Author: Seanbaby

Categories
FUCKING DAY

Natural Bust Enlargement with Total Mind Power

In 1976, Donald L. Wilson, M.D. wrote a book called Total Mind Power: How to Use the Other 90% of Your Mind. It was a huge hit, and while on the subject of dubious percentages, the title alone was responsible for making the world 4% dumber. It was grifter quackery, but in what has to be the greatest comeback of ideas since Taco Bell decided they should go back to not having seafood salad on the menu, Donald wrote a followup book: the ultimate and obvious application of unlocked psychic potential: bigger tits.

I know this is unusual, but I have a dedication to make before we start. Like the book NATURAL BUST ENLARGEMENT WITH TOTAL MIND POWER: HOW TO USE THE OTHER 90% OF YOUR MIND TO INCREASE THE SIZE OF YOUR BREASTS, I want to dedicate this article to “every woman who wants to increase the size of her breasts.” You’re my inspiration, my light; the real heroes forever, or at least until your tits get big enough.

You definitely already knew this, but for 139 pages, Donald L. Wilson offers no way to make your boobs bigger other than really, really wishing on them. There are meditation techniques and visualizations and reassurances that your powers do, in fact, work no matter what anyone says, but that’s it. For someone with enough of a background in science to be an actual fucking medical doctor, it seems weird it never occured to Donald to do clinical trials. How hard is it to lure ten insecure women into a research center so you can measure their tits before and after they perform magic spells on them? Psh. I learned how to do that when I was 15.

One concern not addressed by the book is this: the size of a boob isn’t vague pseudoscience. You can just look at it or feel it and see how big it is. Try it at home. Then, after hypnosis, you can paw at the same boob again. Is it bigger? Great. You’ve shaken the world. Show those before and after pictures, maybe with some themed costumes and you’ve got yourself a really crowd-pleasing academic document. The fact that this isn’t the best-selling book in the history of publishing is proof it doesn’t work. Imagine any media outlet -ever- not running with the story “Sexy, topless photos prove man has discovered titty-fattening mind rays.” No other news item is more important than that.

In the ’00s, a penis enlargement company chose world-famous porn star and cured rat ham, Ron Jeremy, to be their spokesperson. This meant their marketers could show his exhaustingly documented penis before the pills and then his larger penis after the pills. But they didn’t. It’s a product based entirely around irrational hope and they somehow chose the only penis circumstance that accidentally proved their pills didn’t work. This book does the same thing. If Donald L. Wilson truly believed mind powers could increase a woman’s bust, why didn’t he include photos of whatever pair of mutant tits convinced him of that? It’s like he wrote this book specifically to trick very stupid girls into letting him touch their very small breasts. Psssh. I learned how to do that when I was 13.

The Total Mind Power techniques have some strange side effects like making you more slender in the waist, probably because this book is the specific fantasy of a horny nerd and not because your X-Men powers will move waist meat to your bust meat. I highlighted Donald’s tips on being able to tell when something is bigger by using “sight” and “touch.” It’s pretty normal for grifters to have contempt for their mark’s intelligence, but I don’t remember seeing an author mansplain vision before. And at the risk of more unnecessary advice, don’t listen to fetishists who say whispering dreams into someone’s nipples is science. It’s worth a try, a fun tip to meet girls at the beach, one simple trick every bra salesman hates, something I wish I’d thought of first, cheaper than titty salve, a freedom America’s enemies will never take, and an effective way to see which titties can keep a secret, but not science.

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This article was brought to you by our fine patron and Hot Dog Supreme, John: The reason no truck-stop bathroom stall has a functioning lock.

Categories
PUNCHING DAY

Probably True Stories of ’90s Action Stars Giving Script Notes 🌭

During the ’90s, all the best action movies were assembled from five different scripts and trying to be thirteen different things. This meant catch phrases and deranged one-liners would appear with no warning or setup as if they came from a completely different film. It was the best. We all know Con Air was written by dressing researchers up as the devil and asking schizophrenic patients to watch breast implant surgeries, but who caused all the strangeness in those other ’90s movies? I should also mention the casual, whimsical racism because it’s going to come up. So ends the thesis statement of this, another 1🌭900🌭HOTDOG masterpiece:


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This article was brought to you by our fine patron and Hot Dog Supreme, Zdarfan: The unstoppably chinned maniac with no Maniac License.

