vs a Site of Biblical Proportions

There's no way I can take full credit for this piece.  It's the result of a skype link and a very funny conversation I had with the one man I can always rely on to sink lower than me when it comes to investigating sexual insanity.  Thanks, Shane.

This site is fucking awesome.  Not only does the colour scheme scream 'Occular Rape!", but they've even compressed the whole thing into an unnecessarily narrow central column, like they were waiting for an incredible background decal that never arrived.  Kinda like the Second Coming.

Seriously, all this is crammed into the middle 33% of your screen.

Oh, and did I refer to this as just a 'site'?  Burn in Hades, Pagan!  The top left blurb clearly describes this as a "mega-site".  That's the equivalent of my shitty little blog site times Jesus to the power of God.  And check out the list of popular areas on right side of the page: Creation Super Library!  Web Bible!  Teen Qs!  Kid Explorers!  Even something called The Hope!

(THE SEX DETECTIVE x JESUS)^GOD = MEGA-SITE

It's simple maths.

But I'm a goddamned Sex Detective, not some freak interested in exploring kids or libraries with special powers.  No, ma'am, I'm all about the naaasty, the rude stuff, rumpy pumpy, the good ol' hole in one.  I also scrutinise the weirdest part of sexual relations - the humans who do it.  So, I started on this site by diving into the universal starting point of all sexual stupidity: adolescence.

When it comes to sex, there's nothing dumber than a teenager.  Teenagers obssess about sex hourly, yet gladly do fuck all to learn about it except in a kind of osmotic, trial by error way.  Teenagers believe that preganacy can be cured with a 2 litre Coca-Cola douche.  Teenagers think that anal sex technically protects their sexual purity.  They're sorta like real people, only with incomplete brains and fingers that smell like thrush.  Christian teens are the worst because their definition of fun is also my definition of living death.  Which is hardly surprisng given that they worship a magic space zombie.

Anyway, let's get a taste of how a mega-site answers today's most pressing teen questions.

Questions like: What About Gays Needs to Change?

Christianity vs Homosexuality as a Self-esteem Issue
Um, okay, this one is obviously from a highly presumptive teen.  Luckily there's a Pastor and 'former homosexual' who has the answer.  An answer that includes analogies about muscular, sweaty men and meeting young, very handsome males with sexuality issues at Church.  His answer is to describe gayness as a self-image disorder, and to not try to convert to straightness, but instead to simply abstain from gay activity.  He even does us the favour of directly comparing queerness with eating disorders.  No shit.

Meet Tim Wilkins, Minister of the suspiciously named 'Cross Ministry'. He 

used to have a homosexual self-image problem until he stopped fucking other
dudes in public toilets and started ministering to them instead. 
In public toilets.

I can tell just by the way this freak constructs sentences that his homosexuality is a lot less former than he makes out.  He says it's not about not being homosexual, it's about not being immoral, got it?  What the fucking fuck, fucktard?  Do you know what I find immoral?  Assuming that homosexuals are all about lust and nothing about love.

When not denying how sexuality really works, Tim likes to take his

definitely-not-gay, fluffy little dog for a walk in secluded parks

So maybe that's a bad example.  Let's try another teen question.

Christianity vs Other Christianity?

I met this guy I really like. The other day, I found out he is a Jehovah's Witness. I know it's probably wrong for me to see him, but I was wondering if there could be a possibility of me changing his religion. I am scared he will go to hell if I don't. Can you help me?

This one always confuses me, because I know that both Pentecostals and JW's are Christians.  They both interpret the Bible literally, though JW's are nontrinitarian monotheists, and fucking weird as shit, and obsessed with armageddon, and also don't believe in celebrating birthdays, holidays or pretty much anything.  They do give pretty good head, though, from what I've experienced. 

We had one of these down the road from my place.  I always imagined it was

 like the Hall of Justice for the Superfriends.

Born-agains, by minor contrast, are Henotheists, believing in the Trinity, as well as glossolalia (babbling made up words), faith healing (the magical curing of made up illnesses), some truly awful rap songs, and getting beat down by school bullies for their self-righteous arrogance and pleated pants.

 Pentecostals are also renowned for their physical and self-referential humour, racial

diversity, disturbingly literal puns, possible repressed fetishes, and really retarded

cartoonists.

Awright, Christian Answers, let's hear some of your 'holier-than-Jehovah Witness' advice being offered to this girl!

"First, get with one or two of your close Christian friends and begin praying for this guy. Only God can change his heart. Ask Him to do that."

So, you're essentially asking some kids to pray for another kid to the same God that other kid already prays to.  And how come God exclusively gets to change people's hearts all of a sudden?  What happen to free will, choosing a path and all that crap? 

Personally I'd recommend that you bribe this guy with a boob flash to get him to your special church.  Worked all the time on me when I was 16*. 
*Then I found out that Christians are all about the 'no sex thing before marriage', which wasn't much different to my definition of Hell anyway so I figured I had little to lose turning agnostic.

