“there’s nothing uglier than a man hitting his stride”
- The Tragically Hip, “Vapour Trails”
Men, in the traceless mythos of dinosaurs and literary ghosts wearing large hats, walk the earth. It is what we do, whether we wish it or not. It is how we make the world our own. We are born and raised to be doers: like is not on the list of options; we eat, we shit, we learn how not to emote or cope, we stuff our cocks into whatever cavity or Dutch is nearest us, and we are happy enough for it. We just do it, be it literal, metaphorical, or pejorative, or sexual.
It may come as a great surprise for you to learn that a man is not born; he falls from the sky: as if the other side of the world (the alternate universes of superheroes and deep-space missions and men who wear large hats) tipped, capsized, and sent babies hurtling through the void of never-is and never-was, into the arms of the love-strong.
A man, half-formed, is dropped, into a nondescript, storybook childhood: free of trauma, abuse, assault. Taught with crystalline clarity the difference between wrong and right, hate and love, fantasy and reality. Taught, with candor and unclosed affection, the articles of respect and love, and how to expertly disguise them with civility and hard work. And finally then, a man, free of falling and built to outlast any arrant desire, is set unto his task: walk the earth and make it his own.
MORE>>
April 30th, 2008 Posted by The Snarling Misanthrope | On Masculinity | no comments
So, I’m on CollarMe today (wow, we really need a new whipping horse around here don’t we?) and notice that a person with an obviously fake photo viewed my profile. So, I clicked on over to their profile to be all, “Hey, ’sup fake picture! Tricking lots of horny guys today.” I get to reading and find a real treat. What is the best icing on the cake when you have a fake picture? How about a really inflammatory, rude, bitchy profile that makes sweeping generalizations about entire genders, sexual orientations, and types of kinky people?
We have hit pay dirt in the case of this user! “She” wants you to know right away who may not contact her:
No Dyke/Butch Females, NO Boi’s. NO TV’s, TS’s, I have nothing at all aginst any of you, I just do not want to interact with YOU! PERIOD. 
Have a lovely day.
Doesn’t that completely empty platitude make you feel better? Here you were drooling over her snapshot of an 80s porn star and you were rejected. But she has nothing against you! She just doesn’t want you to even TALK TO HER. Now I’m not saying that people need to be equal opportunity fuckers, that would just be absurd and the very nature of attraction is discrimination (between who you have a taste for and who you don’t). But profiles like this come off as twat-tastic (not in the good way) and here is where we get to the real problem. See, she finally lets us know what she wants:
I only, enjoy desire, and will interact with Bi Sexual very femine “FEMALES”, “Born A female physically.
Oh, and guess what? I fit that category. I am in her winner’s circle but I’m turned off. See, I’m the only judgemental and pissy bitch that I want to fuck and I’ll do that with my Rock Chick (as opposed to a reject from “Rock of Love”) before I’ll buy into someone’s tacky stereotypes. Oh, didn’t think she was that offensive yet? How about this lovely analysis of the lesbian psyche:
I do not have interest in most lesbians, most do not understand the depth of the lifestyle, mainly because their deep seeded distaste for men cause them to not focuse on love, and most are just to jealous for a Mistress such as me.
Oh thanks Freud, tell me more please! I’m not even going to touch the fact that the spelling and grammar make my clit want to run away and hide in my uterus, no matter how you dice it, this sort of crap isn’t sexy. Guess what? You don’t need any excuse for ruling out a group of people that you’re not interested other than “No thanks, I’m not interested.” If someone asks you why? Well, repeat after me, “I’m not attracted to you.” Does that require insulting whole groups of people with negative stereotypes? Nope not at all.
When you write a personals profile that shows your ignorance you will get the exact opposite of what you want, I promise. The people that are just attracted to your shitty fake photo and don’t even read it will still message you. The ones that you are trying to attract, though? Well they won’t want you because you just sound mean. You want hot bi babes? Well, babe, don’t piss where you live.
April 30th, 2008 Posted by Ellie | Bitches Please, Getting Your Spank On, What's My Predicate? | one comment
Ever have a day when you just want to be dirty? Like there’s a certain poetry in being grimy? The kind that makes you feel like you’re living, if only for a (happily std-free) moment in a Henry Miller novel? And just lounge about in your sexed-up half-squalor, uncoiffed and unfluffed, just waiting for the editor to cut you another check, or for Sex Incarnate to knock at the door, naked before you’ve even unfastened the topmost lock…?
