To Put It Another Way, Porn Sucks

It’s tres chic to criticize pornography; probably every literate person does at some time or another, despite the shooting-fish-in-a-rainbarrel nature of the enterprise. But few manage to do it with such elan:

I find almost all porn to be insufferable. The inflated breasts, the blond hair, the absence of the merest trace of thespian ability. But the thing that repulses me most of all, is the stupidity. I’m not talking about the inane dialogue that is written to give porn films a plausible scenario. I’m talking about the insipid direction, lighting, cinematography. The men’s gym-tits and deli-window dicks. The women’s gonfle tits, cookie-cutter measurements, greasy sheen. Their interchangable clonedness. The repetitive and unimaginative scenes in which the same buttons get pushed over and over and over and over again. It’s like a printing press that prints out the same newspaper day after day, and we’re supposed to be interested.

Thanks to Madame G.

By the way, anybody know what “gonfle tits” are? It sounds like a dessert to Bacchus….

Salon Slavegirls

Here’s a cute image of abject slavery, as envisioned in the absinthe-soaked photography salons of turn-of-the-century Paris:

This image was snagged from a passing Ebay postcard auction, where it was going for a sum that should have been large enough to ensure that the models were included in the deal.

Eros Comix, We Loves Them, Our Precioussss….

Yesterday the Reverse Cowgirl posted a link to an appeal from Fantagraphics Books, which is in a dangerous cash flow crunch that might alternatively be described as a “bulging warehouse” crunch. Book rich and cash poor — who among us can’t be sympathetic to that universal plight of the literate?

Anyway, this whole matter cut no onions with Bacchus, because he’s not generally a comic book guy and the Fantagraphics guys apparently are. And here’s the mind-boggling part — nowhere in their “buy our books!” appeal did they mention their ownership of the Eros Comix imprint, to whom we all owe thanks for the kinky insectile slitherings, moanings, and writhings of comics like Bondage Fairies, not to mention the wholesome spankings and 1950s June Cleaver dildo shenanigans of Housewives at Play. And too many other quality erotic titles to count.

This oversight on Fantagraphics’ part is possibly forgivable, as they’ve doubtless got good reasons for separating out their adult business and being low-profile about it. But it’s inexcusable for the Cowgirl not to have mentioned this trivial detail (unless, like Bacchus, she did not know it.)

Fortunately for all concerned, a mysterious stranger who calls himself Sam dropped an email. So now we know: Go buy some dirty comics today, if you want to be able to buy them tomorrow! It’s a good cause….

Celery Plus Gravity Minus Panties Equals Art

Here’s a hilarious pinup art essay by James Lileks, in which is lampooned an extensive series of paintings featuring girls whose panties have mysteriously fallen off in public. Celery is often present. It’s all very weird and a little disturbing, although some of the pictures are sort of cute if you are into public humiliation of pretty but hapless women with inexplicably slippery thighs:

It’s hard to say whether Lileks doesn’t get that this was a fetish of the artist, doesn’t approve of what is basically a harmless fetish expressed in art, or is just being so harsh for the (considerable) comic effect that results. A good read in any case.

Nubile Soapy Goodness

Courtesy of Porn-Stash we have [had] a gallery purporting to be the Brazilian Women’s Soccer Team. Dunno if that’s true or not, but there is one hell of a lot of deliciously callipygian beauty on display. And the shower scenes (one of which is pictured here) have enough nubile soapy goodness to power a small country, not to mention make a grown-but-dateless man weep.

Exit weeping….

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Girl Washing
• How To Wash A Girl
• Six Dirty Girls

Extremism In The Pursuit of Geekdom Is No Vice

This is true:

Baycon is a very costume-based convention (or “cosplay” as the young, wide-eyed screaming anime fans are calling it). This means that everyone looks like a freak. Especially people like me, who don’t dress up. We look like the weirdest freaks ever. Even the hotel staff look like fairly normal freaks by comparison, because they’re dressed up in waiter and maid’s outfits.