"Secondly, talk to your youth pastor or some other Christian adult, preferably a male, and ask him to begin witnessing to this guy. Ask him to talk to this guy about his relationship with the Lord."

Yeah, send in some cheerily creepy grown up to preach to the kid.  Let's witness to someone who, by their very title, is already a fucking Witness.  This shit is going to up like the lamest Pokemon battle you've ever seen, with quotes, counter-quotes and a heated exchange of pamphlets until someone bursts into tears.

Groan, the Teen Q's section is ridiculously generic and, well, soft, even for middle-class evangelists.  There's not one question about penis pimples or vaginal discharges, or any of the other real issues that haunt young people.

So, let's see how the grown up issues of today's Christians are tackled.

Christianity vs Porn
Here's a common enough query, and one that will always be topical for as long as we have the internet:

How Can I Tell if I'm Getting Addicted to Pornography?
Wow, you should really read the in-depth answer to this one.  I mean, shit, I had no idea pornography was a gateway drug to "rape, incest and child molestation".  No kidding, the eventual and inevitable road of pervy behaviour is those three things.  Do have any idea how many people watch porn?  Neither do I, but I'm pretty fucking sure it's more than just me.  If this site is correct, then right now - as you sit there moving your lips and reading my words - millions of folks around the world are literally raping their own children.  Thanks for destroying civilisation, Porn!

But the question wasn't actually "How do I know if I'm addicted to raping my little sister?" so I'll wind this back a bit and share the four key questions from the official porn addiction test.

ONE - Is Your Behavior Secret?
Well, I'd probably prefer the term 'private', not 'secret'.  I mean, I don't call my friends or a priest or government once I finish milking my man muscle watching it.  And porn watching isn't typically a team sport.  Okay, so let's say 'yes' to that one.

TWO - Is Your Behavior Abusive?
Um, I don't think so.  I'm usually pretty okay physically and emotionally afterwards, though I do tend to feel a bit drowsy.  Also, I take responsible steps to avoid any chafing, so 'no' I am not abusive with my porn habits.

THREE - Is Your Behavior Used to Deaden Painful Feelings?
Absolutely!  Short of any appropriate company, porn is a great way to deaden that painful feeling in my balls.  'Yes' to that one then.

FOUR - Is Your Behavior Empty of Genuine Commitment and Caring?
Am I genuinely committed and caring towards my porn?  No way, that would just be creepy (as opposed to my last three answers).  So my final answer is 'yes' to question 4, Christian Answers.

That gives me a score of 75%, which isn't too shabby.  Now let's see what than means according to the Christianity experts.

"If you answered yes to even one of the four questions, your sexual behavior is either compulsive or addictive."


Bugger, either I'm doomed to be an incestuous pedophile, or I can be saved by becoming a Born Again Christian.  One path condemns me as a violent, evil deviant worthy only of a painful death.  But the other means being a Born Again Christian.  Gimme a few days to think about it.

Or I could just keep watching porn and not do the rape/incest/molestation things, just like I haven't for the last 20 years.


Christianity: Dating the Right Way
Okay, one more Q&A from these Bible-boning, God-gobbling, Jesus-jizzing, horny-with-the-Holy Spirit sages.

What are the Biblical guidelines for dating relationships?

Well, shit, that sounds pretty tame territory.  Did the Abrahamic God-followers even have a concept called 'dating' 6 000 years ago?  I thought it was all about fighting the Sumerians, Hittites, Phillistines or whoever, taking their women, then enforcing marriages which resulted in 13 year old pregnancies that spat out little Semites to grow up to fight Sumer... you get the point.  It was brutal as all fuck, a breeding war between races.  No dating, just mating and hating.

But that shows you how much I know, because Dawson McAllister has responded with a step by step answer to this possibly self-manufactured question.  Who's Dawson McAllister, you may reverently ask?  Fucked if I know, but the internet pegs him as some sort of preachy radio celebrity and blogger in Ass-Fuck, Tennessee.  Here's a friendly pic of the guy:

Complete with dentured smile, dyed and refoliated hair,

intelligent glasses and a smashing taste in jumpers.  Looks

 quite innocuous, doesn't he?

Yep, anyone that normal looking scares the hell out of me too.  Jeez, a skim of his answer also looks normal, all well phrased and formatted, enriched with definitive quotes from scripture.

Here's a taste of that normalcy:

We should date for fun, friendship, personality development and selection of a mate, not to be popular or for security.

And some follow up statistics...

Realize that over 50% of girls and over 40% of guys never date in high school.

Wow, I know he's trying to reassure people, but now I just feel depressed for young people.  Maybe his 4-point guide to Christian dating will lift my mood?

1. Guard your heart. ... boring, what does that even mean, and who cares?

2. You are known by the company you keep. ... so pick a cool name for your Jesus gang.

3. Christians should only date other Christians. ... like they have a fucking choice.

4. Is it really love? ... hang on, this last one sounds like it might... yes, it does, it defines exactly was 'love' is!  After thousands of years of philosophical debate, finally there's an answer.  And in bullet form too...

