when the status quo frustrates.

May your underwear guide you towards sexual enlightment

Tuesday, April 8th, 2008

Oh, if underwear could talk, the things it would say. It would tease us about those secret times we got excited and had to hide it, and probably complain about the sheer number of times it was farted upon.


Yes, even this guy farts.

There are also times it would’ve been nice if other people’s underwear could talk, right? Or at least have important messages written on it. We could receive crucial information, like:

-That’s Not Just a Rash
-Contents May Explode Prematurely
-Stubble Ahoy
-Hasn’t Showered Today
-Was Just On the Floor at Your Best Friend’s House

And so forth.

Alas, while the secrets of our undergarments remain hidden within their fragrant folds, there is one message they can help us get across: use protection. That’s what the folks at ISIS (Internet Sexuality Information Services) are hoping, anyway. They’ve set up a design-the-underwear contest for college kids at http://www.undiescontest.com/, and first prize is a $1k scholarship. From Allegra Madsen, the ISIS Program Director:

We are asking people to design a pair of underwear that communicates a difficult truth about STDs or that can serve as a conversation starter about safe sex. We are imagining underwear as the last physical thing that separates a person from their partner. It would make a strong statement to have a message there that could remind people to talk with their partner about safe sex practices or that brings up STDs (which are often difficult to do in sexual situations-when you need to the most) in a non-threatening way.

Contest ends May 15th, so go forth and see if you can make the least-awkward pair of message skivvies possible.

Because women were never assaulted before they could vote.

Monday, February 18th, 2008

Newspapers make me sad:

A Des Moines woman who refused to take off her top and imitate a Girls Gone Wild video had her cell phone stolen and was assaulted by her tormentors, police said…Four young men are listed as suspects in the case. No arrests have been reported.

Newspapers with comment sections make me sadder:

here is who blame you blame libs, womens rights, the parent who want to be friends with thier kids, the a**clowns and the other parent that won’t displine there children i am 37 years old if mother found out i did something like she would beat my a** it is called respect somehow we lost it don’t get me wrong i like girl gone wild but i know right from wrong

Liberals and women’s rights are to blame for a girl getting Oreos thrown at her for not disrobing? You “like” GGW but you totally know right from wrong and this girl not gone wild is in the wrong? You, Mr Thomas Big Dog, are an asshole.

I shouldn’t get too upset, it’s just one douchebag, but still, sometimes you just want to choke some sense into people. Women’s rights, whatever. Like women have it so much better when you protect them from their rights.

Chris Jones lets Miss Manners know that if she needs an enforcer, he’s there.

Sunday, January 27th, 2008

Chris Jones of Esquire.com says people are boorish, rude and confrontational, a problem he could help solve if only it were still OK to punch people.

This whole thing started — or maybe it ended — with these guys engaging in some ritualistic, Hare Krishna clapping shit…I asked them politely to stop. “Make us,” they said, and then they clapped louder, smiling their dirty-toothed smiles at us, twisting our nipples. One of them was named Jericho, I picked up. He was a skinny bearded guy who looked as though he’d wear Guatemalan mittens in winter. “Jerry,” I said when they finally took a break, “come on over here, have a chat.” He did, and shortly thereafter, he loosed a throat pony into my face. It was Jerry’s bad luck that I had resolved to start punching people again.

“Throat pony”? “Guatemalan mittens”?

I’d reached the end of the road after what seemed like a perpetual assault from life’s Jerichos — the sorts of assholes who not only act like assholes but celebrate their assholedom

You mean like guys who read esquire?

How’d we get here? Blogs are part of it, along with the incessant frothing of TV pundits and reality-show contestants, especially that lippy midget from The Amazing Race:

Oh yeah, I’m feeling the class oozing off this guy. If someone has to be in charge of deciding who gets a punchin’, I’d vote for Chris.

And the saddest part is, the Jerichos are right to feel bulletproof. Somewhere along the way, we’ve evolved into a culture without consequence, taught so much hokum about the bigger man walking away.