And some people, look like incredible, dressed-like-Lara-Croft-only-with-chains-on semi-naked babelicious freaks. Not that I stare. Or even look, or think about them, or anything ever. I only know about their existence because when these people walk into a room, all the straight boys nearby give out this universal telepathic deflatory pained sigh. It’s like the sound of a wolf-whistle, only backwards, sucked in. Ooohhhhhh.

The sigh has a meaning. All my life, it says, I have been told by my superego that dressing like a Marvel superhero will not get me laid. And, here, here and now in this temporary saturnalia, surrounded by other males who are – at best – my equals in the ugly league division table: here is my perfect woman. But the world knows that this mad girl’s flickering eyes craves just one thing. A man dressed as Galactus, Eater of Worlds. And not only have I left my Galactus costume at home. I never made it. Worse, I threw those biro drawings of me in the Galactus helmet away the moment I’d drawn them, ashamed to show them even to (say) Dave. And now I know: I’m not a virgin because I’m a geek. I’m a virgin because I have pursued geekdom with a less than pure, directed gaze. I have faltered, and now I’m just another guy at Baycon. And some other guy in front of me will be Galahad with the Holy Grail because he spent two weeks measuring out huge papier-mache clamps to fit on the side of his head. And I did nothing but stare at my Lara Croft pull-out poster, in the belief that she was not real and that I could not ever meet her.

Pursue your enthusiasms. Because if you’re doing them right, you know exactly where they end.

Bacchus once went to Baycon, many years ago. Bacchus was a virgin at the time. Bacchus made this very noise. Repeatedly. It hurts a little bit when you make it, too.

Thanks to Danny O’Brien’s Oblomovka (drat that missing Russian-English dictionary!) for the excellent advice and to Cory Doctorow at Boing Boing for finding it.

Not Every Man Would Complain

The news from Thailand:

SRISAKET (AFP): Five Thai women have agreed to pay compensation to a man they allegedly gang-raped on Songkhran Day, police said today.

Police said the women, aged between 20 and 40, admitted to plying the 47-year-old man from this northeastern Srisaket province with alcohol, tying him up and stripping him naked before taking turns having sex with him.

“All the women claimed that they were fed up by the man’s loud boasting about his sexual prowess,” said Pol Capt Gene Puangmala, of Khukhan district police station. “Some of the women were married,” he added.

He said the man complained to police of having a swollen and damaged organ after the incident, but after some negotiation agreed not to press charges in return for financial compensation. The agreed sum was 400 baht per woman.

Illustrated Poetry

A tooter who tooted a flute
tried to tutor two tooters to toot.
Said the two to the tooter,
“Is it harder to toot, or
to tutor two tooters to toot?”

They Do Things Different In Colorado

This is such a cheap shot it’s almost not fair: The Colorado Style Artificial Vagina. Selling point: “Also has collection bottle and filter.” As the Cowgirl would say, “yum yum.”

And if you’ve got a dominatrix very high up on your gift list, she could probably have fun threatening her clients with the ElectroJack V from the same site.

Do You Suppose it Tickles?

The more vocal advocates for breast feeding argue that it’s an act that’s utterly without sexual significance, and that the sexual iconography of the exposed female breast is somehow destroyed by the proximity of a hungry infant. If they’re right, the following story has no place on a sex blog.

But who cares? This is just too deliciously kinky and European:

Woman who nursed puppies has no regrets

A young Norwegian mother who took a litter of puppies to her own breast when her dog died giving birth remains proud of her unusual move.

…

The drama began Friday November 8 when Skiaker’s Canarian Warren Hound, named Aida, started giving birth to a litter of 14 puppies. Suddenly the puppies stopped coming and the next stop was the vet’s office.

In the end, both Aida and three of the puppies died, while another three died later.

Those that survived were in desperate need of nourishment, and that’s when Skiaker impulsively took them to her breast. She fed them over that first weekend, until surrogate mother dogs could be found to take over.

