Men Just Shouldn't Strip

I'm not saying there aren't any women out there who enjoy a good ole-fashioned heterosexual strip-tease, but what I am saying is I've never met one. So I have to assume those types of women are rare.

Mostly, male strippers work bachelorette parties (aka the most boring parties ever) and the girls get really drunk and red in the face and pretend like they are enjoying what is happening, when really they are supremely uncomfortable, perched on the end of their seats, every cell in their body on high-alert, hoping he completely ignores them, living in fear that he might try to touch them.

And so they sit on the fringe of the group and watch their one "whore" friend (apparently there is always one) have some strange man grope her breasts, as he dances like a tone-deaf arrhythmic epileptic and throws his briefs in her face.

In case you've never seen this sort of thing in person, here is a delightfully-vintage video I shot during the Eighties that illustrates what I'm trying to convey here:



Notice how she never uncrosses her legs? There is no way she's giving him anything to hold on to down there--and it appears she is some sort of adult model or porn actress. Imagine how your average woman would react to that dude...


[Thanks for the tip, Videogum]

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The News Just Keeps Getting Worse

Courtesy Huffington Post:

There's a mysterious phenomenon in which some men, immediately after having an orgasm, come down with a flu-like illness. Now Dutch scientists are saying these men may be allergic to their own semen.

The condition is known as post-orgasmic illness sydrome, or POIS.


Waldinger also identified a treatment for POIS, known as hyposensitisation, which essentially desensitizes the recipient of the treatment. The men were given skin injections of their own semen -- first highly diluted and eventually increased -- and after one to three years symptoms were greatly reduced.

Symptoms of POIS include fever, runny nose, extreme fatigue and burning eyes. They come on straight after climax and can last up to a week, reported The Sun.

Considering Dutch researchers have already identified at least 45 men in Holland alone who have been diagnosed with POIS, that does not bode well globally if that percentage holds. Assuming (incorrectly, I know, but it's just easier) that 50% of the population is male, here is how it breaks down in some larger countries:

Holland - 16,642,000 people - 8,321,000 men - 45 unfortunate men

U.S. - 311,904,000 people - 155,952,000 men - 844 unfortunate men

India - 1,192,870,000 people - 596,435,000 men - 3226 unfortunate men

China - 1,341,800,00 people - 670,900,000 men - 3629 unfortunate men

So, in approximately 41.5% of the world's population, we are looking at a group of 7,744 men who are allergic to their own semen. Allergic to their own semen! Can you imagine going through life becoming miserably ill immediately after having an orgasm? Can you imagine how many men who are afflicted by this will never tell anybody about it?

I think we need to get these 7,744+ names on paper and cross-reference that list with lists of serial killers, murderous dictators, mental patients, heroin/opium addicts, and pathologically depressed men.

Something tells me there will be a strong correlation...

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Happy International Ladyboy Day!

Ladyboys on parade in a village outside Dayton, Ohio 

BANGKOK, Thailand (Nothing is Sacred) - As the hard-working citizens of the Thai capitol prepare to bedazzle the salivating world media with the ornate costumes, navel jewelry, porcelain skin, and narrow hips that have skyrocketed ladyboys to the heights of fame, it is important to take a step back and remember why it is that people the world over have the day off work/school today.

No, it is not so that you have an opportunity to cloak yourself in ostrich feathers and alternate bong rips with keg stands in the kitchen at your grandparents' legendary annual celebration before safely acting on your latent bicuriosity with an intriguing stranger without fear of reprisal.

Candlelight vigil in support of ladyboys in Africa Unity Square, Harare, Zimbabwe

Rather, International Ladyboy Day seeks to remind the world of the countless atrocities committed by generations of haters against the peaceful ladyboy community. We live in an age where ladyboys can roam the streets without fear of hostility, with the assurance of earning a living wage for their efforts, with their heads held high and the world at their feet, and so we forget the world was not always so hospitable for their kind.

It wasn't long ago that being a ladyboy prohibited somebody from running for office or becoming a movie star, a captain of industry, professional athlete, etc. Discrimination was rampant, random acts of violence were common, wages were shockingly low, disease spread like wildfire...the ladyboy camp was running scared, rarely coming out of hiding, fearful for the future, dwindling in number, pretending to be something they were not.

Old Man Gunderson's barn in Wyoming, USA, was home to countless Ladyboys over the years, for a night or two. Funds are currently being raised for its preservation.

