Guess Who's Going to Bed?

Nobody tells Sidney Poitier when to go to bed

In honor of Elizabeth Taylor's death today yesterday, I dampened my cheeks to the stylings of Katharine Hepburn in Guess Who's Coming to Dinner.

The movie was enjoyable and I even laughed out loud a few times, which is rare (ask my biographers that follow me everywhere and never have a good tip on a horse). Sidney Poitier was dashing, aggressive, and effective. Katharine Hepburn killed several monologues and the rookie from Connecticut, Katharine Houghton (Hepburn's niece, whom you might remember from her recent performance as Katara's Grandma in The Last Airbender), was the one who made me laugh the most.

Spencer Tracy, on the other hand, reminded me way too much of Robert DeNiro in a comedy, which is a polite way of saying he turned in a poor performance, but unfortunately one not as poor as those of Scott Baio in Arrested Development, which are so poor they come back around again to be funny and are therefore unique and redemptive.

'Maggie the Cat' indeed

If only Most Hideous Man Alive® Bruce Vilanch hadn't stolen my copy of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof I might have cut a more respectable figure this evening as four of the world's leading massage therapists worked me over in the screening lounge aboard my jet and my biographers scribbled wildly. Blaming him for everything that went wrong is so fun these days, especially when the accusations are true.

As it was, the only movie of Ms. Taylor's I had lying around was Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf and even though she knocks that role right out of the galaxy it isn't exactly how anyone would like her to be remembered.

In your honor, Liz, I am going to bed with this image on my brain instead:

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The Amish Need to Get Real

Easily the most vain Amish people in the entire world

Amish communities in Illinois (which apparently exist) are upset over a law that will soon take effect in the state that will require photos on all firearm-owner identification cards.

Can you imagine being upset over that? It seems like a reasonable requirement (we require a photo to verify you are the correct person driving a car but not buying a gun?) and I'm surprised it wasn't already in place, so...what exactly is the problem?

Well, it seems the Amish--much like Australian Aborigines living off the land in the middle of nowhere, as they have for thousands of years--aren't big fans of photography. While it does not appear they are afraid it will capture their souls (that sounds so stupid, right?) they ARE afraid of what embracing this newfangled technology will mean:

The Amish are also known for being uncomfortable with photography, especially posed photography, which they believe leads to idolatrous vanity, according to AmishNews.com.

(courtesy HuffPo)

If the Amish don't figure something out quickly they might be royally screwed because apparently a lot of them "hunt and they usually use squirrel or rabbit rifles to bring some food back home" as well as "to disperse varmints," according to the Mattoon Journal-Gazette and the Amish America blog.

So let me get this straight--the Amish have a blog, their own news website, and apparently unfettered internet access, but believe photographs of themselves will end the world as they know it? Is a blog not the height of vanity? [Don't answer that. We can't handle it. -Ed.]

Get real, Amish--you've been kicking around for a long time and seem to be doing pretty okay (somehow), but as H.G. Wells once said, "adapt or perish." Either join the real world already or slowly turn your evaporating culture into little more than a quaint museum exhibit fourth-grade schoolchildren draw penises on with Sharpies during interminable field trips.

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The Great American Mistake

Coca-Cola is America. Or so they are always telling us.

Can anybody really argue? It was invented in America, patented in America, peddled in America, and mutated into a thriving international megacorporation by generations of enterprising American businessmen over the last 125 years (happy anniversary, btw).

Coca-Cola is a potent symbol of American ingenuity, a shining emblem of American capitalism, and the perfect example of everything that is wrong about where we have come as a nation.

Fact: The syrup used by Coca-Cola bottlers (who are largely independently-owned and operated, although Coca-Cola, Inc. is a minority owner in most of them) is manufactured in the United States, the process involves spent coca leaves imported from South America, and the story is fascinating.

Fact: Foreign bottlers have the option of sweetening their country's Coca-Cola to local taste--the syrup is just the patented secret flavor and contains no sweeteners.

Fact: I buy my Coca-Cola from Mexico because they use real sugar instead of corn syrup.

Fact: Any American who tastes Mexican Coca-Cola will never go back to American Coca-Cola.