Godammit, Dawson!  Last time I had a relationship like that I was 4 years old and my significant other was a beret-wearing teddy bear called - for reasons that transcend age and reason - 'Water Bear'.  St Paul wrote a lot of soppy crap like this to the Corinthians, who I assume were a society of pussies he was trying to seduce.  Pity that list can in no way completely apply to any real human.  Not easily angered?  That's an inevitable consequence of familiarity.  Never boast about each other?  Sounds almost insulting.  Keep no record of wrongs?  St Paul clearly dated exactly zero women.

Dawson could have boiled this down to a simple "are you both soft-cock nobodies?  Yes?  Great, you can date because the rest of the world, let alone God, literally won't care."

For people who do care, though, there's some more advice.  Kinda.  Maybe more like a series of warnings -or tips - depending on how you look at it.  This section is labelled How Far Is Too Far? , even though it's not about rape or deep throating at all.  If anything, it's about the opposite of rape, like advice on how not to get lucky on a date.  Avoid alcohol and drugs!  Avoid anyone with any sort of reputation!  Don't go to places where you might feel attracted to your date!

Then comes the anti-sex stuff: 'Corinthians 6:18 says to "flee from sexual immorality." We cannot do this if we are tempting ourselves through carelessness.'  I have no idea how to tempt myself through carelessness, clumsiness or absent-mindedness, I'm more of a 'tempt via action' kinda guy.  He also warns: 'Don't engage in any impure contact that is sexually motivated, such as petting.'

Like I said, these fuckers have no idea what 'dating' means.  They think it can be done while methodically avoiding all the things that define it.  How would you even know you were on a date if you heeded these warnings?  According to these anti-rules I've already accidentally dated three family members, the parcel delivery guy, and my dentist.  And that was just Tuesday.

Okay, so what do you do if you go on a date and some sort of impure contact/words/thoughts do occur?  That's where Dawson's third section comes in: If You Have Already Gone Too Far, Why Stop?

That's either rhetoric or he's grooming a serial killer - oh, I see, it's actually advice on how to retroactively abrade what little joy you inadvertently experience when you failed to flee from possible sexual immorality.  Dawson cuts this answer into 3 bullets this time:

See what I mean about the whole Christian dichotomy of dire warnings then pussy-centred consequences?
First there's the universal 'get out of jail free' forgiveness card.  Then a reminder that the unproveable entity you decided to worship is always right, no matter what.  Finally there's the cautionary 'nobody wants your used vagina' assertion.

Conclusion
Holy shit, this has been a real journey.  And trust me when I say that what I've shared with you is only the tip of Christianity's premier mega-site.  Christian Answers?  You bet, and by the bucket load.

Sure, the answers are effectively limited to "No!", "Stop touching it!" or "Because God fucking well said so!", but at least there's now a universal repository of literalist biblical opinion, a place where prominent believers of mythological things can share their interpretations of the fantastic and baseless with the next generation of delusional Gnostics.  Sorry, but sites like this really do remind me why I hiss at crucifixes and masturbate in confessional boothes: any (staged) Q&A forum that presumes to apply ancient knowledge to modern problems is ass-backwards.  Don't give me any of that 'nothing new under the sun' bollocks either!  That's just for traditionalists who can't adapt to change so they clumsily retrofit it into their unyielding mindset instead.  Everything is new, the world is always changing.  Whether you believe in a god or not, decide to date or not, watch porn or not, or even try to side-step your sexuality by redefining it with bullshit,  the world will keep moving ahead.  And so will I.



 




 

Quickie - 5 ways to tell if your man is cheating.

I've tried the long approach to reconciling this whole 'infidelity detection tips' issue that makes so much money on the internet.  Fuck that shit, women of all ages, here are 5 simple, absolutely free ways to discover if your man is cheating with another woman.

1. Is his dick is in another woman's Cleavage?

2. Is his dick is in another woman's Hand?

3. Is his dick is in another woman's Ass?

4. Is his dick is in another woman's Mouth?

5. Is his dick is in another woman's Pussy?

That's right, it's the Sex Detective's patented, genital CHAMP* infidelity test, 100% guaranteed to reveal his wandering ways.  Seriously, what other option do you have?  A spontaneous confession?  Good luck with that, you crazy, paranoid bitch!

*And don't worry, lads, you too can assess your girl's fidelity too. Just apply the oral TRAMP test today (Tongue, Rigid root-rocket, Anus, Meat marbles, Perineum).

will my bullshit relationship advice ever end? NEVER!

It doesn't take a genius to dish out worthless advice to retarded questions.  Which is just as well, because last time I did an IQ test I scored 'Banana out of Thirteen'.  But when you get down to it most relationship questions aren't questions at all, they're just rephrased pity-pleas or reassurance petitions.

I refuse to answer real questions from people I know - not for any moral reasons, just because they are so damn boring. 

"My wife and I had a fight about the sweater she made me, what should I do?"

Shut the fuck up before I drive over and christen it as a toss rag. 

