Intensive Purposes

…Cat Goorsky?

Pavlov’s Dog

don't masturbate, don't masturbate, don't masturbateEven at the site of a computer, I can feel the primal forces drive me to adjust myself in the sudden tightness of my jeans. I want to think of nothing but work and productivity. I mean, I have things to do. “The problem is,” I think as I break a sweat, “it all has to happen in the same place.” It’s a mixture of both work and pleasure.

As I seat myself, my face boils over. Quaky hands rest their fingers on the keys. The tak tak tak of the typing resonates, my fingers the hammer sounding the bell. It begins. I hear it. The inconvenient burden of my masculinity. The yelping of the dog eager to go outside and play. My work will only keep my hands busy for so long. My rational side tells me I can beat this, but my limbic impulses tell me I’ve already made the decision. I race for a stick of chewing gum attempting to trade one fixation for another.

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“Did You Get That Thing I Sent You?”: Exploiting mild child cruelty is funny (and fun to get high to!)

waaaaRegardless of the job you hate, despite your life going in a direction antithetical to your aspirations, and although you’ve become disappointingly stagnant, there are still some joys in being an adult.  One in particular is being able to laugh at children, especially if you’re taking advantage of their naiveté and gullibility.  The great thing about the juvenile population is that they’re still trying to figure out the world and they rely on adult guidance.  Too bad it’ll be years before they realize that their parents were probably wrong more times than not and that grown ups are incredibly flawed.   However, if an adult has to put up with any child’s bullshit, there has got to be some compensation in return.  Schadenfreude makes a good payment and anyone with a sense of humor will except it as legal tender.

I for one am not a parent, so the list of internet cruelty I’ve compiled is really just a sadistic queue of child exploitation in which a nice doobie makes for an excellent companion during a slack filled Friday evening.  Personally, I was fucked with a lot as a child.  As I would play in the den, my mother would dress as a stranger, sneak out of her bedroom window, and slam on the sliding glass door near the living room as if she was trying to break in.  On many occassions she would slip a VHS of Pee Wee’s Big Adventure into the VCR during Saturday morning cartoons.  The movie would begin playing just before Large Marge did her car wreck face and it would scare the shit out of me.  The list of pranks goes on, but you know what?  I’d give anything to see a tape of my dumb fuck face as I wailed in terror.  You know why?  Because it’s funny.  It’s funny to scare people.  Even more than that, it’s funny to scare dumb shits who really buy into the fear you’re selling.  And besides scaring people, it’s also funny to watch people get hurt.  Little, clumsy shits with dillettante motor skills learning that life entails more failure and suffering than pleasure and success is a hilarious romp.  So roll yourself a fat one and check out this list of savagery I’ve compiled for our macabre, comedic sensibilities.

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“Did You Get That Thing I Sent You?” : Cheers To You

There’s the expression “One foot in the grave” idiomatically signifying that someone is close to dying and it’s primarily directed towards the elderly or the ailing.  However, I don’t think it would sufficiently cover someone a step or two close to killing themselves.  I can’t think of what a phrase like that could be.  Perhaps, “Time to pop my top” or “Ready to color your wrists red.”

Whatever that colloquialism is, that’s exactly who this video is for. Whoever needs buy this DVD is the exact paragon for which the phrase would be meant to pigeon hole that gloomy kid whose hope is running on empty, but still seeks some desperate placebo that might change it all around. Kind of like when God spoke to Lot in Genesis asking, “Give me one fucking reason not to burn this whole place to the ground.” Except in our case, it’s a person grasping at straws in the nihilistically bleak universe, not seeing a reason to put in more quarters and give life a round two… unless of course someone could tell me, “Without me, the puzzle is incomplete.”  Paradoxically, and somewhat conveniently, it may also serve as an affirmation exercise to move forward with your suicide.  You know, in case you realize the nadir you’ve reached by even buying the disc.  Boy, that’s a moment of clarity.

You know what, maybe the expression can be “Cheers to You.”

Perfect.

“And Another Thing!” Kitty Has Claws

rowr

Do you have any ThunderCat figurines?

On the rare occasion I find myself on Facebook, I like to check out Mr. Bob Jones’ wall to see what sort of internet curio he has managed to stumble upon.  I recently came across this link, which has become the crux of this rant article.  So basically you have Christopher in strong pursuit, and Kitty seemingly putting him in his place.  Yeah, it’s pretty funny.  But being the over thinker I am, I started to feel bad for Christopher because he was hit with an unequivocal brunt force that was seemingly uncalled for based on the actual level of his transgressions.  I’m not defending the guy so much as I’m laying out a reasonable argument that he could actually be the victim here.