The now-famous Ladyboy Railroad that provided so many persecuted ladyboys passage to friendlier confines in Bangkok over the years--thanks to the selfless efforts of rural homesteaders and urban liberals the world over--was a key component in allowing the previously vulnerable ladyboys to assemble en-masse, lick their wounds, perfect complicated new sexual techniques, and come back stronger than ever, more numerous than ever, and more relatable than ever.

As a result of a pitch-perfect public relations campaign, an increasing supply of satisfied customers, and a general loosening of morals among younger generations and closeted politicians, ladyboy tolerance spread across the globe slowly but surely. However, while ladyboys are indeed everywhere these days, Bangkok will always be the spiritual home of their movement.

The Starbucks on Khaosan Road always has the most fabulous queue in Bangkok

Will the Ladyboy Parade in your small Norwegian mining town be as grand as that of Bangkok? Doubtful, but it is equally as important and I have no doubt the hors d'oeuvres will be fantastic, so get out there and have some fun, people of Earth!

Time to indulge in a few dozen buttery nipples and gather vital material required for me to report back tomorrow afternoon, as the world sobers up on its convenient 'sick day.'

Au revoir for now, mes amours,
GTC

Goodtime Charlie is the foremost expert on ladyboys and the author of several books on the subject, most recently, "Ladyboys in Love: A Thrilling Journey to the Frontier of Love," a New York Times Notable Book for 2010.

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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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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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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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Remember!

 

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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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Stupid Whore Class is in session

"Our backs ache, our skirts are too tight, we shake our booties from left to right."

This is the controversial cheer that a Michigan cheerleader's mother objected to recently. This objection got her daughter kicked off the squad and straight onto the stage of Good Morning America.

The kicker: The former cheerleader is only 6 years old.

SIX YEARS OLD!

For whom do six-year-olds cheer? Six-year-old football players? The Catholic Priests Charity Football League?

Even more importantly, however, how does this cheer make any sense? Who wants to hear about people's problems? Their backs ache? Whose doesn't. Their skirts are too tight? Stop getting so fat!

Boring...

Or are these cheerleaders trying to say they are always on their back getting it from football players and their skirts are intentionally too tight because they're trying to show off the hot bodies they spend all day creating by not eating and ditching class to do bikram yoga and smoking cigarettes across the street?

Oh, wait, I just got it--these six-year-old girls are CHEAP SLUTS who really, really, really want their football-playing sex-partners to win the game against their other football-playing sex-partners who go to first-grade at a nearby rival primary school.

Or so their coach wants us to think, for some reason--probably because she thinks it's "cute."

Makes total sense...this is, after all, the monstrous nation that created Miley Cyrus.


Dessert:
Our disease has been exported to China!

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The Last Two Feet are the Hardest

Tales from the Front:

BAKERSFIELD, Calif. -- A doctor involved in an "on-again, off-again" relationship apparently tried to force her way into her boyfriend's home by sliding down the chimney, police said Tuesday. Her decomposing body was found there three days later.

Dr. Jacquelyn Kotarac, 49, first tried to get into the house with a shovel, then climbed a ladder to the roof last Wednesday night, removed the chimney cap and slid feet first down the flue, Bakersfield police Sgt. Mary DeGeare said.

Dr. Jacquelyn Kotarac, 49, first tried to get into the house with a shovel, then climbed a ladder to the roof last Wednesday night, removed the chimney cap and slid feet first down the flue, Bakersfield police Sgt. Mary DeGeare said.

While she was trying to break in, the man she was pursuing escaped unnoticed from another exit "to avoid a confrontation," authorities said.

DeGeare said the two were in an "on-again, off-again" relationship.

The man's identity was not revealed by police, but the man who resides in the home is William Moodie, 58.

Moodie, who runs an engineering consulting firm, said Kotarac was a superb internist who often provided service and medication free of charge to her patients.

Kotarac apparently died in the chimney, but her body was not discovered until a house-sitter noticed a stench and fluids coming from the fireplace Saturday, according to a police statement. The house-sitter and her son investigated with a flashlight and found Kotarac dead, wedged about two feet above the top of the interior fireplace opening.

Firefighters spent five hours late Saturday dismantling the chimney and flue from outside the home to extract Kotarac's body, DeGeare said.

Officials said Kotarac's office staff reported her missing two days prior when she failed to show for work. Her car and belongings remained near the man's house.