"My new boyfriend wants a threesome but I don't know if I'm ready."

Yes, yes you are!  I know I am!

"My ex is dating my mother, how do I deal?"

No, I'm not a fan of the mundane, I'm all about the blatantly stupid: questions so obvious that the enquirer clearly shouldn't be allowed out in public without a catcher's mask and a catheter.

Questions like this...

Why doesn't my boyfriend stick up for me? He never has. Like if a guy was to try and start a fight for me, he probably would have nothing to say. He loves me, but even last weekend his friend grabbed my boobs and all he could say was "I cant control him, no one can" when we were in private.

The online expert fielding this question made the obvious response about how this girl's boyfriend isn't man enough, and how if it was him (the expert) he'd get all punchy even though he admits he's never been in a fight in his life.  (That, of course, is a lie.  This supposed expert just never fought back in his life.)  Obviously the guy under discussion is a pussy, but pussies are made, not born, so let's take a closer look at this complaint. 

Listen, lady, here's the facts: if a guy doesn't fight for you then you are, by sheer definition, not worth fighting for.  Maybe you're too much of an antagonist, going around asking strangers to pick fights with your boyfriend, to be worth the hassle.  And if he has friends who arbitrarily grope women in public he probably belongs to a rape-cult anyway and it just happened to be his turn to "bring dessert".

I'm a feminist, and passionate about gender issues. Guys have told me that I lecture/"get preachy" when I try to start discussion. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I'm bashing hetero men, I believe these aren't just "women's issues" so I try to start honest dialogue. How can I share my passion without alienating the guys?

The online response to this was blah, blah, blah, "be a more courteous/less combative communicator" bullshit.  Jesus, I didn't even know we still had feminists.  I haven't even heard that particular label since '96, and that was from a dude describing himself!

I'm pretty sure it was a dude anyway.

Anyway, dear Feminist, welcome to our homeworld.  The trouble with being passionate about something, is that you constantly hope to make others passionate about it too.  Especially if it's religion, ecology, social philosophy, or 'smashing the glass ceiling' equality issues.  You live to engage in robust debates, enlighten the socio-sexually ignorant, and spread the word of whatever exciting words you've learned.  If hetero men have already suggested that you tend to proselytize, despite promising not to bash them, then you need to wind it down a couple of tampons and talk about something else.  Anything else.  There are a few things I'm passionate about too, but I don't go out of my way to steer conversations towards those topics all the time, because what's important to me isn't important to other people.

Feminism scares modern men because many of them have no idea what it even means.  When faced with an enthusiastic femmo, your average guy will panic.  He'll either start apologising for owning a penis, or challenge you to an arm wrestle just to prove that he's treating you equally.

Where would a 100% heterosexual man develop a fetish for being anally penetrated and humiliated? Could this be related to his first sexual experience?

Jesus, I fucking hope not! If a guy's first ever experience with sex is being anally reamed with a silicone-dipped jackhammer while sobbing in a public shower-room, then he is less likely to be 100% hetero and more likely to be 100% serial killer. Sexual experience is typically an incremental process - kissing, groping, fingering then porking. Fetishes usually develop after getting a handle on the non-fetish stuff. It's a walk before you can run kinda deal. Heaps of guys are into the prostate massage thing, some of the pussy types like being submissives too, and some detectives guys can't really get off with their lady unless there's also 16 inches of black rubber being mashed up their coal chute. So what? It's all about sex as a cathartic release, a primal form of expression and escapism. Like most drugs, sex stuff kicks off a neuro-chemical cocktail that rewards the user. How the user gets there differs wildly from pervert person to person. So long as he's making your chasm spasm in the process, who the fuck cares?

I'm transgendered (biologically female, male-identified) and attracted to men. I have no plans to transition. Would (straight) men be comfortable with the idea of dating someone who doesn't see themselves as a "girl"? Would they even take me seriously? I have the body, but I feel like I'm deceiving guys I might date.

Who-wha-whic-huh? You're a chick who wants to be seen as a dude but you still have all your chick bits and you want to fuck straight dudes. Hell, I want to fuck you just out of sheer curiosity. Yes, I fully grasp the difference between transgendered and transexual - one is purely identity based, the other involves biological alteration. Still, I don't see any problem if you have the right holes and he has the right pegs. Just don't grow a moustache, okay? That's a deal breaker with pretty much all straight guys under the age of 70.

Isn't it a bit extreme to say that women and men can never be friends? What about best friends? Aren't there cases where (or people for whom) it can be completely platonic?

No. Yes. Dunno, maybe? Look, princess, it doesn't really matter if your friend wants to fuck you, just accept that fact that, just maybe, every night after you two laugh over coffee or go bowling together he's wanking off to thoughts of you. Guys don't discriminate about who they find sexually attractive based on anything short of biological relationships. Friends, colleagues, enemies, strangers in the street, Japanese cartoon characters, it doesn't matter. The only guaranteed platonic relationship involves mutual castration. Just be glad he's blowing into a sticky sock instead of your face and enjoy the friendship while you can.

