I had a conversation with one of my more favorite cohorts the other day about a particular business with which we are both familiar. We are both incredulous at how many bad decisions are made on a daily basis and how no consequence ever seems to come of it. At one point, he dubbed it insanity per the definition of “doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.”

Maybe it’s masochism, but I am sometimes compelled to pore over the shit that is purveyed to women about men. Insipid, shallow, stereotypical drivel like: 5 Types of Guys to Avoid at all Costs and 10 Things he’s Thinking when he Sees you Naked.

Now, do I agree that Bluetooth- and popped-collar multi-polo shirt-wearing douchenozzle cuntbags aren’t worth a woman’s time? Yes. Absolutely. But this article doesn’t share anything insightful at all … and it doesn’t call women out for their habitually stupid behavior of going for exactly the guys they complain about. All the while these insane — per definition above — women decry the lack of good men out there, while intentionally overlooking the ones that fit the criteria they condemn the dipshits for lacking.

(more…)

I mentioned the old, hideous, bat-shit crazy dude who was wearing a dress on the train the other day. Here’s the photo I took. But as I recounted the encounter, I remembered there was another freak on that train near to whom I had the great misfortune to sit.

Picture a short, flabby, unattractive man. The kind of man most people would assume still lives with his mother and hasn’t seen a pussy since he was squeezed out for the first time. He was strange and odd and he held in his hands a book by the unapologetic skank who subjected humanity to ‘Sex and the City.’

The book’s title was something to do with one-night stands. Obviously a book written by a slut for sluts or at least women who are not sluts but wish to live vicariously through one. Either way it breaks down, it’s chick-lit … and this sad-sack schmuck was reading it while licking his lips like he’d been sat down before a full-course meal after starving for a lifetime.

(more…)

I hate khaki pants. It’s not an objective decision; they just offend me. In their original form, they are a bland color. Their cut is never flattering, especially to women who have asses.

They bring to mind images of entitled preparatory school children, flouting rules and date-raping girls while the interest on their trust funds accrues. Couple one with a blue blazer and it’s like waving a red cape at a bull to me.

If I had Tourette’s — and yes, I know I’m borderline — I would shout: “Goddamned, fucking cocksucking piece-of-shit motherfucker, fucking blue blazer khaki bullshit creep fuck!”

As for leopard print. Ladies. Please. Stop. It’s not sexy. It won’t make you sexy. It makes you look tacky and cheap and, in most cases, it’s an advertisement of that very truth about you. Next time, just wear a sign that says “I’m a cheap skank with no fashion sense.” We’ll interpolate the spots.

I said there would be other Crimes against Humanity, so I’ll expound on tattoos. I couldn’t care less if men have them; they’re already almost universally ugly and stupid … but when women have them, what a waste. It’s like if the Venus di Milo had a tramp stamp or a butterfly tattooed on the inside of her hip. I imagine a lot of leopard print gets worn by women with tattoos.

(more…)

I mean, if you have it, I guess it doesn’t make much of a difference to your bottom line, but I think $3.80 would be too expensive.

Putting the expense of paying for drinks or a meal on a date aside, to actually give cash in a direct transaction for sex isn’t something that appeals to me. Our society has acceptable forms of prostitution, like wining and dining. For those of us indoctrinated by this society it is a matter of course when going through the ritual of dating — and the chauvinistic expectation — that the man will foot the bill.

“And, I don’t like it … anymore than you, men.”

Well, some supposed virgin is auctioning her hoo-ha online for nearly $4 million dollars. Some Australian bought the right to deflower her, but his wife nixed the deal.

First, if this girl really is a virgin, who would want to pay that much money to do someone who has no experience? Would you pay someone you’ve just hired — who’s never done the work before — top-dollar? It seems like a bad fiscal decision, for starters.

(more…)

It is possible to be simultaneously repulsed and enticed. I speak from experience.

Do to the dearth of things worth watching on my TV (which will be canceled in less than a week) and a lack of motivation to do anything else, I tuned into Attack of the Show. On it was porn “actress” Sasha Grey, a 21-year-old girl. Or maybe she’s a woman; I really am not certain of the criteria. I suppose being able to take a huge dick in the ass would turn a girl into a woman.

See, and that’s where the ambivalence comes in. It’s easy enough to watch porn and derive some specific entertainment from it, but part of that ease comes from the absolutely anonymous nature of its participants. It’s voyeurism at its most distant, where the people fucking have a distinct lack of humanity that, in my opinion, is essential to maintaining the illusion.