The truth is that there’s an argument for both.  This scenario comes down to two issues: (1) Women have to deal with men hitting on them strongly or frequently (2) The changing mores of our gender dynamics creates a strong dissonance in our dating culture.  While I’d like to lay out an argument in favor of Kitty, I’m pretty sure you can guess what Chris did wrong.  I mean, he starts with fedora and trench coat and it all goes south from there.  Most of you have already deduced he’s a touch pushy, he comes off strong, and he’s throwing some heavy shit down with a line like “I’ll worship you.”  So on Kitty’s note, I’ll state the obvious:  Women are quite often approached by men and sometimes they like it and sometimes it’s a nuisance….and other times it’s harassment to the point where she might fear for her safety.  Was that really the case here?  Nah, if anything Christopher was just pestering her. (more…)

Re: Bettie Page

I know there are a ton of people who are going to disagree with me on this one, because it seems like most of the internet worships at the naked feet of Bettie Page, but I have to be honest: I don’t find her sexy at all. Case in point: out of the five pictures above, the only one I find attractive is the one where her back is turned. In the others she’s making such odd/aggressive faces it makes her look like something has gone terribly wrong with her face muscles.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the non-conformity/liberation/anti-repressive trail she blazed in the 50’s, and I’d never discredit her for that, but I think we all need to stop pretending she’s some beautiful sex kitten. Just because she did more (and frequently more hardcore) erotica than most other models at the time doesn’t mean she’s automatically hot—it’s the classic quantity versus quality argument.

For what it’s worth, I feel the same way when people tell me how hot Sasha Grey is. Just because she has done 230+ adult films (and is super hardcore nasty in almost all of them) doesn’t mean she’s automatically hot. By that logic, everyone on the internet should be praising the 2-Girls-1-Cup ladies because they’re doing really avant-garde work not even Sasha Grey would do.

Go ahead and call me out all you want, but look though any gentleman’s magazine in the 50’s/early 60’s and you’ll find hundreds of better looking girls than Bettie Page. She wasn’t that special and we should stop pretending she was.

Erection Impossible

yasmine

Back in 7th grade (circa 1997) my friends and I would sneak onto the computers at our Catholic school during recess and look up pictures of Yasmine Bleeth, Carmen Electra, and Pam Anderson. We all carried floppy disks and we’d save any good ones we found.

In retrospect, it was very much like old computer hacker/spy movies because we were always sweating it out against the clock and the data took forever to save–only we weren’t stealing secrets from the CIA, we just wanted to see some nipple.

In a certain way, I kind of miss those days. In this modern world of on demand pornography where I’m never more than two-clicks away from any particular view, position, body part, fetish, kink, or act I want to see, the concept of “working” for my smut seems so refreshing. I wonder if I’ll feel the same way in 2050 when we’re all getting our erotic material fed directly into our brains via neural implant. “Looking at at porn on a screen, ah yes, I remember those days, how quaint…”

Why I Hate Text Tattoos

tat1

There seems to be a preponderance of text tattoos out there these days, and basically they all suck. As a tattoo collector (and admitted tattoo snob) I’m here to tell you why:

First of all, there is zero creativity here from both you and your tattoo artist. Yes, yes, I know there’s always a story with these. Usually it goes something like “I got this tattoo to remind myself…” We all get it, you’re a deep person.

But on a literal level, there is zero creativity. The tattoo artist prints the words from a word processor, puts it on thermafax machine, puts it onto transfer paper, sticks it on your skin, and then fills it in. Zero creativity.

Second of all, why would someone waste so much prime space with such a boring tattoo? I guess it’s fine to get a few words on your ankle or something, but unless you’re NEVER going to get another tattoo (which is the exception) why would you ruin your forearm with some trite aphorism? It’s going to be a real bitch to integrate that into any decent forearm piece, and since it’s so dark, you’ll probably have to get it lasered to dull it out before covering it with something cool.

There is a way to do text tattoos correctly, however. Dig it:

tat2

Take your trite little aphorism and get your artist to whip up a drawing around it. You still get your words, but they’re presented in a more interesting and artistic way. Plus your tattoo artist actually gets to, um, make some actual art, rather than print something off Microsoft Word.

Your body is not a car. Stop treating your tattoos like bumper stickers.

Help Us Get This Picture to Kristin Schaal

Kristin Schaal circa 1958

I was at an antiques store the other day and I found a “Gentleman’s Magazine” from 1958 called Jem and the cover girl looked quite a bit like the actress Kristin Schaal (at least in my opinion.) I took a photo of the model and sent a tweet to Kristin Schaal which you can view below.

Do us a favor and re-tweet the image at her (@kristinschaaled) so there’s a better chance she’ll actually see it.