Posts Tagged ‘Sex’

The Worst Online Dating Ad In The History of Dating

Posted: January 31, 2013 by kaostheory in Rants
Tags: , , ,

While we have covered the nightmarish morass known as online dating before, it appears that many have not understood the depths of insanity that it can provide. It seems that some of you do not truly grasp how depraved, soulless, and Lovecraftian it can be. Thus, we have resolved ourselves to creating out of the swirling blackness an example so dark, so evil, so terrifying…that it can only serve to illuminate the horror that is online dating. A word of warning, if we may. This projection is (God willing) not real, but it shall be constructed so that it appears as such. If you are offended by such a frank portrayal of madness, be warned. If you are offended by many of the stereotypes presented therein…go fuck yourself with a splintery Louisville Slugger. Thank you. We begin anon.
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xxxSeXXXiiBaBiii6969xxx

(insert picture of the most grotesque figure of ostensible womanhood your fevered mind can dredge up)

Yo., my name iZ jANNAlynne an i m 24 yrs yung and herrs a lil bout me, tha sexxxist bitch on tha whole dam block!!!!!!

i m righit now livin wit my ma and gma bcuz my exhusband is an ASSHOLE WHO CANT HANDLE A WOMMAN!!!

im goin thru a divroce right now bcuz my ASSHOLE ex beat me up alot and tried to kill me in June
he lockd me in a fridgerator and set it on fire but i made it thru with Gods grace and a halffull jar of mayo!!!

i got 4 kids who r my everything, they r my whole life n my world and you had better handle it
theyre names r Caidyn whose 7, Lexxxuss whose 5, T’Qua’Sia whose 4, an Joseph whos my pride n joy and is 2
funny story! Joseph won stop breastfeedin! he keeps pullin on ma tittles and tryin to get other girls titties too even tho i tell him that hes a bad boy for doing it but i cant stay mad athim becuase he is my pride an joy!!!!

fair warninr ! i m an pre op transexual so if u cant handle that, fuk right off!!! i havent felt lik a womman since i wuz a lil gurl so now that i got $$$$ comin in fromy my ASSSSSSHOLE ex for child support (only 2 are his LOL!!!) i kan finally be who i need 2 be!!!

im also tryin to lose 100 pounds bcuz i feel lik im 2 fat rite now an that the doctors tol me i hafta lose 100 pds bcuz they need ta oprate on me LOL!!!!

i m working on GED 2 bcuz i need 2 b educate 4 mi kids! kant let them grow up wit theyre mommy bein a MCD’s frier all theyre lives LOL LOL!!!
bcuz of that i also hat bad grammer n misspelld words bug me alot 2! u kan lern 2 typ rite if u tri!

4 stuff i lik 2 red, well i don lik 2 red it iz a waist of mi time! but the onlee things i DO read and luv SOOOOO much r Twilight an 50 Shads of Gray!!! edward an Christan are SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO hot!!! y cant more men b lik them?! m i rite girls?!!!!???!?!? lol

i luuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuvvvvv Jersey Shore n Real Housewives tho! i luv seein the girls be so bad bitchez bcuz i m a bad bitch an can totally feel that!!!

wen will i find mi prince charming? i think bout dat all da time an how i kan find luve 4 him an how much i ned a daddy 4 mi kidz

i m a heavy smoker n i don care bout quittin it calms mi hert down and makes me feel guuuuuuuuuuud! LOL!!! alsao i m a pot smoker so if u dont lik dat den u r not tha man 4 me!!!

i love sex an luv doin sex wit guyz but i m not here 4 sex so dont message me if you want sex – thats disgusting

i m lookin for a man to do things my way. i m too indepdendent an opininated 2 jus go wit da flow so boyz u betta b ready 4 me LOL!!!!

i m a bad bitch so watch out wen u make me angry, i hold a grudge and kan yell alot so if u make me mad u better bring flowers LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!

country gurl and muddin’ r sum words dat describ me – i luv bein in da cuntry an gettin dirty (if u no wut i mean ;););););))

first thing people noticed bout me is my hair extensions bcuz they r so pretty an look so real! den dey move 2 my beautiful ass and titties bcuz dey r beautiful! LOL! i m gnna miss my titties an all da free drinks!!! LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!

as far as religion goes, i m a atheist polytheist anarchocommunist Muslim i dont expect u 2 understand but u betta b respecful since its what i blieve!!!

ive been a freerange organic vegan for 4 years and my man better share that belief bcuz im raisin mi kids dat way 2 and i don want any meet in da house EVA!

i dont know why im here bcuz all men are ASSSSSSSSHOLES! an dey only wan 1 thing and that is sex and den they leav an u neva see them again

i like sniffing things to see if they smell like other things i kno its gross LOL!
i also lik 2 b bitten durin sex bcuz it makes me feel lik EDWARD is there wit me!!!

READ THIS SO U UNDERSTAN WHAT U R DEALIN WIT!!!!! IF U DON HAVE A JOB DAT PAYS BIIIIIIIIIGGGGGG $$$$$$$$$$$ AN U DONT LOOK FINE AS ALL HELL AND U GOT KIDS, STAY THA FUCK AWAY!!!! I AINT WANTIN TO PLAY WITH YOUR BROKE ASS!!!!

i hop u saw somethin u liked! hit me up an may-b u r mi next husband! 😉 😉 😉
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That…I think my brain is actually bleeding. I feel moisture in my ears. There is a throbbing dead spot behind my eyes.

