Archive for the Sex & XXX Category

Porous Walker’s Modern Cave Paintings

Posted in Art & Culture, Lipstick Shamaness, Mythos, Psyche & Sexuality, punk rock, Sex & XXX, Sexuality, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 12, 2010 by alphabetfiend

I was born in 1974 on an evil hippy commune in La Madera, New Mexico. Then, because of the their hippy ideals and to escape the aforementioned evil, my parents moved into a cave. I’m not even kidding about that. In first grade I shared that detail with my friend Kim Koontz and her family. Afterwards Kim’s mom had a talk with my mom about my “lying problem.”

I don’t really remember those days in the cave but if I did I bet I’d get along famously with Porous Walker. I’m on a campaign to get a cave for Porous Walker. Porous Walker needs cave walls to paint on so that future societies may stumble upon it and have a deeper understanding of our culture.

"You're still a dick."

Do you have a cave for Porous Walker to paint? 

"You're weiner is so cool."...."I wish I was."

As you can tell, the man really needs a cave that he can just go to town on… do you think they have arts grants for modern cavemen in need of caves?

Walker has a modest rudimentary style. At first look his work has a sort of humorous doodle quality but then you notice those organic, geometric patterns, like honeycomb or tortoiseshell. You feel the reverberation between humanity and environment. Like an echo in the mountains. That’s the only thing I remember from those cave days… I remember standing on a precipice with my Dad as he demonstrated the concept of an echo. My age was measured in months at the time… I know, because my first official memory was on my second birthday (I remember that waxy candle in the shape of the number 2.)

Hello? Hello! Hello? Hello! 

I call out and you call back… hello? Hello!

Porous Walker is that voice in the canyon… the world talking back… an assurance that we’re not alone..

"Now demolish the skyscraper, Godzilla."

Put the word out, people, cause there is a man in need of a cave. Until then we will have to settle for seeing his art in a balloon-filled gallery. Porous Walker had an opening on June 4, 2010 at San Francisco’s Fifty24SF. The show was heralded as “Haricots Magiques: The Final Attempt by Porous Walker.”

 

In a open letter cum press-release, a far-too-modest Walker discussed his caveman urge to make art: 

I’m honestly a bigger fan of art than I am an actual artist. I’ve tried to stop drawing, sculpting, arting but I can’t seem to stop. I’m addicted to that feeling of seeing amazing artwork, ideas and feeling the energy and spirit that created them and than allowing myself to let go and just make what I want.

I really try to work hard on my drawings, and I hope to live long enough to get to a point where I make something visually pleasing as well as purely concept driven.

 I live in Napa. I’m 35 years old. I want you and me both to laugh more than we don’t and above all I want to inspire people to share what’s in their minds.

The (cave)man himself

Walker also says he’s looking for a job and gave his phone number so if you have a job or a cave for Porous Walker then get in touch with the man. His website is currently located at www.porouswalker.com but he is up to some kind of mischief with a coming soon site called “the other google” at www.theothergoogle.com

Jesus Christ is in my Sprite"

Porous Walker will be showing at fifty24sf through July 26. They’re website is www.fifty24sf.com

HELLO? HELLO!

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Baby Jesus Butt Plug (A real thing!) *Adult content

Posted in Alphabetfiend, Books & Writing, Sex & XXX, Sexuality, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 6, 2010 by alphabetfiend

Despite last night’s post — Heaven Makes Some People Horny — I wasn’t sent straight to hell. Zeus did not descend from the rainy sky to deliver a swift kick to my ass. Jesus neither. (Though aren’t they really the same guy? Haaay, Zeus! Wassup?!) Today, when I climbed onto Buddha’s lap, he let me tickle his belly as usual. Even shared a few riddles. Ah, koans. Doorjambs for the soul.

I’m not feeling the hot flaming tongues of hellfire.

Thus my bravery is bolstered.

The baby Jesus butt plug is real, y’all!!

The baby jesus  butt plug is a real life actually-exists product by Divine Interventions, the sickopath company that makes dildos that look like our favorite deities, thereby decimating that second commandment.

You shall not make for yourself a carved image–any likeness of anything that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.

Oh man, just reading that makes me wanna plug my butt and buy some artwork.

I’m not making this shit up.

But someone did and that’s what’s really wild.

"When simply going to hell isn't quite enough"

God, I love the human race. People crack my ass up. People create baby jesus butt plugs to stick up there, should I so choose. Which I don’t. My little pink bumhole is for tongues only or perhaps the very well-timed tip of  a pinky but never ever never for the baby jesus.

But I don’t judge. No. I encourage.