A cause of death has not been determined, and an autopsy was scheduled or Tuesday. Foul play is not suspected, though investigators have been looking into the incident as suspicious.

(courtesy Huffington Post) 

Let me get this straight--a man hears his girlfriend trying to get into his house by crawling down the chimney, leaves for three days--in order "to avoid a confrontation," and hires a housesitter (over the phone?) who eventually smells something funny / sees stuff dripping into the fireplace?

What sort of person's first two choices for forced entry into a residence are a shovel and the chimney? Was this Moody guy holed up in some kind of impenetrable fortress? Were there not windows that could have been broken? I mean, the houses in Bakersfield were not exactly built to last...

And where did this guy go all of a sudden, anyway? Was he across town, in bed with some other broad, making this poor sap the laughing-stock of the community, as she breathes her last breath in his chimney--no doubt immediately post-vow to haunt him for eternity?

Probably.

Also, why does it matter that the woman was a doctor? If she were a garbagewoman [Do those even exist? Why are women not forced to represent 50% of the garbage collectors? -Ed], would this article have read "Garbagewoman Dies in Chimney Trying to Break into Boyfriend's Home?"

I think not. You see, we expect that kind of behavior from garbagewomen--when doctors do it, it's newsworthy. It sells papers.

"A doctor did it? Hmmm...well, there must be some kind of juicy story behind this...doctors are usually so put-together and never have to worry about money...oh, look, it says here she was a 'superb internist'..."

-Woman reading aloud to her cat while eating her third bowl of Kix

Meanwhile, the carcasses of her last twelve cats decompose in the nearby chimney, totally unnoticed by the world until Hoarders comes through and turns that ole garbagewoman's life right-side-up in thirty minutes of too-hot-for-TV, soul-crushing depression and feigned re-birth.

Don't miss it!

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It is the end of August and I feel thirsty.

So, apparently, does the mewling alleycat outside my window, but unfortunately for me, my thirst is not so easily slaked.

No passing stranger of the opposite sex can solve my hydration problem, even if they wanted to, but here this greedy cat will take all comers and get as much as she wants.

Or maybe my perspective is wrong.

Maybe satisfaction looms in the distance, tantalizingly on her radar but frustratingly never within reach. Maybe she is a tormented soul whose thirst, like mine, is bottomless. Maybe we are two of a kind.

Much like the insatiable central characters in the 1976 Japanese arthouse porno, In the Realm of the Senses, which I watched this evening in (mostly) wide-eyed surprise.

Never in my life have I seen so much penis--and I own one.

Never in my life have I seen two people engage in so much public fornication, to such blase reaction. To say the sex is gratuitous misses the point, but still--it is exhausting to watch.

Here is what Mr. Criterion has to say about the movie, for all you bumpkins out there that ain't never heard of it:

SYNOPSIS: Still censored in its own country, In the Realm of the Senses (Ai no corrida), by Japanese director Nagisa Oshima, remains one of the most controversial films of all time. A graphic portrayal of insatiable sexual desire, Oshima’s film, set in 1936 and based on a true incident, depicts a man and a woman (Tatsuya Fuji and Eiko Matsuda) consumed by a transcendent, destructive love while living in an era of ever escalating imperialism and governmental control. Less a work of pornography than of politics, In the Realm of the Senses is a brave, taboo-breaking milestone.
SYNOPSIS: WARNING: THIS FILM IS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT

I wish I could agree with their pornography versus politics angle, but there was so little politics involved in this movie that I was bored stiff. Imagine saying that! I wanted more politics!

What exactly...were the politics? I saw some soldiers march past in one scene, but who knows what that's supposed to mean. What I do know is that the entire movie involves a former prostitute fellating, ravaging, and beating/strangling her master-cum-husband, whom she rapidly turns into her willing sex slave.

I'll put it this way--there is a good reason the narrator feels the need, at movie's end, to reveal the events took place in 1936, because any other movie that took place in Japan in 1936 and even hinted at politics would have found that designation superfluous.

Game, set, match. Verdict: Porno. Sorry Criterion--there was no need to salvage this one.

That being said, if you are in for an initially titillating movie that ultimately makes you never want to have sex again, this 'masterpiece' is for you. Enjoy!

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Oh, Chicago--Don't be so lonely!

I know Chicagoans have it rough, what with everybody either dismissing their city as windy/cold or, worse (?), just flying over them all the time, but has it really gotten this bad?

