The University of Toronto's Department of Lifestyle Studies

A couple of weeks ago, in a review of Django Unchained, I said that " people who see politics in everything should probably be buried alive." Not only is that the truest thing I've ever written, it might be the truest thing written by anyone, ever!

You know what you should see politics in? Politics. Pretty much everything else should be apolitical. Modern politics is little more than an exercise in being deliberately dishonest or honestly idiotic. Watch cable news for an hour. Then watch an hour of cartoons. If you have a difficult time deciding which had more intellectual content, you aren't alone.

Look, I don't give a fuck about what Bono thinks about the issues, and I wish that he'd stop telling me. The only thing I want to know about him is whether or not he can put out another album as cool as Achtung Baby, and I'm pretty sure that he can't. Everybody knows what Ted Nugent thinks, but it's been at least thirty years since he's accomplished anything other than receive second-billing to a goddamned puppet show, so who gives a shit?

The very last thing that should be political is fucking, and there's no shortage of asexual political misfits on both sides insisting otherwise. An entire field of sexual politics has been defined by a group of people who nobody in their right mind would want to fuck in the first place. Ideally, politics involves great thought and deliberation, and the best sex usually happens when thinking ceases entirely. Whether they're on the left or the right, people who insist on combing sex and politics universally suck at both.

So it goes without saying that the Outrage Machine is going to go into overdrive about this story.

It’s being billed online as an epic student sex club adventure — and in other corners of the web, a student orgy.

The University of Toronto Sexual Education Centre (SEC) is kicking off its annual Sexual Awareness Week next Monday at Oasis Aqua Lounge, a downtown club that bills itself as a water-themed adult playground, where swingers are welcome and sex is allowed everywhere but the hot tub.

“U of T is holding an orgy, and you’re invited! You just need your student ID” one Reddit user posted in a University of Waterloo forum.

But not so fast!

“Our executive director made it very clear that this is not an orgy, we’re not funding an orgy,” says external education and outreach co-ordinator Dylan Tower, 22, as he sits inside the sixth-floor office of SEC. “People are allowed to have sex on premise … there is not any type of ‘You should be having sex when you’re here.’ It’s very much, come and enjoy the space, there’s no prodding or pushing in that direction.”

There are names for people who show up at orgies and don't fuck. "Perverts." And do you have any idea what it takes to be labelled a pervert at an orgy? You really, really don't want to know, but the process of finding out can be even more fun than you'd suspect.

 SEC has rented a downtown Toronto fuck club (because such things are legal in Canada), Oasis Aqualongue, out for the event.

Of course, if you're overly political, this is going to twist your titty in big, bad way. Shithead social conservatives are going to look for some idiotic "culture war" angle, and victimhood junkie liberals are going be in a desperate search for victims, if only because they need something to do between SlutWalks.

As you might expect, I have other concerns.

The group’s mission is to foster a sex-positive attitude in the greater U of T area, by offering information, programming, safer-sex supplies, and peer counselling in a welcoming environment. Their sexual awareness week includes a discussion on sex positivity, an interactive sex toy demonstration and an afternoon of pornography. The first event is the party at Oasis: the organization rented the club and lowered the price to $5 a person. (Admission for couples is normally $80.)

Tower said it is a safe and cheaper way to introduce curious students to the sex club scene in Toronto. The group plans to provide a “myriad of safer-sex supplies” so “everyone can be as safe as possible” and volunteers will circulate to “make sure everyone is respectful and having the best experience Oasis has to offer,” he posted online, addressing concerns.

We're all probably a lot better off if we don't discuss how I know how fuck clubs work, but there's one thing I need to share with you. If you have larger than average genitals, do not under any circumstances rely on their condoms. They only supply them in the "regular" (or as I like to call them, "pre-teen" size.) As you might might imagine, no good can come of that.

Actually, maybe not. If you really want to impress a group of potential paramours, try on one of the establishment's scumbags and watch the ladies' eyes widen in amazement when you snap it in half. Don't ask me how I know that'll happen, just know that I do. Your WonderWang will immediately become quite the conversation piece. There are few things as flattering as having your heroic girth becoming the talk of the town.

I'm also wary of any public sexual event that allows college -aged men to participate. I've discussed this with dozens and dozens of women over the years, and they are of the universal opinion that guys under 30 just don't know how to fuck. Not only do most of these whippersnappers need training wheels under their balls, adequate cunnilingus is well beyond their skill set. I'm shocked that more sexually mature girls don't scream at them to "get off of my lawn," so to speak.

Of course, younger women are no great help because they're singular failures in telling their partners what they want and how they want it done. Oh, they'll tell all of their friends how inadequate you are, and they'll eventually tell me. They just won't help you out when you need it most.

Higher education is supposed to be about exactly that: education. And there's just no way that a 20 year old with a football scholarship and a minor in date rape can be expected to know the intricacies of a Vietnamese spin-fuck chair. No 19 year former cheerleader knows what miracles occur when she tickles a man's perineum with the tip of her tongue.



These are things that take years of experience and experimentation. I'm all for "fostering a sex positive attitude," I just think it should be done properly. And that necessarily requires the presence of mature mentors. Just as you don't let first-year chemistry students dick around with the beakers without adult supervision, the same should be doubly true of their goodies.

Folks in their late teens and early twenties think sex is pretty awesome, but they don't have a fucking clue. Just as Dan Savage teaches us, albeit in a very different context, "It gets better." And, oh, it gets so much better.

Be that as it may, the endeavour is getting kudos from the academic community, as well it should.

Jocelyn Wentland, PhD student in the Human Sexuality Research Laboratory at the University of Ottawa, said the centre should be commended for “not hosting another ‘happy hour’ at the campus bar and doing something unique.”

“Young people often experiment with their sexuality, and we know that many young adults’ conceptualizations of what constitutes a ‘relationship’ has changed over the years. Recognizing those changes and offering mechanisms and events for young adults to self-express their sexual attitudes in a safe environment should be encouraged,” she wrote in an email. “It’s time that we recognize that not everyone is in heterosexual, monogamous, committed long-term relationships and nor does everyone wish to be.”

There comes a point in everyone's life when they realize that monogamous relationships are the very worst kind. No matter how wonderful your monogamous partner might be, it's virtual certainty that he or she doesn't have two tongues with which to lick your favourite no-no places in tandem. If they do, there's a very high probability that they're fucking radioactive.

As a blogger of international renown, I know a great deal about self-expression, and I'm here to tell you that it's never as satisfying as when you're blasting it all over the face and chest of someone you just met. Some of my greatest interpersonal relationships started exactly that way and I'm sure that many more will.

Tower says sex positivity is all about coexisting, and not having disagreements about what is morally right or appropriate.

“We just make sure that everyone, no matter what they’re into, can communicate about it, and have a great experience socially, without people being like, “You can't do that, that’s gross.”

Well, except for watersports. And poo-parties. Anything German is gross and I think we can all agree about that. But I'm getting beyond the point, aren't I?

