On the Porcine Sexual: Porky Pig Is Gay

 
Get it? It's a jackhammer. There's a pun there.


I developed this theory, oh, a good six or seven years ago.

Porky Pig is gay.

It's fairly obvious. The demure behavior, the idiosyncratic speech, his geeky but still pulls-it-off fashion sense. All the signs are there.

But I need not rely on these innuendos and dismissive stereotypes. I also have completely circumstantial conjecture.

Petunia was Porky's cover, his beard. She was a strong, independent fat woman. Probably a lesbian.

Porky roomed with Gabby Goat and they had crazy gay sex all night long. That’s why they were always late for work. Like that one time they were, and then when they realized it was a holiday they dove right back into bed with the fake snoring. They were totally just waiting for us to look away before they started the crazy hetero-species homo-sex.

Warner Brothers even tried to cover up the sex-capades. Years after they broke up, WB was able to convince Porky to work through the pain and refilm the entire 6.5 minutes short with Daffy Duck gag-for-gag and word-for-word, so no one would notice that the goat had gone missing.

Now Daffy isn't gay. Rather his initial manic insanity has more recently manifested in less maladjusted narcissism, resulting in an autosexual personality, quite literally aroused by his own performance and perceived talent. Replacing a former character in the exact film, only as a better alternative, would be all the draw he needed to go along with such an idea.

So that's it. Porky was a complete man-loving sex pig. It's cool, Porky. We still love you. You don't have to be ashamed of who you are.

Just don’t get me started on Tom, Jerry and sadomasochism. That shit's fucked up.

On Growing Up III: The Curse of the Growening

So I finally decided to get rid of a bunch of the crap that's been sitting around my room making me feel goofy.

Another way to say this is I wanted to make my room seem somewhat more mature to match myself.

Another way to say this is "There ain't no way in hell you're getting laid with Optimus Prime watching."

Now I can't just turn the guy around, that's not the problem, you see. Quite frankly, I am not giving up my toys for anyone. I fully intend to keep them in my office, once I own my own house with an office. Unfortunately I do not own a house. I in fact live in my mother's apartment in a room and I am quite lucky to have my own bookshelf and free use of the public bathroom as long as it stays nice looking.


So, what to do, dear friends? How does one cram 80% of an apartment and a full childhood bedroom into the same spacial location? (For the purposes of this discussion we are ignoring the folding of space-time and other extra-dimensional physics because if I could afford to produce a tesseract I could just buy a damn house.)

Well the answer is you get sneaky.

Last night around 5 a.m. I had an epiphany, and emotional call that said, "I don't remember what half this memento crap is from so I can throw it away. Also, buy a cabinet and hide your toys."

So this afternoon I took some measurements, checked the Walmart website and then braved the white-trash mecca of our local superstore to snag the one remaining white storage cabinet.

Now let me be clear. 1) I thought it would be taller, but I'm okay with how the height turned out. 2) I originally intended to move (hopefully) all of my complete manga series, comic books or Star Wars novels into this cabinet, closing the doors and reserving visible shelf space for what didn't fit and my more mature literature, thus showing I am an adult with refined tastes.

Well, the top shelf is a couple Nerf Mavericks and my old N64, the PS2 I bought second-hand to play Guitar Hero on and the Sega Genesis 16-Bit I bought on eBay so I could play Sonic 2 again.

The second shelf is a pile of Transformers/hot chicks from movies action figures and a plethora of booze, albeit very refined, expensive booze.

The second-to-last shelf I removed. That's not true. I never installed it. Because this way I can store all my Nerf guns like an ammo locker.

Yeah.

Now fine, I regret that I spent $50 to store a lot less than I thought I would and yes, I still have to put another storage unit of un-eBay-able toys back in the attic, but honestly, I think it was worth it. I have a piece of furniture I can use in my eventu-home. There are far fewer things around my room that can act as a sexual Trapper Keeper. It is much neater and more mature than it was this morning.

Also, I totally have a cache of Nerf guns chilling next to my dresser. I'm like the Wacco ranch of foam-based maturity.

Recurring Thoughts

I've said it many a time, but today I thought again that one of the reasons I like curvy girls is how uncomfortable it makes me when I scope out a girl with no ass in booty shorts from far away, only to realize when she walks past me that she was in fact just eleven years old and not really that far away.

Awkward.

On Trust and the Inevitable Robot Uprising

I think it's funny that after playing tech support in my family for almost a decade now, I still installed Snow Leopard on my mom's computer yesterday before I did my own, just to make sure I didn't accidentally wipe the hard drive.