How bad? This bad:

(link to post)

What? Also, what?! This creepy dude wants "a female" to spend a long time describing--in an email--how her hand moves while she eats cereal? How on Earth would this be enjoyable for anybody who isn't certifiably insane? Is this a last cry for help before RickMoranisRulez spikes his own Tab? Or will he choose to go to work one day with a collector's-edition Rick Moranis mask and a pair of over-the-counter machine guns instead?

Chicago must be real lonely right now. If you know somebody in Chicago, please give them a hug so this craziness stops before it spreads to the entire Midwest and the Pervert Monster gets so big it ultimately destroys both dismissive coasts (who are never paying attention) with a careless flailing of a giant-sized arm--as painstakingly described by LonelyGirl69 in a soon-to-be-legendary email blast.

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Further Proof People Will Watch Anything If They Have No Good Choices

The Expendables takes the crown two weeks in a row, after FIVE new movies premiered this past weekend? And all it took was a $16.5 million haul in August?

Some shitty spoof of shitty vampire movies came out to no acclaim? A 3D remake of low-budget cult-hit Piranha? Bow-Wow wins the lottery? Some movie about Julia Roberts eating gelato in Italy while looking for herself/a man that middle-aged women don't even like?

What the fuck is going on? Is this the third horseman?

It gets worse: The Nanny McPhee sequel beat out America's Sweetheart(TM) Jennifer Aniston's The Switch. Ha-ha!

Will this undeniably laughable result finally decrease her shitty-romantic-comedy output to less than two per year in the coming decade (until she finally ODs on whatever it is that numbs her), or do I have to sew my eyeballs shut every time I risk encountering a billboard or commercial?

Speaking of Jennifer Aniston (nee Brangelina), I know there are plenty of men out there who would 'put one in her,' but aside from that, does anybody actually care for her at all? Anybody not on her payroll, I mean. Does she have fans? Who are they? Do they not realize how boring and whiny she is, or are they interested in her like somebody who goes down to the Y once a week is interested in some little kid without a dad?

By the way, not all movies made these days are shitty--the ones that are good are usually just really hard to find. For example, when will we finally get to see 2009's I Love You Phillip Morris?

Which 12 old white men running this country from the rec room at the C-Street House do I have to blow like a circus seal during some clandestine pagan ritual in order to get the religious-right minority to back down on this one? Would they even realize the irony in making me do that? How many of them will write me checks for my services because they don't know how to use an ATM?

I'd rather not have to accidentally blow any footsoldiers, so precision is appreciated here, my child; do whatever you need to in order to get me those names.

Love,
Your Mother

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"Perverts Wanna See New Girls," Thus Celebrity Pseudo-Innocence Must Be Lost on Camera

First of all, the steroids.
Second of all, the jewelry.
Third of all, Brian Pumper?



Fourth of all, how bored is that "first-time" "bitch," who may or may not "cream," who also happens to be Laurence Fishbourne's ugly and stupid 18-year-old daughter?
Fifth of all, how come she doesn't know how to become a bad-yet-working actor when even a Baldwin can do it?
Sixth of all, why does she equate a sex tape with a hardcore porn movie?
Seventh of all, why is Kim Kardashian her role model?
Eighth of all, how many pennies will it take to bang this lost soul senseless in six weeks?
Ninth of all, make sure you watch the whole (interview) video and none of the other (porn) video.
Tenth of all, vomit.

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You Know She's Thinking About It

Osama bin Laden's newly-single son, Omar, wants to come to Hollywood and date Drew Barrymore.

While I find that an odd choice, since I don't find her remotely attractive or interesting, maybe it is an intelligent choice for a guy whose choices, let's be honest, are limited.

Could Omar bin Laden land Jessica Alba? Not a chance. Jessica Biel? No way. Jessica Simpson? Maybe--as long as he learns how to throw a football.

In fact, Drew Barrymore is such an attainable choice, relatively speaking, that I respect his calculating move, appropriately announced to the world with the sort of flowery shit chicks really dig:

"I want to go to America, and I would love to meet Drew Barrymore," said Omar, 29, who recently split from wife Zaina, 25 years his senior. "I am single now and she is the most beautiful woman in Hollywood."

(courtesy Huffington Post)

 Omar and his previous slave, Zaina

It probably doesn't hurt that Ms. Barrymore is one of the wealthiest women in Hollywood, due to her inherited Barrymore family money, the lifelong Barrymore family access to the movie biz, and her shrewd ability to use that money and access to start her own production company.

