A pack of US teens, struck by the devestation in Haiti, has vowed to travel to the be beleaguered country to give blowjobs in the earthquate-battered nation.
Southern California, where the teen blowjob craze begun, has offered its adolescent girls up to give comfort to the males of the storm-wracked island.
"We saw on the news that people are suffering here," said Mandy Pepperidge, 17, of Simi Valley, " we thought that it's the least we can do, given the fact that we're on our knees pretty much 24/7 here."
The teens realized that the oral sex would not guarantee them a place in Showtimes movie of the week. Nontheless, they were rushed to Catholic hospitals in hastity put-together schoolgirl outfits.
"They said the uniforms would be a huge turn-on on the net, so we all changed into the skimpy tartan outfits," said Auruara Snow, sex kitten of the next 24 hours on Justbarelywithmuffschool.com.
The males of Haiti were reportedly appreciative of the unexpected attention, and posted their activities on the net with the girls as soon as possible. "It is, how you say, unusual for California teens to treat us with such great respect and comfort," said Pierre Jones-Hugenout, beneficiacy of the US aid.
Some on the island said that men had been praying to the Voodoo Goddess Angelique Boutique for the aformentioned favors. "Angelique has answered our prayers," said one man, "the entire island has gained release with appreciation."
However, Elaine Mables, author of the book "Don't Go Back to Cocksville," has maintained that showcase projects like the Haiti effort simply reinforce the status quo.
"For God Sake,we've got an entire generation for whom the blowjob is equivalent to a firm handshake," she said. She suggested alternatives such as bowing and scraping.
"Someday soon in this country the assfuck is going to be the greeting of choice," she said. Let's make sure everyone is safe in performing this soon-to-be-pleasantry, she said.
Monday, February 15, 2010
Our Place in History
I like to name a post something portentous, like that above. That being said, I can witter on like a crack-headed bird-brain for the rest of the post.
But I'd like to say about Gen-X, are we finished already? Is Nirvana the best we can do? Technology has turned the world upside down (or is it right-side up) since we graduated from college. Most of it sucks.
Don't take me for a Luddite, but Facebook? Porn for all for free? Even mapquest is redundant if you take the time to study a decent map. But Google, god of all and everything, has turned your ordinary barroom controversy into certitude.
But everything subservient to technology, even books? This is the Roman empire being sacked by the Visogoths. People with e-books swear they are the best, but will they last? Will they be treasured by generations to come? Will they gather dust as prestige items its owners never read anyway? Trophy cases for the urban upper=middle class? Civilization teetering on a bookcase, over the extra-large screen TV?
Egalitarianism sucks. There were reasons that newspaper and magazine pundits could weigh in on quite quite weighty subjects. They knew what they were talking about.
And no, any jack-off king in his basement reading blogs is not the same as George Will. And Will benefited from this arrangement, meaning that those in high office responded to his request for interviews were returned asap.
When I worked for the Trenton Times, state officials would get back to me whenever I told them to. This was not because of me, but because I represented 100,000 people, and they damn well better get back unless they wanted someone else to crucify them.
The power of the press, it was said, belongs to those who own one. Now that everyone has one, who'll grant power to the powerless?
But I'd like to say about Gen-X, are we finished already? Is Nirvana the best we can do? Technology has turned the world upside down (or is it right-side up) since we graduated from college. Most of it sucks.
Don't take me for a Luddite, but Facebook? Porn for all for free? Even mapquest is redundant if you take the time to study a decent map. But Google, god of all and everything, has turned your ordinary barroom controversy into certitude.
But everything subservient to technology, even books? This is the Roman empire being sacked by the Visogoths. People with e-books swear they are the best, but will they last? Will they be treasured by generations to come? Will they gather dust as prestige items its owners never read anyway? Trophy cases for the urban upper=middle class? Civilization teetering on a bookcase, over the extra-large screen TV?
Egalitarianism sucks. There were reasons that newspaper and magazine pundits could weigh in on quite quite weighty subjects. They knew what they were talking about.
And no, any jack-off king in his basement reading blogs is not the same as George Will. And Will benefited from this arrangement, meaning that those in high office responded to his request for interviews were returned asap.
When I worked for the Trenton Times, state officials would get back to me whenever I told them to. This was not because of me, but because I represented 100,000 people, and they damn well better get back unless they wanted someone else to crucify them.
The power of the press, it was said, belongs to those who own one. Now that everyone has one, who'll grant power to the powerless?
Sunday, February 14, 2010
I can't help it
Nobody reads anything, that's for sure, but it doesn't slake the subconscious compulsion. I like the written word. I thought I was through it but I'm not.
Goddamn it, Rambler, explain to us your love affair with LA, a city we'd always thought you'd hate for its superficiality and its population of known idiots, vacuous muttonheads, birdbrains and morons. Is Jay Leno only joking when he finds these people who don't know what century the civil war took place in, and where is the Indian Ocean? (bad grammar, I know).