Today, the eight surviving puppies (four males and four females) are back in the Skiaker’s home and in good health. So is baby Emil, now five months old and happy to play with his canine comrades in the Skiakers’ living room.

Deep in your heart you know that the video (if there were a video) of a blonde Norwegian lady breastfeeding puppies would sell for big bucks on Ebay.

Friendly Negotiations

Dave at Scripting News shares his extremely cool photograph from the red light district in Amsterdam. He calls it “Negotiating”.

The Three Wise Women

There’s a story behind this image. It’s obviously a recreation of the famous “three wise monkeys” with their “see no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” advice. But what caused these three ladies on a couch to do this, and to smile so nicely while doing it?

Special Mormon Underpants

The Mormons, word has it, wear special underwear to the temple. Mt. Molelog found a picture:

Is that a stuffed codpiece? Or do they just put extra layers of cloth in that area to deter unseemly lust from rearing its ugly head when the sermon gets hot and heavy?

UPDATE: ErosBlog is informed that the special Mormon underpants are for daily wear, if you are that sort of Mormon; not just for wearing to temple as the post suggests. Only their bikini waxers know for sure….

Trim a Pube; Annoy a Fascist

In the spirit of the lady photographed a few months back with a huge protest sign saying “Lesbians Against Bush”, here we have a pubic protest courtesy of pieceoPlastic: Bush Must Go.

Of course you realize this is a threat to Homeland Security (“Sig Heil!“) and must be dealt with in the strictest possible fashion, Citizen.

Some Things Never Change

Here’s a blowjob from the 1920s. Black and white this photo may be, and ragged at the edges from most of a century of horndog mishandling, but isn’t this long-dead fellatrix a righteous cutie?

Lady Liberty, Slut and Proud

Dirty Whore doesn’t use the word “slut” the way the assholes in the SoCal porn business do…and that’s a good thing:

First, a hearty bravo to the gentleman who wrote the following in an e-mail to me today, “If the freedom to comport yourself in the way that makes you happy is sluthood, then Lady Liberty should always be portrayed on her back with her legs in the air.” Hear hear! And don’t even get me started on uses for that torch.

Any graphics designers out there who can make her a graphic?

Spam of the Week

This animated .gif actually came through in a couple of sex spams over the last few days. Disturbingly gripping, if you’ll pardon the pun:

Those wacky Japanese animators strike again!

Mmm, Fruit….

Daze has found, and linked to, Christina Rossetti’s poem “The Goblin Market“, which is a poem about girls who get hungry for fruit:

“She dropp’d a tear more rare than pearl,
Then suck’d their fruit globes fair or red:
Sweeter than honey from the rock,
Stronger than man-rejoicing wine,
Clearer than water flow’d that juice;
She never tasted such before,
How should it cloy with length of use?
She suck’d and suck’d and suck’d the more
Fruits which that unknown orchard bore;
She suck’d until her lips were sore….

No sex to see here…move along now.

A Hard Day’s Picnicking

It seems that Bacchus no more gets invited to the good picnics than he does to the good costume parties. Here’s a tranquil scene, as the sun sets over the (mostly) abandoned picnic grounds covered in folding chairs, empty beer bottles and (oh yes!) someone’s drunk, passed out, topless wife or girlfriend.

Interview With An Autofellator

In case you were curious, an Interview with an Autofellator. A highlight:

Imagine having someone suck on your cock who knows exactly what you’re feeling at every moment; who can adjust every variable instantly to provide you with maximum pleasure. Imagine (this one is going to be more of a stretch for non-cocksuckers) sucking on the cock of a man who knows exactly how hard and fast to push, and when to pull out (for those of us who still have a gag-reflex). Having that much control means that I can have a variety of kinds of orgasms and can easily separate orgasm from ejaculation, and shoot a number of loads before having the final orgasm. It isn’t a substitute for sex with other people; it’s a completely different thing, like masturbation squared. It’s like any good sex: Sometimes it’s cerebral, sometimes the body takes over.