Look, if U of T itself were paying for this, I might feel differently. But they aren't, so I don't give a shit. Besides, if more and younger women get involved in the lifestyle at an earlier age, the better the chances are that I'll run into them one good eve. And no one is more about helping young adults self-express their sexual attitudes more than I am. I'm pretty Christ-like that way.

And that should be enough reason for my friends on the left and the right to keep their busy yaps shut about this. But I can almost guarantee you that they won't. I'd put good money on the Canadian blogosphere going apeshit about this story by noon, mostly because the Canadian blogosphere is out to ruin my good time, the assholes.

If the University of Toronto wanted to accomplish something even more productive, they'd offer a course in How to Live Like a Real Man.

Shame (2011)

Shame received rave reviews when it was released in late 2011. As is usually the case with movies critics love, it didn't make much money. But it had a great buzz about it, so I decided to watch it last night. I even learned a couple of things from it.

First. Michael Fassbender has a huge cock. There's really no way of not noticing that, given that it makes several appearances in just the first seven minutes of the film. My more inexperienced female readers should avoid Shame at all costs because das Fassbender putz will frighten you directly into lesbianism and I imagine that most of you can't pull off the haircut.

That fucker is more like something you'd see in a Japanese monster movie and, make no mistake, one day it will destroy Tokyo. I'm above average in the pants, and I was more than just intimidated by it. I was shamed.

I also learned that society's moral character is rapidly disintegrating. Things that never used to be problems are suddenly things that make life almost worthless. It's disgusting and inane. I was hoping that Shame would mock this phenomenon, but it seems to affirm it.

Fassbender plays Brandon and Brandon has a very needy wang, indeed. Luckily, he works in the advertising industry, so he can sit around watching internet porn in his office all day and go to the can to jerk off whenever the mood strikes him. He also fucks practically everyone who crosses his path, except one particularly cute black chick, I assume because he has a racist penis, like John Mayer's. And yes, I'm as disturbed by the visual as you probably are.

Apparently gaining that much carnal gratification makes one very sad, although that's hardly been my experience. Maybe I'm a sexual anomaly  but I hardly ever feel like weeping after I cum. Sure, there was that one time, but in fairness, I was pretty drunk, on coke and had just fucked for six hours. The tears just proved that I wasn't completely dehydrated, which was a relief! Brandon, on the other hand, seems depressed by poontang all the time.  Just when you start to think he might be homo, he gets blown in a gay bar and that doesn't cheer him up, either.

Brandon has a sister named Sissy, whose reason for existing I can't figure out unless it's to annoy me. But she looks reasonably good naked, so Brandon's boss fucks her in his apartment while Brandon jogs to Madison Square Garden, where no one touches his no-no places.

At one point, Brandon gets his ass kicked for hitting on a skinhead's girl, but then he gets suck-started in the gay bar and bangs two comely whores; an Asian and a blonde, which you would think would make him feel better. Instead, he just keeps fucking crying all the time.

Presumably because her brother is such a weepy shithead, Sissy tries to off herself and fails. Brandon cries yet again. God knows how he gets laid with an attitude like that. Oh right, he has an enormous wang. But to watch they guy, you'd think that he's allergic to vagina for all the supposed pain it causes him.

Shame begins with Brandon on the subway, flirting with a smoking hot married redhead. It ends with them flirting again, although this time she looks even hotter. We're left to think that this is some kind of condemnation instead of rightly concluding that Brandon is just a self-pitying dick. And he's not even self-pitying in a witty and adorable way, like me.

I just want to point out to the ladies out there that not all guys with massive muffbusters are like Brandon. Most of us are more than happy to ruin you for all other men, and sometimes we won't even clear out your bar while doing it.

For you to think otherwise would be, well, a shame.

The only way I can get the mess of Shame out of my head, and I suspect that the same applies for you, is ten solid hours of Kate Upton's titties doing the bouncy-bouncy. I'm reluctant to call myself a hero, but I might just be the greatest hero of all.

Joe Biden Knows What Girls Like

As a lifelong Lothario, I know something that most of you don't. I know what women really want. I shouldn't ruin my own game by sharing this with you, but I like creating challenges for myself.

What broads look for in a mating partner is a senior citizen with hair plugs, a history of plagerism and no real power. There's something about such a dude that sets female pheremones off like fucking fireworks. I've seen chicks claw one another to death with their fingernails to be near a stud like that. Young and old alike, they feel their crotches tighten, quake and leak love in the presence of men like Vice President Joe Biden.

I think we all learned the power of the Biden sexuality earlier today, as he swore in the new members of the Senate. And some us, such as North Dakota's Heidi Heitkamp, learned more directly than others.

Newly sworn in Sen. Heidi Heitkamp (D-ND) got an early introduction to the humor of Vice President Joe Biden on Thursday. After taking the oath of office and posing for a picture with the vice president, Biden told her to “spread your legs” because “you’re going to be frisked.”

“Drop your hands to your sides,” Biden commanded. “You say that to somebody in North Dakota, they think it’s a frisk.”

At on point or another, all of us are going to be subjected to the Biden frisking. There's no point in resisting it, so we may as well just lie back and try to enjoy it. The man is, after all, most likely going to be the next president of the United States. And if Bill Clinton could get away with what he did, by god, just wait until we see what ol' Joe has up his sleeve. As you go to bed tonight, kiss your wives and hug your children. You might not know how long it will be before the vice president gets his sexy, sexy hands on them.

And thank whatever God you worship that you're not Mister Heitkamp this good eve. If I know Joe like I think I do, I'd put money on Biden demanding that the senator's spouse smell his fingers after the oath was administered.

He's the "presiding officer" in more ways than one.

Anne Hathaway and the Greatest Premiere of All

Before I saw a bootlegged copy of The Dark Knight Rises this summer, I had never seen an Anne Hathaway film. And in all honesty, seeing her in a tight leather body suit was one of the few things about that goddamn stupid Batman movie that didn't annoy the shit out of me. If I was armed and had to wait hours for a midnight screening of that dreck, I'd have probably started blasting at stuff twenty minutes in, too. There may not be much I admire about James Holmes, but I'm not going to quibble with his film criticism.

Just because I've never financially supported her career shouldn't be taken to mean that I don't dig Hathaway in a big, bad way. Because I do. There's just something about her that make my powerful loins boil, churn and yearn to be free.

She has a banging little body that she isn't shy about showing off and a really cute face. Some folks might think it's a flaw, but I love the fact that she has a huge mouth and applies lipstick in a way that makes me think of the Joker. That's not kinky, is it?

There's this porn star named Stoya who looks a lot like Anne (second link NSFW,) but she was thoroughly ruined by Marylin Manson, which disturbs me endlessly. So when I find myself celebrating her cinematic oeuvre with only one hand free, I like to pretend that it's Ms. Hathaway taking comically large men in her dumper. If you ever wondered how versatile a gentleman I am, wonder no more!

I'm rambling again, aren't I? Sadly, that happens sometimes.

Not only have I not read Les Miserables or seen the musical, I don't even know what it's about. I'm told it's about something French, but I'm of the unshakable opinion that everything I need to know about France is in Last Tango in Paris.