And paper cuts on her hands (I can't help it), how do I goddam link up to people? I know I'm a techno-moron but somebody throw me a line. Just because you're better than me at these idiocies doesn't mean you're smarter (hint to everyone: I can quote political theory from the ancient Greeks onward; Am I smarter than you or just chose something archaic to study?)
Because in the end, political theory is about how to best govern societies. Is everyone staying home and broadcasting their stupid and untested theories really the best way to do so? Let's all stay in our basements, wack off to mass produced and ultimately boring porno, and offer lame shots across the political bow instead of really working for change.
Fuck You,
Tourguide
Goddamn it, Rambler, explain to us your love affair with LA, a city we'd always thought you'd hate for its superficiality and its population of known idiots, vacuous muttonheads, birdbrains and morons. Is Jay Leno only joking when he finds these people who don't know what century the civil war took place in, and where is the Indian Ocean? (bad grammar, I know).
And paper cuts on her hands (I can't help it), how do I goddam link up to people? I know I'm a techno-moron but somebody throw me a line. Just because you're better than me at these idiocies doesn't mean you're smarter (hint to everyone: I can quote political theory from the ancient Greeks onward; Am I smarter than you or just chose something archaic to study?)
Because in the end, political theory is about how to best govern societies. Is everyone staying home and broadcasting their stupid and untested theories really the best way to do so? Let's all stay in our basements, wack off to mass produced and ultimately boring porno, and offer lame shots across the political bow instead of really working for change.
Fuck You,
Tourguide
Friday, January 15, 2010
If the Phone Dont Ring it's Me
please help us we cannot exist beyond your posts. Helpless , helpless help us. If the phone doesn't ring, it's the whole world beyond your office.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
The Phone
It sat where it always did, by the lamp in the corner of the TV-room/library. It was a new model, but I still wanted to trace that old pattern on it: 723-5288.
That was E's number, and coming into the house on Bradley Boulevard in Bethesda, it seemed wild with possibility. A re-connection with her and all my friends, especially in college and immediately thereafter. The phone was a portal that transported me away from Princeton and to the new and better life I had created in DC at the time.
I just called it. The number, said the mechanical voice on the phone, has been disconnected.
That could be the title of my memoirs of the hellish years that have passed like a rushing river since the early 1990s. I am a Dorian Gray that, instead of exploiting my static age, has been ravaged by it. I am starting to grow some gray in my now dark blond/light brown hair.
It should be shock white.
That was E's number, and coming into the house on Bradley Boulevard in Bethesda, it seemed wild with possibility. A re-connection with her and all my friends, especially in college and immediately thereafter. The phone was a portal that transported me away from Princeton and to the new and better life I had created in DC at the time.
I just called it. The number, said the mechanical voice on the phone, has been disconnected.
That could be the title of my memoirs of the hellish years that have passed like a rushing river since the early 1990s. I am a Dorian Gray that, instead of exploiting my static age, has been ravaged by it. I am starting to grow some gray in my now dark blond/light brown hair.
It should be shock white.
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Julie Miller
An old ache re-appeared tonight, and despite the lack of outcome (no pun intended), it's good. There was a girl (definitely young) who looked almost like Julie Miller, whom I had a brief and bad affair with years ago. I looked at her and felt a long-dormant excitement in the loins.
Julie was not beautiful, but cute as hell in that New York Jewish girl way that drove a goy like me crazy. She had gone to Wisconsin with me, and was a self-described "little mouse" at the time. We met again sometime after graduation at a party near Columbia, and experienced a passionate cab-ride home.
We met again a week later, me at a cheap hotel downtown. She was living in Seattle, but was visiting her parents in town. We ended up at that hotel, and I ended up disappointing her. In subsequent communication, I did the male thing and hid in shame, though she seemed still interested.
I'm going to have to come to terms with the fact that the girls I was interested in years ago are long gone, and have become mature women. That is what the tapering off of the physical symptoms of anxiety will peal back, and hopefully I can adjust to them. Because I talked to the substitute Julie Miller, and you could see her whipping out the mental wheelchair for me in her eyes. Help me out, Rambler or whoever else reads this page. What's the new age limitations (both up and down)?
(Note to a certain dark-haired minx that sometimes reads this: you are hotter now than ever).
Julie was not beautiful, but cute as hell in that New York Jewish girl way that drove a goy like me crazy. She had gone to Wisconsin with me, and was a self-described "little mouse" at the time. We met again sometime after graduation at a party near Columbia, and experienced a passionate cab-ride home.
We met again a week later, me at a cheap hotel downtown. She was living in Seattle, but was visiting her parents in town. We ended up at that hotel, and I ended up disappointing her. In subsequent communication, I did the male thing and hid in shame, though she seemed still interested.
I'm going to have to come to terms with the fact that the girls I was interested in years ago are long gone, and have become mature women. That is what the tapering off of the physical symptoms of anxiety will peal back, and hopefully I can adjust to them. Because I talked to the substitute Julie Miller, and you could see her whipping out the mental wheelchair for me in her eyes. Help me out, Rambler or whoever else reads this page. What's the new age limitations (both up and down)?