Remember, it's unnatural for any of us to hang out with people we find subjectively ugly - there's a baseline of aesthetic tolerance we operate on in our personal lives because it's hard to be nauseous and friendly at the same time.  Any straight guy in your social circle rated you on his fuckability-meter the first time he met you.  Sure, your ranking in his head may rise or fall over time, but the fact is that you're on his list to begin with.  The thing is, you can still be best friends despite that knowledge.  Or because of it, because you also rated him, right?

Right.












Eeew!  Come on, people, none of this is any good to me!

Things I fucking hate: Special Edition

Okay, okay, I know this time I've got the one thing I think we can all agree needs hating.  Two words, plebs: Rebecca fucking Black.

Dunno where she came from who which producer thought that exploiting someone this ordinary was going to be the next Beiber, but I have a sneaking suspision that the back end of the music industry has finally realised the money to be made in irony.  I mean seriously, this idiot's music clip below has reached 10 million Youtube hits.  That makes it meme material simply on the basis that you don't know how stupid the song is until you watch it, AND YOU HAVE TO WATCH IT!



If you don't then you won't get all the viral catch phrases that it has spawned.  Thanks, Internet, for proving once against that the only force more powerful than success is fail.  This is 3 minutes and 48 seconds of some plain chick literally just thinking out loud about how the days of the week work.  And, true to the formula that has haunted us for 15 years now, this auto-tuned clusterfuck of nonsense even features this:

A nameless black rapper in a pretend car.

Now when the biggest problem in your short life is procrastinating which car seat to take (EVEN THOUGH THERE IS CLEARLY ONLY ONE SEAT AVAILABLE) then I know that we have finally weaponsied stupidity to Mass Destruction levels.  I don't even weep for the future any more.  The future can go get fucked.  I hope Rebecca Black goes on to become president or some shit, because that's all you deserve, planet Earth.

On a no-less-insane note, a friend of mine, Fiona, was kind enough to forward me what passes for science when it's kidnapped by Marie Claire and summarised to the point of homeopathic dilution.

Okay, marie claire (if that is your real name), you've just told me that one baseless stereo-type has now been superceded by another, slightly different baseless stereo-type.  When you apply arbitrary values (3 years) to generalised occurrences (relationship breakdowns) you know you're in for a fucking hate-fest from the SD, okay? 

And what's with some of the items on that list?  Lack of romance is a passion killer?  You may as well have stated, "Being less passionate results in less passion."  Alcohol - drinking too much: that really required clarification?  And for the love of God, please expand on what you mean by other anti-social bedtime habits.  Surprise butt-rape?  Committing robberies in bed?  Cutting out magazine type to glue to a ransom notes and leaving the scaps on the linen?

Lastly, I just love the term Lapsed fashion.  Because this is marie claire, and not a relationship focused psychology journal, it's pretty much a death sentence once your fashion lapses, am I right, girls?

Look, here's the equation for idiots who don't know how people work:

FAMILIARITY = CONTEMPT

It's quite simple, spending too much time together will send any pair of humans insane.  Any siblings who've been on a long road trip by age 5 know this.  Just give each other a little breathing room and stop whinging about the same fucked up, boring things every day and maybe, just maybe, your spouse will be less inclined to put Rat-Sak in your coffee or dip your tampons in chili sauce.

That's all for today, mouth-breathers, but always remember: ignorance is no excuse for mistakes, it's just a motive to receive a beating.

- SD.

vs Retro Sexy Clothing

You little Gen Y punks have no idea how good you got it, with your apps and recycled R&B music, and your boring clothing.  Back in the day your wardrobe meant everything, it directly reflected your social status and objectified your sex appeal.  And that was just the men.

Today I'd like to thank Sashini, who emailed me the following examples of just how powerful and anarchic fashion was back in the '70s and '80s, where fashion started with earthy tones and flares and ended with neon-intensity schizophrenia.

The '70s: Decade of Manhood

Holy fuck, this is what sex would look like if you sprayed it with polyester!  Just read the description, pussies, and lament the passing of true manhood. 

"You're headed in the ultimate fashion climax." 

"it shows all you've got," 

"you're a walking turn-on." 

Back in the '70s the word 'innuendo' had been invented yet so all you got was "This jumpsuit is basically a condom!"  And that was a fucking guarantee, provided you were man enough to fill the Big Zip suit.

When your clothing company/fashion house is literally called 'Jumpsuits Ltd' you know you're delivering the goods.  Powder blue onesy?  No fucking problem.  Additional hood?  Way ahead of you, real man.  If this thing wasn't a piece of clothing it'd be classified as a date rape drug.  It's built to make you bulge, and doubles as summerwear for Jedi knights.  Just take a look at beardy, blow-wave boy up there and tell me he doesn't mean business?  Even the hot woman beside him knows she doesn't stand a chance, because sleeping with girls is for poofs!