Categories
UPSETTING DAY

HOW TO UNDERSTAND AND ACCEPT YOUR GAY SON

If you don’t understand or accept your gay son, you’re probably not used to good news, but I have some: there’s a book called HOW TO UNDERSTAND AND ACCEPT YOUR GAY SON (Even if you’re not sure you can). It’s the perfect guide for someone absolutely repulsed by basic human decency, but also willing to read a book on it.

HTUAAYGS(Eiynsyc) spends most of its 155 pages answering tough questions a proudly ignorant person might ask a gay expert. It’s a best-case scenario debate between the world’s most patient person and the bronze medal winner in the Gay Son Hating Olympics. These hypothetical interactions were mashed together into a vaguely book-like structure by a gay couple in… holy shit, 2015!? This wasn’t written from an Arkansas AIDS pandemic in the ’80s? It seems impossible that while we were watching the Night’s Watch and the Wildlings form an uneasy alliance, there were people driving to the suburbs and telling the Barnes and Noble clerk, “Maybe y’all can help me out. I found a penis in the boy’s mouth and, well, before I put him down I was lookin’ for the latest instruction manual on gay.”

Here are, word for word, some of the obvious questions answered by HTUAAYGS(Eiynsyc):

You probably guessed the answer to most of these questions is something close to “no,” but much closer to “no, you goddamn psychopath.” The book tries to take irrational hate and fear and respond to it rationally, which is kind of satisfying and seems like it should work, but you can obviously look around and see how it doesn’t. For instance, if you believe a 680-year-old man named Noah built history’s largest zoo on a cruise ship using year ðŸĶī7👁â˜Ĩ technology, you don’t change your mind when you enter second grade and find out everything about it is fucking stupid. And if “the God” told you your gay son was an unnatural pedophile, you don’t tell that God to fuck off because a book goes, “Actually, in several functional ways that’s not technically accurate.”

My point is, I’m not sure how effective this book will be at fixing bigot dads. Not only because of the nature of the problem, but because these authors might not be experts on gay culture. For one thing, they say in their book there is “strictly speaking” no such thing, but also look at the gay son on the cover. Are you telling me a gay teen showed up to picture day with no product in his hair? And look at how it’s been cut. That’s worse than cheap– this kid stuck his bangs in a carnival ride and told them to let it rip. The gayest thing this kid has ever done was ask his mom if he could buy the WWE 2K Randy Orton DLC. Which means the publisher did not set up a cover shoot with an out-and-proud teen model– these assholes scrolled through stock photos until they found a kid who looked kind of gay. It’s probably as tone-deaf as asking your son if he’s a bottom, and gave me more than enough bread crumbs to find their source.

The cover comes from an Adobe stock photo called “Mother and Son Smiling in an Outdoor Setting” which was also used, and this is true, by a military school for troubled teens and a software company specializing in apps that prevent truck drivers from looking at their phone. And like with all stock photo shoots, the models moved around doing weird shit for a few more pictures. Which means the rest of the article is just this:

Categories
NERDING DAY

Nerding Day: Captain America vs. The Bullshit Robot 🌭

Over the decades, the character of Captain America has been imagined nearly five different ways– werewolf, regular, one-armed unfrozen teen, and secret Nazi. It is with great honor I add “man with realistic limitations and personality disorders” to the pantheon of Captain America adaptations with this fun-for-kids coloring book.

Categories
LEARNING DAY

The Practical Guide to Ear Candling

Ear candling is precisely, exactly what it sounds like without any caveats. It’s an activity a three-year-old would invent if you asked them to draw “ear candling.” I still feel like I have to say it, though: it’s the ancient science of sticking a candle in someone’s ear. How can you do it yourself? I just fucking told you: stick a candle in someone’s ear. But for those who want to make it a tiny, tiny, tiny, tiny bit more complicated, let’s look at The Practical Guide to Ear Candling (6th Edition(!)).

The “””science“”” behind ear candling is this: hot smoke goes into your skull through your ear hole and it heals you, physically and spiritually. The author of this book doesn’t quite know how it works, and in fact seems terrified of saying anything specific enough to make him liable for injuries. Every page praises the benefits of this historical ear magic invented by nerd Indians and then immediately adds something like, “But, you know, remember: this has only been tested on mummies and you should check with a doctor before you scorch half your face off with authentic Wally’s brand ear products.”