At this point, Chris’s laughable attempt to rationalize his desire to administer beat-downs becomes the second saddest thing I’ve blogged this week, behind the Michigan Tech student who’s pissed all those vaginae are torching his class rank. It was even better on the MSN feed, where all the obscenities were ***-ed out. Dude, if you want to be the guy who throws punches in bars, be that guy, but own it. Don’t tell me you’re stepping in to do karma’s job and expect leniency from the law – no one said being a superhero was easy.

I like karma as much as the next guy, but lately, watching my city behave more and more like an Internet comments thread in the midst of a flame war, I’ve grown tired of waiting for the planets to balance the ledger…[Long, tortured hockey metaphor about enforcers] Too bad life changes when we take off our skates — constrained by fear of cops, by fear of lawyers, by fear of the wife, all of our judges. Not anymore. I would submit, Your Honor, that if someone is doing something demonstrably asinine, and I ask them to stop it, please, and they say, “Make us,” they’ve entered a binding oral contract whereby I am permitted, even obligated, to try to make them.

The judge may agree, but assault is assault. Real men face the consequences of their actions, be it a black eye or a 30-day suspended jail sentence and six months probation.

The best thing on the internet

Tuesday, December 18th, 2007

For your viewing and listening pleasure, the Bill O’Reilly sex tapes as baroque oratorio, performed live at the University of Washington’s Meany Hall (needless to say, this is NSFW):

If you want more, apparently Igor Keller made an entire CD of it. This basically puts to rest all of those arguments that modern society no longer produces works of sheer genius.

Hat tip: Rohmie.

You did an OK job, I guess, but it would have been better if you had a penis.

Sunday, December 2nd, 2007

An article in Slate let’s Hillary know what she’s in for should she win: a nation of ungrateful fucks, regardless of how well she does.

As luck would have it, there’s new data out there about the shifts that take place when women run the world. Or at least a bunch of Indian villages.

Basically, in 1991 a law was passed stating that a certain percentage of randomly chosen Indian villages had to chose a female leader. This gave scientists a chance to study a culture’s reaction to vagina-governance. Nearly 20 years later, it turns out these girly-girl leaders spent most of their energy on projects to improve community as a whole; they are also generally less corrupt.

Duflo and Topalova found that communities with women as pradhans had larger quantities of key public services overall. Nor was quality sacrificed for quantity—facilities in the women-led villages were of at least as high quality on average as in the communities with traditional male leadership. The greatest improvement was in drinking water, the public amenity found to be most valued by women in earlier research (PDF)—with 30 percent more taps and hand pumps in the women-pradhan villages…They were also less corrupt—villagers with female-headed councils were 25 percent less likely to report having to pay bribes to access basic services like getting ration cards or receiving medical attention.

Ah, women, is there any way in which we’re not better? Of course, it doesn’t look like generations of complacent male leadership in these villages was setting a terribly high bar- “More Water, Less Bribery!” is not exactly an encouraging 21st century campaign slogan. So you’d think that the villagers are thrilled to have all these services and fewer people cockblocking them when they try to claim them, right?

Wrong.

Now, the bad news. India’s female pradhans were remarkably unappreciated for their efforts. Despite the objective upgrades in village amenities, both men and women living in villages headed by women expressed lower satisfaction with public services. This was true even for water—the level of dissatisfaction was 13 percent higher in women-led communities.

The idea that women must suck at leadership is deeply ingrained into the patriarchy, which we share heaping helpings of with India:

How was Ms. Roizen perceived by students who read of her assertive style in the case? It depends whether she was presented as a man or as a woman. In an experiment on gender perceptions, psychologists Cameron Anderson and Francis Flynn gave one group of MBA students the original Heidi Roizen case for later in-class discussion, while the other half received a copy that was identical in every way, except that “Heidi” became “Howard.”…So the decisive, assertive traits that are often valued in leaders are received very differently when observed in women than when seen in men. Howard was a go-getter. Heidi was unlikably power-hungry.