That being the case, I made the conscious decision to ignore everything about Les Miserables until the film died and went straight to hell. When Hugh Jackman was on 60 Minutes this past Sunday, I fell asleep in protest. Sure, there have been more demonstrative protests throughout history, but mine was just as effective, in it's own way.

Well, ignoring the dopey francophile spectacle may have been unwise on my part. Thankfully, the Goddamned Liberal Media was there to pick up what I missed.

Actress Anne Hathaway gave fans and photographers an eyeful on Monday after accidentally flashing her genitals as she arrived at the New York premiere of Les Miserables.

The newlywed was climbing out of her chauffeured car outside Manhattan's Ziegfeld Theatre when the slit in her gothic black dress revealed she had chosen to attend the screening without underwear.

As you know, I'm not a religious man. But there are things that are drilled into you as a child that you just can't shake, which is why even atheists scream "Oh God" when we're fucking. Anyhow, since before I could even walk, my parents wouldn't stop warning me that panties were a tool of Satan, and that no woman that wore them was a woman I should be with.

And you know what? They weren't wrong! In the research that I've compiled since the first grade, I've definitively concluded that the best women all go commando. That's just the natural order of things, and may the circle of life be unbroken.

Of course, Anne suggests that she's mortified by this, but not really.

Actress Anne Hathaway was "devastated" when she suffered a wardrobe malfunction and accidentally exposed her genitals at the New York premiere of her latest movie Les Miserables on Monday.

That's one way of looking at it, I suppose. But I'm internationally famous for being a "glass half-full" guy. So I just look at it as her having two premieres for the price of one. One for her movie and one for her cute little cooter! More people should look on the bright side of life, like I do.

Anne Hathaway, in doing just that, along with quite properly eschewing unmentionables, proves that she's the perfect woman!

She told Sischy, "I was getting out of the car and my dress was so tight that I didn't realize it until I saw all the photographers' flashes. It was devastating. They saw everything. I might as well have lifted up my skirt for them."

Despite her upset, editors at New York Post gossip column Page Six report that Hathaway later laughed off the incident after discovering the explicit photos had gone viral on the Internet, adding, "And I just thought, 'OK, where's the comedy?' It has hit. It has landed. A bomb has gone off. I think what I am going to do is whatever my next appearance is... I'm going to step out of the car in a blanket. You've got to laugh at it."

That's the spirit! And don't worry, Anne. You can always lift your skirt for the paparazzo at the opening of your next movie that I probably won't see!

Actually, that brings up a serious concern. The nature of show business is such that you always have top your last performance. And I'm not such a miserable bastard that I'd refuse aid to a damsel in obvious distress. As a Caring Person, I'm all about helping!

That's why I'm suggesting that Anne Hathaway arrive at her next premiere completely naked on a pogo stick.

Now that the idea's out there in the ether, I just hope that Lindsay Lohan doesn't steal it.


UPDATED: So Anne was apparently on the Today show this morning to briefly discuss our entirely reasonable preoccupation with her crotch. Unfortunately, all we learned is that Matt Lauer is a remarkably shitty journalist.

Visit NBCNews.com for breaking news, world news, and news about the economy

How could Lauer let her get away with nonsense like this?

“It was obviously an unfortunate incident. I think — it kind of made me sad on two accounts. One, I was very sad that we live in an age when someone takes a picture of another person in a vulnerable moment and rather than delete it and do the decent thing, sells it. And I’m sorry that we live in a culture that commodifies sexuality of unwilling participants. Which brings us back to Les Mis because that is what my character is. She is someone forced to sell sex… So, yeah, let’s get back to Les Mis.”

Obviously, I should have conducted the interview because there's no way that I'd let a moronic statement like stand without a follow-up. I would start with this;

Me as Matt Lauer: Yeah, the commodification of sexuality is pretty sad. Hey, haven't you been in something like 15 movies and broken your funbags out in something like 12 of them?

Anne:  That's ... that's different. That's art and this is little more than my personal exploitation for a voyeuristic culture, and ..."

Me as Matt Lauer: Of course. Art! How could I forget?

Lemme get this straight, Sugar Tits, you went commando in high-cut dress knowing that you'd be getting out of an SUV in front of hundreds of photographers. Didn't you sunconsciously know that no one wants to see a flick about a singing French whore unless they got to check out the .. merchandise first?

Anne: I don't think that's appropriate. The audience understands the art!

Me as Matt Lauer: Of course they do. That's why Michael Bay is rich. Did your mother drink when she was pregnant?

Anne Hathaway pussy pic loving stolen from What Would Tyler Durden Do

The End of DOMA?

The U.S Supreme Court announced late last week that it would hear two gay marriage cases this term, the appeal of the California Proposition 8 case and a challenge to the federal Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA.)

I'm actually surprised that DOMA, which was passed in 1996, has survived as long as it has. Yes, I know that both houses of Congress passed it, but Congress passes unconstitutional nonsense all the time, which is sort of why the Supreme Court exists at all. And please don't remind me that President Clinton signed it. As subsequent events conclusively demonstrated, few marriages were more in need of defending than Bill Clinton's.

For my newer readers, I'll quickly explain my views on same-sex marriage.

I have a basic test that I apply to any law, proposed or already in effect. That is "Is this something that a reasonable adult should give a shit about?" If the answer is no, there's really no reason that the government should give a shit about it, either. In such cases, I support giving the people the right to do whatever they please.

Then I decide whether the law is constitutional. Even the best law ever is a giant waste of everybody's time if it doesn't conform with the supreme law of the land.

As far as gay marriage goes, there is no reason for the government, especially the federal government, to give a shit. If "the family" needs the force of the feds to defend it, it's already doomed. The government did a remarkably poor job in defending the World Trade Center, which was at least a physical thing in a specific location, two things "the family" decidedly is not.

Having said that, I do understand that homo hitchery might offend your religious sensibilities. Too bad. Just as is true with the family, the federal government doesn't exist to defend your personal superstitions. Besides, the same government that can protect your religious beliefs can also limit them. Moreover, if you need curs like your average politician to affirm your spirituality, you're probably going to hell, anyway.

Religion is a deeply personal thing and government is about as impersonal something can get. Nothing good ever comes from intermingling the two. You know when I'll be okay with the government policing marriage? When the states are allowed to resume burning witches.

DOMA is unconstitutional on its face and no one has ever seriously argued that it isn't. Article IV, Section of the Constitution is better known as the Full Faith and Credit Clause, which compels the states (as well as the federal government) to  respect the "public acts, records, and judicial proceedings of every other state."

Since marriage is a public act and often a judicial proceeding, DOMA couldn't be more clearly in violation of the Full Faith and Credit Clause.

Through DOMA, the federal government also violates the "due process" clause of the Fifth Amendment, since it voids liberty granted by the state in any other state or before the federal government without due process of law.