I mean, it's not like Omar is getting any of his father's money these days as from what I hear it's almost all tied up in military operations and cave speculation.

Omar has always has trouble figuring out who he is

If things don't work out with Barrymore, however, fear not--sexy Omar has at least one more peach on the tree, as it were:

Speaking from a Doha, Qatar hotel in an interview with the Sun, [Omar] also professes an admiration for Jim Carrey, American football, rock music and Madonna. "She's such a great dancer for a woman of her age," he says of the Material Girl, 51. 

Madonna would be so thrilled to hear that qualification on her dancing abilities. Trust me. She's pretty much in the bag, quaffing a pint of Metamucil on the grounds of her British estate, waiting to hear what happens with Drew...

Whaddya think, Drew? Nice pecs/goatee?

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Missed Connection

Last night, somewhere in the Marigny, New Orleans - m4w - 41

Me: Man, nevernude shorts, Daffy Duck applique t-shirt w/bird-shit stain, snoring in the gutter as I dreamed about slaying dragons with my mind

You: Legs, girl, laughed when a horse peed a river that roused me from my slumber and ruined my favorite outfit

Fancy letting me perform oral sex on you for a few hours in your air-conditioned house on the whiter side of town? I promise I won't try anything else--I'm just looking to cool off for awhile and I don't have any money and you seem like a nice girl who could use a little attention, keeps herself clean.

If interested, I'll be riding on the shoulders of Jean Baptiste La Moyne in the French Quarter, warbling my favorite Christmas carols all night long as I work my way through three bottles of Mad Dog I stole from CVS this morning while the cashier tied her shoe. Swing by to pick me up and we can go from there, lovergirl.

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Does This Surprise Anybody?

LOS ANGELES — "Ferris Bueller" actor Jeffrey Jones was charged Wednesday with failing to update his sex offender registration status, authorities said.

He pleaded no contest in 2003 in Los Angeles to a felony charge of employing a 14-year-old boy to pose for sexually explicit photos.

It is the second time the actor has been arrested for failing to keep his sex offender status current. He was arrested in Florida in 2004 for the same offense.

(courtesy HuffPo)

Oh, Mr. Rooney...I wish I could say I never saw this coming, but I actually wrote the following in my journal (the one with the mermaid riding the unicorn on the cover--a personal favorite) on September 25, 1987:

Mr. Rooney is funny, but in a creepy way. I felt the same thing when watching Amadeus at Gerald's sixth birthday party. Not that anybody asked, but if put on the spot, I would probably vote him 'Celebrity I Would Be Least-Excited About Sharing a Hot Tub With' and I would not be surprised in the least should he one day be arrested for failing to update his sex offender status, seven years after paying a 14-year-old boy to pose for gritty nude photographs intended for his illicit arousal.

Yes, then as now, I was quite the precocious young smart-ass.

Is it still adorable?

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Image of Miley Cyrus Captured On Digital Camera Somewhere

This picture brings no less than four things to the forefront of my brain:

1. Miley is way less attractive in the face than I remember and this disappoints me twice as much as it may disappoint you because she was totally on my list of post-career-collapse conquests and now I'm not so sure. My world is being shaken like a snow globe right now.
 
2. I can't believe neither Miley nor her hair-stylist/best-friend have iPhones. Have they not heard of them yet? Are they still on Sprint because they didn't want to pay that crazy early-termination fee? Don't

3. That bag is awesome. I want one--it looks like a Hefty bag with a $4500 price tag on it and everybody will totally be jealous when they see I have one.

 4. This girl is worth more than $25 million and I can't afford a used taco right now.


Dessert:

Talk about a dear in headlights! (Pun!) This flash is so bright that Miley looks two-dimensional. Also, are those jeans actually jean-printed spandex? I'd believe it...

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Men Get Raped, Too, You Know

Tempted?