I saw this exact situation play out in Cleveland, when Mike White was replaced by Jane Campbell. Mike had enjoyed three or four mayoral terms, despite Cleveland’s steady decline and his government’s notorious corruption. Jane had one term, the most exciting part of which was when her staff discovered that some members of White’s staff had been basically making up numbers for years, and we were in worse shape than we thought. She was largely blamed for this, and I remember all the papers as being very critical. She didn’t get a second term.

So good luck to Clinton, and I hope she doesn’t take it personally.

Fellas Feeling Frenzied

Friday, November 9th, 2007

Dear diary,

Last night was the wildest freaking night ever, man. I was at Aaron’s party, and maybe I’d had a few too many, but whatever — I was feeling good, and I knew that in my boot-cuts and tight shirt, I was looking good, too.

The place was packed, and without realizing it, me and my buddy Mike had slowly gravitated towards the center of the room. The music was pretty loud, so we had to lean in real close to talk, and whenever a girl would walk by, she’d make some lewd joke about us looking like we were together. We acted annoyed, but we had to admit it was pretty funny.

I wish I could remember how it started (and if I did, it would probably involve the words “Jagr” and “meister”) but at some point we hit a critical mass, and the girls who were just making little comments before were now suddenly circling around us and calling for us to make out. Now, I’ve *never* thought of myself as gay or even bi, but like I said, I was feeling pretty saucy. I told Mike that we’d never get out of here without giving them at least a little show, and that’s when I lifted up his shirt and licked his nipple. Oh damn, were they hootin’ and hollerin’! The ladies started chanting “More! More! More!” and when I looked in Mike’s face, I could see he was a little flushed. Heck, he was turned on!

Well, that was it. Before we knew what hit us, we were both on the floor, naked as the day we were born, and smooching up a storm. Then Mike got this wicked gleam in his eye and slid down to my crotch. Boom! Just like that he was deep throating the cuss out of me. Felt damn good, too; guess if you have the pipes you know how to drain ‘em. As I was loving every minute of the attention, I noticed that the girls all around us were completely lost in lust. Lots of them had their hands down their pants going to town and everything; it was so sexy. To give them a real show, I flipped Mike on his back and started working him myself. I even went two knuckles deep in his butt!

I have no idea how long we were going at it, but it all climaxed with Mike’s girlfriend Darleen coming over and saying she had to get a piece of this hot action. She rode each of us like dogs, and man was it hot. The gals at the party cheered her on until both of us guys were coated in her love juices. I think I passed out after that.

I’m sort of embarrassed now, but I also feel closer to Mike than ever. If he and Darleen are ever up for another roll in the hay, they can count me in.

——

From Tanya Enberg in the Edmonton Sun yesterday:

If you’re a straight gal with considerable dating experience, you’re likely already well versed in the straight guy’s subtle — and not so subtle — approach to playing the menage a trois card.

You know the drill: He primes you with questions like, “Have you ever had a threesome?” or “Have you ever been with woman?”

He’s feeling you out, and his hopeful optimism is so potent it’s palpable.

If you answer “yes” and “yes,” he’s struck gold in the heterosexual guy’s fantasy jackpot.

Any explanation beyond this revelation (“I was totally inebriated,” “Just experimenting in college,” or “I’d never do it again”) isn’t being processed.

He’s already tuned you out.

All he’s thinking is ‘Cool! She’s been with a chick!’

In his mind, there’s a chance you’ll do it again.

He’s gripped onto this new information like a pit bull with a juicy rib eye, has promptly slapped on his director’s hat, cast himself in the role of “lead stud,” and is already crafting up a heated story line of you getting busy with another woman.

Notice that these titillating three-way scenarios rarely involve bringing in another guy?

If a dude ever denies there’s a patriarchy, feel free to remind him of all of this.