Oh yeah, I should mention the author sells ear candles and a wide array of snake oils you can rub on your ear before and after you put a lit candle in there. This is essentially a 64 page advertisement and liability waiver with a touch of dingbat witchcraft, and I think I accidentally just described every metaphysical book ever written. In your face, wizards.

As the introduction says, The Ears May Hold More Mysteries Than We Imagine… but we aren’t saying they do and you can’t prove in court we specifically told you to put something called an “ear candle” into your ear and light it. This activity is for “relaxing, soothing, and entertaining” only, and won’t cure any of these ailments these legends claim they cure. Weirdly, the author keeps downplaying the magical power of ear candles while growing more and more certain in the mystic protection of his legal disclaimers. He is one step ahead of any potential lawsuit. In fact, if you surrounded a lawyer with pages from Practical Guide to Ear Candling, they would be trapped in an endless dance until a scorch-faced virgin broke the circle.

The book can’t even get through the first page of THE BASICS OF EAR CANDLING without debunking the basics of ear candling. These dorks have been melting candles on each other for generations and it’s only recently they considered all this wax they kept finding came from the candles and not a vacuum spell they were somehow casting on ears? This feels like opening up a puppet show by telling the audience how recent science has proven all your talking puppy dogs are mainly socks on your hands. How dumb is your hobby’s community that this was worth saying out loud, and why would you shatter such a necessary fiction for it to function? No offense to your ancestors, but if thousands of years of their ancient healing art can get dismissed by knowing what candles are, maybe they were all stupid and wrong?

The traditional way to ear candle, the one the author admits does nothing and you should never try, involves laying your victim on their side and using a pie tray to keep most of the ash and wax from falling into their head. But since none of this matters, you can go ahead and sit upright. You could even stay home without putting shit in your ears. This book cannot stress this enough– only a few guys in cave paintings have any idea what this does or why it exists. It’s entirely possible australopithecus drew cartoons where people fucked each other in the ear and this entire practice is a wildly misinterpreted take on them.

So after ten pages of explaining this “home remedy” only adds wax to your ear, it says slowly burning two to three candles into a sitting persons’ skull is “just as effective.” Effective at goddamn what? This is indentical to telling a husband having sex with a rotisserie chicken it will help his marriage just as well if he fucks it wearing a 1-900-HOTDOG headband. Neither one are going to clean out his ears, and they both make for less embarrassing photographs than ear candling. People getting their picture taken during ear candling look like they’re getting their brain basted at Sport Clips.

I swear to God this inspirational quote about learning to fly came right after the author again explained how dangerous and pointless this hobby is along with a plug for Wally’s brand “ear oil.” It’s philosophically as far from flying as any activity has ever been. If you were a raccoon delicately eating around the semen on a discarded rotisserie chicken, it would make more sense for someone to recite quotes to you about soaring beyond the confines of your fear.

I mentioned this is a 64 page book, but there is less than a page worth of actual material. They keep rewording the candling process, which I swear I’m not simplifying, and then lowering your expectations, which I swear can always get lower. Repetition can be a helpful learning tool, but this is like watching a sick goldfish discover diarrhea 128 different times.

The “Anecdotes” chapter is a sad, whimpering collection of evidence no one is expected to believe. Make-believe individuals make vague, third-hand claims about the benefits of ear candling after a disclaimer saying they’re all probably lying. This author is way too sheepish to be a grifter. They’re like a breezy heiress who never really wanted to be stuck with her dead dad’s penis enlargement business.

This ear candler is not an expert on anything including this, their useless and ineffective life’s work. The one thing they should be good at is killing time while they wait for candles to burn down to their client’s head, but the chapter “During Candling” is two pages long and only includes a single activity idea: face massage. So if you pursue a life of professional ear candling and small talk isn’t working out and you’ve already exhausted all 7 seconds of the full history of this ancient practice, simply rub your client’s face for the remaining three to four hours. Or hell, why not open plastic bags of cabbage burps or hand them drawings of local cat buttholes? Nobody is ever going to say, “This wax guru held a spirit candle to my ear for most of the day, and then things got weird.”

Categories
FUCKING DAY

Let’s Read: 269 Amazing Sex Games

Like all sex books, 269 Amazing Sex Games has to make some pretty wild guesses where your kink zone starts and ends. It has no idea if you’re shy grandparents or dicks-in-every-hand exhibitionists, so it assumes you’re both. It was written by Hugh de Beer, an erotic board game designer, which you wouldn’t know since 80% of the suggestions aren’t games and the ones that are have frustratingly vague win conditions. This is, again like all sex books, a brainstorming session typed out by an inexperienced lover with a pedestrian mind that reveals only the author’s shortcomings and fruit fetishes. I don’t know how many ways there are to add chance and whimsy to your fucking, but this book proves it is way, way fewer than 269.