Fact: This should be phenomenally embarrassing for Coca-Cola, Inc. and yet they don't seem to care at all or have any plans to revert to using real sugar. Why would they? They are making a shit-ton of money ["Shit-ton" = 1 with 100 million zeroes after it. -Ed.] and sugar costs $0.02 more per shit-ton than corn syrup, so it makes NO sense from a corporate-bottom-line standpoint to make their beverage taste the way it used to and always should.

Fact: This is proof that American businessmen have their heads so far up their asses they only think in the short-term and don't care what customers want, only what they are willing to consume because they don't think they have a better option.

Snapshot of America: March 2, 2011

The most popular stories on the New York Daily News site. Read 'em and weep, America...

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It's March 1st--Do You Know Where Your D-List Load-Dropper Is?

For those of you who mopes out there who don't know what it means when people call you a mope, here is a fascinating education, courtesy of the LA Weekly:

The porn industry is many things. Subtle is not one of them. So when Porn Inc. went searching for a job title for people like Stephen Hill, the choice was "mope." It's based on the off-camera life of these fringe actors, hangers-on who mope around the studios hoping for a bit role, which if they're lucky might bring them $50 plus food — and the chance to have sex with a real, live woman.

The average rate for a mope is $50 a movie, $75 if the porno gods are feeling benevolent. So financially, mopehood is a losing proposition in an industry where just getting the HIV testing required to work costs $135.

"They're worthless, D-list load-droppers," says Jim Lane, also known as Jim Powers, the director of such fare as Young and Anal 39, Ganged and Banged and White Trash Whore 40.

Unlike mainstream Hollywood extras, Lane notes, "Mopes don't know they're mopes." Instead, most cling to a delusion. "They all think they're going to be stars and millionaires."

Mark Kulkis, the head of Kick-Ass Pictures, a company that specializes in specific niche porn such as foot-fetish and gangbang material, says, "We pay $50 for a foot job. And we shoot one a week for the site. There are only so many of those gigs to go around. These guys are hanging on the edge economically."

Hill, whose screen name was Steve Driver, used to say his signature was "monster hands." According to set photographer Gia Jordan, Hill "would wear these hands, like, from a Halloween costume. That was his shtick. He'd jack off on the girl with the hands and when he'd come he'd yell, 'Monster hands!' It was ridiculous."

Wow. Okay. The only thing I would argue there is that mainstream Hollywood extras lack delusions of grandeur, which anybody who has spent any time with extras knows is patently untrue. 95% of extras expect to be millionaire actors, whether those millions come from 15 years of nationwide Verizon commercials, a role on CSI, or the fat paychecks commanded by an A or B-list movie actor they are expecting it one way or another--IF THEY CAN JUST MAKE THE RIGHT CONNECTIONS.

It's good to know foot-job dicks can be rented for only fifty dollars. This is knowledge that's good to have up your sleeve when you run out of other options. It also helps explain how homeless men in the Valley get all their booze money and how male Hollywood extras are able to stretch out their paltry paychecks during lean times.

But just so you know, not all D-List Load-Droppers go quietly into the night, clutching a bottle of Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill, and stretch out on a piece of cardboard along the cement-lined Los Angeles River, never to make a name for themselves.

Todd was a pioneer among the D-List Load-Droppers

Take Stephen Hill (aka Steve Driver), for example, who was mentioned above--the lovable "Monster Hands" dude. Now here is a guy who moped his way to infamy in style.

Check it:

Female porn actor Charley Chase recalls, "I only worked with [Hill] once. It was a boy-girl scene and it was terrible. Mainly from bad hygiene."

Breaker: City More Boring Than Sacramento Discovered

 

Apparently the only building in West Sacramento

If you thought Sacramento was boring, wait til you get a load of West Sacramento.

Founded in 1987, when all the coolest cities were founded, West Sacramento boasts a population of over 44,000 bored-to-death souls and the alleged 'Best Milkshakes in the Region.'