The instant I wonder something personal about a woman getting drilled in both holes below the waist while getting her throat fucked, what is alluring in the very base and animal — unconscious — way is trumped by consciousness and thought and reason and intellect.

“Does she want to be doing this? Does she enjoy it? What was her childhood like? Was she ever raped? Has she always been mistreated by men and this is a manifestation of that? Did her father abuse her?”

I know, right? Who the hell thinks of this shit? Let’s pile on the hyperbole: Just watch that whore get drilled like a piece of meat and fuck the stupid fucking cunt because she’s not worth anything except a means to a masturbatory end.

It requires an adult making a conscious decision to put their self in these seamy situations by which other people derive vicarious pleasure, so who gives a shit if a bad state of mind is culpable for motivating that decision? Who cares if this woman could have been thwarted from fucking on camera, from sucking on a dick that just came out of her ass. Because, hey, it’s not debasing if she wants to do it. I’m sure I’ve heard the “no one’s holding a gun to her head” argument in this context.

But then, if these women were aided in a constructive way to work through whatever emotional issues I am perhaps erroneously assuming they must have … what would we watch while our wives are sleeping or our girlfriends are out of town? Or, for the sad sack that can’t get laid, what are they going to do to try and fill the void of real human contact in their lives?

There will always be demand for sex and so there will always be supply. Whether that supply is the willing, monogamous interaction many of us have been conditioned to believe is the “right way” to do things, or whether it’s girls abducted off the street and pressed into prostitution, or it’s chicks like Sasha Grey willingly proffering their assholes to get reamed on camera … a supply of some sort will be provided. It is simple economics.

What is less simple are the formulas that create the demand and the supply.

I’ve been to museums and seen exhibits on porn. Porn that dates back as far as one could assume. At the Brooklyn Museum there is a particular sculpture from ancient Egypt depicting a woman engaged in sex with, my recollection is foggy but, at least four men (and — GASP — get this, some of the men’s genitalia is only touching the other men’s, so the Eygptians were gay, y’all! But that little digression aside…)

So we have some significantly old proof that there has long been a demand for erotica, and to all the gay haters out there, we’ve got plenty of proof that gays have been around for a long time, too, and that the behavior was mainstream at certain points in time. Suck on that.

American society, though, is one of deep, sexual repression and shame and guilt. The Puritan fundamentalism on which this country was founded still very much pervades the fabric of our communities, some far more so than others, but the reach of Christian “values” is inescapable in the United States. As a result, any free and cavalier sexual expression is anathema and so, by that Puritanical standard, porn is by far the most egregious of all shameful sexual activities.

The culture of repression and the demonization of sex is particularly unkind to women because they are the ones very readily branded as whores for even the slightest whiff of impropriety — whether real or imagined — so little American girls are taught early what it is like to be shamed and scorned, branded as whores and how it feels to have one’s worth measured by a far higher standard than that of a boy’s, and to be given very little leeway to deviate from the society’s unrealistic expectation of what a girl or a woman should be.

In a way, I can almost admire Sasha Grey and any other female porn star who is in that business seemingly for the express purpose of saying “fuck you” to Puritan America. I appreciate when people fight back against injustice and unfairness. Truly, when it all comes down to it, what the hell does it matter what is done by someone who has no connection to you and does not factor into your life in any way, unless you choose that they do?

Whether Sasha Grey takes one or a thousand dicks in her ass and then proceeds to deep-throat them, it isn’t going to pay my rent, cook my food or make my train come in the morning. I have the choice to either watch it or not and, if it offends me, the smart choice would be to ignore it. There’s no reason to be indignant.

Yet any admiration I might feel for her or any of her contemporaries, and I assure you I don’t, is totally obliterated by the influence of my own upbringing in this Puritanical stunting ground called America. I would never admire or respect a woman who has been that used up by countless men, especially because she has done it in ready view of anyone who cares to look, documented and likely to be preserved for some time.

Maybe her porn will be on display in the museums of 2,000 years from now, if humanity has by then managed to put Jesus away somewhere and move onto a new fad, perhaps one of logic and reason, where intelligence and thought will prevail over closed-mindedness and superstition. I truly hope that the next generation of kids will be a little more open and a little less repressed so that, someday, humanity might be able to stop being hung up about in which orifice someone was screwed, and how often.