(Note to a certain dark-haired minx that sometimes reads this: you are hotter now than ever).
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Bullets over Broadway
One of the great Rambler quotes of all time came when the city finally decided to make over Times Sq. He was opposed to it. Why? "Scum have to go somewhere."
Scum made an unwelcome return to the Square on Thursday, when a CD Peddler (read: hustler), was stopped by the NYPD for having no license to sell on the street. The peddler, a 25-year-old dirtbag, was duly seen in a photo with Al Sharpton (a bigger hustler cannot be humanly found)in the NY Post.
To sum up the story, the peddler ran through one of the walkways that take you from the Broadway streetside to a kind of cabbie-arcade entrance midblock at the Marriott Marquis hotel.
A plainclothes cop told the peddler to stop. Instead, the guy whips out a submachine gun that later turned out to have a magazine with 17 bullets in it. The guy gets off two shots, then the gun jammed. The cop then shot the man four times in the middle of Times Square tourists (at about noon) and killed him.
Should this story be read as an example of police over-reaction, it is anything but that. The CD peddlers in Times Square are shakedown artists, pure and simple. They play on the fears of tourists, whom New York needs more than ever right now.
Here's the two big hustles. 1) A guy comes up to you and says he's an up and coming rap artist, signs his name on a worthless CD, then he and his homies surround you. Close, real close, in those menacing extra-large puffy black Michelin tire man jackets. Then they demand $10 for the CD.
2) The friendly approach. The CD has all kinds of fake album-cover art and seems professional. A man says that this is your opportunity to catch a rising talent before anyone else. All this can be yours for the low, low price of $10. Catch him before Wal-Mart does.
The man, 25, was definitely in the first camp. His idiotic raps about killing cops were all over the tabloids yesterday. Hey, Rolling Stone (and Nate Brackett, one of my college editors), here's a moron you can hype as "real" and "from the street!"
The truth is that Times Square is always going to be under siege from the various discontented segments of NY society. Gangs used to go there for initiation wherin you as a prospective member go to mug someone and thus be brought into the gang.
The cops were everywhere in the Square last night, mostly to direct traffic, but also to keep order. Whatever you think of the sanitized new Times Square, the city knows a gold mine (in the form of tourists) when it sees it.
A little irony in this case. When the Marriott decided to put up the Marquis, the Square was still more than a little sketchy. It thus put up a kind of berm on the Broadway side of the building, with the entrance to the hotel mid-block or so. This was to protect tourists from marauding no-goodniks populating the street. You simply caught a cab inside the arcade and went.
These arcades or breezeways or whatever were exactly where the violence went down. Next time try razor wire.
Scum made an unwelcome return to the Square on Thursday, when a CD Peddler (read: hustler), was stopped by the NYPD for having no license to sell on the street. The peddler, a 25-year-old dirtbag, was duly seen in a photo with Al Sharpton (a bigger hustler cannot be humanly found)in the NY Post.
To sum up the story, the peddler ran through one of the walkways that take you from the Broadway streetside to a kind of cabbie-arcade entrance midblock at the Marriott Marquis hotel.
A plainclothes cop told the peddler to stop. Instead, the guy whips out a submachine gun that later turned out to have a magazine with 17 bullets in it. The guy gets off two shots, then the gun jammed. The cop then shot the man four times in the middle of Times Square tourists (at about noon) and killed him.
Should this story be read as an example of police over-reaction, it is anything but that. The CD peddlers in Times Square are shakedown artists, pure and simple. They play on the fears of tourists, whom New York needs more than ever right now.
Here's the two big hustles. 1) A guy comes up to you and says he's an up and coming rap artist, signs his name on a worthless CD, then he and his homies surround you. Close, real close, in those menacing extra-large puffy black Michelin tire man jackets. Then they demand $10 for the CD.
2) The friendly approach. The CD has all kinds of fake album-cover art and seems professional. A man says that this is your opportunity to catch a rising talent before anyone else. All this can be yours for the low, low price of $10. Catch him before Wal-Mart does.
The man, 25, was definitely in the first camp. His idiotic raps about killing cops were all over the tabloids yesterday. Hey, Rolling Stone (and Nate Brackett, one of my college editors), here's a moron you can hype as "real" and "from the street!"
The truth is that Times Square is always going to be under siege from the various discontented segments of NY society. Gangs used to go there for initiation wherin you as a prospective member go to mug someone and thus be brought into the gang.
The cops were everywhere in the Square last night, mostly to direct traffic, but also to keep order. Whatever you think of the sanitized new Times Square, the city knows a gold mine (in the form of tourists) when it sees it.
A little irony in this case. When the Marriott decided to put up the Marquis, the Square was still more than a little sketchy. It thus put up a kind of berm on the Broadway side of the building, with the entrance to the hotel mid-block or so. This was to protect tourists from marauding no-goodniks populating the street. You simply caught a cab inside the arcade and went.
These arcades or breezeways or whatever were exactly where the violence went down. Next time try razor wire.
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