But don't take my word for it--take that of seven-term mayor Christopher Cabaldon:

Dine at one of the City’s diverse restaurants, where you can find everything from pad thai to the best breakfast burrito and milkshakes in the region.   Enjoy a baseball game or a concert at Raley Field, home of the Oakland Athletics’ Triple A affiliate, the River Cats.   Watch a 35,000 ton cargo ship dock while you fish from the opposite bank. Visit the newest exhibit at the West Sacramento Historical Society Museum.   Have a picnic by the water in the City’s beautiful River Walk Park.   And everywhere you go, ask residents, business owners, and City staff how they feel about this community.

No thank you, Mr. Cabaldon--none of that sounds like very much fun. Not even watching a big ship park, which I usually would enjoy enough to wet my breeches. Do you even know what fun is? Or is your complete ignorance of it the reason you are the Mayor-for-Life of the most boring town in the nation?

In fact, the only thing West Sacramento has going for it is an epic, two-day-long dance called the Enchantment Under the Sea. Sadly, they not only had to rip that idea off from Back to the Future (which was released before the city was even founded!), but they also had to ruin it forever (almost) by turning it into a creepy incest-themed dance that cannot boast any actual enchantment of note. [Why must fathers and daughters have their own dance? -Ed.]

Give it up already, West Sacramento! Wrap your pestilent lips around that giant belching smokestack at the milkshake factory and sleep forever in the pits of hell! Leave the city thing to people who know what they are doing, like Chicagoans.

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Cocaine is Good for What Ails You

  

Since everybody is always asking me about the history of Coca-Cola, here you go--courtesy of the fine folks at wikipedia:

Fascinating History In-Brief

"The prototype Coca-Cola recipe was formulated at the Eagle Drug and Chemical Company, a drugstore in Columbus, Georgis by John Pemberton, originally as a coca wine called Pemberton's French Wine Coca. He may have been inspired by the formidable success of Vin Mariani, a European coca wine.

"In 1886, when Atlanta and Fulton County passed prohibition legislation, Pemberton responded by developing Coca-Cola, essentially a non-alcoholic version of French Wine Coca. The first sales were at Jacob's Pharmacy in Atlanta, Georgia, on May 8, 1886. It was initially sold as a patent medicine for five cents a glass at soda fountains, which were popular in the United States at the time due to the belief that carbonated water was good for the health.

"Pemberton claimed Coca-Cola cured many diseases, including morphine addiction, dyspepsia, neurasthenia, headache, and impotence. Pemberton ran the first advertisement for the beverage on May 29 of the same year in the Atlanta Journal.

"By 1888, three versions of Coca-Cola — sold by three separate businesses — were on the market. Asa Griggs Candler acquired a stake in Pemberton's company in 1887 and incorporated it as the Coca Cola Company in 1888. The same year, while suffering from an ongoing addiction to morphine, Pemberton sold the rights a second time to four more businessmen: J.C. Mayfield, A.O. Murphey, C.O. Mullahy and E.H. Bloodworth. Meanwhile, Pemberton's alcoholic son Charley Pemberton began selling his own version of the product.

"John Pemberton declared that the name "Coca-Cola" belonged to Charley, but the other two manufacturers could continue to use the formula. So, in the summer of 1888, Candler sold his beverage under the names Yum Yum and Koke. After both failed to catch on, Candler set out to establish a legal claim to Coca-Cola in late 1888, in order to force his two competitors out of the business. Candler purchased exclusive rights to the formula from John Pemberton, Margaret Dozier and Woolfolk Walker. However, in 1914, Dozier came forward to claim her signature on the bill of sale had been forged, and subsequent analysis has indicated John Pemberton's signature was most likely a forgery as well.

So THIS Is Where Decolletage Leads You...

Anyway, so there I was casually using the term decolletage in a sentence and the next thing I know, I'm knee-deep in a Wikipedia-driven fantasy world, in complete disbelief at what I am seeing, imagining what it would be like for a 12-year-old boy to cruise the internet and discover all kinds of weird shit he probably assumes all adults are into.

Case in point (click image to enlarge or click here for link):

Sure, it may be awkward, take forever, only possible when breasts are of a certain size, and please only one partner, but mammary intercourse seems to be the way to go these days for people worried about pre-ejaculate, afraid of condoms, and in favor of pearl necklaces (you know who you are).