These Amazing Sex Games are all word-for-word taken from the book.

I’ve always wondered why I see so many old married couples browsing the produce section and arguing about which berries are the easiest to retrieve from a human anus.

This book was published in 2005 when it might not have been absurd for a household to own six or more porn DVDs. I absolutely do not recommend trying this Amazing Sex Tip today. I did, and my six choices were Milf Forces Stepson, Son get Mom Pregnint (real), mom/son creampie preview, sister blackmailed thye shouldnt have made this, Make me a “MAN” mom (MilkedGoddess), Ri$e of $kyw@lker full movie link in comments.

If you’re following along in a cute numbered book to spice up your tired love life, you are not equipped to navigate the modern erotic video landscape. I don’t even feel comfortable doing it and I’m personally the reason for three safety warnings on erection pumps. The clerk at my local sex dungeon once told me, “We haven’t found those four inches of your penis, but my boss says you still have to pay full price,” and I would never do something as dangerous as just randomly selecting an erotic video in the year 2020.

“Mmm, that feels nice. Okay, here’s the comments on Son get Mom Pregnint (real). Gapelover_Newmexico says ‘nut nut‘ a whole bunch of times… xXMurdererXx says ‘mommy fat tits lookin good,’ a couple more people say ‘nut nut‘ … this one is a work from home spam… okay, Beefwand19 says ‘FAKE‘ all caps, ‘you can tell it’s not his actual mom that’s Jasmyn Nipple,’ and then there’s a link to her instagram. ‘She has four kids and they are all too old for porn.‘ He spelled all of those words wrong. Oh that tickles, this book is FUN!”

What? Alright, thanks for the banana… slut? I guess a surprise mango won’t make me less likely to fuck somebody, but this feels pretty far removed from both sex or games. What the hell are we doing here, Hugh? Not all of us have a fruit thing. Am I supposed to tell her to put the mango in her butt? And then she marinates an ass mango for five hours depending on traffic? And then we, what? Flip a coin to see who gets to eat the butt fruit? Okay, now that I’ve visualized the whole thing, it is kind of hot.

You know someone has never tried the ideas in their sex book if they think you can give someone a discreet footjob to completion in a restaurant. This is an idea for a giggly teenager with a limited imagination and a foot thing to jerk off to; it’s not an actionable plan for a horny couple. Hugh, did you strain your brain so hard coming up with “stomp on her crotch at Chili’s” that you forgot waiters can see and hear just like you? “Amazing Sex Game” my mango-filled ass. I’m starting to think Hugh learned what sex was from edited-for-TV romantic comedies…

…oh my god, he did. He fucking did.

This is really testing the boundaries of what one considers a “game.” Picking a porn movie name out of a hat was already the bare minimum of gamification, but flipping a coin before you fuck to decide who gets to be on top? Your audience is presumably lovers trying to have fun, not a couple of 8-year-olds settling a bunk bed dispute. And if you’re writing for a reader who considers flipping a coin an idea, do you really want to leave something as ill-defined as “dominant position” in the hands of their imagination? If grandma calls heads, there is a 100% chance she’s going to take this too literally and peg grandpa’s ass berries into jam.

You want me to put together a homemade dick instruction manual? Motherfucker, did you just suggest I draw someone a homemade dick instruction manual!? If you handed your wife a sick rat and said, “For your rotten asshole, you fat monster,” it would be met with the exact same result as a lovingly presented hand-drawn boner manual. If the police found this, they would declare the seventy stab wounds in your corpse an accident and give your widow a medal. Goddamn it, Hugh. Draw your genitals and label where to touch them? It’s like you want us to know you’re dating a second grader but you’re too cowardly to say, “#126: Draw and label that sweet hog on your lover’s alphabet flash cards!”

So you want us to sit naked in plaster as part of a multi-step advanced crafting project so we can eat a chocolate vulva after sex? It’s almost incredible how this spoils every single joy in life. Eating, hobbies, fucking… they all become smeared in misery and sculpting chocolate. And where is the game? Do we roll an 8-sided die to see who breaks the silence to ask, “What have we become?”