The idea for Divine Interventions came to the guy while seated on the porcelain throne. There he was, meditating to the warm glow of his Jesus nightlight, just trying to pinch one off, when he was suddenly struck by divine inspiration.

It’s all so creepy and yet so captivating — like something out of a Harry Crews novel. Almost makes me wish my booty didn’t have such a strict doorman. Almost. (Don’t get any ideas, Robot Boy.) 

If you’re like me and the idea of a baby jesus butt plug makes you crack up rather than spread your crack, then I have something for you.   The Baby Jesus Butt Plug by Carlton Mellnick III. Perfect for the back pew. You know the one — it stinks like Old Spice but it’s great for catching up on your reading.

 

What came first, the book or the butt plug?

The Jesus Baby Butt Plug is for the twisted and well-read. It does not promote the molestation of Jesus.

WARNING: DO NOT MOLEST THE BABY JESUS

Step into a dark and absurd world where human beings are slaves to corporations, people are photocopied instead of born, and the baby jesus is a very popular anal probe.

Presented in the style of a children’s fairy tale, The Baby Jesus Butt Plug is a short dystopian horror story about a young couple who make the mistake of buying a living clone of the baby jesus to use for anal sex. Once the baby jesus clone turns on them, all hell breaks loose.

Carlton Mellnick III

The Baby Jesus Butt Plug was described as “Trashy and dark.” by 3 a.m. magazine. Trent Haaga, co-writer of Citizen Toxie, gave it a glowing-like-a-ufo review.

Reading Carlton Mellick III’s BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG is like hopping into an LSD-filled time machine with David Cronenberg, William Burroughs, J.G. Ballard, Philip K. Dick, and George Romero at the controls. This tale of office drones and disposable clones is a splatterpunk odyssey, a cautionary tale of corporate omnipotence, and a possible blueprint of the future of the nuclear family. Touching, poignant, horrorific, nightmarish, and beautiful all at the same time, BABY JESUS BUTT PLUG is the work of an uncompromising visionary who lances the boil of his seething imagination with the tip of his pen…”

 Lordy, lordy… I loves me some PKD!!! Burroughs and Ballard too. So I might just have to order a copy next time I’m on amazon. (Carlton Mellnick III also authored The Cannibals of Candyland which makes me smile after the candy-sotted books of today…) 

Heaven Makes Some People Horny (adult content)

Posted in Buxom Goo Goo, Fur Reals, In Celebration of the Absurd, Sex & XXX, Sexuality, Sexy Bitch Steampunk yum, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 5, 2010 by alphabetfiend

I once knew a kinky slut who wanted to be fucked by Jesus.

To a certain extent, I can dig it. I did have a HUGE thing for the Lizard King, even with his grizzly madman christ-poet beard. I wrote a poem about going down on Gustav Klimt and I dry-humped Amelia Earhart in one very lovely dream. I was building some kind of steampunk orgasmatron in an old barn when Amelia was forced to crash land her silver airplane in the field out yonder. Humps & hi-jinks ensued.  But that chick, with her particular kind of “jesus trip,” she wasn’t being all sassy and symbolic and referential. It wasn’t even about irreverence. She wanted to be Mrs. Jesus Christ or, fail that, then she’d have been happy just to feel his warm jizz on her face. 

As weird as that chick was, she wasn’t really all that weird. There’s plenty of freaks who wanna get their freak on with Jesus H. Or Krishna. Or the Buddha. Personally, I’d rather get syphilis from Baudelaire. My crushes are more deviant than divine. But for some, it doesn’t get much better than up high. How’s the saying go? Once you go holy, you never go lonely?  Religion and sex have knocked boots plenty. They go way back. Think Zeus with his penchant for mortals. Picture Pan — watching from the shore as maidens romp merrily in the crick, a vision that has caused an uproar in his fetid nether-region. Trance out to the swan-song of St. Teresa as she ecstatically rejoices. Damn, she loves those flaming arrows.

We’ve been boinking the gods and the gods have been booty-callin’ us ever since creation. Ever since there was an us to dream gods up. Ever since there were gods to form us from the dirt like golems. We each depend on the other for existence — we each create the other — and where there’s creation, there’s sex.

Where there’s pollen, there’s bees.

Now we can be both deviant & divine

So why am I surprised to find that a company like Divine Interventions is creating products like these? Holy holes!

Finally, a crucifix that you can safely stick up in ya! For those in need of an exorcist, this day could not come soon enough.

