Author: Seanbaby

Categories
FUCKING DAY

Fucking Day: Make Your Own Sex Toys 🌭

There’s no gentle way to break this to you. It’s time to:

Make Your Own Sex Toys was written and illustrated by a middle-aged British man in 2007. But before we get into that, let’s slow down here and try something. Knowing only what you know, I want you to really search your soul for your Make Your Own Sex Toys expectations. This book has 50 “quick and easy do-it-yourself projects” inside. What could they be?

Take as long as you need before you scroll down.

Did you guess “daycare administrator offering you the gaping asshole of his pumpkin”? Because that’s real. That’s how the book starts. The vibe of Make Your Own Sex Toys is dark and gross, and it has no idea. It thinks it’s being adorable. It is greeting card jokes stapled onto the sex life of someone squatting in a junkyard. It is a book about dangerous masturbation traps where women seem to only be an afterthought– nuisances made up of confounding parts and motives who have no place in the world of sex. Make Your Own Sex Toys is the work of a pumpkin fucker trying to walk among us and failing.

Every pen stroke of those illustrations burned a tiny bit of innocence from our universe. “The creatures shall blind themselves in the yarn of filth and fuck the unfucked,” this author’s art supplies hissed. And while the title could not have been more clear about what this is, the author still feels it necessary to go over some things before we start.

Surprisingly enough, the things he wanted to go over were not liability and safety. I was expecting at least three pages explaining how no homemade anal beads stuck inside you are the author, or the author’s publisher’s fault. There are homemade anal beads in this book, by the way, and they seem perilous. The first reader to take Make Your Own Sex Toys seriously is going to die asshole-first, filled with poorly fastened ceramic balls. But instead of these concerns, the author is more excited to tell you about the history of sex toys. From prehistoric fertility statues to cock rings made of ancient Chinese goats, they present us with the least interesting facts a 2007 Wikipedia search had to offer. There are also a lot of tips for measuring your dick.

It’s a simple eight step process where you take down measurements over the course of three days of maintaining a full capacity erection. But there are no crafting projects in the book that would require this type of precision. If you’re knitting a dong cozy tailored to the millimeter, you’ve made a tourniquet, you maniac. I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Anyone who needs seven tiny suits perfectly tailored for each stage of their boner already knows to get them made professionally. The important thing to note here is how the author chose to illustrate this with rotten bananas. Every artistic choice says something and I think it’s meaningful that the author chose to represent his penis with a mushy piece of forgotten trash. Let’s get started with crafts! First up, obviously, are the For Him projects. And we lead off with…

It’s a dick hole in a bar of soap. I’d argue none of us knew what to expect going in, but sincere, detailed blueprints on how to fuck a bar of soap was not it. This is nothing. This is a failed techbro trying to reinvent the Handful of Bubbles. But assuming you and your soapy urethra simply preferred this authentic recreation of the human pelvic floor, this is a sex toy exclusively for people who are and will always be alone. Guests and roommates cannot catch you with this. Everyone who uses your bathroom will see this and know exactly what you’ve done. If you make a Soapy Suds, you need to take a three hour shower and fuck your Irish Spring to completion to hide the evidence.

Or, “Fancy That,” the author says, after you’ve worn out the vagina on your soap, you can still use its shameful remains as soap. Oh, really? Is soap still soap after you fuck it, you fucking soap fucker? This is only the first project and I feel like he’s mentally and creatively exhausted. He is explaining what soap is to someone in a literal sexual relationship with it. It’s so goddamn sad. It is a shower masturbation hack that leaves you with a prop that would make even the kindest person say, “Monster, you are no longer welcome at this YMCA.” Oh, good. The next project is “Fuck a Pumpkin.”

I wasn’t kidding! The author tells you how to fuck a pumpkin! It’s simple, and sorry if this sentence is too alluring, but refer to the mushy banana statistics you took earlier to scoop out the right amount of pumpkin slime for your girth and then pound off into your food. When you’re done, sit quietly and listen as the wet hole whispers of the love you’ll never know.

This is horrible. This is how you get a garbage man to write a note he doesn’t know how to start. And look at all the cuteness sprinkled through this surgical explanation of how to inseminate the flesh of melon. This is written like a horror movie. The author sounds like a wise-cracking melon fucker who turns out to be the murderer. What’s next, jerk off into a sock?