(You’ll get no arguments here. That was an abomination, you fucking animal. – ed.)

I’m going to go…do something else now. Something that doesn’t make me want to set fire to the rain and watch the whole world go up in a billowing flame heap.

Adult Solutions to Board Games

Posted: December 31, 2012 by kaostheory in Advice
Tags: , , , , ,

First off, Merry Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa/Eid/non-denominational holiday/atheistic irritation day to all our readers. We appreciate your support, especially in light of our not writing for shit this year. Hopefully next year will be more funny and less, you know, angsty/drinky/depression and anxiety…y. Anyways, since 2012 is almost over, for good or for ill, we figured we’d give you one last hurrah before the new year dawns in the middle of the night. Now, parties are always fun, but you may get stuck playing board games. That’s okay, though. We’re going to offer you some adult alternatives to classic board games so that you can spice up the mood of the room. As always, all of these games can be improved by drinking but that just goes without saying.
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Monopoly: Collaborate in secret with the other players to perform a daring heist of the bank. At a given time, jump the banker and tie him or her up with rope and duct tape. Clean out the vault and spend an agonizingly long time deciding whether or not to kill the banker since they have seen your faces. Be serious and talk to the point where they don’t think that you are joking anymore. End up in a Mexican standoff and then say “fuck it” and go grab a couple Coronas. Start a new game.

Clue: Treat the game like an actual murder has taken place. Dust for prints, seal off the area, interview witnesses. Have one player come in as CSI to search for DNA evidence and have another player act as CIA and take over jurisdiction, angering all the other blue-collar players who want this case to make their careers. Go behind the CIAs back to find a critical piece of evidence (e.g. the candlestick) still dripping with the victim’s blood. Turn on each other as you realize that the killer is one of you. Trust is broken forever.

Risk: Build alliances covertly with every player and then implement nuclear warfare through Kamchatka. Nuke the fuck out of Africa and go middle fingers all over. Strategy be damned. Turn the world into a parking lot. Glass the fuckers. Risk always ends in fistfights anyways. Why not make them deserved?

Candy Land: Rename the various characters into wars. Queen Frostine is Grenada – quick and easy to get out of. King Kandy is WW2 – if you reach that point, you’re one of the baddest people in the game. Gramma Nutt is Iraq – it’ll take a while to get out but you can make progress towards it. And that motherfucker Plumpy is Vietnam – easy to get caught up in, impossible to get out of, and when it happens, it just ends up with Jane Fonda pissing on your face. Wait, I’m not sure I did that last one right.

LIFE: It’s a deadly serious game. The inevitable slog towards the grave lined with the stones of mounting debt, alcoholism, adultery, children, divorce, dating, depression, and suicide. The game of Life indeed. Nobody makes it out alive. If you really want to go dark, go with Russian Roulette as the spinner. Drive your fancy car to work, players. Your wife is now a lesbian.

Connect 4: You make four yellow or red coin-things in a row. You can’t adult it up. Oh! Okay. You put your penis through the hole and await the falling of the pain rings.

Operation: Create a fun little ambiance to it. Dim the lights, put on the sound of loud beeping. Monitor the patient’s condition. Have alarms going off and nurses/other players screaming. You’re not performing a real operation just trying to pull out some stupid plastic bone or whatever. You’re performing a real operation when touching the sides gets you sprayed in the face with pig’s blood. Don’t ask me where you can find pig’s blood. That’s your job.

Sorry: Real men don’t apologize. You knock someone back a few spaces, you give them the finger and tell them to suck a cock, asshole. Play to win. Ain’t nobody wanting you to be British or Canadian polite, move them back, and buy them a drink. What are you, some kind of blustery axe wound? Motherfuckers go down. Throw their piece at the wall. You are King Dick. Act like it.

Chutes and Ladders: I…don’t know how to make this one adult. Something about the ladder and chutes being sex? Shut up. I’m drunk.

Yahtzee: Treat it like a real game. Place bets. Get into fights. If you roll two ones, curse the skies about getting snake eyes. Go way over the top with competitiveness. Break a bottle and use it to menace a five-year old. You don’t care. You’re playing Yahtzee. All bets are off.

Battleship: Shots on shots on shots. Military strategy. Mourning those brave seamen (*snrk*) that gave their lives. 21-gun salutes. Frightened neighbors. Arrests. Trials. Tears. PTSD.

Mousetrap: Use actual mice. Just capture some and paint them primary colors. That can’t possibly traumatize little children. And hey, even if it does, you can chalk it up to a learning experience. Win win!

Twister: If you haven’t already tried to use this while drunk for some cheap sex, you are a fucking failure.

Perfection You’re an Asian child and you’re in high school. Instead of putting pieces into holes in rapid succession, you are fighting tooth and nail with other teens for valedictorian. You succeed but get to college and suck off the entire Phi Beta Chi fraternity while on a copious amount of cocaine. Perfection.

Don’t Wake Daddy: Have sex while playing. That adds an extra element of danger to the whole thing and the anticipation factor will keep you going to the point where when Daddy wakes up…well, you know. I’m talking about orgasm. For both of you, ideally. Don’t be selfish.

Trouble: Shoot a cop before playing this. That will add a darker tone to this as well as an added edge of danger. Plus you’re “GET TIN’ INTO TROUBLE!”, you dicks.

