As August approaches and the heat in attics climbs everywhere, the material from Marine Max only improves. In the video voicemail montage below, we get the constant peaks and valleys that results from the frightening combination of post-traumatic stress syndrome and living with Mike and Noah. Put your headphones on, crank the volume, and laugh away.

I’m pretty sure Max could go on a national stand-up tour and sell out arenas coast to coast. What would you rather see, a WNBA game, a Dispatch reunion tour to benefit Zimbabwe, or Max Uncensored?

Personally, I’d probably rather just look for undiscovered Cum on Eileen clips online, but I know other people would go to the show.

That’s the man on the left, Max. Still want to kick his ass?
   
    For all the sexual self abusers and recovering addicts out there that adore our site so very much, we wanted to shed a little light on one of our more prominent phantoms from the abundantly entertaining Wish We Weren’t Friends Comment Section. Random but effective "Handleberry" has chimed in with a few overlooked gems, only burdened by his flinty, mediocre nickname.

Here was his opening during the Alex/Saul Feuds of a Century post that no one clicked through to fully read:

His second jump into the fray was less attracitive to the peanut gallery, but upon further review seems both insightful and informative on the true nature of this online community:

"Alex,
Poppers are pills. As is “I just popped a lot of pills and my penis has ceased to function.” God, how much dick did Tim have to suck (gladly) to get you into Columbia? How did you get more than a 0 on the reading comprehension section of the SAT?"

Most recently,  in response to an email I forwarded him on the subject that Rory first mentioned about our hometown being the No. 2 rated place to live in this hairy, perverted, shameful nation, Brian once again performed admirably.

 "Also, the criteria for this year’s list have changed:
  ‘For this year’s list we focused on smaller places that offered the best combination of economic opportunity, good schools, safe streets, things to do and a real sense of community.’

Your town houses Dartmouth.  So the schools are amazing, the only thing unsafe about the streets is puddles of vomit and the "things to do" consist of a night class in the techniques of Nan bread baking and a discourse on 18th century German philosophy.  i.e. Gay, gay, gay.

Had the criteria been, "Towns where asshole banker dad’s overspend on houses so their white children can grow up hot and care-free all while enjoying one of the better sandwich shops in the universe and involving themselves in an annual rite of passage dubbed Baker’s Biker Bonanza.  Plus 2 Gazebo’s and tons of Milf-age."  Chatham is number one, "hans" down.’ "

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With this triptych of lingustic art I dare say this man’s talents in the art of wasting time on the internet are truly second to none. Except Rob.

Anyways, check out the comment section. Comment! It’s where all the unprotected sex happens.

Wait, you said Nan was gay? 

        For all those middle school and high school English teachers who threw up their hands in disgust and said Max would never amount to anything – well, apparently you’re wrong! This former Marine proved he has brains AND brawn when he strapped on his reading glasses and sauntered down to the local bookstore last week.

Here is what Max says about his newest foray into the literary world, and I quote:

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dear gandolf,
          this is the description of the book i’m reading, ver batum; Felix has survived operation iraqi freedom.  being turned into a vampire, by a ravenous horde of  nymphomaniacs.  now he faces his toughest task ever- navigating the the corrupt world of los angelas politics to solve the murder of a  distinguished young surgon turned porn star. But both human and vampire  alike have reasons to want this secret to stay buried……

  perhaps next i’ll read his other nover; The Nymphos of Rocky Flats.

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There are upstanding citizens right in your community that are former Marines. They, too, have gone on to a level of success that they often attribute to their time spent in the Marine Corps.
- Marine Core Website

         Last weekend, as I cooked dinner in Gabe and Tim’s kitchen for the 17th day in a row, I found my cellphone mysteriously “powered down” and idle, unable to receive calls or texts from my legions of fans or harem of sex-obsessed, trust fund-buoyant girlfriends. I quickly powered up, ensuring that I would be “in the loop” for another high-octane night on the town as one the major players in New York’s young, hip “in” crowd.
        With a beep and a purr, Moonphone alerted me to new correspondence. 11 voicemails! My phone had been off for only an hour. Was someone dead? Did I get a job? Did Noah participate in a gangbang?
           I soon learned the answer to all my questions was simply the timely updates of my favorite Special Forces Reconnaissance Marine. Never leaving me out of the loop, I was immediately up to speed on all of the afternoon’s events.

        The first message was an important newsflash from the week’s hottest gossip. Knowing the full-scale importance, Max took the time out of his busy work schedule to clue me in. Pay close attention to the soothing hold music as he takes another call.

         Luckily for me, Max was dedicated to the story, and wanted to rehash the details once more to make sure that I knew just exactly the sort of example Noah was setting as Max continues to reintegrate himself into the civilian world.

       Turning the topic to himself, Max then asked a few favors of his friends in New York. Just some simple “intel” that would ensure his new love interest wouldn’t be straying too far from the cave.

        As my new messages ended, my first saved voicemail reminded me that times had not always been so “stable” for young Max, and that problems with girls had extended beyond them being in other cities where he wasn’t sure of their whereabouts or activities with other men.

        As we can hear, the extensive, life-threatening tours in Iraq and Afghanistan have allowed Max to celebrate his return to American soil with enhanced confidence, the luxuries of capitalism and the support of lifelong friendships.  Sleeping on a naked mattress in the attic of a condemned townhouse, enjoying the intellectual company of asexual couch monkeys living on a diet of bong smoke and Nattie Light, Max has found that leaving a world of berkas, grenade launchers, and communal showers has enabled him to progress as a human and an American.

God Bless the USA.

Hey assholes.

In an attempt to stop the top image of the previous post from being the first thing a visitor sees when they check out the website, I though it would be an appropriate time to update everyone on the current status of things.

As I’m spending most of the summer two towns north and one town east of our old digs, Alex and Saul have been doing most of the posting themselves with relative success. Alex has a doozy in the on-deck circle right now with a bunch of (allegedly) hilarious voicemails, but sadly the MP3s he uploaded don’t work, so it’ll have to wait until he returns from Germany.

In the meantime, we’re still open to any content sent our way. Since making Noah an official author of the site, he’s contributed nothing. Awesome.

By the way, we had an LC party last night. Where was everyone? The Sage-line didn’t ring once.