Plus, if the devil juice lands on your decolletage and not in your mouth, you won't have mouth babies!

PS--I still recommend using a dental dam [Check that link out! -Ed.], though, in case any stray semen finds its devilish way into your mouth, as it is certainly wont to do, although please keep in mind dental dams are only 96% effective against mouth babies. [Hey--every little bit helps, right? -Ed.]

PPS--Did you get a load of that drawing? Did they really need to show the pearl necklace on her decolletage? Who drew this thing? While part of me thinks this is awesome and hilarious, another part of me wishes it were sugar-free.

PPPS--I recommend clicking on the "Listen to this article" box on the actual wikipedia page; it's pretty funny...

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An Open Letter to Teenagers Everywhere

Kids today really need to get tougher skins or they'll all be dead in five years and the world as we know it will slowly draw to a close, Children of Men-style.

A 14 year-old girl hangs herself because the friends of her alleged rapist were tormenting her?
Numerous high-school kids killing themselves because kids make fun of their sexuality?
Kids so afraid to go to school because they are getting bullied that they drop out, go into highly-medicated therapy, get even more depressed, and kill themselves later?

I love to break it to you, kids, but this shit has been going on since the dawn of human society. Deal with it, just like everybody has done for millennia. You are not special, this is not a new and more potent form of torture that the human psyche is unable to withstand.

You think it's awful that people make fun of you in the school cafeteria? That you get text messages that say "Suck my dick, faggot!" or "U R a lesbo LOL!"? That mean people write mean things on your Facebook page that you can immediately delete? Oh, no! Your life is so unimaginably difficult--nobody else could possibly understand because cell phones and Facebook and fags weren't around when they were kids!

He's Back, Baby!

Yes, this is a real movie--directed by Jodie Foster, no less (discuss).

Yes, it was shot before (some of) that shit went down.

Yes, the notecard says something else on the real poster.

Yes, much like the man himself this project was a bad idea from the instant it was conceived.

Yes, you will probably see it with your family this holiday season and/or receive it on BluRay from a friend as a Valentine's Day gag gift.

Yes, you all should be ashamed of yourselves.

Aside from the movie crew's community-saving bribes to dozens of unemployed+underwater homeowners near the shooting location pretending to mow their lawn every day, probably the only good to come of this debacle is all of the anti-fan art out there on the web.

Viz:

Probably a direct quote as he walked to craft service for a handful of Peanut M&Ms.

I would much rather see THIS movie.

Probably an accurate assessment of what Gibson's golden years would have been like

if he didn't have $400 million in the bank and a team of parasites that live off him.

For even more anti-fan art, check out the endless comments on the post that inspired mine at Videogum.

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Welcome to Los Angeles, 2010

"Take a letter. To yourself.

"Here we go:

"I think everybody strolling the web who would click on this link below (either of them, actually) should be sent to a page where they are instructed to turn their ovens on and put their heads inside them.

"Whatever cog-in-the-wheel schmo we hire to write the copy for the webpage we should have this headline redirect to should make liberal use of his or her powers of persuasion, but it shouldn't be too difficult a task to birth prose effective in effortlessly eliminating that pool of people we're after for some reason I forget.

"Here's a first draft he or she can work from: 

"I probably shouldn't be telling you this, cuz it may put me out a job, but turning your oven on, getting it real hot, and then sticking your head in there for about twenty minutes is actually better for your hair than a professional blow-drying session with Vidal Sassoon. Try it now and I promise--not only will you look your best, but you won't spend any money on blow-drying for the rest of your life!

-- Antonio, Professional Hairstylist in London, England

"With schmaltz like that--and a photo of some handsome vaguely-foreign man in a button-down white cotton shirt holding a hairdryer and smiling in front of a mirror--I bet we'd have 15% of our target demographic put-to-bed after 72 hours on the web, as long as we hit the right sites, which shouldn't be too hard.