Hungry Hungry Hippos: Taunt those who lose for being anorexic. Tease them into tearful acceptance of any kind of offering of sex. No better way to enter the new year than to be inside a girl with low self-esteem! Da DA da da da DA.

Guess Who: Turn off all the lights and get naked. Instead of picking which one has a beard or which one has glasses, go by who you can feel. Does this person have pierced nipples? Does this person have a rigid cock? Does this person have scars all over their sexy torso? Guess with yo’ mouth!

Crossfire: I won’t offer a suggestion here because it’ll sound more racist than it should. Uh oh, Spaghetti-Os.
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(You’re a sociopath, huh? – ed)

Drink drink drink! Happy New Year, bitches!


We’re doing the penis name thing again. This one always seems to get some nice traffic and anything original is damn sure not in the pipeline quite yet. Blame grad school, heavy drinking, sexual frustration, and working on an actual for-publication book. Yay for being twenty-six!
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If you engage in non-consensual sex and/or if no woman will touch you, name it Dr. No. This one is basically a gimmie here. Plus it’s a good warning for anyone. It’d be like calling your dick The Hungerer or 23-Skidoo. It’s basically like painting it bright red and giving it an alarm system.

If you prefer to cyber/text/email/Skype/letter/horsedrawn carriage in a long-distance sexfest, name it From Russia with Love. Also be prepared to have anything and everything you send used against you if you want to go into a political career. Hope you like your cock on the New York Post front page!

If you like to diddle rich cougars in the back of their Escalades, name it Goldfinger. If you’re good, she may even give you an Oddjob in return. No, I don’t know what that is, but no, I’m not proud of that joke either.

If you insist on only having sex in the middle of a lightning storm (inside or out, doesn’t matter), name it Thunderball. This may also apply if you bangarang the chick so hard that you’re making loud clapping noises, like some BBW kind of porno.

If you fire away and then come back for a second round (but only a second round), name it You Only Live Twice. There…wasn’t a whole lot of funny ore to be mind out of this one. I have the sinking feeling that that may apply for a lot of these. Stupid!

If you are banging Kate Middleton on the side, first off let me congratulate your spectacular assholery but also, name it On Her Majesty’s Secret Service. Seriously, though. If you are doing that, you are a champion.

If you are fucking one of multiple different porn stars that use precious stones as either a first or last stage name, name it Diamonds Are Forever. Also, get yourself checked out. That syphilis scare ain’t no joke.

If at any point you have had sex to the musical stylings of Paul McCartney, name it Live and Let Die. This could also apply if you were having sex on the edge of a cliff and, at the point of climax, your partner pulled off and rolled off the edge into oblivion but she was still hanging on by the tips of her fingers but you orgasmed and let her drop to her death. Maybe not in that order. That’s an oddly specific kink though.

If you have ever roleplayed as Christopher Lee, complete with extremely uncomfortable spousal abuse, name it The Man with the Golden Gun. Also, if you’ve ever involved a midget in your sexplay. That works too.

If you…I don’t know. Wait! If you’ve done the dirty with Anna Chapman, name it The Spy Who Loved Me. Saved by a hot redhead! First time I’ve ever said that…or written it.

If you’re super into spanking, name it Moonraker. Get it? It’s a vocabulary joke. It also applies if you put it in her dumper.

If you are involved with a chick who is really, really against the idea of any sort of sexual exhibitionism, name it For Your Eyes Only. You should also consider discussing your relationship and what sort of sexual experimentation you both would be comfortable with in order to strengthen your lives.

If you…you know what? No. This is too freaking obvious. You make your own joke for this one when you name it Octopussy.

If you get off watching snuff films, you sick fuck, name it A View to a Kill. This also counts if you produce what is widely considered to be the worst sex possible within the context of movies. Also if you’re Christopher Walken, in which case, welcome to the site, Mr. Walken! I love your work.

If you wreck a girl so hard that she’s dazed and confused and not really sure where she’s at, first off, congrats, and second off, name it The Living Daylights. You might also want to check her for bruising or tearing or maybe even a concussion. That’s probably not healthy.

If you…are James Bond? I guess? Name it Licence to Kill. This one also makes it impossible to create a filthy ambiguity to it. Thanks a whole lot, MGM or whatever. Oh! If you’re a two-shot Scott (or Timothy, I guess) and can only do it twice with a chick before you pass her off to another, more handsome, and younger dude. Also name it that then.

If you’re into peeing on a girl’s face (also sick fuck), then you pretty much have to name it GoldenEye. Gross. More like “pinkeye in a day or two”. Maximum. You probably won’t be able to look at her in the eye for a while either. That’s a dark step.

If you fantasize about Teri Hatcher and then about Teri Hatcher being dead, name it Tomorrow Never Dies . Also if newspapers turn you on for some reason. I’m not sure what kind of philia that is and I’m not sure I want to know.

If you’re down for a little erotic asphyxiation, name it The World Is Not Enough. This only makes sense if you’ve seen the movie and if you have, you’ll find this apropos. It also applies if you’ve rubbed one out to Denise Richards, but let’s be honest, that covers like 3/4 of all mankind – past and present.

If you prefer to engage in delayed orgasm techniques, name it Die Another Day. See, because orgasm in French is “le petit mort” or “the Little Death” so if you ‘die’ another day, you’re cumming…later. You know what, I just murdered this joke. Moving on.

If you like being tied to a chair and having your nuts pounded with a length of knotted rope, you’re probably sterile by now. Also, name it Casino Royale.

