And The Academy of Porn Award Winner For Best Picture Is...

String theory, Higgs Boson, blackholes, decadimensional reality, and an infinite amount of coexisting alternative universes... What if every Academy Award winner for Best Picture were a porn? Somewhere in the expanse of existence and non-existence, this happened:

2011 – The Orgasm Artist

2010 – The King’s Penis

2009 – The Butt-Hurt Locker

2008 – Cumdog Millionaire

2007 – No Cunt for Old Men

2006 – The Legs Parted

2005 – Crash Into My Vagina

2004 – Million Dollar Hooker

2005 – The Lord of the Cock Rings: The Return of the Kink

2002 – Debbie Does Chicago

2001 – A Beautiful Rack

2000 – Gladiator Gang-bang

1999 – American Booty

1998 – Shakespeare in Love and in the Butt

1997 – Titanic

1996 – The Erotic Patient

1995 – Breastheart

1994 – Whorest  Pump

1993 – Shindler’s Fuck List

1992 – Unforgiven Whores

1991 – The Silence of the Bearded Clams

1990 – Dances With Whores

1989 – Driving and Fucking Miss Daisy

1988 – Golden Shower Man

1987 – The Last Blowjob

1986 – Poon Platoon

1985 – Out of Africa, Then In, Then Out, Then Back In.

1984 – Ramadickus

1983 – Terms of Bondage

1982 – Randy

1981 – Crotches of Fire

1980 – Ordinary Whores

1979 – Kramer in Kramer

1978 – The Dick Hunter

1977 – Annie Balls

Nailed It, Or Got Nailed? A Humbling Porn Experience

I thought I really nailed it with Farmer Porn. As it turns out, Farmer Porn nailed me.

Far and away the most popular post I've written for this blog is The Best of Farmer Porn. It has twice as many views as the next highest post and it is often searched for by name. Naturally, I assumed that this is because I stumbled on to something powerful that resonates with a large and diverse group of people; an expression of comedy that tapped into the collective funny bone of the world and said: "goochy goochy goo."

I studied this post to try and decipher what made it so appealing. I thought that if I figured out exactly what it was that  made this post so special I could do it again and again. All I want is to make you laugh, and I felt the key to your chuckle lock was somewhere in that post. Was it the simple and clear structure of a list? The Twitter roll-out? The funny pic? The farmer? The porn?

It was the porn.

I entered "farmer porn" into my search engine and guess what popped up? Sure, my post was there, but it was nearly buried under a mound of filthy farmer porn. REAL farmer porn. That's right, farmer porn is a real thing that real people are into. It's a niche porn sub-genre for people who just can't get off without getting a farmer involved. Weird? I guess I'm not really in a position to judge.

I estimate that three-fourths of the people directed to my post through searching for the phrase "farmer porn" arrived with a bottle of hand lotion, an old sock, and a look of confused disappointment on their face. Imagine having your choke rope all ready to go and a whole 45 minutes before the kids get home from school; you avidly hunt for the premium farmer porn that will take your masturbation to the next level; you click new, fresh links and you're filled with a rush of excitement at the prospect of discovering new and untapped porn mines; and just when you think you found the best of what the net has to offer, you end up on some confusing and pretentious blog about who-gives-a-crap. I hate to be a disappointment in any circumstance, but in this case I really feel like I led you on. I'm sorry.

So, I'm not quite as funny or catchy as I thought I was. I didn't stumble on to some formula for success or comedy goldmine. Truly, a humbling experience. What I did stumble onto was an obscure, niche specialty porn that, by its existence, eclipses anything funny I had to say about the subject. I made up what I thought was a ridiculous idea, but reality beat me to the punch. What this proves again is that fiction simply cannot compete with reality when it comes to the absurd. 

Perhaps the take-away experience from this is that if you want to grab people's attention you need to write about what they truly care about: porn.

Hopefully this will help get you to where you need to go:

I LOVE TEXAS! - The Ultimate Travel Guide to Texas!