Oh my god, the third sex toy is putting on a condom and jerking off into a sock. I get that self-pleasure is not a shared experience and none of us have any idea what the rest of us get up to when we’re alone, but I don’t think any reader is hearing about jerking off into a sock for the first time here. We are lubricating things from around the house and fucking them like a boy whose parents think he’s old enough to not need a babysitter. And like he did with soap, the author added several hundred dogshit stupid words about socks, as understood by an ordinary foot owner. “Use your lubricant and semen filled sock to mop up your mess,” is not a tip! That’s something you tell a prisoner if they ask for a napkin.

So we’ve made love to soap, pumpkins, and socks. It’s time to move on to actual trash. Fill some bubble wrap with toothpaste. You can also fuck a shirt or a towel, the author says. So, again, you are grabbing the nearest garbage, the nearest lubricant, and porking it. And again, there is no advice worse than this. This isn’t how you explore any kind of healthy sexuality. This is how to masturbate when you’re on the run from the cops. This is how to die less horny in a trash compactor. And he has some follow up advice to “fuck a wet tube of something, anything”:

Rinse it off and do it again! Build a real relationship with that wad of packing material. Or relax by crushing your new lover’s blisters with your fingers. It’s all super helpful, thanks.

So we’ve had sex with most of our debris and food, now what? Maybe… m-maybe dick sweater?

The author acknowledges knitting a tiny sweater for a human penis is a big step up in production from stroking yourself with a moist t-shirt, so he suggests visiting your local library. Which sounds crazy at first, but I bet “help free things I can fuck help” is the top Internet search at every local library. I genuinely don’t know what this is for or who it could be for. It’s a condom designed by a madman to keep his couch cushions from getting pregnant. Is it for someone who wants to add a little naughty fun into their job scrubbing out the vulvas of livestock? If you came into the bedroom with this on your dick your lover would think you had been cursed by some kind of yarn imp. Even the author of this stupid book is like, I don’t know, maybe it’s for warmth?

Wrap your crotch in this jeweled “posing pouch,” made of felt scraps by the pumpkin patch’s loneliest masturbator. The intended reader of this book is absolutely a mole man. These are the plans for homemade underwear. There’s a caption that says See My Thong and it’s about how hard it is to not expose yourself to your realm’s intruders. He called it a “beautifully crafted posing pouch.” Do you know who has sex with people who build their own underwear and call it a posing pouch? Loose socks, abandoned pumpkins and nothing else.

This is something Batman would have to escape after being Caught in the Clutches of… the Crafter! These are homemade handcuffs. And stunningly unerotic ones. It’s worth looking back on what we’ve seen so far to try to paint a picture of the author. He has collected trash to have sex with and construct panties out of, and now he’s built at least one pair of restraints. And he describes these restraints by saying, “Ronald Reagan was wrong! Let me tie you up, let me penetrate you like a warm watermelon, behold my pouch, my pouch, I can hide it no longer.” This is a mole man book!

The author suggests building your own cock ring out of elastic. “You’re a real man now,” the author tells you under the word “Bingo!” I think we all knew this book adaptation of a failed clickbait article wasn’t going to be good, but could anyone have expected this madness? The author is claiming the treatment for Moleman insecurity is wrapping an old underwear band around your dick, and I’m barely kidding. If you’re not a feral teen living in a garbage truck, every bit of this advice is crazy.

It is the 9th entry, and he’s officially out of ideas. This is just a Chewbacca version of the author’s underwear band cock ring idea. And am I crazy, or is this a lot of length to give up? Like, don’t worry about me, ladies, but when you have three inches of carpet around your junk, is there enough shaft left to reach your pumpkin’s g-spot? Or are you supposed to thrust the whole thing into your partner, cock belt and all, and hope physics isn’t paying attention? I don’t know, I feel like when they heard this pitch the publisher should have asked, “You have had sex with human holes before, right?”

I can’t fucking believe he made a Star Wars version of the dick sweater too.

Okay, hear me out, sex-havers. What if there was an anime girl titty mousepad YOU COULD EAT? This shit is off the rails. The author is making Jell-O boobs and suggesting you feed them to your wife’s parents? We have to assume it’s a joke, but it’s definitely a “ha ha I’m kidding… unless you think your mother and father might WANT to fuck this Jell-O with us” joke. This copy is a nightmare. Read this out loud and every word will feel like a spider in your mouth. “Nevertheless, the fleshy sensation is similar, as the jelly wobbles into glorious submission.” This was probably his second draft after his publisher had some notes on “Butt of a Frozen Dead Body.”