Marriage is also a public act, with very specific government benefits, primarily - although not exclusively - through the tax code. When the federal government limits those benefits to a certain class of citizens, absent a compelling state interest, it violates the "equal protection" clause of the Fourteenth Amendment, of which the language is very clear.

If corporations and George W. Bush's first presidential campaign meet the definition of "legal persons" under the Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments, it's very difficult to rationally argue that homosexuals don't. That's just a matter of elementary logic.

The Supreme Court has also ruled repeatedly that marriage is a "fundamental right," that the states and Congress cannot deny, even to prison inmates. I suppose that you can argue that prisoners awaiting execution enjoy greater fundamental rights than gays do, but it would be an affront to both common decency and common sense.

You know who, first and foremost, knew that there were severe constitutional issues with DOMA? The people who oppose gay marriage. That's why they've been pressing for a constitutional amendment since 2004.

DOMA is a dead issue constitutionally, unless certain of the justices defy logic, precedent and the clear language of the Constitution to rule otherwise.

Of the two cases coming before the Court, Hollingsworth v. Perry (the Prop 8 case) is the more likely of the two to be ruled upon narrowly, based entirely on the specific circumstances in California. In any eventuality, it's hard to see Hollingsworth having much of an effect on the national gay marriage question.

United States v. Windsor (the DOMA challenge) couldn't be more different. That does have national ramifications, albeit more limited ones than you might think. As an Equal Protection Clause case that challenges Section 3 of DOMA, which defines marriage as being between a man and a woman in the federal law itself.

The Court would have to take a much more expansive view of the law than I think they will to apply a repeal of Section 3 to the states. I just don't think that there's a majority on the Court for that.

The Court could very well strike down Section 3, apply it only to the federal government and ignore the rest of DOMA, which isn't at issue in Windsor.

A much, much stronger challenge would be Section 2, which states that "No State, territory, or possession of the United States, or Indian tribe, shall be required to give effect to any public act, record, or judicial proceeding of any other State, territory, possession, or tribe respecting a relationship between persons of the same sex that is treated as a marriage under the laws of such other State, territory, possession, or tribe, or a right or claim arising from such relationship."

Section 2 is flagrantly in violation of the Full Faith and Credit Clause. There simply is no way to read it otherwise. In fact, Section 2 uses the " public act, record, or judicial proceeding of any other State" language of the Clause to deny its applicability. It's almost impossible to imagine Section 2 withstanding any level of scrutiny whatsoever.

If Section 2 is thrown out, it wouldn't matter what the federal government or the individual states did because recognition of gay marriages would be immediate, nationwide and benefits couldn't be denied by anyone.

Again, I think that both Hollingsworth and Windsor will be decided as narrowly as the Court can manage. I don't expect the victories that other gay marriage supporters want or expect, but affirmative rulings in these two cases - even exceptionally narrow ones - make the next round of cases harder to defend against.

Furthermore, as these challenges continue making their way through the federal courts, more and more states are legalizing same-sex marriage; either through the state courts, the legislatures, and now at the ballot box. American popular opinion is also changing much more quickly than I ever thought it would. Three different polls from just last month show that a majority of Americans now supports same sex marriage, up from just 22% in March, 2004.

No matter what happens, there isn't going to a decades-long controversy, a la Roe v. Wade, that haunts America.

George Will said it best just this past weekend.

Who Wants to Marry a Porn Star?

I I was born like this. I had no choice. I'm a lifelong romantic. That was true even when I was in the crib. I just can't help it, and you shouldn't hate me for it.

Even as a toddler, the sight of a beautiful woman had a profound and undeniable affect on me. Whenever, say, my second grade teacher passed by desk, I'd take a peek at her bangin' little ass, ensconced as it was in her tight 70s slacks, and grip my crotch until my knuckles turned white, lest my Cry of Love escape my loins in the middle of a penmanship lesson. And that remains the case some 35 years later.

Some folks, feminists and she-males mostly, try to insist to me that there is some kind of a difference between love and lust. This is not unlike fables about alligators living in the sewer and awaiting the opportunity to lunge from the toilet and bite your junk off. It's an old wives tales, and not something that Serious People entertain.

Every great romantic knows that it's possible to like a member of the opposite sex a great deal, but it's self-evident that you cannot love them if the very sight of them doesn't compel you to punish your genitals into a swollen, distended and irreversibly distended mess of chafed skin and leaking bodily fluids. That's just how biology works, and who am I to question it? To quote the late Billy Preston, "That's the way God planned it, that's the way God wants it to be!"

From time to time, I'll research developments in the world of Modern Love and - I'm not going to lie to you - I'm often shocked at what I find (link NSFW.)

The latest Vivid Entertainment-XCritic.com "Sex Tracker" poll indicates that 61.4 percent of men would consider marrying a porn star and 85.8 percent said they would be happy to date one. The online survey of sexual preferences also revealed that 86.7 percent of respondents consider adult entertainment to be "a positive part of our culture."

Why was I shocked by this? I had no idea that so many men were such indecisive beta-male assholes, that's why! Saying that you would only "consider" marrying a porn star couldn't be a stronger indication that civilization is falling into a bottomless pit of wanton stupidity and faggotry. It shows how cosmically wrong we are becoming as the moorings of society disintegrate beneath our feet.

Ignore everything that social conservatives and religious types tell you. They believe all kinds of crazy shit that is utterly incompatible with living a Good Life. Those people wouldn't know Joy if it put on steel-toed boots and kicked them in the balls until they bled from their fucking eyes.

Those people embrace superstitious and silly notions about a better life after this one that tend to leave men angry, sexually stunted and inclined to blow one another in awkward public places.

Absent any evidence to the contrary, you should grab life by the goodies and rub them until it falls in an exhausted heap at your feet and lovingly calls you "Daddy." Because it's more likely than not that it all ends here. The only heaven that any of us are likely to know is between one another's thighs.

I know that my readership consists of thoroughly modern ladies and gentlemen. So if you ever find yourself asked whether you'd consider marrying a porn star, you know that the correct answer is "Consider it? I'd engage in a genocide to do it! Who has to go? Where's my machete and mustard gas?"

I marvel at ordinary women to the point that I fall in love with them at least 37 times a day. Some might think that shallow, but you and I know that they have no concept of what time it is, don't we? I don't want anything that follows to minimize the profound aching that they create in both my chest and my crotch.

But porn stars are just naturally superior people. I'm not convinced that they weren't created by an ancient scientist named Yakub from the Tribe of Shabazz to rule the world and subjugate lesser beings until Ezekiel's Wheel takes us all into space. I don't know if that's true, but I like to believe that it is.

As a general rule, porn stars are better looking than their civilian counterparts, definitely more flexible (as evidenced by the popularity of the piledriver in their fine films) and generally more given to adventure. They're an unstoppable force of nature, not even fearing the dreaded rectal prolapse in their quest to rule our hearts and minds.

Moreover, they face down adversity with a degree of courage not even found in the professional military. If you don't believe me, just ask the great Briana Banks.