Dr Mike tells the kids how to police their purity of essence

Wednesday, August 22nd, 2007

Ahh, it’s the beginning of the school year – a time fraught with fraughty goodness for incoming undergraduates heading off to the first day of their new classes. I remember the computer science class where the graduate TA simply never showed up, and the resulting hissy fit some guy sitting behind me pitched while administrators scrambled to find someone else to teach (which they did by the end of the hour). A friend of mine had a physics professor tell her all about his beliefs in women’s inferiority in the sciences. Another friend had a documentary professor fresh to academia from his previous stint as a producer of one of those fear-mongering news magazine shows. He nearly failed the whole class just to show them who was boss, and was a bit surprised to find the kids could call his bluff.

And Mike S Adams, professor of criminal justice with the feminist fixation, does his bit to bewilder the students with another one of his patented “What I Should Have, Would Have Said” columns. Will he actually start his Intro to Criminology course with a lecture on the importance of emotional chastity, or does he just wish he could? I wish he would; in today’s business environment, students need to learn how to handle being a captive audience to a superior with a bizarre, completely-irrelevant- to-the-point- of-the-meeting pet cause.

Welcome to UNC-Wilmington! My name is Dr. Adams and you are enrolled in CRJ 105 (Introduction to Criminal Justice). If you are in the wrong class, please get up and leave now – unless you’re majoring in Women’s Studies in which case you would be ostracized for leaving now. And, by the way, if you dislike bad puns you should also consider leaving this class.

I’ve read that paragraph four times, and am still trying to find the pun. My brain rejects any suggestion that it lies in the word “ostracized” for purely self-preservation reasons – there’s no way I should be able to pick a pun that obscure and bad out of anyone’s writing.

Of course, maybe there is no pun and Dr Mike is required by his department head to make that disclaimer after some terrible pun-related incident in a past semester.

Let’s skip straight to the part where we suspect Dr Mike of making stuff up:

Almost every year at UNCW, I see a feminist professor or administrator (sometimes both) handing out condoms to students in the hopes that they will engage in “protected” sexual intercourse.

Pop quiz kids: who passes out the free condoms at your school? Because at every school I’ve ever been to, that task is usually delegated to the health center (which just tosses them in a self-serve basket) and student clubs, fraternities and sororities. I have yet to see a professor, even a kooky one, or any administrator actually passing out the condoms. All of the school administrators I know are usually, you know, administrating. There’s also an unspoken agreement that getting free condoms from your friends is cool, getting them from your doctor makes sense, but getting them from your adviser is just creepy – this person grades my essays, why the hell is he or she meddling in my sex life?

Since the other professors don’t let Dr Mike sit with them at their lunch table, there’s apparently no way for Dr Mike to know that students don’t come to class expecting their teacher to hand them condoms so there’s no need for him to reassure them of the true contents of his imaginary fantasy box:

This box on my desk is not full of condoms. It is full of copies of the book “Unprotected” by Dr. Miriam Grossman, a psychiatrist who wrote about her experiences working at the student health center at UCLA. The book tells many stories you need to hear – stories you will never hear from the censorious feminists who run the Women’s Resource Center.

Does he really have a box of books to pass out to the class? Does he have enough for everyone, or do they have to share? How many sections of Intro to Criminology does he teach, and who paid for this blatantly inappropriate gesture? Does the assistant to Mike’s long-suffering direct superior schedule time in advance for the inevitable grievance process every semester, or do they prefer to act surprised? Is this why Mike teaches a freshman intro class – freshmen being less likely to be aware of official grievance procedures or the location of the ombudsman’s office? Does pouring the fantasy into his Townhall column keep him from pulling these stunts in real life, or is he just working up the courage to turn his thoughts into action? So many questions!

For example, Grossman tells the story of one college freshman who started having uncontrollable crying spells. Her depression became so severe that she sought help at the student health center. It did not take long for the therapy sessions to reveal that her problem was a “friendship with benefits” she established during the fall semester. She and her casual sex partner had agreed that they would just sleep together without dating. But she was beginning to long for something more.