Apart from the decriminalisation of homosexual polygamy, Bob, Paul and Steve only want one thing: Mach II shaped shirts.  Your amorphous shirts can go to hell!  These bad boys demand patterns and colours that really swing.  It says here that "Dress models have long or short sleeves, 4.5 inch Scorpio collars, 2 button chiseled cuffs, and a 2 inch wider front placket."  Even Druids have no idea what that means, but I'm buying three before my testicles disown me.

I'm not immune to the irony that a generation of men who preferred one-piece outer garments also insisted on two-piece underwear.  And who can blame them when open mesh briefs and vests were on offer.

Back then it was a sad fact that most men looked better with their clothes on - any clothes.  Which is why instead of male porn magazines they published catalogues like this.  The thing about belted sweaters is that they endure, maybe not as clothing but certainly as a meme.  Hell, they even have their own Facebook page, suckahs.


The '80s: Decade of Douchehood
See, the '70s were my father's generation, when men were proud regardless of apparel, side-burns and long hair bespoke virility, and natural fibres were considered effeminate and possibly communist.  A decade later a horde of adolescent, sexually confused upstarts came along and rewrote the fashion books by first becoming illiterate and also colourblind.

So, '80s teenager, would you prefer a white, preppy look jacket or red bomber style?  We also have pants in pocket pizzazz and pierced leg.  All collars are guaranteed poppable so you don't look like a nerd, or someone who isn't a douche.

Aargh!  My eyes!  They've seen too much!

Towards the late '80s the word 'colour' took out a restraining order against the word 'natural' and then began experimenting with drugs.  Also, 'surfing' stopped being a sport and started a new, violently loud career as a fashion genre.

"Remember, Designer Denim Jackets are not only for women and children," they're also for teenage guys who want to be women and children.  Any young teenager wearing this was blatantly telling all the other child molestors on the block "Sorry, I'm taken."  And if you tried rocking up to Casual Day wearing a jacket that was also your sister's pre-school craft project you were begging to be held down by the special kid while the chess club shaved that facial fuzz off with a spoon.

And here we have the epitomy of the era - three relatively normal kids hanging out with their muscular hermaphrodite.  Seriously, nobody gave a shit back then.

And just to drive that nail home, let's see what passed for modelling headshots in that period:

Archivists are still arguing over what kind of product was being sold in this ad, or if it's just an instructional video for home embalming kits.

So rest easy, Gen Y, knowing that these horrors need never be repeated.

vs Anti-cheating advice.

People are idiots the moment they fall in love.  If it wasn't for all those narcotic-strength hormones and neurochemicals released by the 'falling-in-love' process and subsequent co-dependence rewiring that occurs upstairs, there's no way we'd put up with each other's shit for a second.  Ever watch that horribly hilarious American show, Cheaters?  Of course you have, because it gives you that guilty little buzz we all get when someone else is caught with their hand in the vagina-shaped cookie jar.

Infidelity detection is huge business - websites, books, private investigation/honey trap services, tv shows, video guides, mail order lie detectors, you name it, there's a product or service ready and waiting to give you peace of mind in exchange for money.  Only it never is peace of mind, is it?  Let's face it, the word 'trust' only comes up in a relationship when it's lacking.
 
As your sexiest of sex detectives it's my code-bound duty to remind you that these products and related bullshit are no substitute for the responsible option: sorting shit out.  People cheat on others for a hundred different reasons - child-like lack of impulse control, low self-esteem, boredom, resentment, envy, frustration, whatever.  But people only stay loyal for one reason, and that's what needs to be sorted out.

If you don't, then bitterness, ignorance and an overactive imagination is going to see you end up with something like this crap.

Oh thank God, a book that tells women whether or not their guy is penetrating a third party.  Take a look at the promising product description:

Cheating has become the proverbial lament heard around the world. Universal in its occurrence, cheating often leaves women broken and men shrugging their shoulders, declaring, "It's just the way I am. It's in my DNA."* (Note: In some circles, DNA stands for Dumb. Needy. Asshole.). So stop the cheater now! With its expert author team primed to out-wit even the sneakiest sleezeball, The Cheat Sheet uncovers the entanglement of infidelity with tools as simple as quizzes and as versatile as GPS systems. Each chapter reveals true infidelity stories, common cheating excuses and exposes the cheater's thought process and patterns. Readers will learn how to catch a cheat in the act; which rules cheaters live by; how to deflect a cheater's advances; how to forgive; and when there's no choice but to forget and move on. The Cheat Sheet teaches readers to recognize cheating, catch cheaters red-handed, and ultimately find a relationship that will make them happy for a lifetime.
*Cheating as a genetic disorder is a far less common argument than this description indicates.  Seriously, what sort of desperate twat would try to blame evolution for poking your sister?

If you're wondering what an 'expert author team' is, it's a couple of otherwise under-qualified women who run websites devoted to thinking how horrible men are.
 
And why is something called a 'cheat sheet' 256 pages long?  It's full of tips and tricks, including quizzes (hopefully for the reader and not the perpetrator, that would be a little bit too easy) and something about GPS.  I've done a lot of research into the common themes espoused online about catching male cheaters and they all seem to assume certain things, including that you somehow have access to CIA resources, and that your man is a 1960's super-villain.  It's all validation fantasy bollocks.

