Yes well its my turn again and today we have a important story to tell so gather round and have a seat criss-cross apple-style. Once Upon A Time there was a special group of people who got together because of their maybe uncommon interests in some topics an activities that maybe most other people dident know about or dident like or even thought they were gross and bad. But this group of people knew that the things they liked were actually cool and good and so they wrote about them and published it but that wasent enough: they wanted to have like a treehouse-type area where they could talk more with each other about their neesh extra-curricilums and maybe even form kind of friendships and ginuwine connections with each other. Does that sound familiar to any of us gathered here to-day? Raise your hand if you know what Im talkin about thats right this is a story about:
The CELEBRATE THE SELF NEWSLETTER FOR THE SOLO SEX ENTHUSIAST which as far as i can tell ran quarteredly from maybe 1993 until at least 1997 but i only have these two issues and the catalog. They were bundled up together in the collectors corner at the friends of the library booksale AND it was half-off day so i got em for 1.50$ instead of 3. The older lady volunteer was a real pro she dident even blink when she rang me up.
CELEBRATE THE SELF newsletter i guess got its start because a man named Dr. Harold Litten wrote a book about playin with yourself but ADVANCED playin with yourself and it looks like it was pretty popular, you can still get a copy if you want:
So a group of people REALLY liked this book and said we want more! more! so Harold and some buds said ok if you all chip in a little money every so often we’ll keep this self-touch locomotion runnin and take your letters and answer your questions and try out any neat masturbation tips or tools or drugs you tell us about and then MAIL. THROUGH THE MAIL. FROM MOBILE ALABAMA IN 1994. A PRINTOUT TO YOUR HOUSE. I dont know bout you, but I call it courage. lets take the tour, won’t we:
READER MAIL
Pretty self-explanetary i guess heres where the subs (they call each other ‘’Brothers’’) write in with their penis and testical stories or poems or special memories about for example rural comroderry:
That sounds not too bad except for the hay dust and the hay bales and the hay part. I know theres a no ai art policy for 1900HOTDOG articles and i agree thats good but for personal curiosity i tried asking a few art robots to me make me “nude farmers and guys platonacly hayin’ in the style of Andrew Wyeth with no clothes on” and the ones that dident shame me did a passable job of it.
Next we have one from an older gent.
Whoa what a button! Thats only about half of the letter and its still a lot of detail alright but maybe you get the jist that the CTS brotherhood is pretty open and tries to make room for a wide-spectum of human sexuality that maybe doesnt get real mainstream representation. And thats nice and all but its all so a bunch of folks writin in with their more kinda -formational- stories. Goin through these newsletters was a pretty whipsplashy experience, where id be readin one part and thinking wow these brothers even in the 90s were doin some good thinkin and writin about the variety and fluidity of human experience with sex, and people would be writin in sayin thanks about how the newsletter and books has help them overcome shame and accept their whole self and identity and pretty heartwarmin! And then id move to another part that had a lot of stuff about -youthful- experiences in it and it’d make me kinda push and kick few tilly at the floor with my right foot like when im teachin someone to drive and we need some brakes right now.
Yes it might seem odd but after some of the we-dont-really-talk-that-way-anymore-outside-of-anime letters, the man who carefully measures his cantalope hole with it looks like a lot of trial and error seems like a oasis of safety and consent.
FEEDBACK
Now not all of the letters was just one way, some of em had like requests or feedbacks and the CTS staff would engage in a lil tit ah tit with the brothers. for example:
To the Celebrate-the-Self Labatorry!
Amazin the good one can accomplice with a medical degree.
This one there were a couple of brothers that were really wantin to know where they could get somethin called a jac-pac:
And Dr. Litten replied sayin he was also very sad he couldent find any jacpacs (also known as accujacs) anymore either. I was curious myself, journalismly, but the only thing i could find a bout jacMasters was this:
Which some say thats poppers but i wonder if thats the space inhalers but lets focus up people on the most important part which is: there are apparently THREE different models of accujacs im assuming and hopin that means classic, shag, and battle-armor but will we ever know!?
Lookin up jac-masters also brought this etsy product to my awares:
Which if the can’talope guy is still around i bet he’d approve.
ANYWAY heres where i had a very good fortune that i had two issues because in the next one the Doctor followed up and once again proved that maybe its not nesessity that mothers inventions as much as it is just wackin off. who needs a store-bought jac-pac when you can use items you already have in your own home like enema hoses and water wings to make:
And like he says: make sure to take the water out before giving them back to your kids i assume most defense atterneys dont like to rely on a photo like that as there best chance of pleadin you down from murder to manslaughter.