Those espousing the radical feminist agenda at the university had told her that using condoms would protect her – this without any reference to the emotional consequences of casual sex.

My God! This is shocking! Why, oh why do feminists promote using sex to gain approval from guys or entering into sexual relationships that leave you unsatisfied? Don’t they realize that their subsidizing of Girls Gone Wild videos actually hurts women? And why do all these homosexuals keep sucking Mike’s cock?

Back in reality, feminists would tell Betty Coed to break it off with her fuck buddy if it upsets her that much. If he drops the friendship just because you dropped the benefits, then consider that a lesson learned. People can be jerks, but if you’re smart, being burned once should be sufficient.

The same problems that Grossman saw at UCLA are also prevalent on other campuses. For example, this summer, I got a letter from a young woman who was experiencing deep pain as a result of her decision to abandon the values she grew up with and to adopt the values of the “hook-up” culture, which is the dominant culture on most college campuses. She was a virgin in her 18th year. Now, in her 21st year, her number of sex partners has almost caught up with her chronological age. And she is now beginning to learn that there is no condom for the heart.

Let’s take this paragraph in two parts:

Part A: Who the fuck is pouring their heart out to Dr Mike in that manner? No, really, who?
Part B: Girl goes from virgin to whore and suffers dire consequences – how perfectly narrative! It must be the actual act of sex that’s making her sad. It can’t possibly be that she’s been raised with conflicting messages about sex, and is now undergoing the very tough process of sorting out the truth from the lies while her peers judge her every move. And the double standard, that’s probably not making her sad either. Certainly, none of those seven guys a year for three years ever did anything assholish like being nice before getting some and ditching her right after, so she can’t be confused about that. It must be the sex, so this is nothing a little chastity won’t cure.

Patriarchy, the cause of – and solution to – all of life’s problems!

And men are also put at risk by those who would put political correctness above concern for student well-being. This is especially true for gay men.

So sex is bad for women, and bad for gays, and according to this nervous straight man, this is just the natural order of things and we’ll have to deal. Right. Pardon, Dr Mike, but your slip is showing.

If you are gay and engaging in anal sex, it is unlikely that you will ever see the words “anal sex” listed among the risk factors for contracting AIDS in any campus publication anywhere. Nor is it likely that you will ever hear these words mentioned by any professor discussing such risk factors in a relevant lecture.

To be fair, you do actually have to open the publications and read what’s inside of them rather than just imagining what might be inside of them. Sometimes you don’t even have to go that far. My mom, for reasons that will god willing remain forever unclear, was the recipient of a postcard that listed from left to right all kinds of sexual activities. The background was a gradient from green to yellow to red, and the act’s place on the postcard represented it’s relative risk. Up in the top left, greenest corner was abstinence, and unprotected anal sex was about as lower right as it could get, just slightly to the right of unprotected vaginal sex and unprotected oral sex. Protected sex of any kind was in the yellow to yellow-orange region.

Mom passed the postcard on to my roommate, who passed it on to me. The point is, this information is not only out there, sometimes you don’t even have to look for it. And the “relevant lectures” have to cover it just to make sure there’s one more drop of sanity to counter the tidal wave of bullshit that sweeps curious students into human sexuality courses. Not that I have any idea where this bullshit comes from, mind you.

But because your health and well-being is important to me – despite my religious opposition to your lifestyle – I want you to get better information than you are likely to get on this or any other college campus.

I guess I don’t have to take the obvious shot here.

I’ll start by offering you a copy of Dr. Grossman’s book. If you need additional information, I’ll send you somewhere off campus to ensure that you will get accurate information.

Bow-chikka-bow-waaa!