Brothers Under the Hair

Dr. Menlo, it turns out, has a covert surveillance portraitist concealed in the ErosBlog compound. (This would also explain the funny looking spot in the Hydrangea bushes with all the black cigarette butts and empty oil paint tubes on the ground.) Thus was Dr. Menlo able to publish this never-before-seen expose view of an editorial meeting at a sex blog:

Now, back to the serious business of publishing.

Later update: This is, of course, Nymphs and Satyr by William-Adolphe Bouguereau.

RSS Feed Experiments

Serious blog techies may be pleased to learn that ErosBlog is attempting to implement an RSS feed. (If you don’t know what this is, don’t worry; Bacchus understands it only dimly.)

Anyway, for now the feed is limited to headlines only. Attempts to include a description element, which in this software can only consist of the complete blog entry or a snippet from the front end of an entry, result in a feed that won’t validate as RSS and won’t display as XML, because of the target=blank attribute on links within the description.

If anyone knows why this is so, or whether it matters, Bacchus would be pleased to be enlightened. Meanwhile, stumbling research continues apace…after sleep.

Naked Ninja Girl (With Floppy Ears)

Sometimes Bacchus cannot shake the feeling that he is not getting invitations to the really good costume parties. It’s odd, really. It’s impossible to say where that suspicion comes from, or why he feels that way:

Probably Bacchus is just being paranoid.

Suspect in Feminist Circles

Mike Snider, a modern (as in, currently alive) poet who actually writes poems real humans can read and enjoy, says that any straight man who writes about sex is automatically suspect in some feminist circles. Yeah, but that’s hardly surprising, since sex itself (at least, sex involving a penis and any female orifice) is automatically suspect in some feminist circles. It may be that Andrea Dworkin never actually wrote the exact words “All sex is rape” — but she wrote some things that sure suggested she felt that way, and the idea has surprisingly persistent “legs” in, as Mike Snider put it, “some (not all) feminist circles.”

But that’s OK. Somehow it doesn’t seem likely that too many Dworkinites are loyal readers of ErosBlog.

Anyway, it bothers Mike that “there’s not much explicitly sexual poetry by men about sex with women.” Fortunately, he’s doing something about it:

We woke entangled in new love’s designs
And scrapped a plan to breakfast in the park….

Thank you, Mike.

Dear Good Vibrations:

Here’s an excerpt from Tiny Nibbles, a nifty blog written by a woman who (among other interesting things) writes for the very cool people at Good Vibrations. This bit illustrates the perils of sending rude emails to someone with access to all the sex toys plus the complete perv resources of the Greater Bay Area:

But what I really want to tell her is that she needs to be oiled up with a delicious aphrodisiac oil by six nubile and adoring male and female nymphs who blindfold her and drizzle warm maple syrup all over her sensitive parts and lick it all off while drinking some ancient bottle of sweet liqueur that makes them all hallucinate and writhe like a bunch of orgiastic snakes, all culminating with her much-needed introduction to a Hitachi Magic Wand Super Silicone G-Spotter Kit, the Tiny Buzzers nipple clamps, a Little Flirt butt plug and the iSurge, all at once. Then a sound spanking from the super-hot and very scrumptious Mistress Morgana. And a complete training on wifeliness by the dedicated wives of Whap! Magazine.

Bacchus can think of a couple of ladies (not to mention a guy or two) who would benefit from that treatment.

The Erotics of Citrus

What is it with oranges and sex? First this, then this, and now an alert reader has found the following picture, adorning a Japanese sex toy shop:

Apparently ErosBlog is now the world clearing house for erotic citrus.

Testicles on the Floor, Baby!

Spanking Blog has some thoughts on the contrast between the dominant warrior males in one of Sharon Green’s fantasy worlds versus the ones in John Norman’s Gor:

One can imagine real women finding these guys attractive, and willingly hanging out with them. (As opposed to those Gorean bastards. How did they ever get any sleep? You make one mistake, just one, with the binding fiber, and with all those weapons around it’s testicles on the floor, baby. That’s gotta happen eventually, it’s just a matter of waiting for it.)

Indeed.