I think I trust the technology just slightly less than I do myself. Awesome.

Alternate Names for My Penis

Friends, if your designated hook-up source really demands to name your Johnson (and “Johnson” isn't actually acceptable) go ahead and try to guide her towards one of these awesome names:

• Doc Johnson [at least try]
• Doc Savage
• The Iron Shiek
• The Groan Ranger
• Tiny (only if everyone you know is very ironic)
• Conan the Barbarian
• Mighty Thor
• [or alternatively if you are Thor] Mjolnir, Hammer of the Gods
• Excalibur
• Bruce Willis [because he's just awesome]
• “American Idol” William Hung
• your Boomstick
• Vlad the Impaler
• The Beast [or simply Beast; X-Men reference for you/Disney “Beauty and…” reference for her]
• Dick/Richard [only if you name your testicles Tom and Harry]
• J. Edgar Pooner
• Twilight [say what you want, but until she starts covering your junk in body glitter this idea is totally worth it]
• Marty McFly
• Mega Man
• Invade-Her Zim
• Chewbacca HHHUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRHHHHLLLLL!!!
• Arnold Shvantz-enegger
• Cobra Commander
• Mmnnphuh! [because that's what it sounds like your saying when your mouth is full]
• Johnny Rico
• Rihanna (because if you were Chris Brown you'd be beating it all night long)
• THE PHANTASM^®
• Mr. Fantastic
  

Please note while not all of these names are intrinsically dirty, they are all in fact some way hilarious and awesome, so if you don't see that you're missing something and all of your friends are laughing at your ignorance.

On NeoPets and christianity

[VagDestroyer living up to his name. This is the little blue thing I had.]


Last night I was informed that today's blog post should be my rant about how NeoPets are anti-Christian.

Since I would run out into a busy street for the person who suggested this, I kind of have to. Thus, here is the exact conversation we originally had when I first suggested the Bruce the Penguin/Lucifer connection:

Me: … But a NeoPet is not sacrilegious in any way. WAIT. IT IS!! Neopets are an abomination against God in like 8 different ways!

Jo: Go.

Me: 1) They were not created by god.
2) They evolve online and become different.
3) They're modeled after mythical beasts and demons.
4) Children worship them more than church.
5) You create them yourself, literally playing God to create these abominations.

Jo: Only 5 so far, but yeah you're right.

Me: Ummmm … can your NeoPets marry other pets?

Jo: I don't think so.

Me: Oh, 6) they cannot die. WITCHCRAFT AND SORCERY.
7) YOU WILL COVET COOLER PETS AND THEIR EXPENSIVE BELONGINGS. Eight, eight....
YOU PLAY ON FRIDAYS/SUNDAYS. They work on the sabbath. Huh, apparently 8 + ) [in iChat] equals cool smiley guy. MORE BLASPHEMY!

Jo: All the children who play NeoPets are going to hell.

Me: Yup.

Jo: That's so sad, they don't even know.

Me: Oh, they know Tthey just do not care. THEY DON'T GIVE A DAMN FOR THE LORD. THEY HAVE WASTED THEIR LIVES IN SIN AND MISERY … in the houseee of the rii-hii-zin' sun!!!


So yes, NeoPets are an abomination unto the Lord. As Jew, honestly I'd typically root for them. They're the underdog here. I'd root for them and the New York Mets.

Unfortunately, the reason I was commanded to blog on this topic tonight is that Jo has recently come to learn that the creator of NeoPets is apparently a scientologist. Now I'm not really sure who to side with. On the one hand is organized Christianity which I am not exactly a fan of, but on the other is the systematic embodiment of every reason I hate organized religion to begin with.

Since you my have noted (okay, you didn't but it's totally there, go back and check) I did not capitalize "scientologist" as I did "Jew" and "Christianity," I think you'll find my position clearly demarked.


That's really it. I'm letting this one speak for itself. I'll just add that yes, I signed up for an account, named my little blue thing "VagDestroyer" because that was the only thing that got past the dirty word detector, checked out the games and then said "Screw this noise," before giving away all my stuff and points to Jo, and having her adopt Vag Destroyer. Promises and alimony were exchanged, and a week later VagDestroyer had been abandoned to the dark recesses of the NeoPound. AND I FEEL NOTHING FOR HIM.

Now go expel your thetans.

Of Overzealousness In the Art of Ritualistic Mating Displays

So many times I've walked through a department store and said, "Ooh, lookit that. Cologne. I'm smelled the same for a few years now. Maybe it's time for a change."

And then I smell something and have a palsy fit.