Ok, sorry, I couldn’t resist. But come on, a guy who writes about how just hearing the word “vagina” gives him ED should be more careful about suggesting that he deeply cares about the sexual health of his homosexual students before stating that he’d be happy to direct them to an off-campus location to learn more. I realize that at some point after anal sex but before Grossman’s book giveaway he switched back to addressing his whole audience (women and fags, mostly, as straight men are too manly to let a little sex get them down) from addressing just the gays (at least, I hope he did) which makes the suggestion, while still insanely inappropriate, at least less blatantly homoerotic. So I guess depending on how you read that, Dr Mike is in need of either a really good copy editor or a really good therapist. Either way, how those poor kids handle him on the first day of class will be the first step towards making adult decisions like what their coping strategy is for dealing with insane people who, for whatever reason, can’t be ignored.

The world hates on my package

Monday, July 16th, 2007

I was scratching my crotch the other day (because it’s the manly thing to do when idle), and the checkout clerk freaked out on me because she said the attention I was drawing to my bulge was preventing her from doing her job.

Earlier last week, I was sitting in a movie theater with my hand halfway down my pants for comfort, and the chick sitting next to me said I needed to get it out of there because she couldn’t think about the movie with so much distraction emanating from my cock-tal region.

Sometimes when I wear boxers and khaki slacks, “snake and the boys” jangle freely. The waitress at my favorite bar said that I wasn’t allowed to leave my stool unless I taped them down because whenever I got up to pee, she spilled her tray thinking about my jewels.

Seriously. Those things totally happened.

Would I lie?

Okay, you got me. None of those things happened. If I were to scratch my crotch in public, no one would say anything. If I jammed my hand halfway down my pants while relaxing in public, folks wouldn’t notice or mind. And if I had the gall to let my junk warble around in boxers and loose pants, I wouldn’t catch a bit of flak.

But if I had boobs and dared to take them out in public? That’d be a whole different story.

Is Amanda losing out to “confectionary Christ” and his chocolate ding-dong?

Wednesday, May 30th, 2007

Behold the new face (and cock) of evil:

Yep, that’s supposed to be Jesus. And he’s made of milk chocolate. And contrary to the selective memory of some Christians, Jesus had a pee-pee. It’s even possible (probable?) he had the gall to be staked to the cross without the loincloth commonly found in the family-friendly death scenes displayed in your neighborhood churches.

And now that Catholics pitched a hissy, he’s being taken down.

I knew there was quite an uproar over the choice of a NYC art gallery to display what MSNBC referred to as a “confectionary Christ,” but I had no idea that Super Christ had gotten involved:

Bill Donohue, head of the watchdog Catholic League, said it was “one of the worst assaults on Christian sensibilities ever.”

I realize Amanda Marcotte might be considered by Donohue to be the worst assault on Christian sensibilities ever, but those are strong words, stronger even than the ones he used to describe the horrible atrocities commited on tEh interweBz by Amanda and her gang of Satanic pandas. I’m worried she’s been surpassed by naked chocolate Jesus on the evil-o-meter, and if so, I’m wondering how she can reclaim the belt from this delicious usurper.

What if we made a chocolate sculpture of Amanda performing that oh-so-famous scene from The Exorcist? What if we made it out of aborted fetus tissue?

I suppose she could rape and plunder a Christian nation, but the Muslims seem to have cornered that particular brand of victimhood (suckas!).

What if Amanda used the Shroud of Turin as toilet paper then wiped the Pope’s face with it? What if she wiped Bill’s face with it?

If Amanda took video of an assisted suicide and put it to a Jars of Clay song, would that do the trick?

Then again, maybe there’s nothing we can do. Amanda doesn’t have a brown dick that makes you want to put it in your mouth, and maybe that’s the worst thing Bill could ever encounter.

I wonder if he’d be this mad if it were made of white chocolate.

Men have body-tint needs, too!

Thursday, March 8th, 2007

Jessica Valenti — a kind and gracious host if you’re ever in NYC, by the way — posted her concerns yesterday about Benetint, a product marketed as tint makeup for your nipples.



Benetint: Because we thought it’d be funny
if we stained the inside of your bras!