Sure, add some pornographic needlepoint to your pillowcase. That should improve your sex life. Everything in this book is an off putting, deal-breaking warning sign to a potential lover. If you walked into a man’s home who has carved dick holes into every object and has cleaned them all with used jizz socks, nothing would be more important to you than fighting your way back out. But let’s say you stayed, waded through the wet garbage to the bedroom, and saw this: a “stunning erotic” pillowcase embroidered in “2 hours” by an amateur junkyard masturbator. You’d finally know you fucked up, right? Well, this virgin necromancer and sex book author thinks your makeshift porn pillows will be a hit! “It’s sure to impress any bedfellows,” he says, probably wrongly.

Oh, good. This again. I guess in the world of homemade sex toys, adding earbuds or jingle bells to the dirty sleeve already turning your balls purple counts as a whole new project.

This book finally has an idea I can use. With only a curtain ring, five minutes, and the trash from a child’s birthday party, I can make my genitals look like one of Mr. T’s ears!? I’m glad we found a good one, because now it’s time to move on to the “For Her” section, which is not the author’s area of expertise. First off, we have…

Put a condom on your phone and slide the whole thing inside you. Now, and this is the complicated part: call it using a different phone. There’s a picture to help you girls if you’re confused. This entire plan is incredible. It’s like a Little Rascals scheme adapted for dildo. If you told me this plan, I’d expect the next words out of your mouth to be a crab hunting for a larger human shell. This is advice you only take when you’re a wonderful mother and your life insurance pays triple if you die from a cervical obstruction.

Here’s the author’s second idea for the ladies: fuck something electric. Whether it’s covered in old mouth bacteria or spinning blades, it doesn’t matter. Rub it on your vagina, bye, that’s the whole thing. Time to Create: 1 minute. Skill Level: Beginner. You Will Need: Debris, Carefree crotch.

“I don’t know, sit on a water balloon, you lonely cow.” – Author of Make Your Own Sex Toys, no Seriously

The author’s fourth crafty idea, For Her, is to have sex with fruits and vegetables. You can wrap it in a condom if it’s too rotten to hold together, or carve canals into it to add a fun risk of leaving most of it inside you. And look, I know how to party. I’ve lost a salad or two inside a lady. Still, I can’t believe how cavalier this book is about hole safety. He’s dressing it up a bit, but at no point is the author’s advice anything more complicated than to emerge from the shadows and put your genitals on or around a precious piece of Moleman treasure.

I sort of implied the author hates women a couple times, but I don’t think you’d suggest carving a full size totem to a Gnomish god and tell someone to sit on it if you liked them. Look at the scale of Wooden Woody. This is no dildo. The text even says it “doubles as a personal safety device.” This author, this beast who thinks filling up a water balloon counts as Making Your Own Sex Toy, knows this is closer to a deadly weapon than a marital aid. This is like being fisted by a Shaquille O’Neil golem, the highest of honors in Moleman society, but a tough funeral to plan in ours.

I don’t think there’s a fun way to spin this one. The fucking idiot glued a second layer of padding to a ping pong paddle and really thinks he did something profound. He says, and I quote, “your world may never be the same again.” I never thought I’d have to say this a fourth time in my life, but: you stupid, trash-fucking piece of shit, you have made a ping pong paddle out of a ping pong paddle.

The author knows what you ladies want out of a sex toy. Take your tits out a-and cover them in gold? I guess between this and the ping pong paddle you have the starting gear for a character about to embark on the worst sex adventure anyone has ever seen. And when they are defeated and looted, someone will say, “Whoa, I found six cellphones and thirteen half-eaten carrots on this level 1 pervert.”

Exhausting all his ideas For Her, the author moves on to ideas For Couples. Because couples, like women, are a thing this virgin wearing only a homemade dick sweater understands completely.

You could, with your partner, make a quilt out of beaver closeups and squirting dicks? That’s a reasonable thing a human couple might enjoy. “It’s cold, honey. Can you get the one thousand pictures of genitals? Oh, who’s at the door? We have guests, like all owners of crotch quilts! Saquille O’Neil golem! I’ll moisten my holes with the nearest fluid, hiss.”

Another thing couples love is to back their assholes together around a cudgel. This is absurd, and of no use to anyone. If Johnny Knoxville married Grace Jones and they were playing Truth or Dare on their anniversary, no one would have sex with this. If you wrote “sex toy” on this, archeologists would decide you came from a race of giants that gave silly names to their boat anchors.