"Phase Two, once we earn enough advertising revenue, is to buy a thirty-second spot or two during Real Housewives of Appalachia to advertise our second-generation websites--"LA's Best Places to Encounter Paparazzi" and "LA's Best Corporate Tacos", which both link to a slightly-altered head-in-oven-pitch, with the same spokesman wearing different costumes and assuming different expert roles, so we only need to kill one innocent person when we're done with all this.

"We'd pretty much sack the whole lot after two episodes, by my calculations.

"So, whaddya say, Buddy-Boy? Are we partners?

"Should we take a blood oath and get started tonight?

"Affectionately, Dick Tracy, etcetera, etcetera.

"Well, so you read the letter now, what do you think?"

_

Oh, to be young and feel like your opinion matters...

Huh. I wonder what the map would look like regarding issues such as gay marriage, ending wars, health care, taxes, and the legalization of pot.

Would it seem as crowded as the National Mall when Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert took to the stage last Saturday?

Only one way to find out...

"Internet--somebody get to work on those maps, okay?"

We might be missing out on a giant social trend going on under the radar here in Planet America Inc--young people these days may be for the most part pretty easygoing and sensible compared to the older generations embarrassing the shit out of themselves* all over the country these days.

If only good were as contagious as bad.


*Sometimes literally, often into non-biodegradable diapers afterwards tossed unapologetically into the gyre

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Don't Forget to Vote Today, Democrats!

Now that the Republicans have cast all those votes for every Representative up for election, it is time for the Democrats to take their turn.

Don't be intimidated by how many votes you will need to defeat the Party of No or by how many people tell you the polling place is no longer accepting votes--JUST DO YOUR CIVIC DUTY and get Democrats into office.

Why? Well, because although most of them are reprehensible human beings, they are slightly better than Republicans.

Here's why:

- They actually want to pass laws, rather than just say "No" to everything and accept bribes
- Most of them are in favor of stopping the ridiculous tax cuts for the rich and providing aid to the poor and unemployed
- They do not want to eliminate the IRS, EPA, Department of Education, or Social Security because they are smart enough to realize we would be TOTALLY FUCKED if that happened.
- They weren't members of the party that got us involved in two expensive wars, deregulated and then got into bed with the financial industry, and bailed out Wall Street with no strings attached

Do you need any other reasons?

Okay, they seem to frequent prostitutes a bit less than Repubs, fewer of them are self-loathing homosexual gaybashers, and their party chairman's wife makes the best potato pancakes you have ever eaten.

So get out there and vote, Democratic America!

Or risk 2 years of frustratingly constipated government/name-calling, as the Dark Side plots and rubs hands together mirthfully in a dark room, ushering in a 4-year period of pain, torture, and destruction unrivaled since the days of Sodom, after some as-yet-unnamed Teabagger demon rides a throne of skulls from the banks of the River Styx all the way to Warshington, atop a tidal wave of disembodied souls, and turns back the clock to 1848, when "shit was pure" and the evil corrupt rich white man ruled unequivocally, sans pesky liberal fruit flies buzzing around their luscious picnic basket full of money.

Your choice.

With love,
Your Senator

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Sometimes It's Hard

Breaking things like a karateman isn't always as easy as it looks when somebody does it successfully.

Just ask this dude, who appears to try the feat for the first time in front of a crowd with at least one video camera and no doubt an arsenal of snarky comments:



I just hope that poor Cobra Kai runt had enough meth in his gi to see him home before he got beaten-up by a gang of bored 12 year-old cheerleaders.


(Thanks, Videogum)
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Racists on Youtube Do the Darnedest Things

The Youtubes makes people famous--there's no way around that, it is one of the few truths in this world, so deal with it the same way that you deal with the fact that there will always be racist assholes waving Confederate flags, laughing at Larry the Cable Guy, and preaching religion and family values as they secretly give non-gay handjobs to random men in the bathroom of the gas station by the highway and their teenage daughters give birth because they were told condoms were wrong.

On Youtubes, as everywhere else, all fame is justified for one reason or another, although most would never admit the reason everybody knows who they are is because they are the biggest asshole on the planet, the worst dancer in history, or a complete moron totally unaware of anything beyond the stomping grounds of their youth.