Me, I’d rather bless myself with the Virgin Mary… which I’d order in a spiritual hue, such as violet or prayer-robe blue. But you, you might prefer to bury “The Diving Nun” like you were smuggling Gulliver. Or maybe you’re dying to punish Judas for his sins. Bad bad bad boy. If your sacrilege has eastern leanings, then you’ll wanna use Buddha’s belly to wiggle your jiggle like a bowl full o’ spermicide jelly. 

That’s right, sinners, there’s something here for everyone! Every heathen under the red hot sun. Yes, that means you, you jew. You too can have Moses deliver you to promised land.  

For that special brand of anal-retentive weirdo (or for collectors of absurd ephemera, such as myself) there’s “The baby Jesus butt plug.”

Oh, yes, we’re all going straight to hell.

Real Dolls: Kinkster Deluxe for the Loaded & Lonesome (XXX)

Posted in I like big butts & I can not lie, Psyche & Sexuality, Sex & XXX, SPOOKY KABUKI, TV with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 26, 2008 by alphabetfiend

“I am doll eyes
Doll mouth, doll legs
I am doll arms, big veins, dog bait.”
— Hole

Wendsday night’s episode of CSI New York — “Sex, Lies & Silicone” — involved a plot line about the Real Doll phenomenon. I don’t normally watch CSI but when I saw this trailer, I had my Ro-beau punch a few buttons on the tevo. 

If you’re out of the lurid loop, Real Dolls are eerily “realistic” life-size love dolls. Has Kelly Lebrock been in your spank bank since you were a pimply kid in the 80’s? Ever since you rented Wierd Science? Get you a slotted-piggy and start saving up. Well-to-do deviants can skip the piggy and go straight to  RealDoll.com  They can create their ideal woman as though they were Gary and Wyatt.  (I LOVED Wierd Science and can still quote Gary and Wyatt. Which may explain my obscene interest in this mad scientist insanity.)

This is not your horn-dog Uncle’s blow up doll. Real Dolls are high end silicone sex dolls with three fancy orifices. A Real Doll is the “Ferrari of love dolls, ” says Matt Krivicke, Creative Director of Abyss Creations.”It’s the most expensive highest quality love doll on the market.” If yer gonna pony up 7 grand for a poseable pin-up, you gotta do more than press your lips around the rubber valve and blow. You’ll need to make some tough choices.

At the Real Doll Web site you can choose among nine body types, 14 faces, five skin tones, six eye colors, a palette of makeup colors, 10 wigs, and three different pubic hair styles. Save your pennies, and for $6,499 plus shipping, you can have your very own synthetic woman sent directly to your home. (Salon.com)

Talk about some Bride of Frankenstein freaky-deek DELUX!

Um, lady, yer not planning on using that on me are you?

Serious afficonados of this luxury item– ” idollators” — often have a whole harem of faux femmes. Which is surely less complicated than having even one real girl.  

What kind of wierdo creepazoid would shell out dollars for a doll with a dick hole? The answer to that is all over the board. Even veering dangerously close to home.

Flinch at the notion of a man having sex with an imitation woman and classify him: lonely loser. Pathological creep. Misogynist. Potential rapist. Sicko. True enough, some men who have sex with Real Dolls are creepy, the kind of guys you wouldn’t want to be alone with. But not all. Many are simply lonely — some tragically so. Others are disfigured or infirm. Some are oddly sweet, like Davecat, for whom a Real Doll is a “teddy bear with benefits.” And others proclaim their normalcy and defend their Real Dolls as no different than a 3-D version of a Playboy centerfold. (Salon)

Hey, I know, let’s ask one of them c-zoids. This guy makes the case for Real Dolls, while also making your stomach lurch.

The Robot says Real Dolls are too bizarre to not want one. “If I was rich, I’d buy you one for your birfday, baby,” he once promised, which riled until he revealed his ace: they are available in magically delicious skin colors like alien green or sci-fi lavender. Oh hell yea! I’d sully that cartoon wench like nobody’s biz-ness. Which I suspect is the REAL reason why the Robot is keen on the idea of bringing a Real Doll home. (To the extent that he actually is. Which isn’t much, not 7 G’s much.)

I’m about to give details above and beyond TMI so if your easily offended, skip ahead. 