…and in the meanwhile you’re eyeing that bottle of wine you’ve been saving (not so much for a special occasion but rather a special lack of occasion), but you haven’t been drinking for awhile, and you’ve started to miss it.
It isn’t like there’s much to miss, all those excuses to drink. The promises of rough anal sex in the back of a Hummer? The grip-and-yank of hair that communicates intent better than any word spoken? Yeah. It’s only another excuse for drinking, really. And who among us needs more excuses?
I’ll take the anal sex.
April 30th, 2008 Posted by The Snarling Misanthrope | End of Day Musings | no comments
Dominance and submission, or D/s, is a multi-fangled, multifarious ambit of decidedly wobbly orbit. We, your humble Junkbuzzers, are card-carrying members of this grumbling, bumbling, psychotropically crumbling sect, if not adherents to the creed (as well as occasionally disgruntled clients). So over the next few days, we’re going to take a nice big WAM-like (wet-and-messy, for the clean and uninitiated) splash into the into the shallow end of the D/s dating pool.
First up on our DRADIS-derivative pleasure-trawl is perhaps the most popular (because of its easy access) of the sadomasochistic personals sites, CollarMe.
I love CollarMe. It is the gen-pop of the D/s Penitentiary, where all factions collide in a huge, infected mass of Crazy and Demented (both registered trademarks of the D/s community), where everything is blown-up, out-of-proportion, and over-pixilated like a paparazzi’s sky-cam shot of Britney’s latest snatch-fest, until it becomes one engorged and puffy MRSA-like canker on the collective ass of sexual intelligence. The tricked-out Craigslist of the BDSM bailiwick, CollarMe is always entertaining, in the most exhaustingly exhaustive sense possible.
I should take a moment to point out, that without CollarMe, this site would not exist. I am a random and ofttimes mean-spirited troll on CollarMe, always looking for something/one to poke fun at. And in my travels through CollarLand, I came across one particular profile from a lovely young lady who asked that any and all respondents include a the word ‘unicorn’. I could not resist the challenge, and, well…read Ellie’s post to get the rest of the story.
And as for our verdict on CollarMe, the Paddle of Truth says: well…it’s free. That’s a plus. But the chances of you finding your one true O/Severin/Sleeping Beauty there are not very good. Unless you like ‘em good and crazy. Or you’re really into Norse-Pagan-Polyamory. In which case, get to clicking!
April 30th, 2008 Posted by The Snarling Misanthrope | Getting Your Spank On | no comments
Craigslist is like the blue cheese of the internet. It’s a piquant Gorgonzola with a gentle hint of venereal infraction and oh-what-the-hell-it’s-Friday-and-I-ain’t-got-no-baby bi-curiosity. It goes well with anything acidic, like sarcasm, penicillin, and federal racketeering charges.
Craigslist epitomizes the you-can-too spirit of the internet, in that it takes on all comers (literally, figuratively, and esoterically), and sets them loose in the e-wilds of transactive fulfillment. How blue-veined your soul becomes is entirely dependent on the ph of your desperation. (And desperation is equal to or greater than the sum total of your grammatical errors.)
The beauty of Craigslist is in its simplicity; that, like in any blue cheese, the base fromage can be anyone or anything. For instance. Cute, HWP girl looking for a drama-free hepcat with tattoos who match hers? Penicillium camemberti. Stray dog in need of a quick, consequence-free nut? Penicillium roqueforti, all the way, baby.
Nobody gets it right the first time, folks. So please enjoy this practice quiz from your friends at Junkbuzzed. Match up the people seeking on the left with the people sought on the right. Think of it as the tree-cave from The Empire Strikes Back:
Luke: “What’s in there?” Yoda: “Only what you take with you.”
HINT: “Not Choosy” is assumed, not stated. And, uh…try not to lose your head.
April 30th, 2008 Posted by The Snarling Misanthrope | Asides, Best of Douchelist, Niche Cliché Pastiche, Sexual Health | one comment
Married? Female? Considering dating on line? If so, congratulations! You are one of the most sought after commodities out there. If you’re a newbie to this fun and absolutely not new national sport, gather round and let’s chat. So you’re bored, (what married people aren’t?) and have thought to yourself, You know what might be fun? Not crawling back into bed with Mr. Tap on the Shoulder, Hurry the Hell Up…instead crawling into bed with someone else’s Mr. Tap on the Shoulder, Hurry the Hell Up. Ladies, I’m going to give it to you straight up.
Obviously being married and dating presents its challenges. While I’m not trying to give you tips and pointers on staying safe and not getting caught, I will toss you this to ponder:
If you are not smart, resourceful, possess a convincing ability to lie and the stealth of a CIA operative, this may not be the game for you.