Texans are a hearty folk, not welcoming of the seemingly frivolous lifestyle and “fandangles” of this century. The indomitable Texas spirit can be found within the frontiersmen, wranglers, trappers, leaders of the pack, and every other anachronisms from America’s Manifest Destiny. Texans may never surrender and never say die, but when they do it is usually during cardiac arrest at a startling young age. Texas is home to shockingly high rates of obesity, teen pregnancy, and death from violent crimes and accidents; as a result, life expectancy and childhood mortality rates in Texas rival Europe during the peak of the Black Death. With such a clear disdain for their own lives and the lives of their fellow Texans, it is not surprising that Texas has the highest proportion of uninsured in the United States (for those of you who do not live in the US, health insurance is something that the richest nation in the world makes its citizens pay to have a happy, healthy life because it spent the budget on Smart Bombs and Halliburton kick-backs).  Deep in the heart of Texas you will find that the stars at night are big and bright, but you will also find a healthy dose of cholesterol and carcinogens. So, strap on your cowboy boots, deep fry a stick of butter, and unlearn math because we’re going to Texas! Yee-haw!

Owing almost entirely to its suspicion of medicine, elitist doctors, and basic hygiene, Texas is a veritable museum for deadly diseases extinct in the industrialized world. It’s as if the CDC dropped the biosafety level 4 freezer in Texas just to “see what would happen.” The bubonic plague, rickets, smallpox, scrofula, polio, dysentery, typhoid, and many more ailments typically found along the Oregon Trail (if you don’t get that joke, ask your mom) are common in Texas. Not content to have only what everyone else has, or had centuries ago, Texas wouldn’t be Texas if it didn’t do everything bigger and better than all of history. In addition to known deadly diseases, Texas invented a number of new ones, which includes: the “Texas frenzy,” the “Texas froth,” the “Texas sweat,” the “bloody tuffet,” and “evils.” 

It should be no surprise then that the death rate for Texas infants is nearly 2 out of 3; however, the alarming ratio is counteracted by the fact that Texas doesn’t allow any form birth control other than obesity. Abortions are not permitted in Texas since “life” is considered to start at arousal and any sexual arousal that is not consummated in unprotected sex is tantamount to murder. As a result, 90% of women have their first child before their 20^th birthday—the remaining 10% is divided evenly between witches and nuns. 

Even more apprehensive about having someone's hands in their mouth than they are about modern medicine, Texans view dentistry as a form of witchcraft and those caught practicing it are sentenced to drowning.  Minor dental procedures, such as tooth removals, are typically handled by shepherds, but any person engaged in animal husbandry could perform the duties.

All Texans enjoy a healthy portion of sugar, so much so that it is not uncommon for teeth to turn black and rot out. While in the rest of the world this would be seen as sign of addiction to crystal meth, in Texas it is a sign of prestige. Any Texan with a black and rotting maw of stinky tooth nubs is sure to have eaten his weight in sugar over the past week—which is a costly habit. The lower classes, unable to afford the requisite amount of sugar for ruining one’s mouth, will sometimes black out and/or knockout their teeth to give the appearance that they enjoy copious amounts of the sweet granules. Those Texans with a full mouth of pearly white teeth are looked at with disdain and treated with the typical derision reserved for any sub-class of people.

Unfortunately, Texas is unable to improve its situation because there is no centralized government and the state is divided up into little autonomous kingdoms lorded over by  local cattle or oil barons. In this baronic system, common Texan folk are bound to a plot of land owned by a baron in return for protection and the right to work on the fields. Also, unless God appears and speaks directly to the whole state, threatening floods and locusts, shit just doesn't get done in Texas. 

So, that’s Texas—a caustic blend of cow pies and oil wells all wrapped in smoked bacon. We may never understand what makes Texas such a desperately backwards hovel of a state, and we never have to because there are plenty of roads that will take us around it. What we should hope for is that they finally build a solid wall along the border of Texas and Mexico, but enjoy the idea so much that they just keep building until the wall goes all the way around the whole state. Sure, walls keep things out, but they also keep things in. Fingers crossed. Just like with any infection, if you can’t get rid of it, quarantine the shit out it.

In Texas, cowboy hats are an erogenous zone.

FUN FACTS about Texas:

• Capitol: Waco

• Language: Country Strong

• First governor: David Koresh

• Main export: Beef

• Main import: Beef

• Favorite condiment: Ranch

• Favorite vegetable: Ribs

• State bird: Longhorn cattle

• State animal: Walker, Texas Ranger

• Best selling vehicle: Covered wagon with four oxen

• Favorite lute music: Ricercare by Francesco da Milano (1497)

• Fine for non-Christians: $11 per day

• Fine for not wearing a cowboy hat: $18 (men) $5 (women).