Listen, people, a book like this will only guarantee one of two possible outcomes:

1. Your man finds that you have a copy of The Cheat Sheet, in which case some extremely fucking awkward conversations are going to pop up over the dinner table, or;

2. You find that he has a copy of this book, in which case he is not only cheating on you but has also done his research.

But what if you don't have time to order, wait for, then read something stupid?  That's cool, fool, eHow has your back.



Wow, Joe covered just about every possible form of human behaviour in 2 minutes.  Is your spouse doing ANYTHING different at all?  Then he's a cheater.  But you already knew that due to your intuition.  What shits me about supposedly professional advice like this is that it only has to be right some of the time to be right at all.  There's no qualifying mitigation.  I've been accused of cheating a few times and to different degrees, depending on the neurosis of each girlfriend.  These accusations were all an initial result of 'intuition', or as I call it, 'crazy-ass projections of self-torturing doubt'.  Do you have any idea how hard it is to prove that you're not cheating?  You could provide monitored evidence over a 12 month period of eveything you do and every vagina you didn't touch and some crazy bitch can still say "Well, maybe you controlled yourself last year, but what about the next?"  When I enter into a sex-based relationship I wish to do so without having to live in a police state where sniffer dogs get shoved in my crotch every time I walk through the door.  

Sure, I've flopped around on top of my fair share of ladykind, but I prefer to be a serial monogamist.  Not for moral reasons, though, simply for the sake of stress management.  Covert cheating just takes too much hard work for too little pay off because you're living on borrowed time the moment you enter into more than one relationship. Obviously hookers don't count, provided they're tax deductible, but trying to coordinate multiple sex-based relationships in cognito would be a fucking nightmare.  Even my dick would get confused.

But that doesn't mean I'm not a cunt.  Any girlfriend who tries to secretly tag and track me on some baseless suspicion instead of the doing the grown-up thing and talking to me about it is in for some real excitement.  I will scatter seedy motel receipts and used condoms around the house like rose petals.  I will buy a new cell phone just to fill it with explicitly sickening texts, bizarre photos and stripper phone numbers then leave it unlocked on the kitchen counter all day.  As for GPS/surveillance, I can sit quietly in a pub all night after paying a friend to drive my car all over town for 6 hours.  And with the right marker pens and a steady hand I can probably make my junk look like a sexually transmitted theme park.  By the end of the first week you won't be wondering if I'm cheating because you'll be too amazed that my penis hasn't been abraded down to a nub.  You'll be afraid to leave me at home with your cat because by the time you return it'll be crying to itself in the shower while I'm the one coughing up hairballs.

So, SD, when is it okay to go through my man's email/phone?

The moral answer is: 'never', and also 'fuck you!' Is it your phone or email account? No? Then stay the fuck out. I'm your partner, not your kid. If I want you reading my crap I'd forward that shit to you.

The practical answer, of course, is: 'whenever you can get away with it'. Morality only ever applies when you don't think you're being fucked over. The moment you suspect you're getting shafted information becomes more valuable than gold and you'll stop at nothing to get it. We simply can't help ourselves. An unlocked phone or hacking your way into an account becomes fully justified in your mind because you trade off the relatively minor breach in privacy for the potentially far larger sin of infidelity. There are two ironies at play here: firstly, infidelity is not illegal, while accessing a protected account is (potential fraud and identity theft); secondly, invading a person's privacy or cheating on someone are both immoral acts.

Still, I fully understand why suspicious partners do it. See, in personal relationships there is no universal right or wrong. There really isn't. It's too personal. Emotions override reasonable behaviour every time because that is the price of love, doubt and resentment. And, like I said to begin with, being in love - along with any resultant jealousy - is pretty much a mild, fluctuating form of psychosis. Hear that, romantic tragics?! I just called you batshit crazy to your face. Deal.

But make no fucking mistake, idealists, the moment you employ deceit to expose deceit you are at war with your partner.  The same way they did when they went behind your back.  Sure, it might be a Cold War instead of a hot, yelling, tantrum one, but you're still in a fight.  You'll have heaps of different reasons for justifying what you have to resort to in order to uncover the truth, but 'Love' isn't one of them.  Not ever.

Kidd's random Vids: Dating guides & Holy clowns

Why show this crap?  Because I fucking can, okay?  It's been a long week and it's only Wednesday, so I need to share the pain that is awful video relic research, just so we don't digitally repeat the greatest mistakes made in VHS-based education.

The '80s was a bizarre time for anyone who suffered through it.  Hard-line capitalism flourished, but so did androgeny and perms for men.  The Cold War was dying, and with it the last of the traditional 'evil' empires.  Greed, selfishness and narcissism became aspirations instead of sins, and the ensuing social competition led to what would become diagnosed as status anxiety ten years later.