I'm pretty sure that if you were subjected to an entire business day with Max Hardcore, you'd do a lot more than disappear for two months and change your name. That dude is wrong on so many levels that science is not yet capable of properly counting them. If you've never seen a Max Hardcore movie, don't. I did it so you don't have to. And it creeped me out, so I have no doubt that it'll leave you weeping in the fetal position.

But Briana persevered. Not just because she's a professional, my good friends. And not just because she's a hero. She struggled through it because she's the greatest hero of our age.

Miss Banks was pretty much perfect when she began her epic quest for Art and Romance, but she always knew that she could be better, so she had her (already more than nice) breasts enlarged twice. She's blessed with a supermodel's face and the self-declared "longest legs in the business." And I've seen her do things with her asshole that defy description. I'd just be cheating you if I tried describing them anyway. But one of them involves a bowling pin.

Even the sands of time won't stop her! At the professionally elderly age of 34, she's moved on to the MILF side of the business, where she continues to make my wonderous wang spit with a combination of adoration, wonderment and frustrated fury.

And if you think that her epic quest for adventure ends at the conclusion of her business day, you couldn't be more wrong.

AVN Hall of Famer and star of the films The Cougar Club 3, TSA: Your Ass Is in Our Hands, and Sodomania Slop Shots 9 & 10, among many others, Briana Banks, was recently arrested and charged with DUI at an L.A. McDonald's drive-thru. A witness contacted police after Banks hit another car at about 9 AM on Wednesday, alerting them that she looked to be under the influence of something. The police pulled her over at the McDonald's drive-thru and gave her a field sobriety test, which she failed leading to her arrest. Banks was then booked and shortly after released.

People who don't appreciate the finer things in life might try to tell you that 9 AM on a Wednesday morning is hardly the time to be under the influence, and that a McDonald's drive-thru isn't the place for it. Not only should you ignore them, you should crush their airway with a finishing hammer.

I've given this a lot of thought over the last three days, and I just can't think of a better time or place to be filled to the brim with pills, powders and amber liquids. And as you all know, I'm a pretty intelligent fellow. If there were a more appropriate way to approach a Wednesday morning at a McDonald's drive-thru, it surely would've occurred to me over the last 72 hours. However, I' ve done the math and science and there just isn't.

I've also considered what advice I would have offered to Briana, if given the opportunity. And the answer is none. By the looks of things, she handling things exactly the way that I would.

And to top it all off she even takes an adorable mugshot! Those aren't meant to be especially flattering photographs, but Briana couldn't be cuter in hers, even without proper lighting, full make-up, a gaffer and a Best Boy. If you need any more evidence that Briana Banks is just genetically better than you are, look no further than that booking photo. That's just good science, people!

Somewhere out in the Great Beyond, Yakub is proud of his good and great work. I can't prove it, but that doesn't stop me from knowing it all the same. I guess that makes me religious - although, in my own special way - after all.

Would I marry Briana Banks? I'll answer that question with a question.

Who has to go? And where is my machete and mustard gas?

Scientifically Proven: Porn Stars are Better Than You Are!

I believe in the power of science to resolve almost all of life's little controversies. It really is rather remarkable and tends to confirm things that I already believe, anyway. Like anyone else, I'm given to putting more weight to things that confirm my existing biases. And if you assert that you don't do that, you're probably proving that you do.

The only difference between me and most of humanity is that I generally don't believe crazy or unprovable things, hence my aversion to religion. If you ever wondered what made me so friggin' sexy, now you know. Of course, I also have enormous genitals and the tongue of an anteater, but I don't like talking about that very much. I'm pretty shy, when you get right down to it.

For the better part of my life, I've been arguing on behalf of porn stars. One instance of this stands out more than others.

I used to work with a really cute girl who had a cousin visiting from Italy. Not only was the cousin super-hot and had among the most bangin' bodies I've ever seen, she didn't speak a word of English! If you have a penis, or love someone that does, you know that's pretty hard to beat.

So I did what I usually do when confronted with such beauty; I talked about my love of porn for upwards of an hour. It wasn't as difficult as you would think, since my co-worker was translating.

The cousin disagreed with me when I said that not only were porn stars not damaged as humans, they were actually better than everybody else, and that as we evolve as a species, we'll probably be more like them, rather than less.

"They're sluts! Whores!" came the translation.

Of course, this wouldn't do. It wouldn't do at all.

"No," I replied as forcefully as I could without getting violent. "They are beautiful women! No, fuck that. They're angels - secular saints, even -  doing the work of the Lord! They're out there on a bed, doing the hard work of taking all that cock so you don't have to! Just as Jesus died for your sins, they fuck for mine and I won't tolerate this kind of superstitious blasphemy!"

For whatever reason, this wasn't translated and the rest of the evening was sort of awkward. But I still knew that I had made my point in way that everyone understood.

That was a decade ago, but as it usually does, science has again proven me right!

A new study has put to bed the perception that female porn stars have low self-esteem and are less psychologically healthy compared with other women.

The study, which was published in the Journal of Sex Research, said it found no evidence to support the "damaged goods hypothesis" that actresses involved in the porn industry come from desperate backgrounds. Rather, the researchers found the women have higher self-esteem, a better quality of life and body image, and are more positive, with greater levels of spirituality.

The study was conducted by researchers at Pennsylvania's Shippensburg University, Texas Woman’s University and the Adult Industry Medical Healthcare Foundation 

See? I fucking told you so!

It just stands to reason that if you're getting paid tons of money to be seen naked and fucking that you would "have higher self-esteem, a better quality of life and body image, and are more positive." I can't see how any rational person could argue to the contrary, but shitheads argue all many of silly things.

And "spirituality" is something that I think that science should steer as clear from as possible, but this isn't my study, now is it?

The way I see it, you judge how spiritual someone is by how demonstrative they are. By almost any measure, the most spiritual folks are southern black Baptists, who scream, sing and call out to both Jesus and God with little or no prompting. They also tend to have the coolest music, but that isn't really relevant here.

When do white Evangelicals cry out to Jesus? When the snake bites them, at which point, it's usually too late.

I've watched any number of the great and good Bree Olson's fine fuck films (before Charlie Sheen ruined it for the rest of us) and found that she cried out to God and Jesus with some frequency and forcefulness. Now it might be that having your rectum impaled with a huge honker does that, but it's equally possible that the Artist Formerly Known as Rachel Marie Oberlin is just closer to Him than the rest of us.

Having said that, I know that a giant wang will make a girl cry out to her Deity but, as I said before, I'm sorta shy.

But what about the negative stereotypes of the women that that smoking hot Italian girl dismissively referred to as "sluts" and "whores" a decade ago? Aren't they impoverished junkies with "Daddy complexes" and famous penchant for self-destruction?

Not really, as it happens.

"Some descriptions of actresses in pornography have included attributes such as drug addiction, homelessness, poverty, desperation and being victims of sexual abuse," the report said. "Some have made extreme assertions, such as claiming that all women in pornography were sexually abused as children.

"Stereotypes of those involved in adult entertainment have been used to support or condemn the industry and to justify political views on pornography, although the actual characteristics of actresses are unknown because no study on this group of women has been conducted."