Enter "Babe 27", who no doubt longs for the fate of her idol, Justin "I was discovered on Youtube" Bieber and will no doubt never receive it. Instead of cruising the world in a pimped-out Rascal scooter with cupholders, parting seas of swooning teenagers in towns whose names she can't even pronounce, Babe 27's flavor of fame will not result in any financial reward, respect, or sex appeal.

Instead, millions will laugh at her, share her humiliation with all of their friends, and move on, leaving Babe 27 to wither in their dust, cruel laughter eternally echoing in her ears no matter how many earmuffs she dons, a three-legged cat her only friend.

Enjoy:



"...and THAT is why you don't post videos of yourself singing in your bedroom on Youtube!"

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Return to Serfdom

How do you know your job sucks? When they attach semi-permanent suicide nets to your employee housing:

Foxconn Technology Group — the Taiwanese company that manufactures hardware for Apple, Dell, HP, Nokia and Sony and has been hit by a dozen suicides at its plants this year — is holding rallies at all of its factories to raise morale. The theme? “Treasure Your Life, Love Your Family, Care for Each Other to Build a Wonderful Future.” The impact so far? Check out the picture above.

In case the rallies, slogans and pay increases don’t raise morale enough to stem the tide of suicides, Foxconn left suicide nets in place at its facilities that are designed to catch workers before they hit the ground, although it removed them from one facility.
"No matter how hard we try, such things will continue to happen,” is how Louis Woo, assistant to the founder of Foxconn’s parent company Hon Hai Precision Industry explained the situation at its factories, in a statement.

After the rallies, Foxconn left them up at all of its factories except for its Taiyuan Campus location, said Woo in his phone statement, because more employees there have the support of their friends and family. The nets remain in place at the other facilities.

(courtesy Wired)

Strange that an employee workforce of 470,000 people [Literally! -Ed.] living in dormitories on the same campus would not make some friends to build support networks.

Or maybe when they try the prison guards dump barrels of hot oil on them and stretch them on one of the racks in the mess hall?

If there was ever a more direct modern parallel to medieval serfdom, I don't know I don't what that would be...

Long live King Woo, Lord of Foxconn Castle, loyal subject of King American Corporations!

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Like Mother, Like Trash

Ava Sambora, daughter of Heather Locklear (right) and Richie Sambora

Yes, she is too young to be dressed like that in public (13).

Yes, that is totally appropriate clothing to wear as a model in a fashion show for a clothing label called White Trash Beautiful.

Yes, that is a clothing line run by her father.

Yes, her mom's face never moves.


The world sure is a messed-up place. But at least it also has this in it:

And this:

And also this:

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Why Do All These Damn Coal Miners Keep Getting Themselves in So Much Trouble?

Remember back in April when all those miners blew themselves to bits in West Virginia, in a misguided attempt to get the CEO of Massey Energy in trouble with some of his elected employees?

Remember more recently when those 33 Chilean coal miners made their tunnel collapse and played hooky from work by hiding underground for 69 frustrating days?

Well, now it seems some Chinese attention-seekers have thrown their hat into the ring:

 Associated Press -- BEIJING -- An explosion in a Chinese coal mine killed 20 and trapped more than 30 workers underground Saturday in the country's central region, state media reported.
A man answering phones at the mine said he had not heard anything an accident.
China's mining industry is the most dangerous in the world, and more than 2,600 people died in mining accidents last year.

(courtesy HuffPo)

What exactly is it that all these miners are after, aside from time off work, peace and quiet, total darkness, homosexual tension, and the satisfaction of temporarily crippling their bosses' golden goose?

The (Near) Future of Sex?

 
Imagine a world where people couldn't masturbate.

I'm talking about men and women here, remember, because women do it, too, whether they are as forward about it or not.

So, in this fantastical world that may only be two years in our future, imagine that, for whatever reason, there is now no masturbation in our genetic coding. Anything other than vaginal/anal/oral intercourse is not going to get the job done no matter how hard you try, so there is no reason to ever think it could happen.

The behavioral changes resulting from this slight reinterpretation (or evolutionary progression/regression depending on your point of view) of the human being would be stunning.