Heres one where somebody who got a free copy of Dr. Littens book had some notes:
Which Dr. Litten received and responded in a professional spirit:
And then there was a little inner-community drama in the next issue where some people said that was a little mean wasent it and so Dr. Litten humbely reflected on his words and actions
And decided that he was right and good. As the Michael Angelo of wackin off he felt intitled to a little humbuggery sense his words helped so many orgasms the hole magazine is drippin like a old rag left in a horse troff.
PHOTOS PICTURES
Well its not all writin and words the CTS knew that the brothers awaitin their issues in their mailbox delivered by their mailcarrier in 1994 would probably want some images and photos and some of em are pretty i guess standard like speakin of Michael Angelo heres a david with probly a AOL free trial disc or a scratched copy of Parklife:
But some of the photos utileyes some less conventional poses to erotic affect:
And then theres the non photographic visual arts some of em are kinda cute cartoony about differnt ways you can do a self-touch:
And some of em are more a body horror instructional type about how to make some crosshatch contour shadows onto your weiner to give it a shapely hour-glass figure before you inject some fatty acid into it to get real hard:
I looked that one up and it looks like the injections were more of thing only real 90s kids will remember and now we’re more civilized so for all-day boners you can just feed your pee-hole a lil prostaglandin pellet.
Heres a hand-drawing for someones book:
I realize that one might be a bit confusin to your sexual organs so heres the text to clear it up:
Huh i guess i would maybe recommend dont read that after you did a injection or you might end up with some problemsome sex associatives.
HUMOUR
Now this one i think you folks will like because of how you also like things what are funny and the Solo Sex brothers are not above havin a chuckle about themselves. We have cartoons:
And just plain ol fashion classic setups n punch-lines:
Im a little embarased but that one did get a decent-size laugh outta me.
And then everyones favorite the timeless dirty limerick:
Brake. Brake! BRAKE!
REVIEWS
Ok its the final section of our newsletter to look at where the folks captainin the Good Ship Touch Myself generously purchase and self-experiment with all products and techniques marketed as the ultimate in toe-curlin technologies. Some of its pretty basic stuff like kellogs and they say it works pretty good:
But that ‘ticular bathroom version was knew to me so i thought i’d give it a try when LaRene was still sleepin: I had a sit and started openin er up and shuttin er down and I gotta pretty good rhythym goin my guess is about a 80 bpm but i guess it was louder than i thought because here comes LaRene flingin the door open all worried and upset asking are you ok whats goin on and all i could say was ‘’peein’’ and then a course it would start back up right then and she just looked at me for a second and then went back to bed.
Heres another technique i don’t think i’ll try this one:
I got a little lost about what was really happenin in that one and what was boner-fever dream and what was bad and what was good but I think all of us really can be thankful that we dident have to ecsperience that one first hand or be annywhere near that real confused doctor when he did.
Heres a DIY idea but im’ gonna be straight with you here and say please dont actually:
And then heres where the subscribers of this newsletter really got there moneys worth take a look:
Just a lil reminder that this was 1994 and so this kind of technology probly seemed realistic and likely in edition to very sex-appealing. But what was the verdict of our self-pleasure elders?
What a disappointment! Thank goodness the strong arm of the USPS will do a crackdown on these frauders (im havin fun here, in real life I know the postal inspectors are no joke).
But what evidence did Dr. Litten and the fellas include in their formal complaint so the SWAT mail carriers can get a warrant to invade the cybertech campus, possibly wearing tactical blue shorts, depending on the weather? Here is a itemized list:
Each one more dammin than the last of this so- called ‘’cyber’’ ‘’tech’’ lets just shake our heads and also wonder what kind of vibrator you could get in 1994 for 2$. Obvoiusly this is a smokin-gun of scam-fraud and RICO all on its own. i’m sure a tiny right-hand-drive APC with a eagle on the side went tearin ass down the highway to shut these monsters down. but whats this there’s one more piece of intel coming over the radio!?
Those sick sonuvabitches.
So here ends our story or perhaps a fable even about a community maybe not that different from some modern day ones, like they say: one persons weird shit is another persons virtual elk club, so let us salute our pre-internet trailblazers and walk where they crawled but maybe clean the floor first in this specific case in the name of jesus christ amen.