Long story short, we don't know if the shit-talking of these Golden Creatures is true because nobody has ever bothered to study it in a meaningful way. Is it true in some cases? Almost certainly. The anecdotal evidence bears that out.

What we don't know is whether it's just as true of any other sample of professional females. For all anyone knows, women in accounting or architecture could be equally (or more) likely to have been sexually victimized or prone to substance abuse.

The fact of the matter is that we just don't know. Absent demonstrable harm, it is the duty of every good capitalist to support and sustain the power of the market. And I'm nothing if not a good capitalist.

Not only is that good economics, it's just good science, people!

In Further Praise of Rihanna

I had an interesting argument with a friend of mine of Facebook the other day. I've known this woman for nearly thirty years and I've learned a lot from her.

During the 1988 presidential campaign, Michael Dukakis was some 17 points ahead of Vice President Bush. Then, as now, Bush was personal hero of mine and I was growing worried. My friend consoled me with what remains the most prescient political analysis I've ever heard.

"Don't worry," she said. "Bush will win."

I was more than a little mystified by this. No one had come back from a 17-point deficit in my lifetime at that point. I wanted her to be right. Shit, I needed her to be right. But I needed to know why she thought  the way she did.

"Really, " asked I. "Why do think so? I mean, the polls are bad ..."

"Don't worry," she interrupted. "Dukakis is married to a Jew. And her name is Kitty."

Uh oh, I thought. We're going down a road that can get ugly quick. Thankfully, my friend is Jewish and these were her thoughts, not mine. The last thing I needed in high school was being branded an anti-Semite. I was having a hard enough time getting laid back then.

I decided to let her finish.

"Kitty is a terrible name for a Jew," she continued. "The American people will never put a Jew named Kitty in the White House."

And you know what? She was right! At least I thought she was until Joe Lieberman ran for president. Say what you will about the man's politics and policies, but Hadassah Lieberman is maybe the most amazingly Jewish name imaginable. Just try to top that, I dare you!

Needless to say, I've put a lot of stock in her opinions ever since. She sees the blind spots that people like me all too often miss.

Anyhow, she (and no, I'm not going to use her name because she isn't a blogger and likely doesn't want to be associated with psychotic drivel like this) opined on Rihanna this past Sunday. I'm guessing because she was on Saturday Night Live the night before.

The conversation went as follows;

Am I the only one that doesn't see the appeal of Rhianna?

As you might imagine, there was no way I could let that stand. I'm not just a heterosexual male, I'm a champion of my gender and orientation. Maybe, at the risk of sounding immodest, the greatest champion of all. After all, I have a blog.

And there is literally no end to Rihanna's appeal. She's physically perfect in ways that only people who believe in childish notions, like the existence of a loving god, can truly understand. I don't believe in god, and certainly not a loving one, but I can't escape the cold reality that Rihanna was put here by a Higher Power to torture me through my awesome loins. I also feel the same way about Kerry Washington and Rosario Dawson.

Anyone who's seen her naked (link NSFW) knows that. That's just good science, people! Look at her, with the nipple rings and the total absence of public hair! And looka that ass! (also NSFW)

I had to disabuse my friend of this nonsense once and for all. As you might expect, I wasted no time in doing so. I'm not the greatest champion of heterosexual men for nothing, you know!

You're wrong. She's the hottest thing on earth and an outstanding excuse for ridding the world of Chris Brown!

There's probably no higher calling for mankind than ending the physical existence of Chris Brown. Moreover, it's an achievable mission in way that, say, ending the Iranian nuclear program isn't. While we'll likely be forced to live with atomic mullahs (which, by the way, is going to be my next band's name,) Brown can be dispatched to the hereafter with very little effort. One drone attack should do it.

Look, I'm not going to say that Rihanna was right to get all pissy about Chris' booty calls. That's just contrary to way nature works. Until we get beyond our childish and wrong polygamy laws, there are always going to be things that a man simply has to do, and nine out of every ten of those things are going to be strange pussy. We're biologically programmed that way, and the only way to stop us to ensure that we're always exhausted!

Having said that, there is no justification to beating the crap out of a girl who looks like that. I'm amazed that the judge in People v. Brown could look at Rihanna on the witness stand, then look at the police photos of what was done to her and still sentence him to community service. At a bare minimum, crucifixion should've been on the table. Were I on the bench, he would've been eaten alive by fucking lions.


My friend of several decades still persisted in continuing the argument, even though aesthetics, common sense, justice and science itself were working against her.

Yes she's pretty. Yes, she's kind of sexy (in a no boobs kind of way). But her music SUCKS.

Once again, I couldn't leave the topic alone. I'm not considered the Clarence Darrow of poontang for nothing. And for the sake of my argument, we'll forget that Darrow actually lost the Scopes Monkey Trial.

She sings? All I know is that I'd give anything to hold her like a bowling ball. And, although smallish, her knockers are beautifully shaped and will age extraordinarily. I'm a long-view breed of cat, I guess.

I was maybe too crude by half in presenting my case. I can only say that it was fairly early on a Sunday when this ugliness was brought to my door.

Of course no woman should be compared to a bowling ball. Only the worst losers (and probably serial killers) bowl. I should've said that I would do anything to be the Edgar Bergen to Rihanna's Charlie McCarthy, which implies something of a partnership. But, as my spiritual mentor, the great Dr. Reverend keeps asking, what would I make her say?

That my friends, is for me to know and you to find out, ideally from the purchase of the sex tape!

I should also point out that I was being a cutie-pie when I said that I didn't know Rihanna sings. Of course I do. As a matter of fact, I try to get every woman who meets my acquaintance to not just listen to "S&M" but to live its message. You probably haven't lived until you do.



I've written about this before, but that song is truly prophetic and has an important message for women of all ages that shouldn't be ignored!

"Being submissive in the bedroom is really fun," she says. "You get to be a little lady, to have somebody be macho and in charge of your shit. That's fun to me...I like to be spanked. Being tied up is fun. I like to keep it spontaneous. Sometimes whips and chains can be overly planned – you gotta stop, get the whip from the drawer downstairs. I'd rather have him use his hands."

Don't just take it from me, ladies. Rihanna has sold 85 million records; more than R.E.M, Van Helen, The Doors, Beyonce and Nirvana. So what she says has to be important, especially when what she's saying is that you need to be tied down and taken, ideally anally. That's just the numbers talking, but I'm not so arrogant as to disagree. Capitalism is never wrong, folks. Anyone who reads this blog regularly knows that.

If I were the only one who felt this way about Rihanna, I'd keep my mouth shut. But I'm not. Even homosexualist instructional manuals like GQ and Esquire have been forced to admit this cosmic truth, naming her the Greatest Woman of Our Time! Given their druthers, they'd probably name the Green Lantern guy that, but the Truth was just too strong.

Rihanna isn't just an important woman, she might be the most important woman of our time!

"Rock, Rock Me, Dave Petraeus!"

Look, pretty much everybody loves strange poontang. I guess that isn't taught in journalism school, but it's hardly news.

