Who is this for? People who think outdoor sports videos have too much product placement? Ladies with sunburn fetishes? Gay men who get off on watching struggling straight models perform homoerotic material for a few hundred dolla– wait, that’s the one. I figured it out.

This is going to really annoy that demographic I just mentioned, but I ran into an issue with THE HUNK BOAT.

THE HUNK BOAT VHS only made some unpleasant, yet still hunky, clunking sounds in my VCR. Maybe 25 years of service is too much to ask of a nude man, or maybe this tape’s previous owner wore it the fuck out, but it’s fine. I actually have some hunky 1900HOTDOG stuff to talk about anyway. So let’s put away our throbbing sex parts and switch this up to a…

After four months it’s legally accurate to call our upstart hilarity enterprise a success! After a few rich people passed ownership of Cracked.com around until there was no one left working there, Brockway and I set out to create a place where jokes could thrive. I’m obviously a true wonder, sure, but Brockway consistently makes me laugh out-loudedly several times a week. I’m always impressed with his creative decisions, word choice, and absurd, almost self-destructive work ethic. His tirelessness made me into a man who hates Mario Lopez, and I’m so much happier now.

Together, as of this writing, we have posted one hundred and fucking twenty two articles on this site which is goddamn crazy. Especially since I designed this format so we could post every day about a single inspiringly ridiculous thing– you know, like a few fun paragraphs and silly pictures, and we never do that. Over the course of 122 articles, neither one of us has ever managed to avoid writing 2000 word punchline-dense epics. Deep in our souls we cannot allow readers to say, “Ha, this man found a book about having sex on the toilet,” when they could instead be saying, “Dear god, this madman wrote too many jokes about toilet sseee– I’M CUMMING!”

Because of this, and how people don’t read comedy websites on the weekends, we are switching to a five day only format. We will still regularly do the weekend bits Teamworking Days and Reflecting Days, but they will be mixed in among the standard five aspects of the hot dog: Learning, Punching, Nerding, Fucking, and Upsetting. I assure you it will still be way too many jokes about toilet sex and every one of them will be targeting your erogenous zones.

I should also mention that outrageous 122 article number doesn’t include five hilarious pieces from our old Cracked friends Jason “David Wong” Pargin and Chris Bucholz, and one from the very producer of our podcast’s theme song, Auralnauts Zak. Which, speaking of, we have a podcast now. We just recorded our first episode using technology more advanced than a VCR filled with HUNK BOAT, but just as determined to malfunction, so once we sort out a couple audio issues, look for The Dogg Zzone: The Official 1-900-HOTDOG Podcast wherever you get that type of thing.

One of the things you officially become after you do 100 somethings is data. And after four and a half months of hot dogging, we can look at what we’ve done and truly know ourselves. These are the 1-900-HOTDOG Official Content Stats:

As any data scientist can plainly see, I (the red boxes) focus mainly on learning new things, smut, Karate, and deranged books that defy reasonable classification. Brockway (the blue boxes) has more approachable interests like movies, TV shows, and cartoons. But together, we are a diverse and unstoppable force for comedy. 

Brockway: Fuck it, it’s now also Teamworking Day! There are no rules and if you build any before us we will karate chop them in half like tender plywood, or the fool standing between Steven Seagal and whatever is on the Craft Services table for the traitorous propaganda he’s filming now. Subway? My guess is Subway. Seems like a traitor’s sandwich. Hey speaking of shitty karate, have I really written that little about shitty karate? Have I really written more about games than Seanbaby? It makes sense to me that he’s so far ahead in books, since Sean has the most cursed library this side of The Magic Tree House. See, that’s the kind of dumb joke I make about books, which is why they’re normally Seanbaby territory. Well, that and the general crumbling of our whole world. 

The original plan was for me to exploit the generous lunacy of the Arizona thriftstore scene to unearth my own artifacts and add to the Great Hot Dog library, but that was literally a week before the pandemic. In retrospect, perhaps it was foolish to congratulate ourselves on launch day by yelling “and who can stop us, God?” Then thunderously laughing while toasting with stolen communion wine. But the joke’s on God, because Sean has enough Books That Should Not Be to weather any apocalypse, and I have found my material on the Internet — the ultimate cursed library! We’re more successful than ever, not in spite of God’s wrath, but because of it! Hahahaha! To invincibility!

Seanbaby: Still, with all our success comes one downside. The interdimensional ad-hosting service we never signed up for but can’t remove, Poxco Global, gains more influence with every article, and they recently hired this fucking bullshit SEO strategy media consultant, Topper Goodmeadow. Topper Goodmeadow is a human menstrual belt. He is the unsupervised toddler wandering behind the cam girl farting into a balloon.

I hate Topper with all the data I am, and I’m 90% sure he’s not a bit. Brockway and I have no memory of creating him. I don’t even know what dark part of myself could defeat the good sense parts of myself to create him. Each of Topper’s wives who has sex with him should be prosecuted for performing unlicensed pap smears with hazardous waste.

Brockway: True story, I kept deleting the stretch goal to hire Topper, and every morning I’d return to not only find it there again, but that a photo of my family had been erased from my hard drive. The stretch goal to fire him is still up, but that’s only because I used our slush fund to hire an Internet Shaman. 

Seanbaby: The point is, aside from Topper, and sorry for all this sincerity, I love this job and this website and I want to thank all our readers for supporting us. On that subject, we mailed out rewards for our Hot Dog Supreme patrons last month because at least 1% of my motivation for creating this website was to finally, at long last free myself from these terrible cursed artifacts from my library. Here’s what beloved author and developer Jeff Atwood said when he received his!

Jeff now knows 100 ways to kill you plus one more if he thinks to throw that trading card of Knight Rider’s watch at you. He thought he was just supporting comedy, but now he’s also a walking time bomb– that’s the 1-900-HOTDOG promise. Another satisfied reader, Nick, is now haunted by the copy of MARTIAL DANCE that terrorized my bookshelf lo these many years. He posted this in our Discord and has not been heard from since.

Brockway: I’m so happy to be working with Sean. No, Seanbaby. No, The Internet’s Seanbaby. Do you know how great a job is when 100% of your coworkers are Seanbaby? It is also terrifying: You’re perpetually pushed to be better, to do better, to always anticipate the next roundhouse kick, both metaphorical and devastatingly literal. 

If you financially-slapdash superstars hadn’t supported this site, I don’t know where I’d be right now. That’s not true, I know exactly where I’d be: working for the sad and shambling remains of the mainstream internet, chasing obsolescence down the drain while writing the filler that goes between screencaps of stolen tweets and ‘wackily’ summarizing Reddit comments. That’s the internet writer equivalent of giving handjobs for bus passes, and I’m thankful every day I can prolong listing ‘bulk hand lotion’ as a business expense.

Seanbaby: Anyway, this sentimentality– this bullshit, heartfelt self-indulgence is what happens when my VCR won’t play a HUNK BOAT. I’m going to go respool this VHS tape and hopefully get these barely contained dick baskets in working order for next time. Thanks, everyone!

This article was made possible by Hot Dog Supremes like Mike Stiles, on whom the story “The Robot Who Fell in Love with Mike” was based, Aidan Mouat, the Patron brought to you by the new Arby’s Edible Six Cheese Sandwich Mask with Cheese, and Adrienne Hisbrook, who has gotten away with every human crime and six dog ones.