And it's always funny [When it's by a woman -Ed.]:

Just wanted to extend a thank you to the very much of a big girl that roofied, then raped my roommate, and then robbed us blind last weekend. As you know my roommate doesn’t drink much and according to him after the two drinks you insisted on purchasing for him at Table Steaks, that was sadly his last coherent memory. In your defense my roommate is a pretty cool and funny dude to be around, but what’s not in your defense is that you drugged him, stole my IPod, his laptop and wallet, plus your white trash ass took five bottles of liquor from our bar. There is no way in hell that you didn’t drug him. I was awoken at three in the morning by you bumping your dirty fat girl music while giving my roommate a striptease and rubbing him up and down with your back fat rolls as he laid there motionless. You also had the audacity to ask if I wanted a lap dance next. Politely I replied “No thanks, I’m pretty tired, you too have fun.”
What I should have done is thrown a box of Oreos out the window and watch you race gravity to catch those delicious cookies all twenty stories down to the pavement. I will admit that due to your large stature, you probably could’ve kicked both of our asses, hell; you probably could have eaten at least one of us. Making matters worse not only did you rape my roommate but you did it while you were on the rag and left our couch looking like a fucking crime scene. One of the cops who showed up to our house to file a police report started gagging when we showed him our nice new cream colored couch that now after your endeavor; looks like someone drop kicked a can of meaty marinara sauce across it. Since you’re so fond of taking things that don’t belong to you, feel free to swing by ally adjacent to our condo and pick up that couch you and your hatchet wound destroyed. Also, since you treated my roommate like a mechanical bull, he has been limping around like a 17 year old German Shepherd with hip dysplasia all day; needless to say you fucked him up pretty bad. Oh my roommate just informed me that Season 3 of Arrested Development is missing, “Jesus, you are the worst kind of skank-waffle ever!”

[From the Craigslist (Denver) Missed Connections]

Side note: This totally explains the weird strawberry syrup stains on my couch and--trust me--I have learned my lesson. From here on out, it is Jennifer Convertibles all the way.

Why? Because I'm worth it.

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Meals on Wheels

Foreplay

Apparently, there are men out there that are very interested in fucking obese women in wheelchairs, but they're not sure exactly how to go about it.

Although I am not a chubby-chaser (not that there's anything wrong with that) or some creep with a thing for crippled girls ("), I don't find either element of that sentence surprising.

Because people come in all flavors, right? It's a beautiful thing, right? And if you were into that sort of thing...how would you do it? I mean, how?

Enter a proud "Obese, Tattoo'd, Smut-Mouthed, Wheelchair-Bound Bitchy Artist" with some serious grammar issues to kindly tell these poor saps exactly what they should be doing with their tips.

Here's a taste:

Tip two; foreplay can turn into "forward out of the way" if the wheelchair is not off. When engaging in foreplay with your will chair bound mamma, set adjacent with open legs for us to park our love machine. This assists with the closeness between you and your partner and insures there will not be the always awkward "Fuck, you ran over my toe" dance.

Now remember, foreplay is a way of saying "hello" to one another's body before the big bang goes down. But, what do you do when your love mate can't physically participate at the level in which you play the game? You improvise. Never expect us non-ambulatory females to get down on our knees and undo your pants with our teeth. We need some assistance please. Playful kiss and roam our body. When you feel our hand slowly creeping up your thigh, mind you, this is not a form of teasing we just move slow, retract, raise a brow and look down. We know what you are asking. Bring it on out, we are ready to shake hands and make a new friend.

Tip three; hand jobs go nowhere when you have the grip of a granny. Let us watch.

Tip four; be ready to be one person performing the act of two people. We know when it's time to get down with the get down but we need help lying down.

[For the rest of the spiel, click on this and it will take you to the Village Voice website where I found it.]

I must say, while I admire both her ardor and her candor, this Bitchy Artist seems to be all over the place here.

For example: Since when do people who can't use their legs have "the grip of a granny?" Wouldn't they have the grip of a steel-drivin' man when they need to use their arms for everything all day long? Or has the advent of electric wheelchairs made handicapped peeps with huge upper bodies a thing of the past?

Or maybe she is referring to quadriplegics. But, wait...can quadriplegics even have sex? If you're paralyzed from the neck down, I'm pretty sure that includes your genitals.

Huh.

Well, the good thing is that with all these frustrating unknowns floating around, there are two things we know for sure:

1. There is at least one cock-hungry, obese, wheelchair-bound woman with a weak grip out there who wants some male attention NOW--as long as you are willing to help her out.

2. There is some field-research to be done here in order to authenticate some of this advice, so it is high time you grab that gunny sack full 'o' ludes and head to your local V.A. during 'creepy visitor' hours, average reader. Trust me, it won't seem like a big deal once you're right in the heat of it all. Maybe.

Good luck out there in the trenches, folks--report back soon or I'll make you do it all over again!

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