Viz:

- There would be a lot more sex happening. Women could not defer to their hand or vibrator, men could not defer to their hand or Pocket Pussy TM. Both sexes, for various reasons, would be more inclined to actual interpersonal interaction of the sexual variety, which is a truly undebatable result of this restriction, if you ask me.

- A lot more straight guys would be involved in gay sex--since they might get an undeniable urge at some point, be unable or unwilling to pick up a woman for a quickie, and would be unable to masturbate, remember--although my guess is that most straight crossovers would be in the "Only Blow Jobs, Thanks" category, and might even pay extra for some program that fakes men into women with digital wigs and whatnot (most helpful when paired with squinting), since it will happen often enough over a lifetime, let's be honest.

- A digital solution to the "I Can't Masturbate So What Do I Do" problem would emerge almost overnight, since computer geeks are out there and we all know the necessary technology exists at this moment for a virtual sex program.

A virtual sex program? What? Is this some kind of Strange Days meets laser tag meets sexting meets yeah-right-like-that-will-ever-exist bullshit?

Well...it actually could exist, it could be called "Pandora's Box," and hear me out:

A man puts some kind of sensor-equipped sleeve over his penis that is connected to his computer and a woman connects her specially-designed vibrator to her computer, they connect over the internet, and they're off.

Every thrust and clench is made digital, transmitted over the internet, and felt in near-real-time. Piggyback this onto a program like iChat or gChat, and tell me you don't have a near-sex experience with somebody--sound, sight, and sexual sensation.

Some of the long-term effects of this revolutionary leap would be as follow:

- Women will have more sex. Every time a woman would ordinarily reach for her vibrator or rely on her fingers, she would have the option of contacting some male friend of hers, ex-boyfriend of hers, or a total stranger for a virtual-sex session instead. Do you actually think she wouldn't? Disease-free, semi-private (he's not in your home, in your bed, there in the morning, etc), almost-not-really-cheating-since-it-isn't-real, etc...you have to admit this would be an extremely attractive option if a girl could do this instead of whatever she does now.

- Men will have more sex. Every time a man wants to masturbate, he would instead have the option of contacting a female friend, ex-girlfriend, or stranger for a little semi-illicit virtual sex session instead of being alone. He would know exactly who to call, and one of them would eventually say yes. In a pinch, he could always call a guy he knows and play make-believe.

- Cheating as we know it will splinter into a million shades of gray. Is it cheating to use this program? Is it more like cheating if it's an ex-significant-other instead of just a friend? Will fuck-friend finally be a term that makes it into the dictionary? Is it better to have a guy or girl virtually cheat than to actually cheat? Is virtually cheating okay, since it's safe and virtual? Will there be caps placed on the amount of virtual cheating, in order to maintain status quo in the relationship?

- Threesomes and foursomes will skyrocket in popularity once they can be accomplished virtually. Think about it--if it ever starts to feel weird, you just turn the unit off and do whatever you want to do. It pretty much sells itself to that enormous chunk of the population that is currently on the fence regarding group sex.

- Sure, some people will abuse this capability and go off the deep end, spending 20 hours a day with some digital-capture attachment on their dicks, trolling the internet looking for any possible willing partner, but that is to be expected. There are always freaks around who do what they're not supposed to do and skew the data. Your average consumer, meanwhile, would still benefit from this enormously, as it is something that will be a godsend whenever one member of the couple has to travel, whenever people date long-distance, whenever people are just too shy to get it done in person, or whenever people might otherwise go out and date-rape or rape somebody, etc.

- Whoa, yeah--I pulled out the rape card. If people couldn't masturbate, there would be more rapes. That, I feel, is a tragic but inarguable point. Many of the potential-rapists out there today would jump off the fence and start getting into trouble once we removed masturbation as an alternative. But if we come back to the real world for a second, where masturbators are plentiful, and then add this revolutionary new program (Pandora's Box) into the mix, then what we have here is a virtual way to reduce incidences of rape. If some guy could get lucky with a random acquaintance or prank call a girl in the phonebook who's willing to virtually fuck him because she's bored or just horny or whatever, he is less likely to go out there and actually rape a girl. It may not drastically reduce the number of rapes, but if it even reduced that number by one it would be worth it.