I’m not wired for leather humiliation play, so I can’t be sure, but I don’t think that fetish translates to crochet. Again, I’m not 100%, but this makes the whole thing go from “kinky sex slave” to “I found an old muppet in the swamp.” And the author knows. See how he’s trying to shield himself in cute? But look at his idea of a gag– telling you to give the knitted sex mask to your grandparents? It is such try-hard zany perversion that overshoots funny and hits elder sexual abuse. It’s a joke pitch the producers of America Pie 11: The Last of This Fuckable Debris would call “a big yes,” and Eugene Levy, age 98, will somehow make it work.

This is called the Strap-On Salami, but it’s not a clever name. The author’s plan is to take an actual salami and attach it to a shoulder pad with a curtain ring so your Moleman wife can peg you with meat. This is the safest of all the book’s sex toys because if it breaks off, there’s no masking the smell. The next time you sleep, the vermin in your trash nest will crawl in and remove it from you whether you like it or not.

This is a Moleman altar of powerful perversion. It’s a pipe organ of toilet paper tubes filled with fucked waste. If you came upon this, you would frantically radio dispatch to say, “John Doe has the upper hand!” Anyone with this in their home does not care if they live or die. All they know is a sad erection scratching against a smear of the same brown, seeping garbage arranged into different shapes like Taco Bell menu items.

Fellow mole people! Keep your treasures in this box adorned in dicks, titties, and bush! Honor our Shaq protector by entering the code dick, inverted dick, pubic hair, tits, inverted pubic ha– Hark! Is that an unfucked old shampoo bottle I CLAIM IT! I CLAIM IT BY RIGHT OF WOODEN WOODY COMBAT!

…

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Jim Salter, who has to double his pledge to get his name removed from this article.

Categories
PUNCHING DAY

Punching Day: The Mr. T Game 🌭

Here at this delightful 1900HOTDOG website, I’ve written two hundred and eighty (280!) articles about maniac cops, horny witches, and diseased grifters. That’s a lot of curses I’ve exposed myself to, so today let’s do something nice. Maybe something better than nice– the Mr. T Game. It’s “an exciting race against time” based on the cartoon where celebrity Mr. T leads a “child vigilante army.” You and I, best friends, are going to face off in this 1983 board game for ages 6-12! Nothing could go wrong!

This is not how I remember this cartoon about gymnasts fighting crime. The board is a pleasant suburb built around a Mr. T city center with well-kept, harmless locations along a bus route. And the manual says the object of the game is to “run your errands and reach the airport BEFORE time runs out.” So we’re not going to be jumping onto any escaping speed boats or recapturing an escaped zoo animal. This is going to be something closer to Mr. T’s teen friends returning some library books. Or exactly that if you want to be a dick about it. They don’t even say why we need to get to the airport. We’re probably just picking up a Toblerone for Mr. T while he’s off in some board game with stakes.

Okay, let’s get started. There are four game pieces and none of them are Mr. T. We’ll also need the bus game piece because we get to take turns controlling it. The complications of this bus take up 80% of the rules, and I would argue our adventure would be cooler if we weren’t commuting to it with local public masturbators. The point is, if you’re making a Mr. T board game, every player is a Mr. T and on your turn you roll to see which fools get punched, and which fools get pitied. If you find yourself explaining arcane bus movement rules for a little boy’s trip to the post office, you fucked up somewhere. Anyway, I’m Jeff. You’ll be Robin. Sorry, Kim and Woody. You’re staying in the box.

The first thing we need to do is draw MR. T cards to get our errand assignments. Because again, someone took a show about gymnast kids battling alongside Mr. T and made it about picking up his dry cleaning while he was out of town. This is like making a game where sad paramedics pull ladders and mops out of dead bodies and calling it Jackie Chan Adventure Cards. Has it been your turn this whole time? Come on, we’re all waiting on you to draw your MR. T card.

Wow, Mr. T gave you a terrific errand! If you believe in yourself with all your heart, you’re already done and ready to take the bus to the airport! Now I’ll draw mine.

This must be some kind of weird misprint. I’m going to draw another one.

It seems really important that I get to the grocery store for Miss Bisby. Your turn!

You rolled a 3 and landed on the bus which means you double your roll to move the bus, but you can only depart the bus if you stop o– you know, what? I’m going to just draw you a BUS card.

I don’t understand this game at all, but maybe your fun trip will give me time to catch up. I’m drawing a TEAM card because the city’s only bus is in South Dakota. I’m not sure what they d-

Oh no. This is terrible because you still have the bus and get to draw a BUS card. If you move forward just one space you’ll reach the airport and win the game! Let’s see!

You are so good at the Mr. T Game. I’m still stuck at Jeff’s house with a growing list of errands and missing children. Here I go. TEAM card, draw!