There is no question that the best action films of all time originated in the '80s, as iconicism gave way to sardonic and timely catch-phrases.  There's also little argument from me that the decade also spawned some of the most poorly conceived training or advice products ever to exploit the magic of portable media devices.  What follows is a sample of what some may bravely term 'cavalier marketing', or as you know it, the opposite of awesome.

Dating Tips and ... stuff?



The great (and fully credited) guys at Found Footage Festival uploaded this highly confusing and protracted montage from a video product called Attracting Today's Woman.

I was half asleep when I first viewed this clip, so I wasn't surprised when it didn't make sense.  "Some flabby Country singer is coaching a spastic burn victim to enter the Special Olympics," I shrugged, "Good for them."  Then after a stiff coffee I played it again with the sound on and realised this was the Rocky-esque vignette of this 'nerd!' (the word meant something a bit different back then)...

 'Gay' apparently.

...transforming into this 'hunk' (once again, terminology relative to the era).

'Confusingly gay'.

See what I mean about the '80s?  The solution to boost your popularity from bow-tied, horn-rimmed moustache dweeb to this dream guy was to get extensive plastic surgery then engage in a rigorously mentored fitness program while still bandaged and woozy from anesthetic.

Sadly we have no idea what else featured in the consumate Attracting Today's Woman tape - oh shit, yes we do because someone who believes this product deserves modern, if ironic, attention, uploaded the entire contents in 5 parts on Youtube.  That's certainly reassuring beacuse every poor sap who featured in this shallow social experiment can look back online and recall the very day they all fired the same agent.

If you're reading my current story arc you'll know that only professional advice and training will provide you with the special skills necessary to communicate with a potentially fuckable homo-sapien.  This is nothing new, and even 20-30 years ago an entire market for socially maladjusted and sexually frustrated morons was already being exploited.  Which is why you end up with this:



Gail Prince (I know, I know, she's got that horrible Judge Judy voice thing happening) and her school teacher approach to patronising an audience of gormless desperados was actually cutting edge stuff back then.  She asks all the right questions to a couple of strange people sitting awkwardly on a set couch.

What is flirting? 
Is it eye contact?
Is it touching?
Is it smiling?
Maybe it's a simultaneous combination of all three, but I really fucking hope not, because if anyone spontaneously lunged for me while grinning and staring into my eyes there's going to be a brief, kinetic interaction followed by a lengthy court case.





Gail then talks to the audience about the importance of props.  How disappointed was I when I found out she wasn't talking about period piece weaponry or model spaceships?  Earrings and suspenders?  Yawn.  Who the hell notices shit like that?  "Hi, strange woman whom I've never met before, tell me about all that metal hanging off your head.  Please ignore my unblinking gaze, static grimace and the way I'm gripping your thigh while we talk."

But verbal instructions are never enough when trying to teach people how to finger strangers.  That's where role-playing comes in.  And role-playing can be sexy, unless you're doing it like this couple who seem to be trying to bore each other's clothes off.

Here we have two people apparently riding a train or sitting in a diner or, I dunno, killing time in an STD clinic.  And as for props, this is where they should be featured but aren't.  Instead we're left with a guy reading the most unenthralling invisible newspaper in the world (The Wall Street Journal, Casanova?  Really?), while the girl points to her invisible earring and mumbles something about dancing.

Holy Entertainers

If you ever want to combine two very unfunny things try mixing clowns with religion, then watch the horror unfold.

Yep, Christian Clowns are as scary as fuck, but they're also scavengers, not true predators, preying only on those too old and infirm to evade them.  And I just love the bit where Preacher Guy warns clowns against making a frontal assault en masse, but instead to creep up on unsuspecting pensioners and corner them.

When I first saw the title for this vid I hoped it was all about a clown-based religion where clowns try to convert non-clowns.  No such luck, it's just churchy volunteers dressing up and behaving like idiots to spread the word of their now cringing god.  Seriously, can you imagine Christ the Lord returning for his Second Coming and seeing this shit?  He'd step off his cloud-bike or whatever and start apologising to old people: "I am so fucking sorry, I really am, these dicks aren't with me.  I never asked anyone to dress like a gay candy wrapper to scare the elderly.  I mean, shit, right?  That's pretty much the opposite of what I stood for back in the day."

But it's not just clowns taking names in vain and using childish gimmicks to spread the Word.

Not all magic is evil and occult.  Sometimes it's religious and lame to the point of pity.  Whether it's rap, rock or soul (to paraphrase DC Talk), religion has the capacity to turn any form of entertainment into a diet cordial experience.  I mean, Guy Sebastian didn't launch his career from 'Idol by continuing to sing about God, right?  Hell, no, it became all about chicks in elevators and secret boners.

But this dude and his magicforjesus Youtube channel is just downright depressing.  He likes to show off the kind of magic tricks most of us accidentally mastered by the age of 5, allthewhile rambling about Jesus stuff.  And his analogies are as disturbing as they are clumsy.  Christians react to stress by exploding unless they have some Christ-water in them?  You've taken a spiritual metaphor and made it into a magical metaphor, well done, because that shit wasn't confusing enough the first time around.