If you fuck the pain away, just like Peaches, name it Quantum of Solace. It also works if you had a weird fetish for motor oil and fire.

If you come back after what some previous people called a weak sex and absolutely blow their minds, name it Skyfall

Now that those titles are done, it’s on to characters and such!

If you’re always full of surprises and like bringing new toys into the equation, name it Q.

If you love having sex and just don’t even care too much about the condition it is (quantity over quality), name it Pussy Galore.

If you have it bad for this one particular person but never manage to get quite close enough to seal the deal, name it Moneypenny. And God have mercy on your poor sex life.

If you just want a hilarious name, name it Albert R. Broccoli. You could do something here about it being green but…blech.

If you’ve got a Louisville Slugger swinging down by your knees, name it Plenty O’Toole. Heh. Tool.

Finally, if you’re just going to be a bragging asshole, call it what it is and name it Mr. Big.
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(We would like to stress that we don’t suggest any of these names for real, especially not the more distasteful ones. – ed.)

Speak for your damn self! I’m Mr. Big now and forever!

Halloween For Kids: Then and Now

Posted: October 31, 2012 by kaostheory in Informative
Tags: , , , , ,

First off, all of our wonderful readers on Twitter need to follow @GrigorNR immediately. It’s an occasional dose of DECF compacted into 140 characters. Basically, it’s a free laugh. So…you know…do. Follow. The account. Yes.

…okay.

Halloween is a time for ghosts and ghouls, goblins and…um…gallavanting? I’m not sure where I was going with that. But the point is that it’s one of the most fun holidays of the year, particularly when you’re in college and drunk and all around you are just masses of dancing, writhing, walking slut-costumes. You could practically walk around a college frat party with your dick jutting proudly out like a royal sceptre and trip and fall into sex. You know…if you were so inclined.

But Halloween isn’t just for obscene amounts of alcohol consumption and promiscuity in the bathroom of a frat house with a ballerina. It’s also about the children. NOT making the children. The actual little crotch-spawns running around being all cute. But Halloween is different now than when old men like me were walking around in the cuteness. No, it has a…darker edge to it. Why don’t we just compare Halloween traditions from back when we were children to the way they are now, hm? Well…we’re going to do it anyways.
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Party Games
Then: Remember all the games that you would play at your school Halloween parties? You know, games like the spaghetti being brains and peeled grapes being eyeballs, bobbing for apples, cake walks…um…knife throwing. Maybe? The point is that they were all fun and could even be a little spooky. Which is nice.

Now: Yeah, spaghetti and grapes? Fuck that noise. When you put your hand into the bag and feel something cold and slimy and gross and you giggle because it’s fun to be grossed out but then you peer into the bag and, hey guess what, it’s actually a HUMAN BRAIN…welcome really fast to adulthood, kiddies.

Recess
Then: Hide and seek and tag and football with miniaturized sports stars and witches and the occasional Scream-face guy for those kids whose parents just didn’t really give a shit about them – you know the kid, the one that was allowed to watch any movie he wanted on TV, even the stuff on the dirty channels, so you went over to his house on weekends so you could glimpse just the occasional, first confusing attraction to softcore porno – all laughing and enjoying the cool, even cold, autumn air as the last vestiges of warmth are drawn away from the earth.

Now: Grim, silent plotting as the rival gangs of Princesses, Rap Stars, and Poor Kids divvy up the playground area into territories, laying down boundaries with Pixy Sticks and the corpses of kindergartners, clad in Power Rangers costumes, who ventured too far away from the safe area right next to the school. The further out the playground extends, the more lawless it becomes. The Outland is ruled by fifth-graders, surly and experimenting with the stolen bottle of apple schnapps one stole from his dad’s liquor cabinet. That way lies death for trespassers.

Costumes
Then: Adorable for girls, monstrous for boys. You would have pretty princesses, cute witches, little bunnies or puppies, fairies, and other forest creatures. You would have devils and knights and ghosts and spiders and that same weird kid with the Scream-mask and a muffled voice. It was tame.

Now: Slutty. Everything is slutty. Slutty princess. Slutty witch. Slutty bee. Slutty Michael Jackson. Slutty Twilight. Slutty Dora the Explorer. Slutty Iron Man. And no, I’m not talking at a frat party. I’m talking for kids. Once you’ve seen your third “Octomom’s Masturbation Video” costume, that’s the time to turn the lights off and drink.

Abuses
Then: Urban legends about razor blades shoved into apples or pixie sticks laced with poison. Parental caution to burgeon childhood fears just enough to make sure that the children remain safe and lusting over the chocolate until they can get home and have their parents check to make sure everything is safe (while taking their ten percent candy tax, the lazy criminal fucks).

Now: A child puts his hand into a candy bowl. Boom. Three days later they find his Master Chief helmet on the side of a highway in New Mexico, his head still in the helmet, the body about a mile away, raped and mutilated beyond recognition. Do not choose “trick”, kids. Don’t ever choose “trick”.

Trick or Treating
Then: Going door to door, knocking on the houses that have lights on. A kindly elderly couple answers the door and coos and gushes over how cute you are or how fearsome you are (depending on girl or boy). Then they would hand you a few pieces of bite-sized candy, you would thank them, and you’d be on your way. You would repeat this a few dozen times or more, depending on the size of your neighborhood. Your parents would be back on the street, keeping a watchful eye…or they would be drunk as a lord, depending on how long a day your dad had at work.