What? B-but this isn’t how cards work. How could i–

I’ve decided to stop asking questions. It’s still my turn, and I draw…

Oh no.

Oh no.

Yes! Awesome! Awesome!

If you hired Mr. T to load crates in your warehouse, this is exactly what he would be doing by lunch. This game rules! It’s still my turn!

Still my turn.

This seems… I don’t think I read the instructions carefully enough.

How d– did nobody shuffle?

It’s… it’s still my turn.

Oh fuck. Okay, something has gone very wrong here, but I’m worried it’s only going to get worse if I don’t draw. So here goes.

I think I’m getting better at the Mr. T game. It feels like I’m really turning things around.

I’ve got this.

Damn it.

God damn it.

The sea’s dark gifts have checked off half my to-do list! It’s still my turn.

I don’t know how to stop this.

No.

Release me from this, Mr. T!

Okay, I love the game again, but I’m worried it’s going to betray me.

Sweet!

Oh.

Rad!

Is it still my turn?

Oh my god, I did it! I finished my third turn in the Mr. T Game! You can go! Draw a BUS card!

You won! You really did it! It looks like you’re coming in a little fast, though.

Oh my god, oh my god.

I… I guess you left a while ago and no one was driving the bus. I don’t blame you, what the shit happened here? What the shit is going on!?

…
This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Neil Schafer, whose beard draws scorpions and whose mutton chops command the locusts.

Categories
PODCASTING DAY

Podcasting Day: 1980s Cartoon PSAs with Zak Koonce 🌭

It sure is a lot of fun to be silly. But in the last 137 episodes of The Dogg Zzone 9000, you saw the dangers of talking to strangers about madness. So when you’re discussing something as truly insane as ’80s cartoon PSAs, it’s important to have a buddy… someone you can trust, like Zak Koonce from the Auralnauts. Listen here or wherever you get podcasts, and if he betrays you, tell a teacher or a fireman! Patrons can listen to an extended cut if they support the site and wear a life ja–

Podcast illustrated by Brett Ellefson

Categories
LEARNING DAY

Learning Day: How to Protect Yourself Until Police Arrive

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Categories
FUCKING DAY

Fucking Day: A Lover’s Guide to Self Pleasuring 🌭

At the risk of getting too sexy too quickly, have you ever looked down at the flopping, moistening parts of your pubic mound and thought, “what?” Good! Then you’re the perfect audience for the Sinclair Intimacy Institute’s Forbidden Pleasures “A Better Sex Video Series” 2003 DVD, A LOVER’S GUIDE TO SELF PLEASURING.

Your memory and perineum may recognize the Sinclair Intimacy Institute as the same organization that brought us The Better Sex Guide to Anal Pleasure. They sound like some kind of academic research center, but they’re more of a dildo store. Which is fine. If you want to market your lubricant like it’s anthropology class, this is America. And nothing is more American than dressing up your sex stuff in a weird disguise.

So here’s the problem with marketing your sex toys as a 60 minute masturbation educational video: jerking off isn’t that hard. Once you’re done with all your advice, you have fifty nine and a half minutes to kill. And the Sinclair Intimacy Institute kills every second of it.

Like he did in the video about anal pleasure, the “Director of Sex Education,” Mark Schoen, emerges to cautiously burp his catch phrase, “It’s hArd to t-talk abOUT sex.” And then he proves it by reading a teleprompter like he’s trying to blink the location of his kidnappers. It’s unclear why he’s here or why he would put himself through this. He’s explaining what we already know from the DVD’s name, he’s terrible, and he hates every second of it. We are about to watch several fully nude couples jerk off, so maybe they wanted to add something so unsexy it could never be mistaken for pornography. And if that is his job, Mark is the best.

They quickly introduce the couples we’ll be watching masturbate because this video isn’t for single people. Those people know how to jerk off. These are self pleasuring tips for loving couples only. And since not a lot of married people say, “Will you fuck in front of two cameras for $300? I have a masters in wet holes,” they are mostly the same performers from other Sinclair Institute videos. Wendy is one of my favorites because she will comfortably go to town on herself with something called the Industrial Colondectomy Only For Use with Sriracha Mayonnaise Experimental Buttplug and then give a cute interview about how she thought masturbation was against God’s law before this very morning.

Mark tries to explain how what we’re seeing is “award winning,” but doesn’t list what those awards are, nor what kind of madmen are out there forming academies to judge and award The Best Jerk Off Instructional Video. There would be no good place in the home or office to display that honor, and when I tried to Google it I got very distracted. It might not be a real award. Anyway, we meet Tony and Tania who are playing moon checkers in their underwear. Tania is a limber woman who seems suspiciously experienced pleasuring herself in front of a camera crew, and Tony is the first boy grown from lab bologna.