I am a man. I do not wish or need to smell of woods or beaches or non-sequitur adjectives pulled at random from celebrity thesauri like a game of capitalist Mad Libs. Unless I am a fishmonger, literally caked in brine, hair awash with the scents of the sea and gutted aquatic life, I do not need to smell like T-Pain. My Method Man & Red Man endorsed Right Guard with Power Strip^® technology does that just fine, thank you.

But yes, on occasion I do prefer to smell lightly of something more attractive and nose-catching than my own personal erotic musk. In my entire life I have used unscented deodorants, lightly scented deodorants, Axe Bodyspray – shut up, we were all young and stupid, shut up shut up SHUT UP!! – Eternity for Men (in attempt to smell attractive to one specific female/jerk), different Axe until they made it much more emphatic, and a GAP-branded scent titled simply "The Artist," which I continue to enjoy because it is cheap, lightly scented water. Bravo. On the off-chance I smell bad but do not have the opportunity to shower, I can smell more desirable to the ladies. Success.

But no. No success. Bad libido. Bad. No.

Those of us who choose to mask our own chemical-laced pheromone cocktails, for the most part, men do not smell bad. Now what we eat, that usually smells atrocious. I mean garlic? Who the fuck doesn't love garlic?

Ladies.

Ladies hate garlic. This of course led to what is possibly the most clichéd move for a sex-crazed movie douchebag since feathered hair went out of style, came back in and then went out of style again: the breath spray.

Remember Binacca? My friends found a can of Binacca in one of their rooms after like four years and immediately used it the way they did when they were 14, they sprayed each other in their open wounds and waited to see who cried first.

This is unacceptable, dudes and breath-concerned dudettes. We must have some way of making our nutrient holes smell appealing to the opposite sex, because that's where we keep our tongue muscles. It's not always possible or even affordable to brush our teeth after every consumption of delicious but malodorous food.

I have a solution, friends. What is the one food that every person on earth loves unconditionally? What is the one smell and taste that regresses any person to childhood, unwrapping presents, waiting up for Santa, sneaking down the stairs at 2 a.m. for a midnight treat?

Cookies.

Let that sink in. Cookies. Motherfucker, take a cookie and put it in your pocket when you run our to the bar. Enough of this flossing and repetitive brushing that never gets the last little taste of footlong sandwich out of your maw. Anchovy pizza? Cookie. Basket of jalapeno poppers? Cookies. Human flesh seared lightly on both sides and served on a bed of fava beans and a nice Merlot because you are not a slave to fucking convention!? Cookies.

It's real simple. Just pop a cookie in your mouth. Chocolate chip works best because it contains the base cookie, a hint of vanilla and chocolate, which sticks around as a flavor whilst simultaneously creating phlegm, which just means you keep tasting the cookie all night. No one can resist the smell of fresh cookies. It's like an electromagnet of love.

Imagine it. You start edge over to the hotty at the end of the bar but she's not giving you the time of day. Defeated, you head towards the exit WHEN SUDDENLY you remember the magic in your pants and reach into your pocket for a home-baked bite of heaven.

Chew. Chew. Chew. Swallow. Lick clean. GAME TIME. You walk back to Ms. Perfect and intrude on her circle of friends. No, ladies, there will not be a "No Guys Night" this eve. This is a place of magic and romance. Bring not your heavy baggage in here.

"ExCHUse me," you say, stressing the breathy syllables to their fullest. "HI. HOw are you? I was just HAving a HArd day WHEn I saw you HEre at the bar, and I was really just tHInking tHAt you are an inCREdibly atTRActive WOman and I was HOping tHAt perHaps you'd like to HAve a drink wHIth me?"

Her friends cannot understand why she would go with you. You are not a model for Ambercrombie. You are not the kind of man who has a Ferrari or a penthouse or even a job. Yet still she is drawn to you.

"Brenda, but … why??" Her friends call after her but she is lost to them.

"I- I'm sorry, girls. I have to. He- His breath smells like cookies."

Game, set, match. How else could it play out? You pop a cookie in your mouth and the girls are all over you? You're all of the flavor with none of the fat. Kissing you is delicious and it burns calories! You are the celery of sexy.

So just put a little cookie in your pocket if you think you might get lucky. That little circle you see in my wallet? Naw, baby, that's not a condom, that's a cookie, because I'm thinking of your comfort and needs. So if you could do me a real solid and get on the pill of somethin' we can both feel real good. I here those come with a candy coating now that melts in your mouth, not in your uterus resulting in knockedupitude due to improper administration of a perscription medical device.