But if you've done half as much with the last decade as General David Petraeus (U.S Army, Retired) has done, you should get all the strange poontang your heart desires. If there's one single thing you need to know about me, it's that I'm all about positive reinforcement.

Throughout his military career, Petraeus was the go-to guy when everything goes to shit. If policy objectives were unobtainable, the general could at least make it look as though he won. We saw that in both Iraq and Afghanistan, where he saved the Bush and Obama administrations endless foreign policy embarrassment, if only at home. Most foreign observers knew that both wars were hopeless by the time Petraeus was brought in to command them.

Petraeus was the architect of the surge in Iraq, which, if you remember its original policy objective, was a failure. The surge was supposed to have created a security situation that would allow the political reconciliation between Iraq's warring ethnic factions that was necessary to facilitate a transition to full democracy. As you might have noticed by now, political reconciliation never happened and democracy in Iraq is more or less in a state of suspended animation.

On the other hand, the surge did do something even more important. It created a "decent interval" for the United States to get the fuck out of there. American servicemen stopped being killed at a monstrous clip, which allowed the departing Bush administration to negotiate a deeply flawed Status of Forces Agreement. Better still, that agreement could later be used by Republicans to blame the Obama administration for "losing Iraq."

Essentially, the same thing happened in Afghanistan, which had started collapsing back into chaos as far back as 2005, but everyone was so preoccupied with the ongoing debacle in Iraq that it wasn't noticed. It wasn't until 2010, after the Stanley McChrystal-Rolling Stone clusterfuck, that Petraeus was brought in to save the day.

Pertaeus, like McChrystal, is a counterinsurgency guy. Given the size and population density of Afghanistan, classical counterinsurgency doctrine demands that the United States and its allies would need something along the lines of 300,000 troops to succeed there. That would have been a political non-starter in Washington even before the mess in Iraq. And by the time Obama took office, American public opinion had drifted sharply against the war that Bush ignored for six years.

In 2009-'10, Obama "surged" troops into Afghanistan to about 120,000, or roughly the same level that the Soviet Union had there in the 1980s. It would never be enough to win, especially against the Afghans, who love nothing better than war, but it was enough to create the appearance of a security situation that would allow withdrawal.

I should note that none of this is Petraeus' fault. He was brought into both Iraq and Afghanistan well after both wars were essentially lost by President Bush and Donald Rumsfeld. Given what he had to work with, Petraeus was never going to be able to do more than address appearances. But he did that outstandingly well.

Along the way, he became something of a Dwight Eisenhower-Colin Powell-type figure in the eyes of the American people. I would suggest that he's even more impressive, since Ike and Colin were at least given winning wars to fight, a luxury not afforded to Petraeus.

Soon there was talk of General Petraeus running for president, which I myself encouraged. He was certainly more impressive than almost anyone else running in this past cycle. In my opinion, I think he could have been a revolutionary president in the way Eisenhower was, but elective politics wasn't in Petraeus' blood, which I still think is too bad for the country.

Instead, he went to the CIA, where he was an ideal director because you never saw him on television. I've been paying attention to such things for a long time, and I can't remember the last DCI (and yes, I know that the position is now D/CIA) who didn't live on TV. The talk of Petraeus as a shameless self-promoter seemed to end the day he went to Langley.

Which is where we get to the poontang part of the story.

Let me start by saying that I haven't read Paula Broadwell's biography of Petraeus, the retrospectively hilarious titled All In yet. I plan on starting it today. But even here, the general was a strategic genius. If you want a fawning book written about you, I can think of no better way of ensuring that than to give your biographer a good, deep dicking. One can only wonder how much different history would be if Nixon tried it.

Of course, Petraeus had to resign. As sad as this whole stupid mess is, he had no other practical choice. But the narrative is retarded and misleading.

The great Stephen Kinzer - whose books All The Shah's Men: An American Coup and the Roots of Middle East Terror and Overthrow: America's Century of Regime Change From Hawaii to Iraq you really should read because they're awesome - wrote an interesting op-ed in yesterday's New York Times about former CIA director Allen Dulles.

As it happens, Dulles was boning everybody, including during his tenure as DCI. While David Petraeus had one (or maybe two) affairs, Dulles - according to his sister - had "at least a hundred." Among his conquests was the friggin' Queen of Greece!

And while we're on the topic, if Petraeus' appreciation of strange pussy compromises national security to the point that it demands resignation, why wasn't Bill Clinton's?

In his 2000 memoir, Midnight Diaries, former Russian president Boris Yeltsin wrote that he knew about Monica Lewinsky's cocksucking frenzy with Clinton before the American people did, and actually warned him about it! If that doesn't compromise national security, then Barack Obama can start selling America's nuclear launch codes to Bangledesh without fear.

This story wouldn't be complete without Republican new media types - who spent five years giving David Petraeus an even more thorough (to say nothing of public) ball-washing than Paula Broadwell ever did - inserting themselves into it. They're indignant that Petraeus won't testify before Congress this week about Benghazi, because of course he's the only person at CIA who has even heard of it. Assholes.

But there's one important fact that I think everyone is overlooking in this tawdry tale. Paula Broadwell is pretty fucking hot, especially for a 40-year-old Army chick. I'd most assuredly hit it, and I think that's really the most important thing to remember here.

Why the Internet is Important: A NSFW Exploration of Us and our Times

For nearly two decades we've all been told that the Internet is one of the most important advances in human history, but nobody has ever really come out and said why. Usually, you'll get some insipid trope about how instant, world-wide communication has the potential to broaden our intelligence more than anything before it.

Well, look around. Do people look any smarter to you than they did in a bygone era when books and newspapers were popular? Indeed, I would argue that most people are immeasurably dumber than they were just twenty years ago, despite having instant access to virtual encyclopedias of knowledge and endless other intellectual resources. The lowliest janitor can now converse with the greatest professors of our age, but those professors are actually more anonymous than they were thirty years ago.

As a means of bettering ourselves and our intellects, the Internet has failed spectacularly and indisputably.

No, there are reasons to love Al Gore's greatest invention above and beyond its wildly overrated ability to enhance the mind. And I'm not just talking about the unlimited porn out there, either, although I can't stress the importance of that enough. Nothing has broadened the horizons of  lovemaking quite like the Internet.

In the end, the single greatest function of of the World Wibe Web is that it serves as a permanent living monument of our time. Remember that cell phone video you took of yourself getting your clit pierced in college? There's every reason to believe that people will be able to see it hundreds of years from now, allowing them to get a glimpse of how we lived as a species.

Imagine if you could see and hear, for example, Genghis Khan or Jesus Christ at work. Imagine if we could see Lincoln issue the Emancipation Proclamation without relying on Spielberg to re-create it for us.  Imagine the insight we'd have into our own civilization today!

Well, we're creating a record of ourselves for future historians to study for all time. Sure, most of it consists of us drunkenly drawing cocks on each other's unconscious faces, but that's better than nothing, right? There will be no doubt about the way we lived.