The product promo explains that women want their nips to be “pert and fresh-looking,” and Benefit, the makers of Benetint, believe their water-proof boob paint “makes them appear that way.”

a-MEN. Thank god someone entered this bone-dry market. Speaking as a man, there’s no greater turn-off than a stale nipple. You know the kind of nipple I’m talking about — all grey and withered, like a dirty dress sock or shrunken elephant head.

I’ve had far too many hot ladyfriend encounters spoiled by the exposure of a boob that looks more like it belongs at the morgue than in my manly grasp. But now I won’t have to look at a woman’s chestal embarrassments ever again, or at least not without the cover of God’s greatest gift to a fella’s sexual adventures: makeup. …Okay, technically alcohol is the greatest gift, followed closely by roofies and the appeals process, but you get the idea. Makeup makes it easier to imagine I’m banging an airbrushed Penthouse model or a RealDoll come to life, and that’s what it’s all about. [highfive]

But it’s not all fun and games being a guy on the prowl. Sure, it’s gross when I’m forced to fiddle with overripe boobs, but we all have our shortcomings. And with women these days getting all uppity and “experienced,” they’re not as easy to please in the penis department as they once were. I’m not talking about length or width, either — I’m talking about hue. If my cockhead doesn’t look rosy and rearin’ for a frontal (or the occasional rear) assault, then I’m likely to be laughed out of the boudoir.

Unfortunately, we’re not all able to sleep with sheltered virgins 24-7, so here’s hoping Benetint looks just as good on my tip as it does on the ladies’.

Slashdot, just when I love you, you always find a way to make me sad.

Thursday, March 8th, 2007

This, in it’s entirety, is slashdot’s coverage of the AutoAdmit festival of assholes:

“Today’s Washington Post carries a front-page article on the internet message board AutoAdmit (a.k.a. Xoxohth), which proclaims itself the “most prestigious law school discussion board in the world.” The message board has recently come under fire for emphasizing a free speech policy that allows its users to discuss, criticize, and attack other law students and lawyers by name. Is this an example of free speech and anonymity gone too far, or is internet trolling just a necessary side effect of a policy that otherwise promotes insightful discussion of the legal community?”

Nowhere does it explain what the hell really went on, and the comments have of course turned into a wankfest about which guy can out-wonk the others about the finer details of libel law. I hope none of them actually read the article, because there is nary a mention of sexual harassment or cyber-stalking to be found, and I’d hate to think that even regular /. commenters could ignore that.

I wrote an Anonymous Coward comment that linked to Jill’s piece, but it got lost somewhere and it may or may not ever see the light of day.

EDITED almost immediately to add: Thank god someone whose comments actually go through got it. My faith in humanity is somewhat restored.

The line between shameless advertising for cosmetic surgery and soft-core porn is blurred, with hilarious results.

Saturday, February 10th, 2007

Is your vagina up to snuff? Probably not.

We all know about designer vaginas and elective labioplasty by now, but how can we know if it’s right for us? We need guidance, but we can’t go around asking just anyone if our vaginas are pretty. We need help from a trusted source-some place reputable, with years of experience in the research of vaginal aethstetics and our best interests at heart.

We need a place like The Vagina Institute, which combines a reassuring concern for the health and happiness of women (“Need a little help getting your genitalia to be prettier or tighter heightening its femininity. Vagina enhancement is soaring all over the world.”) with a clear scientific bias (“The Vagina Institute has been collecting and processing statistical data and information since 1995.”) and a mastery of the both the technical vocabulary of their field (“So women with large vaginal cavities will tend to produce more odor then women with smaller vaginal cavities when vaginal funk arises.”) and standard English (“We have uncovered many interesting findings that may be of interest to you.”)

I took the quiz, and was reassured that my vagina is of very good quality. And thank god for that, because I’m not so sure that my boyfriend would be very supportive of my decision to go out and spend perfectly good money on unnecessary surgery to make my vagina the bestest, most feminine it could be. If only my significant other was as supportive of me as some of the Vagina Institute’s commenters are of their own girlfriends:
(more…)