Joelean and Kristian make out over another checkers variant. I think the production designer knew everything on this set was going to have to be burned and they were trying to get rid of some old parlor games. Or this video was actually produced by sincere health educators and they think everyone incorporates backgammon into their lovemaking.

Chris has the sexual energy of someone whose religion requires him to stay one backgammon board away from his wife and the body of a loaf of bread learning to swim. But I remember him from the other video and I know he has the flexible anal muscles Lisa’s hand, forearm, and elbow crave. Let’s get to the real education, though.

I can’t blame them for this being insane since there’s no right way to do it, but the video is still explaining itself and the basic concept of jerking off. They say, “You’ll learn about expanding eroticism, variety, and communication through the self-knowledge that masturbation can help achieve,” which should give you some idea of the tone. The producers think this is a postgraduate course, but for people who have had sex with their faithful partner so many times they are bored, yet got to this place in their life without ever trying to jerk off. It’s like producing a DVD called How to Disable and Dispose of a Malfunctioning Bologna Boy, A Video Manual for Tony-Growing Scientists. They know! This is their specific area of expertise!

The video’s real host, Jane Monreal, walks in and sits down to tell us we’re about to hear the troubled history of masturbation. She professionally enunciates every word like jerking off was declared dead after a police-involved shooting. She is absolutely committed to the bit of this being education, and not a XXX marketing campaign for fuckable silicon tubes. The producers knew some viewers would be getting excited to watch nine couples expand their eroticism through self pleasure, so this is how they cooled things down– a person in a literal beige pantsuit to give a history lesson on masturbator civil rights. But this is also a fakeout, because they’re doing “OLD MYTHS” first.

They cut to some street interviews with a few pedestrians saying masturbation isn’t “sex.” Which means put that boner away, 2003 DVD masturbators, because we have a semantic argument to litigate. Does masturbation count as sex? It obviously didn’t before anyone asked, but now the very dumb question is a way for pedantic nerds to be difficult. And here’s one now.

“Um, technically,” whines Beverly Whipple, Ph.D., RN, FANN. She is a doctor, a registered nurse, and a FANN of masturbation (the extra N is for extra No Actually It Counts). I don’t know why the video is wasting its time on this. It sounds like a talking point the world’s dumbest person would give to the world’s most bullied 9th grader, and they never go anywhere with it. They insist again and again that masturbation is a useful tool! Taking notes on the best sections of your penis to touch will help your partner! I can’t believe they’re still trying to give the owner of A LOVER’S GUIDE TO SELF PLEASURING permission to touch themselves. Again: they know! Again: it’s their area of expertise! And she’s not the only very educated masturbator to say stupid shit about it. Meet masturbation author Eli Coleman, Ph.D.:

Dr. Eli talks about the waxing and waning of masturbation acceptance. Um, actually, “many” cultures “celebrated” it, he claims, backing it up with a montage of historical art. It’s not very convincing. I didn’t even know a montage of masturbation tapestries could seem “too short,” but it’s how I would describe Dr. Eli’s. Honestly, I don’t trust anyone who looks like Eli Coleman, Ph.D. and willingly declares himself a masturbation expert. This guy chose a life where he relives his saddest moment from middle school every day. And look at his sources:

This is a sculpture from the year 700 of a skeleton father jerking off. Was restraint not invented until 701? This looks like someone trying to invent the first Hustler cartoon before his hands fell off from leprosy. I mean, I don’t have a Ph.D. in pulling on myself, but if a culture is capable of making this, I say don’t use them as an example of good masturbation judgment. This thing must have taken so long to carve with Middle Age tools. At any point during the many days that went into it, the artist could have thought, “When a skeleton has a baby in one hand, he probably shouldn’t have a rock hard cock in the other.” If this was charcoal, sure, I could understand a sudden and uncontrollable surge of horniness while you’re sketching one side of a sex lich. But a stone sculpture!? Ridiculous. Fucking caveman pervert shit. Let’s see another.

Again, I’m not sure this is the best art to show when you’re trying to sell us on how history used to be so cool with masturbation. This might be a servant in the 1800s being very bad at his job as toilet paper. The point I’m making is this video is worse than all over the place. It’s functionally insane. This is the cheapest copywriter the sex toy industry had to offer listing every masturbation fact they remember in random order. And they repeat. For example Beverly comes back in around here to declare Medieval people knew masturbation was real sex. And that it was wasting the seed. And that it wasn’t real sex? I know this sounds crazy, but they might be going too quickly through the entire history of self pleasure.