Putting Clothes Away

Via Daze, a very sexy poem, which starts: “Lazy, I lie in bed and watch you bend…“

Gratuitious Cheesecake

Sorry folks, it’s been hectic around here. Is there any chance that an entirely gratuitous pinup shot of a Japanese cowgirl with bodacious ta-tas will make up for the lack of scintillating posts by Bacchus?

Yup…thought so.

Dorothy Never Looked So Good

Todd McFarlane has a new line of figures coming out, including this twisted Dorothy as the bondage slave of the Munchkins. If ErosBlog had a wish list, this would be on it:

Twisted but awesome!

Perhaps This Explains Why We Bother

The always entertaining Fred sez:

“The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything.”

— Friedrich Nietzsche

Via Survival Arts.

Quaint Country Sayings

Said to be from the north of England, your agrarian aphorism for the day is “Old enough to bleed, old enough to butcher.” Referring, of course, to the idea that a woman who is old enough to menstruate is old enough to have sex.

There aren’t enough fingers and toes to enumerate all the ways in which that aphorism strikes modern sensibilities as politically incorrect. But this sex blog is on record as being, at least, concerned by the fact that our society attempts to condemn sexually adult young people to years of sexless frustration. It’s worth remembering that this attempt is not universal, nor even particularly common, across a greater spectrum of human societies.

According to CBS, Clinton Had Sex With A Kid

Well, not really. But the headline is almost as much fun as the AOL Kills Puppies business below.

Anyway, if you read the Volokh Conspiracy, you will find that the conspirators are having fun discussing the way CBS fudged the numbers on some web pages connected with their recent “Guns in America” show. CBS defined “Kids” and “Juveniles” as including people up to age 24, which they apparently did so that their scare statistics about child firearms deaths could be hugely inflated. (Memo to CBS: Drug dealers — or anyone else — between the ages of 18 and 24 are not kids.) An astute reader then pointed out that Monica was only 23 when she and Bill got down and dirty in the oval office. The result? If you are inclined to believe what CBS reports about guns in America, then you should also believe that Clinton was a child molester.

A Child Rearing Failure

The formerly shell-shocked Shell from Across the Atlantic provides this anecdote, proof that children don’t need to be trained to be extortionate little pirates:

While in line at the bank one afternoon, my toddler decided to release some pent-up energy and ran amok. I was finally able to grab hold of her after receiving looks of disgust and annoyance from other patrons. I told her that if she did not start behaving “right now”she would be punished. To my horror, she looked me in the eye and said in a voice just as threatening,”If you don’t let me go right now, I will tell Grandma that I saw you kissing Daddy’s pee-pee last night!” The silence was deafening after this enlightening exchange. Even the tellers stopped what they were doing. I mustered up the last of my dignity and walked out of the bank with my daughter in tow. The last thing I heard when the door closed behind me were screams of laughter.

Fun With Breast and Marker

Body graffiti, it’s all the rage:

Epitomy of Bad Design

Here’s proof that even bad solutions to engineering problems have to be designed:

AOL Kills Litter Of Puppies!

This is only marginally on topic for a sex blog, but the headline was impossible to resist. And it does appear that the ridiculous and puppy-fatal rule in question may be related to AOL’s overall attempt to look family-friendly (i.e., anti-sex). If nothing else, this serves as a demonstration that failure to get on the Clue Train is fatal to puppies and other living things. From this web page (which probably won’t be there much longer):

AOL has a rule in the fine print that says that we must NOT put a web link into any email!! Yep – it’s there in the fine print. Take a look.

Well I had our website ( www.amrt.net ) on the bottom of my email and someone ratted me out – saying they found the amrt.net website “offensive” – this is the site for dogs and cats in animal shelters – not a porn site.

So AOL went in and changed my password. Oh yes they sent me an email explaining why they had changed my password. But I never got that email – because they had changed my password. And I never got the email that told me a litter of puppies needed out of the Downey shelter NOW. And thanks to AOL those puppies died that night.

Ouch.