Now: Your parents carry you up to the door, knock sharply and, when the neighbor comes out, holds out the bucket, tells you to say trick or treat, then demands they drop it in and close the door. Halfway down the sidewalk, they start crying and hold you tight, commenting on how close they were to losing you and how much they hate this night. That’s when you smell the vodka on Daddy’s breath.

Scary Stories
Then: The hook in the car door. The lipstick message on the mirror. The ghostly passenger in the car. The monster in the woods. The weird neighbor next door. The disappearing naughty children. You know, all the crap that’s scary when you’re little but makes you laugh now. Like Large Marge. Okay, maybe not that because I still piss myself every time I hear that name.

Now: Student loans coming due. Mommy and Daddy are taking a break from each other. The babysitter with the roaming hands. The gym teacher that plays Tickle Monster at Penn State. The neighbor that you think is scary as hell because he’s quiet and bearded but then you find out he’s alright because he knocks out two home invaders that are going to cut you apart but then, oh wait, he fucks you and buries you in a shallow grave anyways. Womp womp.

Decorations
Then: Fake spider webs all over. Cute and funny (to old people) posters and cutout witches and Frankenstein’s monsters and vampires. Maybe a skull or two. The pumpkin out front, obviously. Maybe those fake gravestones and some spooky lighting if they’re a fucking overachiever, CATHY.

Now: The neighbor that, upon finding his wife cheating on him with his business partner, his son having sex with the left tackle of the football team, his daughter fucking the rest of the offensive line, his job being eliminated due to “cutbacks in fuck you, you’re fired”, his Nissan Sentra having been egged with the tires slashed, windows broken, and CD player stolen, and his dog dead of choking on a squirrel, hangs himself from the big fir tree in his front yard the afternoon of Halloween.

Carving Pumpkins
Then: A family affair, making silly faces (Mom), scary faces (Dad), a clown face (other Dad), a kitty face (Sis), a monster face (Bro), and a penis (You).

Now: All of them are penises, except for Other Dad, who makes the clown face still…just with a penis in its mouth. And Dad’s in his. Womp womp again.

Parade/March
Then: A joyous celebration of the Halloween spirit. All the kids at school would dress up in their best costumes and dance and cheer their way down Main Street. Parents and volunteers would toss candy at them, trying to reach their plastic pumpkin buckets. That one poor opportunistic kid acting as a street sweeper and grabbing ALL the candy that doesn’t quite make it to the buckets, biting the parents that try to get him to share.

Now: Seven hundred painted Jokers, Hulks, and Ice Queens marching in silent, determined, perfect lockstep down a barren Main Street, the joy of the holiday being lost as the inexorable Bataan Death March to oblivion commences with the size 7 children’s boots tramping down the faces of those volunteers pleading for mercy, though mercy will not come.
——
(Holy. Shit. THIS was a little dark, wouldn’t you say? – ed.)

Maybe.

(And what’s with all the child abuse jokes this time? – ed.)

What do you expect? It’s Halloween!

(Good point. – ed.)

Happy Halloween everyone! May your night be warm, your skies be clear, and may you not experience a naked dude coming to the door holding a bottle of whiskey and a ragged, sexually violated clown puppet!


We here at Dan Eats Cat Food are nothing if not helpful…so, really, many times we are nothing. But we’re here to make up for it. You see, upon going through the site statistics, we noticed something odd. The most popular article is, in fact, written by Pred3000. This, of course, cannot stand. I mean, really. He hasn’t posted an article in well over a year! Then again, to be fair, we’re only giving you an article about once a month and that’s only because we have to justify the cost somehow. Shut up about it. KT is an anxiety-riddled, depressive, incredibly sexually frustrated, and probably alcoholic grad student. He SHOULD be perfectly suited to being funny constantly because of that, we know. Basically, he’s just a lazy bastard. Where were we? Oh yeah. The article. Since we can’t allow the most popular article to go un-piggybacked on,we are going to present to you today a more informative and in-depth guide to masturbating to Internet pornography than that bastard did. We hope you enjoy and can make use of our…um…useful suggestions.
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DO: Use the Internet to your advantage. It’s a wild, woolly, wonderful place full of literally quadrillions of ideas and thoughts and pictures and words being thrown around. This is the Golden Age of information transference and it is at your fingertips with the click of a button. You can go from researching the Fall of Rome by way of Norwegian black metal to reading a webcomic written and illustrated by some desu weirdo who likes drawing anthropomorphic leopards in leather pants kiss-fighting with a ficus in a bikini to watching a video about a cat firing a brick through a plate glass window and howling with laughter. Anything and everything you can dream of is there. Also there’s a whole lot of fucking that you can look at.

DON’T: Assume that because something is on the Internet that it is worth seeing. Remember, 50 Shades of Grey started as a Twilight fan fiction online. There but for the grace of God goes every single hardcore slash Gandalf/Harry Potter/Spongebob/Jabba the Hutt/Vishnu/Alec Baldwin fic out there.

DO: Sample the bounty of the Net. See what’s out there. Don’t be afraid to branch out. Maybe you come across a fetish you didn’t know about and have one of the most rocking-ass orgasms of your life. It’s possible! Not necessarily likely but possible. Who knows? You may actually enjoy watching a naked teenage anime chick being inflated like a balloon, being popped by a black man’s cock, and having mice come to eat her entrails. YOU might. I just kind of threw up. A lot.