OK, here goes… 

Years ago I had this yummy dream where I was wearing a cartoonish strap-on dildo on the outside of my jeans, as like an accessory, to go with my thug-rolled dungarees & wife-beater tank. Until that dream I thought Freud’s penis envy was total bullshit. But goof knows I love to accessorize! I’ve wanted a strap-on ever since. I began to hint around and swore that I only wanted it as like a lewd jewel, to wear underneath a flouncy girl-bomb dress. A naughty secret stolen in a petticoat, tucked into frothy layers of tulle. I wanna frock out with my cock out!  He began to hint around that maybe he’d let me do more with my new toy. Yea, I know you, and you’ll end up wanting to ass rape me, which might be OK.  RB found a harness in pale pink leather — it’ll match yer Plush D afro! — and picked out a springy fleshy dong in translucent pink. When it arrived in the mail, it wasn’t as petite as he’d hoped. As I began to cock-strut around the house, lines of worry furrowed into his forehead. Yay! I wanna stick it in things!  Which is where a blue-skinned babe like trickster Krishna would come in damn handy. And no, don’t bother emailing saying you know just the gal-pal for me, cause I can’t cheat, not even with girls. I just don’t have the temperament for it.

In all honesty, I’d never spend 7000 bucks on a squishy hole when there’s other things to spring for: fingerless Chanel gloves, flouncy Miu Miu dresses, Anna Sui Kimonos, Phillip Treacy hats, Marc Jacobs platform pumps. Aaaaaahhhhh, mmmmmm. An ice cream trunk, a lazy hazy trip to Amsterdam, a steampunk laptop!  Oh oh oh YES! Besides, lube is cheap and men can be manipulated. I mean, men have open minds. Especially when it comes to all things bedroom.

With only 9 body types, I doubt they’d have the fleshy bouncy bottom of my lezbo dreams. If I’m gonna go gay, I want a big ‘ole booty that I can go to town on like I’m Tinto Brass on acid. A tiny Barbie bum is a serious deal-breaker.  And I’m not the only one for whom junk in the trunk is a concern. Check out this informational video about the Real Doll factory. Watch as Big C sez “I like big butts and I cannot not lie.” Or something to that affect.

Awww, what a happy ending, so sweet. Big C sweeps big-booty Judy off her feet. But was her booty really that big? Size 6 big just ain’t BIG enough for me!

“I am doll parts
Bad skin, doll heart
Yeah, they really want you, they really want you, they really do
He only loves those things because he loves to see them break
I fake it so real, I am beyond fake”
— Hole

So, how creepy was this post? Man oh man, are you gonna have some weird (wet) dreams tonight! SPOOKY KABUKI strikes again!

Showtime’s Californication Makes My Brain & Girl-bits Tumescent

Posted in Alphabetfiend, Books & Writing, Psyche & Sexuality, Sex & XXX, TV with tags , , , , , , , , , , on October 15, 2008 by alphabetfiend

I’m madly in love with Showtime’s “Californication, ” especially this new season. It’s one of the only shows where the writer character actually ACTS and TALKS like a writer. I feel so comfy when I’m watching it. Like I’m hanging out with my Precocious Dandy and we’re chain smoking and talking a mile a minute; flexing our verbiage muscles and screaming bits of poetry into one another’s besotted faces. I feel like my truest self getting all giggety when the word “tumescent” makes an appearance in tawdry dirty talk. Which is to say that I feel like a word nerd, an asshole, an arrogant bastard, a brainy ego-maniac, a cerebral kinkster — A WRITER.

Californication-Season-1

I buy Duchovny as the the disillusioned writer Hank Moody. He makes it work. He slings his words and he slings his cock with writerly strangeness. I could eat it up with a coke spoon! Yum. Hell, I’d snort this sucker up. It’s that damn delicious. I was a fan of Duchovny’s Fox Mulder: porn watching, sunflower seed munching insomniac FBI agent with a wide open mind. He was a FOX and very foxy, very trickster: one foot in this world, one foot in another; brilliant, inappropriate, creating through chaos. He brings all that to this role which I wasn’t sure about at first but it works. He’s Hank Moody now, not Fox Mulder. But the fox is still in there somewhere. Still full of sly tricks. I’ve been working on a longer review/ode to Warren Zevon. Someone working on Californication is a Warren Zevon fan… I wonder who it is? Again, very writerly. Zevon was a writer’s rocker. But I had to post this today because I’m just giddy over this new season. This is a show for smarties — crossword puzzle fans & other word nerds, writers, fuckers, freaks with tumescent cerebrums.

tu·mes·cent 

adj.

1. Somewhat tumid.
2. Becoming swollen; swelling
Trixie: It’s hardly cheating.
Hank: I’m pretty sure it is.
Trixie: Maybe you’re right. Sometimes my whore logic gets all fucked up. But I can tell you that there’s a lot of husbands and boyfriends out there who would not file that under cheating.
Hank: Well, call me an old fuddy-duddy but I think anytime the tumescent head makes an appearance, it’s cheating
Trixie: Is that good dirty talk, like if I said to a client “You’re so fucking tumescent right now” would that be hot?
Hank: Mmmm. Makes my wiener feel a little weird, but that’s just me — I like WORDS.

