Where
the author tells you of the many things out there that make him want to
become a master thief with an exceptionally large basement to hoard the
myriad material things worth owning and loving.

Good
day. The love of consumption is a shameful yet glorious thing as
evidenced by the many odd and showy collections many of us have in our
homes whether it be things we now regret [my 40 long boxes of comic books I’d part with for a pittance] or the ones we wear as badges of pride [my neatly organized and alphabetized to a “T” DVD collection].
Some folks say that these kinds of material things ruin us and make us
slaves to pop culture and for many it does. For others like myself,
some stuff whether frivolous or not, simply must be gotten. For those
people, I present this new subcolumn.

This week’s theme: THE PLEASURE PRINCIPLE!



1. A Tara Reid, But For Dogs!

True Story: I was on a business trip last year when I got a distressed phone call from home. Apparently, my retarded old beagle [who now only uses three of his horrible legs in his everyday life, which is hilarious] was humping my then small and defenseless Rhodesian Ridgeback [who now is 80 pounds of sinew and gristle and not even near her target weight of awesome] with such vigor and panache that his pink cock protrusion popped too far out and flopped oddly on the ground like a sea snake after a bender. Bent, incredibly long, and exposed beyond its imagination, the dog member weakly pulsed on the ground while the dog whimpered and looked down at itself with feeble curiosity like the gutshot Michael Madsen in the elevator at the end of The Getaway remake. It was still CONNECTED, mind you… it had just popped out of its sheath way too far for comfort. Being 3,000 miles away there was little I could do to help aside from laugh, tell her to step on it as he walked by, or have her show him pictures of Anne Ramsey in order for the dogboner to retreat into his body with alarming speed. Eventually, the pink dick that put mine to shame went home inside my tripod dog’s Earth suit and not a moment too soon.

Boy dogs like to fuck. Even if it’s the side of another dog, the face of another dog, or something that looks almost dog-like in the pitch darkness or broad daylight. A couch leg. A man’s leg. The Death Star Playset.

Boy dogs will hump. It is their prime directive, followed by tasting their sack. I hate boy dogs. I don’t know why I ever got a boy dog. They have no class, make every decision based on food or sex, spend unhealthy amount of time pleasuring themselves, and tend to skew a lot less interesting and intelligent than females. Basically they’re men.

Boy dogs finally got their Real Doll. The Hotdoll. It’s a stationary bike but for dogfuckin’. Boy dogs see it, run a series of quick dog math calculations, and then get that stiff necked walk boys dogs get as they hone in to bone in. What follows is nothing less than raunch.

The Hotdoll looks like something from the upcoming Jim Belushi flick K-9THX-1138.

Nicky’s Trivia:

  • No one’s going to notice if you saddle up to the Hotdoll for a spin as well, Mr. Ripoll.

  • At some point you have to clean this thing. No one talks about that do they? “What did you do this morning, Martin?” “I cleaned my dog’s jack off the fuckmannequin I bought him online.” “We’re ex-friends, Martin.”.

  • They make a similar model for cats, except it’s a life cast of your young child so the cat can pretendsuck their breath away at their leisure.

  • You know, it’s probably better to get this INSTEAD of a dog.
BUY THIS HUNK!


2. Vaginal Toilet Happenings Under Development.



One of the things men have that women do not is the ability to enter a bathroom and quickly send their liquid waste into the pipes without missing a clever Grey’s Anatomy subplot involving some chick’s disdain over a relationship. Now they can piss and run!

By the way, does anyone else get grossed out by this guy on that show? It’s like Chris Makepeace got put into the fly’s telepod with Yog Soggoth.

A chick urinal built into the ground! Amazing! The Peeandgo, the best invention Drs. Beverly & Elliott Mantle never made. A gorgeous work of art that ladies urinate in!

Of course, overseas they have holes in the floor for ladies to drop a quiss* into but I think we’re on the same page that overseas is for the birds. America Forever! I want American women to be able to do the same because American women do it faster and better and with 40% less MSG!

I personally think urinals are overrated. Sure, I like my own backsplash as much as the next guy but the next guy tends to be staring down at my piss stream. Urinals are a throwback to Roman times and I’m more of a Verdana cat, dingbats be damned. There’s nothing wrong with peeing into a toilet even if you only have come to wee wee. The handicapped guy waiting for the stall can wait another few moments, am I right? So what if he suffers from Urinary Implosion Factor. I’m missing the Halftime Show!