• Fine for messing with Texas: Trust me, just don't mess with Texas...

SERIOUSLY, DO NOT MESS WITH TEXAS!

FREE Desktop Wallpapers

I was planning on updating my resume, but somehow I got hopelessly distracted by pretty colors. I made myself a desktop wallpaper and, in the spirit of the internet, I pass it on to you. If you want a different resolution, let me know and I'll upload it for you.


To download the wallpaper, just click on an image below to view the full-size image and then right-click and select "Save Image As" (or something similar depending on your browser).

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CONTAGION - The Filthiest Movie Review Ever

Contagion, my God! I’m covered in filth! Tiny disgusting germs all over my body! Crawling around my mouth, my hands, my mind. So unclean.  Everything I touch—filth! Must. Quarantine. EVERYTHING. 

The only thing you need to know about Contagion, is that Contagion is REAL . . . or at least could be real. Contagion is unique in that it was not created by traditional means, that is, with a film crew and cameras. In fact, Contagion was not filmed at all. Contagion is actually a detailed simulation created by a robot, named Real-time Indicator of Contagion Outbreak, or RICO, which was built by the US government.  The government built RICO to simulate the spread of serious diseases associated with Gwenyth Paltrow in the hopes of managing and controlling the devastation of an inevitable outbreak. After living through the biological terror unleashed by Patrick Dempsey (AKA McDreamy) in 1995’s Outbreak, the US government began a secret plan of devising simulations around the Hollywood stars most likely to unleash the next deadly plague. Luckily, Gwenyth Paltrow showed up at the top of that list. 

RICO does more 
than simulate...

RICO simulated the spread of Gwenyth Paltrow’s destructive biological agent through complex calculations and algorithms that were cross referenced with the vector and R-0 factors in a double blind taste test. The initial results concluded that Pepsi was the clear taste winner, but further refinement provided a much more meaningful result in the form of a feature length movie, Contagion. Essentially, Contagion is RICO’s final report revealing the world’s fate once Paltrow goes “patient 0.”

Many critics have questioned why RICO reported the final results of its simulation in the form of a feature length movie, but the answer to this stupid question is obvious: nobody reads reports. It is estimated that, had RICO produced a traditional report with words on paper—boring—the report would have topped 3,000 pages.  A report that long would take a special kind of loser to read, the kind of loser who lives his or her life in completely marginalized obscurity. We’re talking about the kind of loser who; when they talk to you, you tune out; when they call you, you screen it; and when they email you, you report it as a phishing scam. Nobody would pay attention to a super loser, but people would definitely pay attention to an all-star cast that includes Academy Awards winners Gwenyth Paltrow, Matt Damon, and Kate Winslet, Academy Awards nominee and Emmy winner Lawrence Fishburne, and Dimitri Martin. Matt Damon, ‘nuff said. 

Bart Rickleton, 
Government Man

Similarly, many have criticized the US government’s release of the feature length simulation as “alarmist” and “needless doomsaying.” The US government responded in a press release saying the simulation is a critical warning to the public concerning the inevitable outbreak. Bart Rickleton, Important Government Man from the US Department of Homeland Security, said: “the more we can spread awareness and get the word out, the more prepared we will be. Perhaps the greatest enemy we face is panic. So, through this movie we hope that instead of asking ‘when will Gwenyth Paltrow unleash a devastating virus that will bring humanity to the brink’ people will ask, ‘am I prepared for when Gwenyth Paltrow unleashes a devastating virus that will bring humanity to the brink.’” He added: “we hope, for most people, the answer will be ‘yes, I’m ready.’”

The simulation's final recommendation for surviving the oncoming hellscape is to find Matt Damon and drink his blood to absorb his power. It’s the only way to be sure.

So, ladies and gentlemen, Contagion is not merely a movie concocted by a government robot named RICO to showcase the emerging acting talents of Dimitri Martin, it is a record of our inescapable future—it is our collective Ghost of Christmas Future. Now we are all faced with a choice: will we heed this dire warning and shore ourselves against the oncoming devastation or turn a deaf ear and welcome Gwenyth Paltrow’s destruction. Me? If you need me I'll be soaking in a bathtub full of hand sanitizer, surrounded by canned food, and gripping a shotgun because I am filthy. So filthy.