The scene I love, the scene above, is about one minute and 50 seconds in. Mmmm. Makes my girly parts a bit engorged. Which reminds me: if you don’t like words and I mean ALL words, good and bad, then this show (and this blog) are not for you. You must appreciate the value of an f-bomb if you watch Californication. (Oh how I miss Deadwood… sigh. Talk about a work of wordy genius. All you brainy cocksuckers who’ve never seen Deadwood run out and rent it ASAP.)

**Tried to find a clean clip without this murder-worthy ad banner but no luck. Sorry about that.**

Palin Got A Boob Job!

Posted in politics, Porn Stars are Peeple too, Sex & XXX with tags , , , , , , , , , on October 15, 2008 by alphabetfiend

Oh wait! That’s Lisa Ann. Damn. Throw some lenscrafter specs on a porn star and call her Sarah Palin.

Um.. I mean Serra Paylin. (Clever, clever, Mr. Flint!)

Who put the lipstick on that there pig?

Lisa Ann as Sarah Palin

Boobs for Obama!

Now pervs can watch porn and be patriotic at the same time! Yay!

The plot? A Russian tank crashes into a tree in front of Sarah’s (Serra’s) suspiciously expensive home that Todd Palin supposedly built himself.

Here’s an excerpt from the script:

In Serra’s living room – afternoon.

Close up of a moose head hanging on the wall, then a photo of Serra giving the thumbs up while her foots rests on a dead polar bear.

Snow falls outside a draped window.

There’s a loud knock on the door.

Serra: Jeepers crumpets, who could that be?

Door is opened to reveal:

Two Russian soldiers in long trench coats & fur-lined hats.

Naughty naughty! To see more of the script or of Lisa Ann go thee to TMZ.

Peggy Hill in Flint’s Palin Porn: hot XXX mess. (adult content)

Posted in Goof & Glamour, I Heart Funny Femmes, I like big butts & I can not lie, politics, Porn Stars are Peeple too, Republicans scare me, Sex & XXX, TV with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on October 13, 2008 by alphabetfiend

I told you that Larry Flint was making a Palin porn and then I told you that he’d pegged Peggy Hill to “play” Palin.  I thought for sure that Hank, being the King of his Hill, would never bite. Looks like I was wrong! I don’t know how Flint managed to talk The Hills into this, no doubt Peggy’s insatiable ego came into play. Peggy’s done porn before but only in foot fetish films. This is her first foray into full-spread freakdom. Fortunately (or maybe not) Peggy is familiar with her co-star: her father-in-law Cotton Hill was brilliantly cast as John McCain. 

The resemblance is uncanny! Pretty f#%kin' scary!

Palin & McCain are one hot ticket!

I may be biased. I’ve previously confessed a dirty cartoon fetish (which is pretty weird as I’m very often told that I resemble Betty Boop.) I think Flint’s new project is pure genius. There are plenty similarities beween The Hills family and McCain-Palin. Peggy is perfect as Palin! Absolutely. They both hear “dumbass” and retort with “Why, yes, I am a genius.”

Plus, Peggy has Palin’s homespun vernacular down.

Peggy’s porn star turn is doggone hot,  I tell you whut!

Peggy! We never knew!

Peggy! We never knew!

It’s nice to see Peggy released from her usual get-up. Green tank and skort begone! She took to her pink feather boa like a practiced XXX starlet and eased right into her role as pervy Repub Sarah Palin.
A change from her usual green shirt

Peggy Hill makes one hell of a pornstar!

Who knew Peggy Hill was such a nympho-licious nincompoop?
They don’t call her “The Boggle Champ” for nothin!!!! 
Hank has the heebies

Hank has the heebies

Hank had no idea what he was getting into when he volunteered to “man the tools.” 

Okay, I’ll come clean (if that’s possible) and point out the obvious — Peggy Hill is not actually the new star of Flint’s Palin porn, reportedly called Nailin Palin. The real Palin-player is Lisa Ann and she is not pixilated. Darn! Although I’m sure that the rest of you will find her a more suitable pornstar than Peggy Hill. But if, like me, you dig this toon version, then hop over to drawnsex.com to see more cartoon obscenity from the folks who brought you the above images of the Hills in compromising positions. The Hills aren’t the only toons those freaks at drawnsex.com have sullied. Seriously. You will never look at Snow White the same way again. Or maybe you will… if you have always imagined that her straining bodice becomes ferociously unloosed by horny dwarfs who then feast on her snow-white flesh.

Goof-speed, kinksters.

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