Also, I am working on a patent for a webcam that fits perfectly into the Peeandgo.



Nicky’s Trivia:

  • There’s still the issue of ladies having their ass hanging out in the public restrooms that have these. Naked asses, many of them uglier than mine, making terrible piss while other women walk by doing their best not to retch. Humankind in 2008 has earned private toilet privileges.

  • Peeandgo is a bad name for this product, sends mixed signals. Pee AND go? Isn’t peeing going? Are some women going to become flustered and lose their shit?

  • The suggestive shapes inside the piss spot get me alternately hard and HARDER.

  • I’m going to make a command decision here. Squatting over the ground is fucking stupid.



3. Vote for Bush!

One thing I like in my women is pubic synergy. I lose track of the amount of times I’ve been holding up a Home Depot color guide to their sacred area before comparing my findings to a similar test conducted near their scalp. If there’s a divergence of more than two color squares, I just jerk myself off in another room and leave them to their own blatantly two-tone devices.

Thankfully, for picky guys like me, there’s BETTY. From their website:

Our Award Winning betty™ products are especially formulated color dyes for the hair down
there. In less than one year, over 100,000 happy customers are using
betty to naturally match their hair above, cover gray or just for fun!
Whether you’re a blonde (be a true blonde now!), radiant auburn, rich
brunette, raven black or want to try hot pink for fun, our easy to use
no-drip formula gives you the perfect finishing touch.


I’m in swoon with this concept. Up until now pubic hair was simply a decoration. Hair in a telltale pattern to remind us which way is down and where that thing we own belongs. Sometimes, the 70’s for instance, it was the last line of defense between man and women. A bulky hairy barrier. Now, it’s a celebration of color so pretty you may forget why you went down there in the first place!

Thank you Betty, you chromatic tramp.

Nicky’s Trivia


  • It’s about time something in that area was better than vagina.

  • They should get the Crayola people in on the naming of the colors. I am jonesing to get up close to someone with a Charcoaly Holemine tint or a sweet babe sporting some Inverted Prussia.

  • I think we’re all happy that they employ a no drip formula.

  • The question we’re all dying to ask is: Is it semen soluble? The answer is yes, but it’s sadly not Jill Sobule.



4. Heaven Can’t Wait!





It’s about time they started selling tickets to Heaven [and Hell if you so choose but those are much better to earn than purchase]. Actual kits ensuring entry to Heaven for under $15 with shipping and handling. Now there’s a disclaimer on the website selling these that it’s intended as a gag gift but I think they should have those disclaimers on anything they sell at religious shops because at the end of the day… who knows? I personally don’t think this is a gag gift but a helluva bargain.

There’s a religious gift shop near a bar I frequent [yeah, hypocrisy happens but judge me on your own dime] that sells all sorts of religious items. And blinds. They sell blinds. Now, I must know, are these RELIGIOUS BLINDS or blinds that just exist and need to be sold. There’s no religious markings and though Religious BLINDERS might be nice, these aren’t them.

Another weird religious retail thing before I lose half my readership…

I’ve been seeing regular businesses with the Jesus Fish on the window and I wonder if that’s really something that applies. One dry cleaner I saw had one and I think I saw a tax business with one as well. Does that mean that they give special prices to other Christians, deal only with Christians, or are they just thinking that by putting that on their window they can lure some of the folks who actually look for faith in their dry cleaner? If so, look for a little Fish in the upper corner of this site because those banner ads for The Happening ain’t going to click on themselves.

A ticket to Heaven. Stupid, but no less stupid than the condescending bumper stickers I see that say “In case of Rapture this vehicle will be unmanned”.

Nicky’s Trivia:
  • They also offer a no drip formula.



  • There’s nothing funny about making fun of Christians, Mr. Nunziata.

  • The Heaven kit also comes with a shower cap, because there’s a weird amniotic juice constantly falling from St. Peter’s untended face wound. No one talks about THAT do they? St. Peter’s chin is jacked up.

  • There is no Heaven.


DISCUSS THIS COLUMN!



* – Quickpiss, you idiot!