DON’T: Be stupid about it. There are clearly areas to avoid. Horse porn. Maybe want to steer clear. Child porn. That’s a no-no in the bad place. The area where the underwear covers. Sex with bridges. You should not also rise. The aforementioned “inflationigrarumpebanturmuresextaphilia”. Even just putting that into a translator brought on the urps again. Damn you philiacs!

DO: Learn alternative ways of masturbation. Self-love is still a love life and you should switch it up to keep things fresh. If you’re always a southpaw (or a south-gnarled and withered claw), why not try pitching to Righty? Or on your knees? Or on your back? Hell, even the shower could be fun and you can clean your filthy,war-torn body afterwards. It’s a double duty dunker!

DON’T: Fuck your boxspring. Seriously. Don’t do it. You will never repair the damage an errant coil does to your dickskin.

DO: Use an aggregation website (you know the ones that are out there) to explore your tastes freely with relatively minor risk of viruses or random gay porn popping up and murdering your hard-on with great vengeance. They are free to use and have an incredibly expansive display to choose from. Just be careful not to Wiki-jump the different videos, especially the stuff with titles that are just random numbers and letters and/or are written in Spanish. Just…don’t do that. Save yourself a whole lot of terror-crying.

DON’T: Download those bullshit programs that some sites demand you use in order to…utilize their website. Fuck that noise. It just adds more clutter onto your PC and makes plausible deniability less likely down the road. Besides, if you are so desperate to download things, there are ways around every problem. I obviously don’t recommend or support those since they are the mark of low character, but I cast no such aspersions on the stoner dude down the hallway from your apartment that stays up until 4 in the morning listening to Rage Against the Machine, smoking pot and probably meth, and working on his anarchist’s manifesto. He can probably hook you up with some Debbie Does Six Day Laborers Behind the LA Fitness in South Central.

DO: Pay for porn when you can afford it. I know, I know. You just felt your heart seize a little. Let me explain. Paying for porn = more porn being made = more choices for you to make. And the cycle repeats. Also it’s someone’s career choice, you asshole, and nobody wants to fuck for free. Or so I’ve been told.

DON’T: Decide that, hey, this actress I jerk off to is on Twitter. I should Tweet her my dick! Stoppit. If you had people who wanted to see your cock, you wouldn’t be jerking off to Internet porn, would you? Leave her alone, get your Jergens’ and cry about yourself.

DO: Figure out what you like best and go wild with it. You like redheads (and who doesn’t?), you find every redhead video out there. You like big black girls taking it up the butt, go nuts. You like trannies rubbing each other with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter and pouring white wine everywhere while La Vie Boheme plays? …try RedTube. That shit has everything.

DON’T: Become so well-versed in porn stars, their names, and their appearances that you can name them in polite conversation. If you’re talking about your pornographic tastes in public, there is something severely wrong with you in the head. Either that or you are playing a DANGEROUS gambit of which we can’t approve. If that is where your path is taking you, know that we cannot follow you.

DO: Finally understand that they are real people doing real, sometimes horrifying acts on camera for your amusement. They deserve your dignity, your money, your respect, and about five squirts of baby batter or so, depending on how long you’ve done. Bon appetit, horndogs.
——
(This was disgusting. – ed.)

You’re disgusting! HOOOOO!

(And we’re done here. – ed.)


Some of us just find out at different points in our lives that they are just careers that are…not quite for us. Some may be not up to our talent levels, some may be unsavory or embarrassing. And then some just…are a bad, bad idea. For example, you wouldn’t want someone who is naturally gifted athletically to try to take on computer programming. You wouldn’t want someone with social anxiety running for public office (wait…shit.). You wouldn’t want a politician to be a lion tamer…or maybe you would, depending on the politician.

The point is that there are careers where it just does not fit the personality involved. Case in point? I’m no longer allowed to teach sexual education in elementary schools…or anywhere, for that matter. Let me explain.

Sometimes in the course of human events, it becomes necessary to take a part-time job in order to stave off poverty, alcoholism, and a broken left wrist from bored masturbation. Say, a part-time job such as substitute teaching. Well, with my glowing resume bulging with qualifications, the school district I approached offered me my choice of three schools to sub at: the high school, the middle school, or the elementary school. Well, I declined the high school because the prospect of barely legal teenager girls becoming magnetically attracted to the AK-47 in my pants would just complicate matters. I turned down the middle school job as well because middle schoolers are basically walking, talking balls of hormones and insanity. That left me with one choice: the elementary school. That seemed relatively safe, I thought. I was, however, sadly unprepared.

You see, I managed to have the incredibly poor luck of substitute teaching on the day that the boys and girls are separated by gender and brought to the library or the gym and shown a little film designed to try to stave off the oncoming train of pain that is puberty. You all know the one and if you don’t, well…luck has smiled upon pre-teen you. Well, since the gym teacher was a female and I was taking the place of one of the fifth-grade English teachers, I was drafted (read: forced) into joining and helping out by the principal, one third-grade Science teacher (not a dude, by the way), and the janitor. For some reason. I’m not sure he was there as part of the help.

Anyways, the first half of the lesson was fine, albeit what you would expect. Fifth-grade boys giggling at the words ‘penis’ and ‘vagina’ and ‘sex’ and then having the laughter stolen from their lives by the sight of a 1980s mother pushing a ten-pound bloody sack out of a hole the width of an iPod. You can tell which students have gone through the video because they walk around for the next two days with the thousand-yard-stare.