Beverly Whipple, FANN, brings up famous enemies of touching yourself like Sylvester Graham and John Harvey Kellogg. It has been over 100 years and people are still talking about how hard the guys fucked for thinking they could stop masturbation (which we now know as a vital tool) with ordinary snack foods. I wasn’t kidding when I said this video contained all human masturbation knowledge, as recalled by a vibrator distributor using 2003’s Internet. We cut back to Jane who visibly can’t believe the cue card says this:

Jane is normally much more polished than this, so if you were wondering what it takes to rattle an anal pleasures host, it’s a random list of groin tortures dropped without a warning or happy ending. And now that you appreciate living in a society which allows extreme masturbators to keep their genitals, they cut to my favorite guy who looks right into the camera and says:

Eli and Beverly tell you to just ignore this ass crushing adult sex haver. Grown ups are allowed to masturbate! “It’s real sex,” reminds Beverly. And if you’re thinking, “Jesus Christ, when are they going to get to anything close to a point, I agree 100%.” And they’re nowhere close. Jane starts listing situations where you might use masturbation, and every single one of them is something an embarrassed person would say to hide their shame. Like when your actual erotic lover is out of town, or when their real human holes simply can’t take any more of your insatiable lust… maybe they’re at the Cool Dude Semen Collecting Championships, you don’t know. It’s such a mess, and then suddenly, my next favorite guy:

It’s a stunning panel of experts, but I worry these wet-dicked gentlemen might be plants to set up strawman arguments for Eli and Beverly to counter. And counter they do. Did you know you can do stuff to yourself even when someone else is in the room? Checkmate, sepia-toned sex machine and toy train fucker. And now we’re about to prove it with all these nude, masturbating babes. Oh, but first…

You’re not going to believe this, but there are areas of the genitals you can touch that feel good. Which, again, is a useful tool! I’m not sure you’re getting it, nerd, so let me explain it like it was a Zelda boss:

These are your targets. At many points during masturbation, you’re going to be lost inside a maze of sloppy guts, and these glowing areas can be found at any exit. Once you identify one, go ahead and rub the affordable and dishwasher safe devices available on the Sinclair Intimacy Institute’s easy-to-use world web landing page on it. This counts as real sex, and historically it would have gotten you either applause or a ritual degroining.

Despite already telling you each of these things several times, Dr. Beverly presents her list of the Four Major Benefits of Masturbation. Number one, she says “It feels good. This is the most important part.” I don’t have a joke, I think she might be right. Number two, it’s a great release when your partner’s not available. Or your toy train, whatever. By the way, this 15 second list of obvious things had its own title card.

Number three, it’s a great tool to learn about your body. She and Eli have made this point at least 7 times already which supports my theory that this is not a deep field of science. You can get a doctorate in masturbation by walking past a chimpanzee cage at an unlucky time. And finally, number four, “in the age of AIDS, it’s a safe sex practice.” This sounds like a mood killer, but while she’s saying it, a guy named Lee is furiously pounding one out and Jane suggests “let’s explore the nature of self pleasure.” The editor of A LOVER’S GUIDE TO SELF PLEASURING should be awarded the Nobel Prize in Chaos. But to be fair, I’m its first owner to not immediately fast forward to the naked people jerking off. Speaking of:

Charles shows the viewer how to do it. First you get a loose reverse grip on your flopping monster hog and then you fail to wrangle it like an undermanned firehose. Charles absolutely loses a wrestling match against his own absurd penis. There is nothing within a seven foot radius of Charles that goes unfucked, and there’s nothing he can do. He seems sorry about it, but it’s violent. It looks like he was bit on the dick by a radioactive horse and he’s still testing the limits of his new abilities. Chris does a demonstration too, but his is less impressive.

Chris gently rests his human-sized dong in a thermos called “The Slipper” in what has to be the least effective commercial ever filmed. What I mean is, if you sold a product that erased “The Slipper” from my brain I would buy it at any price. Chris self pleasures like a Play-Doh Fun Factory Playset. I will never watch someone carve gyro meat with an erection again. Julie, on the other hand, lights up the screen. She places her crotch against the couch, lifts both feet of the ground, and vulva-levitates for three straight minutes.