Hundreds - maybe thousands of years from now - our descendants will be able to see this ....



(NSFW warning: Extreme language and disturbing content alert! If you fucking daredevils choose to watch this without headphones from the office, don't come crying to me when you get shitcanned directly into Hell. I couldn't be more serious about this.)

Could anything be more important than that? I would suggest not, and I'm an internationally famous student of history. Those three minutes and seven seconds will tell future scholars everything they need to know about life at the dawn of the 21st century. They'll learn about economic disparity, health care and contemporary human sexuality, but that's not all. They'll learn the exact moment that we understood as a species  that public hair is evil and better done away with. They'll learn that white-trash women fucked themselves with home pregnancy tests, which is a fact that somehow eluded even me!

But there's still more. This might be the single most compelling dissertation on love and loss that I've ever seen. If history books are delinquent in anything, it's that you never get a proper understanding of the personal passions of a particular age. How common people were truly feeling, the heartbreak they suffered and the hope they held on to. Well, no longer is that left to the imagination.

Those that survive us in the great experiment of life will have immediate access to the documentation of our lives that we leave behind. All of it will be at their fingertips. And I can't help but believe that this video will be the most prized find of all.

So much of what we put out there is little more than a cultural Potemkin village of our highest aspirations rather than a true reflection of what we are. We pretend that we're symphonies, the Bolshoi and the Guggenheim. But we're not. Not really. We're not even Kim Kardashian.

No, this video is the most accurate representation of who we really are at this moment in time. Culturally, politically and spiritually; we're crab-infested grandmas, mourning the loss of our pestilent little friends to the point of our own ultimate self-destruction. We love the discomfort and shame our condition causes us, but we miss it with all of our despondent little hearts when it's gone.

All that we are, all that we can ever hope to be, is written in that video file, just as the word "crab" was written in the sand.

It is the Yad Vashem is American life. And it will never be forgotten!


Editor's Note: I couldn't be more grateful to my personal hero, Drunken Stepfather (also deeply NSFW) for this great and most excellent gift to the ages. I couldn't be more confident that Drunken Stepfather will someday be seen as the unsung hero of our age. For this and everything else he's contributed, I thank him.

Why Capitalism is Best of All

There's no end to the people who bitch about capitalism. Sure, they're leftie academic assholes mostly, but not exclusively. Hipster jerkoffs and associated fuckheads have also gotten into the game.

It's stunning how little these people know about history, even including the history of their own political movements. Generation Xers and everyone younger should look at their parents, the godawful fucking Boomers, who remain history's greatest monsters.

If you look at your parents and aunts and uncles, there's a better than even chance that at least half of them were hippies. These days? None of them are. In fact, around 1973, they busied themselves going to graduate school, becoming investment bankers, buy homes with two car garages and shitting out little cocksuckers like you. And not only is that what your family did, so did Jerry Rubin.

The fact is capitalism won. The Stalinist Chinese and Godless Vietnamese are hyper-capitalist, while North America and Europe have essentially returned to the Gilded Age. Not only has capitalism triumphed, it managed to defeat a century's worth of constraints on it through globalization and deregulation.

It's even better than that. Capitalism's victory is so overwhelming that it has relieved pretty much everyone of the need to know anything at all about economics. That's true of both the political left and right.

Republicans and Tea Partiers, along with their misfit cadres on the Internet and in the media will tell you that "Marxism is on the march!"

Really? Where? All statements like that tell me is that no one knows what Marxism actually is anymore. I haven't heard anyone anywhere advocating that the workers take control of the means of production in at least a generation. And you know what? Neither have you. Fidel Castro and whichever Kim is currently run North Korea know that to be nonsense. The only people who believe that are Glenn Beck, a few McCarthyite Revolutionary War reenactors deep in the asshole of South Carolina, idiot bloggers and a GOP that has managed to somehow embrace both cynicism and ignorance.

There's nothing funnier to me than an assload of hillbillies cheering some scumbag lobbyist who declares that "Government sucks! And here to prove it are Representative Michele Bachmann, Senator Jim DiMint and Governor Sarah Palin!"

Not only is Barack Obama to the right of all but a very few elected officeholders in the democratic world, he's largely to the right of the GOP of the Reagan era.

The left is just as bad, if not actually worse. Democratic socialism has largely turned out to be neither and the leaders of liberal political parties; such as (but not limited to) Bill Clinton, Barack Obama, Tony Blair, Gordon Brown, Jean Chretien, Paul Martin and Michael Ignatieff have repudiated everything their followers used to believe in while their followers celebrated them for winning because of it.

Here's a neat fact. Both the individual health care mandate and cap and trade were revolutionary Republican ideas in the early 1990s that the left came to embrace as the right drifted off into a fantasy world of counter intuitive economic nonsense, religious superstition, foreign adventurism that is alien to historical conservatism and rape-based politics.

In modern electoral politics, there really isn't a left anymore. In large part that's why Tea Party shitheads keep waving the bloody shirt of Saul Alinsky, ... who died in 1972. Were it not for the fact that he would have made Earl Butz so uncomfortable, Barack Obama would have fit in Gerald Ford's Cabinet.

You know what the left has got? Occupy Wall Street: a leaderless and idealess motley crew of unwashed assholes who are against something, but aren't quite sure what. And until they figure it out, they'll shit on a police car. The only people who think Occupy Wall Street is worth anything are idiot celebrities and washed-out, cynical political hacks who govern to the right, but need to sell badly written books from time to time.

If these unwashed fuckheads think that they're going to change a corrupt and oligarchical banking construct by laying around a fucking park until the cops club then about the head and shoulders, all the corrupt and oligarchical banking system need do is wait until those retards choke on their own fucking tongues, which is inevitable!

Occupy is the political version of a 35 year old broad who thinks she's a witch and can only cum by cutting herself. And no reasonable person is ever going to buy into that fucking nonsense. Comparing Occupy to the Tea Party is little more than a demonstration of how stupid some people are. The Teapers are organized and, no matter how retarded their message is, at least they have one. And it took a lot of money to get that many people to dress that oddly in one place at one time.

Even the most perverted version of capitalism is going to snap the necks of those worthless fucks, each and every time.

You know why? Capitalism has something that Occupy is never going to have. Kate Upton's tits.

If there's one thing I've learned from life, it's that cute blonde girls with their huge jugs hanging out always win! And I'm far more partial to brunettes. But facts is facts!


The pictures in this post are from Miss Upton's advertising campaign for Skullcandy headphones. The only thing I've ever heard about the product is that is that it's a worthess piece of plastic shit. But I'm willing to buy three of them on the off chance that one of her fantastic udders falls out during the next commercial. Six, if we find out if she's completely shaved like all the best women are.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter how much pain and suffering that subprime mortgages and an utterly deregulated derivatives market has demonstrably caused. If you attach a cute young blonde with giant, exposed milkbags to either, nine out of ten Americans will jump on the bandwagon all over again.

Don't believe me? Go to an Occupy encampment next spring and count the Skullcandy headphones.




Pictures and video lovingly stolen from Popoholic