And then I made things worse.

You see, in a stunning display of unjustifiable bad judgment, the principal and other teacher decided to step out to grab some coffee and probably bang in the electrical room, leaving me alone with fifty already-traumatized ten year old boys. The janitor had already been forced to leave after making some sounds watching the video that were akin to a lion dying of cancer on a hot savannah with ants crawling up its ass. Thus, I had thirty minutes and a captive audience that was going to be receptive to everything I would say. This is, as we say, a really bad fucking idea.

To begin with, I explained what the class they were in at the moment really was – less “sex education” and more “This is what your penis will bring upon the world”.

I told them of just how much suffering and pain they would create through those potentially (in the future) four-to-ten inch skin snakes currently tucked into their Spiderman briefs. I spoke to them of the all-consuming fire that would rage through them when some spurned lover or sadistic band geek would knock their dangling sack back up into their lower intestines. And I explained to them just how much power their scepters would allow them to wield, were they only man enough to grab hold of it. The power, not the penis. Well, maybe both.

I would rewind the tape and pause it at the worst possible frame and just let it sit and stare at them, the Eye of Sauron burning into their souls, as I screamed at them: “Boys, this woman is in agonizing pain and you know who caused it? YOU. You did this! WITH YOUR PENIS! Your penis entered her and brought her into this unimaginable agony! SHE IS BEING RIPPED ASUNDER BECAUSE OF YOUR INEPTITUDE!”

The baby would come out and they would scream in terror again. Rewind, fast-forward, and repeat. The horror of seeing a full bush suck a howling blood monkey back into it like some sort of primordial gaping maw cannot be overstated. After a while, it almost became comical and the urge to play Yakety Sax during the thing was nigh unstoppable. Of course, then the placenta came out and it was game over.

After about ten minutes of that, I decided to finish up my time with them by explaining to them the process of sex, pregnancy, and birth. I can actually recall the exact wording because apparently security footage has improved to the point where subtitles exist.

“This entire process begins when you engage in the act of sexual intercourse. Nobody can really TELL you what sex is, but I shall endeavor to try to explain it. When a man loves someone or simply just feels the biological impulse to blow a load of genetic material from his scrotum, he engages in sex with the woman. Or man. Or transvestite. Or even his hands or a Ziploc bag full of water placed between the mattress and box spring of his bed. Anyways. There are many various ways to approach the act of love, such as [from this point, I spent about ten minutes listing all the ways to fuck – ALL of the ways]. Inevitably, something will happen and a mistake will be made. The condom may break – a condom being a piece of rubber you tie around your junk like a bowtie to make it all fancy, or the pill may fail – the pill being ecstasy, a powerful hallucinogen, or you may just be drunk and say “Eh, fuck it. Chance.”. When this mistake happens, those little Phelpsians nestled in that bean bag will explode into her with the force of a neutron bomb. The sperm, as they are called, will accelerate towards her uterus (her balls in her belly) at a speed of well over a thousand miles per hour. They will strike the uterus and explode, sending genetic shrapnel throughout her vagina. One of those shards may even fly far enough up into her to lodge itself in one of her eggs, since women contain chicken, as you well know. Once lodged in the egg, it downloads a computer virus that infects the egg, turning it into a self-replicating human, You will instantly know the next day if she is in the state called ‘pregnant’ because she will violently vomit when either smelling or viewing certain things, none of which you can know until it is too late, a cruel trick. This period lasts for about three months.Now, once the pregnant woman has reached the second cycle, the sun god Ra will come to you in the form of ’78 Buick and demand it as a sacrifice. However, you can appease his bloodlust with a sacrificial steak and eggs breakfast instead, the food symbolizing the merging of male and female. After a period of approximately nine months, a gong will sound from inside the woman, signifying the onset of the final process. I won’t spoil it for you here but suffice to say, there’s a lot of angry driving and police work involved. Any questions?”

It was about that time that the principal, teachers, and security burst into the room, grabbing me by the arms and legs and forcibly ejecting me from the window of the school, told never to return on pain of actual death. Seriously. They showed me the gun they would use to end my life.

I got paid pretty well though so…that was a plus.
——
(That was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever read. – ed.)

We both know that’s not true.

(Well…I did have to read Twilight on a dare once. – ed.)

There you go! Deuces yo!


I’m not exactly the kind of person that one would call “up to date” on trends. I don’t wear skinny jeans, listen to pop music, or understand the appeal of why the hell anyone would produce a movie detailing the life of a current pop star. The world doesn’t need more movies about Katy Perry or Justin Bieber or, God forbid it happen, Ke(dollar sign)ha. I actually include the “never happening” of that last one in my prayers every night. I do wonder about the title though. “Memoirs of a Drunken Whore” sounds pretty good. It doesn’t quite cover it though. Maybe “My ‘Music’Sounds Like A Seagull Being Strangled To Dubstep But I’ll Blow You In The Alley Behind Starbucks For A Mocha Latte And A Gram Of Coke So You May As Well Love Me”. That’s better.