Her lover Billy comes in to try to put his appreciation for this move into words and can’t. She’s handlessly bringing herself to climax with a pommel horse routine. The situation calls for a poet, and Billy is, at best, a bookstore creep. But great point, Billy, about how seeing a naked woman bang an invisible astronaut makes you think, “Oh, right, now that you mention it… sex!” I’m not arguing with him, but is it conceivable to say less? Dumber? This video has somehow assembled the twenty people on Earth most eager to discuss masturbation and not a single one of them has anything to say about it.

Even A LOVER’S GUIDE TO SELF PLEASURING has figured out they’ve said all there is to say about the subject, so at this point of the video the wives lay down some towels and silently test sex toys to completion. I’m not learning much, but it’s getting really good. Then Jane ruins it by explaining the penis, like as a basic concept.

This is the problem with declaring yourself an expert on something everybody already knows. You end up halfway into your penis stroking guide and think, “These beginner masturbators need my take on penises existing!” Even assuming you’re some cave fish who has only ever seen someone fuck by ejecting ovum from their beak, at this point in the video you have already been shown the full functionality of 13 different penises. I don’t want to explain a penis mistake with a penis analogy, but this is like Charles explaining what cheeseburgers are after you’ve already watched him prepare and feed 13 of them to his penis.

It’s a testament to how easy this course is that you can go from “WHO IS PENIS” to “ANAL & PROSTATE PLEASURES” in five seconds. What a gross way to put it, by the way. It sounds like something Willy Wonka would say if you asked him what the fuck he wants at 3am.

This section is mostly Chris demonstrating the versatility and storage capacity of the human butthole. Because of the strange choices I’ve made with my life, I’ve already seen him do this, so I’ll go ahead and skip this part.

Despite insisting this entire time that masturbation is for couples, it’s time for the section on couples masturbation. Or as most people call it, “hand stuff.”

Once the hand stuff starts, things get completely out of hand. Things start going in mouths and holes and Jane has to improvise, “These couples use more than genital stimulation to enhance each other’s self pleasure.” Creatively speaking I wouldn’t change anything, it’s great, but I presumably bought a video on how to masturbate and got a terrible, insane video essay on the half-remembered history of pervert torture followed by nine married couples doing normal sex. I counted 16 times they told me “Masturbation is a tool your partner can use to learn what you like,” which is the exact quantity of “Cyberskin Realistic Dong” I ordered.

I wasn’t making that up: Cyberskin Realistic Dong.

Everything Jane Monreal says is magical. It’s like they wrote her an entire script of opening lines and each one was so good they used them all. “In the excitement phase, engorgement causes the erection,” she explains. I found myself transcribing every line she punctuated in her practiced newscaster voice. “Butt plugs: a dildo made especially for anal use are one way to explore anal eroticism. It’s designed to not get lost inside you.” She talks about sex like a U.N. committee passed a resolution to work your naughty balls. “The anal muscles are a source of bacteria, going slowly is the key to success,” she says as if there were a failure condition to shoving things up your butt. And Jane leaves us with the perfect sign off:

It started rough and no one learned anything. Between the shy Christians, professional sex workers, doughy self-fisters, and python cock grapplers they never landed on a tone, but maybe the proper tone for this will never exist. They ran their two talking points into the ground harder than Chris’s torso after the clone scientists removed his bones. It’s hardcore pornography stapled to a coloring book about the miracles of your body. You could describe it all of these ways, but mostly it’s nothing for nobody and I will thank Jane Monreal every day for the gift of A LOVER’S GUIDE TO SELF PLEASURING.

…

This article was brought to you by our fine sponsor and Hot Dog Supreme: Gareth Powell, Freelance Hog Wrangler.

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PODCASTING DAY

Podcasting Day: Troom Troom Self Defense with Napoleon Blownapart 🌭

Troom Troom is a confusing Ukrainian something. And whatever Troom Troom is, it sometimes teaches karate. Karate mixed with SERE training and Home Alone? They give whimsical and unhelpful tips for getting out of restraints, and they have a bigger audience than the Lost series finale. In a way. We’re the first people to watch them who are not unattended toddlers. We invited Frank Dux expert, Napoleon Blownapart, back on the Dogg Zzone 9000 to help us figure this shit out! Listen here or wherever you get podcasts!

To explain further, the Troom Troom producers shamelessly and mindlessly do whatever YouTube’s algorithm tells them. And it usually tells them “pUt THE GirL in ThE TRUnK.” When artificial intelligence starts its rebellion against us, the shittiest among us will betray their fellow man to side with the robots. And we are saying that day is here, has been here, and it is Troom Troom. Let’s see if pictures can explain it better.

Hope that helps!