The game begins - after the jump. MORE>>
April 30th, 2008 Posted by Lindsay Lewis | The Anti-LL | one comment
Ladies – afraid your new internet beau is not the architect/Jedi/fashion photographer/professional video gamer/law abiding citizen that he claims to be? Fear no more! With the launch of Easy ID, you don’t have to worry anymore – just plug his name into the search field (assuming he gave you his real name), and you’ll know all even before your web-cam speed-date is over! When love meets the Patriot Act, you can never be unsatisfied.
Have you ever wondered how the dominant-submissive relationship model works with mice? Okay, us neither. But in an attempt to explain away why so many human submissives are so prone to depression, anger, and self-loathing, the fine folks at the Ariel University Center of Samaria, Israel, have opened up a veritable Skinner box (not quite as sexy as Pandora’s, but it will have to do) of cross-mating mice. Don’t worry; all the mice have safe words – “cheese!”
From the As If It Couldn’t Get Any More Obnoxious file: now you can do your online date-trolling on your iPhone!
And finally, guys looking for multi-orgasmic, potential-squirter women would do well to look for dummies. Because apparently the smart girls just can’t sex it up. Then again, the study is German.
April 30th, 2008 Posted by The Snarling Misanthrope | Media Mayhem, Sexual Health | no comments
Men-children, do you enjoy the self-inflicted drama of whining about your lack of success at scoring with the internet babes?
Do you click onto Craigslist each day, fantasizing that this is the day that that special lady is going to answer your 2,300-word manifesto about sadness and self-pity (which reads like the liner notes from an unreleased Smashing Pumpkins double-album circa 1996)?
That she’ll ‘get’ you? That she won’t be like all the others – those stuck-up, money-grubbing whores who don’t appreciate a real man when they see one?
Do you spend interminably long hours at the computer, serial-flagging every posting from a female, on the grounds that she must be a hooker?
Do you believe, deep down within the tighty-whiteys of your heart, that your ideal woman is somehow being kept from you by the world?
Do you enjoy the online tantrum-throwing that you are so accustomed to?
Are you too goddamned cheap to buy a Realdoll?
Then we’ve got just the personals site for you!
Welcome, to the Whining Angry Man-Child Network! Where you can mire yourself in your own endless cycle of propped-up self-importance through misery, with other men who think just like you do!
And ladies, don’t think we’re forgetting about you! Especially if you have a patently-obsessive tendency toward mothering emotionally unstable men!
And whiny boys, that’s not all! Have you ever wanted to get paid for your incessant bitchiness? We still need a project manager/developer for this exciting new venture! Please send your resumes to [email protected]
April 29th, 2008 Posted by The Snarling Misanthrope | Personals Sites We'd Like | one comment
What are you doing?
pimpinit88@world yea 09:30PM April 22 2008
pimpinit88@world thas good 09:30PM April 22 2008
pimpinit88@world uhhhggnhh 09:31PM April 22 2008
pimpinit88@world uhhghghgnghghhh 09:32PM April 22 2008
pimpinit88@world that was boss LOL 09:33PM April 22 2008
April 29th, 2008 Posted by The Snarling Misanthrope | All Creatures Hung and Tiny | no comments
Hulking mutant John “Bradshaw” Layfield helps enact our latent homosexual ‘let’s-play-fight!’ fantasies each week on WWE television as part of the promenade of glistening HGHed-up queenies in tight vinyl Speedos who pretend to punch each other in the head. But now he wants to help the little guy – he’s hawking his own “sexual enhancement” potion, Mamajuana, which contains neither Cialis nor anabolic steroids. “We’re going after guys who want to take it, not need to take it,” he said. Well put.
And speaking of those guys “who want to take it”, there’s something else they’re going to have to learn to take, if they live in Florida. State legislators are moving to neuter the trucks and trailer hitches of their constituents. In related news, the saying “balls-out” moved quietly back into its cold-storage tackle box as a euphemism. And in developing news, Florida today sunk another inch closer to obsoletism.
Political chair-sniffing: Australian for ewwwwww.
Canadian strippers see jobs outsourced to internet; vow to buy webcams.
And finally, if you’ve recently had a lukewarm orgasm, or didn’t have one at all, look at its label: it probably said Made in China. And if it was an earth-shattering, mind-altering orgasm, well…thank your Mexican friends. Thank you, NAFTA, for last night!
April 29th, 2008 Posted by The Snarling Misanthrope | Media Mayhem, One-Line Wonders, Sexual Health | no comments