Anyways, the reason I mention this is because I don’t understand one damn bit why that crapsack of mutilated paper pulp known as ’50 Shades of Grey’ is so damn popular. All I DO know is that its existence and popularity means I get to write a follow-up piece to the wildly successful (well, relatively) article about Twilight. It’s the Golden Age of mockery and sarcasm, I tell you what. Regardless of how great things are as a comedy writer, I could always use some extra cash to line my pockets with pornography, alcohol, and bootleg Joss Whedon DVDs. Thus, I am resolved to write chick porn using 50 Shades of Shit…I mean, Grey…as a barometer. And as a bonus? I’ll explain to YOU how to do it too.
——
First, as in last time, murder any thoughts you have about being a respectable or even literate writer. You aren’t going to be writing for the elite, the well-read, the academics. You are barely going to be writing for middle schoolers reading at a college level. You are writing for lonely, bored, horny housewives, teenagers, and bored talk show hosts. Having it have a legitimate, engrossing plot is kind of like adding parsley, fine china, and a glass of wine to spice up the presentation of a steaming horse dump. Focus more of your time on how you can use the medium to create the most filthy, degrading situation possible while still maintaining a semblance of respectability. Think “upgraded fan fiction” because, let’s face it, that 50 Shades garbage is literally that. It can’t hurt to be a fan fic writer either. Anyone who writes that has a throbbing tumor called “I hate literature” inside their heart and uses it to crap out “ships” of any potential character pairings under the sun. Don’t get me started on fan fic.

Next, decide what you want your main characters to do. Oh. That’s right. You want them to fuck. The rest is just gravy. Cool. Check that off.

After that, figure out what your characters are named. If you’re writing chick porn, this will take up a solid 80% of your work time on the “book”. You can’t name them something like Amy Jones and John Smith. Those are boring names, names of IRS agents and middle management candidates. Likewise, you can’t use names like Jagatha Messy and Hondo Awesome. Nobody is going to take you seriously (let’s be honest, they won’t anyways but I digress) if you write ‘Hondo and Jagatha boned like archaeologists on top of Hondo’s 1997 Chevy Pylon’ or whatever. You need to create dark and steamy names, like Vanessa St. John and Juan Carlos Fancypants…I mean, Trenton Green. If it sounds like it could conceivably be a porn star but only in one of those high class X-Art ones (as opposed to, say, Gaping Assholes 8), you’ve hit the sweet spot. And so will your readers…if you get what I’m saying. I’m saying that they will play with themselves.

Naturally, take into account the audience while describing the characters. Naturally, the protagonist must be a legal-aged girl, probably a fresh-faced college student or even right after graduating. She has to be shy and naive, with no more sexual experience than a half-hearted handjob in the back of a Denny’s kitchen. Obviously, she must be a virgin. She has to have no confidence in herself and see herself as a plain, unassuming wallflower. Basically, if you do a copy/paste of every garden variety Twilight knockoff bullshit, you’ll have it down. And the man must be tall, strikingly handsome, broad-shouldered, and brooding, with impeccable taste in clothes, a high-paying job, no current relationship to speak of, and miraculously well-endowed. Of course, he has to be irresistibly attracted to the protagonist and, by proxy, the reader. I swear to God, this shit is like porn had a retarded baby with a chick flick. It’s like Naughty America banged 27 Dresses or some shit like that.

Also, since you’re writing porn for girls, which is much more about the experience than the actual act, you need to use euphemisms to describe what is happening. You can’t go too clinical, since “He placed his penis inside her vagina and performed intercourse until they both achieved orgasm”. Yes, that may be what happened but…snore. You also can’t really go too vulgar, since that can be a turnoff. “He fucked her cunt with his dick until they both came” also describes what happened but it’s so…inelegant. And yes, that is a concern of yours. Instead, use lines like “Trenton teased her gently opening flower with his turgid manhood. Vanessa felt her nethers quiver with excitement and, as he pushed her open, she felt herself becoming filled with an almost holy sensation. They began to merge as only lovers can and (yadda yadda yadda) they both felt a surge of heat as they crested at the height of their passion and fell to the bed, a tangle of limbs and satisfaction.” THAT is what gets the housewife tang all stirred up.

Since this is apparently the trend, don’t be scared to introduce some ‘taboo’ elements to the sex. 50 Shades decided to dive into the BDSM lifestyle (wrongly, I’ve heard) with the main dude apparently beating the crap out of the girl? I don’t know, I haven’t read it. So that’s right out. Since you want to distinguish yourself from the soon-to-be-arriving herd of copycats, why not take things to the logical extreme? Instead of spanking and handcuffs, try watersports and bloodplay. Instead of contracts and submission, have the girl take a dump on a glass coffee table. Make your characters have the kind of sex that even Max Hardcore would call “a bit too extreme”. End the series with snuff. You know you want to.

Lastly, after it naturally takes off and becomes a poorly-hidden dirty pleasure for soccer moms across the world, hang yourself with a shower curtain. That way, your poison and evil can’t infect the world with sequels, PLUS your faithful readers will call it a fitting way to leave this world. Win-fucking-win.

——
(You really have a problem with popular lit these days, huh? – ed.)

No. I have a problem with literal fan fiction and its metamorphosis into something considered worthy of publication. I have a problem with crap like Twilight and 50 Shades becoming popular while real writers struggle to make ends meet. I have a problem with the increased retardation of the next generation. You are going to have twelve-year-olds choking each other with a belt within six months. Mark my words. These are the End of Days.

(…a bit dramatic, wouldn’t you say? – ed.)

There is no such thing as too dramatic, Ed. Not while evil reigns. I need a drink.

(You always do. Goodnight, everyone. – ed.)