Now, whether or not we ultimately get into a David-Foster-Wallacean situation--where people purchase realistic-looking digital representations of themselves that are way hotter than they should be or of a different sex or whatever (from freelancers at Pixar?)--let's just remember that while this potential development is fascinating from a philosophical/pyschological standpoint and full of further economic opportunity, it is also pretty much irrelevant to the conversation at hand.

The fact of the matter is that people who want to wear masks will be attracted to this, as will people who have no need for masks but won't ask too many questions for fear of the answers. When virtual sex becomes fairly commonplace, asking a partner whether their digital representation is real would be like asking your girlfriend today if her eyelashes are real--you won't even bother cuz you could never be sure you're getting a straight answer, so what's the point?

The gay men of today (who have iPhones) have Grindr...what will the gay AND straight people (who have iPhones and/or computers) have tomorrow?

The gays led us to all the trendy loft districts, all the trendy fashion updates...why not to all the trendy means of sexual gratification?

Why not jump into the endgame right away? I know we can do it and it'll be a beautiful slow-build with a seemingly infinite lifespan, add-ons, apps, accessories, avatars, additional sensory receptors...

Have I sold you on this yet? If not, then I don't think you are thinking clearly and I want you to forget you ever read this. If so, let's talk investment stake and get this thing off the ground, hit up Sean Parker for some extra money, etc.

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Abilify Your Life Today

Abilify is a drug made by Bristol-Myers Squibb that is used to treat schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.

But, let's face it, that's a limited market (read: limited profits), so the greedy assholes over at BMS decided to widen the pool a bit by shifting gears and pushing it as an add-on drug to treat depression.

Because, naturally, if everybody wasn't already depressed (they are), they would be so depressed by this depressing news that Abilify's potential consumer pool will eventually reach 100% of the global population. Regardless of whether the drug works (it doesn't), this represents a near-perfect blow in the struggle between pharmaceutical companies and the forces of good.

Are you depressed about the side affects of your antidepressant--and even more depressed that it isn't effectively combating your depression? Is it getting in the way of you smiling while giving foot massages to your wife on an isolated dock at your lake house?

Well, then force your doctor to prescribe Abilify to, you know, make you more able to face the day, silly!

These happy customers could be you! 

[If you were actors not taking Abilify -BMS Legal]

Sorry to have to spoil all the fun times here, freedom-lovers, but that communist towelhead Obama (who can't even prove that he was born!) makes us have to say shit like this:

Side effects of Abilify include, but are not limited to...

Nausea, vomiting, constipation, headache, dizziness, an inner sense of restlessness or need to move, anxiety, insomnia, restlessness, an increased risk of death or stroke, very high fever, rigid muscles, shaking, confusion, sweating, increased heart rate and blood pressure, abnormal or uncontrollable movements of the face, tongue, or other parts of the body.

Also, be careful when you stand up, as you might faint from lightheadedness caused by a sudden change in blood pressure. And don't get sick, because your white blood cell count will plummet when on Abilify. Don't ever drive or make a decision either, because Abilify adversely affects your judgment, thinking, and motor skills. It will also "impact your body's ability to reduce body temperature."

Don't drink alcohol or breast-feed, and be aware you may experience suicidal thoughts and/or fall into a coma unexpectedly.

And don't forget, these side effects are in addition to any you are already experiencing from your regular, inneffective antidepressant medication (which we want you to keep taking, since we make money off that, too).

And let's also not forget that antidepressant meds are Selective Serotonin Re-uptake Inhibitors, which means they are attempting to treat an emotional problem as a biochemical problem, despite the fact that the link between depression and a biochemical imbalance has never been proven.

Anyway, whatever--enjoy your easy solution, lazy Americans!

And do be careful behind the wheel of your 5mpg XL-SUV--I'd hate for you to scratch the bumper as you plow through a class field trip because your medication made you think they were ducks and you were playing a video game in your dreams where you hunted animals from your Escalade.

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