I LOVE PEACHES! - The Ultimate Travel Guide To The Land Of Peaches

Your soft curves tantalize my eyes and your pink fuzzy flesh tempts my tongue. I'm drawn into your sweet juices like a suckling babe. Your ripe goodness, so bountiful, is nurture for my natural appetites. I want to bite so deep into you, your wetness dribbles down my chin. I no longer care. I'm lost, abandoned in your sweetness.

And so my love affair with peaches has begun. Now I finally understand what Nicolas Cage meant when he said: I can eat a peach for hours. Yum.

If you haven't guessed, it's peach season. Peach season doesn't mean much to you city folk with your supermarkets and your everything-all-the-time attitudes and your fancy restaurants and your iPhones and your running water and your indoor toilets. Truth be told, before this summer peach season never meant anything to me either and I could not have told you when the season started (I always imagined it would be sometime around prom though . . . ), but living out in this country-ass town has some serious benefits - the principle being intimate knowledge of the most delicious peaches on earth.

I totally underestimated the transformative power of peaches. My first local peach was nothing short of life changing paradigm shift. Suddenly, there was chance for peace in the Middle East, America could solve its debt crisis without harming the poor and underprivileged, my life wasn't a downward spiral of regret and shattered illusions, but most importantly, I could finally forgive George W. Bush. That is a powerful peach. If there is something so unquestionably good on this earth, then maybe this isn't such a bad place after all.

The downside to eating the best peaches on earth is that I can never go back or have anything less than perfection. I can never buy a supermarket peach and think, "eh, close enough." I can’t eat a peach that has been shipped from another hemisphere. I can’t eat a peach out of can. I can't even play Super Mario Brothers because saving Princess Peach seems like such a waste of time compared to enjoying the real thing. After eating delicious, local peaches it angers me that food manufacturers make food products that "taste like" peach or have "peach flavoring." NOTHING is better than the real thing. This blatant fakery is offensive to my heart, body, and mind - nay! It is offensive to my very existence. This simply cannot stand and I am fully prepared to write a strongly worded letter to my representative on this matter.

You love peaches too? That's great. It's certainly not a contest, but if it were I'd be winning. So, if you love peaches let me give you a couple pointers on how to be a better peach lover.

 First, you have to serenade it:

Then, you have to make sweet love to it:

To top 10 reason why I am No. 1 Handsome Über CacoPeach Lover:

1. Wrote a 121 page account of the inaccuracies contained in Roald Dahl's James and the Giant Peach.
2.  I adopted a baby girl to name her Fay Elberta, then didn't let her have any of my peaches.
3.  Bathed in peach juice, then made love to myself.
4.  I gave up nectarines because they made peaches jealous.
5.  I ate a peach pit so that it would grow inside of me and I could be pregnant with baby peaches.
6.  I listen and I ask questions. I really do want to know how peaches are feeling. Open up to me.
7.  I stopped hanging around with my friends so I could spend more time with peaches. They made me act immature anyway.
8. I went back to school to get my accounting degree. I don't really like accounting, but there are a lot good opportunities out there and the money is pretty good to. I think it will give us the kind of stable lifestyle that can support where we want to get to, you know, family, car, and the picket fence. I'll just make writing and art a hobby, you know, that's what it really is anyway. You can't build a stable life on the arts.
9. I keep my hair cleaned up. Peaches bought me a new electric razor because she said it would be a lot easier for me to not look like a hobo. Peaches also got me a nose hair trimmer, which was pretty thoughtful. Next week we're going to the mall to get a new wardrobe; we're going to Structure and Gap. Peaches says my style is too "bohemian." It kinda is. I've made a lot of changes and it feels pretty good. Peaches says I clean up really well.
10. I killed my soul for peaches.

WTF?

Sometimes common sense and lucid thought just doesn't do it. Sometimes it just doesn't slice the ham, cut the mustard, butter the bread, or reheat the Hot Pocket. Sometimes I like to get weird . . . real weird.


Go ahead, scratch that itch.