Isn't it about time that humanity over comes its collective belief that the flesh is dirty and sex is a sin? For anyone who thinks that religious guilt hasn't seeped into the collective unconscious, let's take a quick look at some of our slang terms for male masturbation, and their violent connotations.: beating off, jerking off, choking the chicken, spanking the monkey, yanking your crank, pulling your pud, and the lesser known, but no less violent, slapping the clown. Do you notice the common theme? Beating, jerking, choking, spanking, yanking, pulling and slapping. Such unpleasant terms for an act that I'm sure most of you agree to be rather pleasant and satisfying.

On the other hand,( forgive the pun ) if masturbation is such a cruel and unusual activity, then why do they call it "playing with yourself"?

“Stop playing with yourself."

"Why? I never heard you tell me to stop playing monopoly... and this is a game I know I'm gonna win. I always win when I play this game."

Or what about hard-ons? Doesn't a hard-on sound like a toy?

“What are you doing up there, Jimmy?"

“I’m playing with my hard-on Ma!"

“Oh, OK honey...dinner will be ready in 5 minutes!"

It's the new hard-on from Mattel.

Then again, a hard-on could also be a super-power:

"... And that's when Captain Wankstain informed Dick Face that he was no match for his trusted hard-on!!!"

Of course any discussion about masturbation is incomplete unless we refer to pornography. The porno magazine industry must be suffering these days due to the amazing popularity of the internet, because have you noticed that they sell a lot of discount porno packs now? They come in those special 2 for 1 deals. It's like what they used to do with comic books in supermarkets when I was a kid, except instead of Marvel comics it's 2 pulls for the price of one. Desperate marketing strategies for desperate people, how ironic. These particular magazines feature such classy titles as Swank, which couldn't possibly be more fitting when you think about it. Reading Swank and havin' a wank! Wank with Swank! Subscribe to Swank and become a boner-fide Swanker. Okay, I'm flogging a dead whore with that one.

At this point I feel obliged to share a major criticism I have with Hustler magazine. There has been more than one occasion where I've been doing my bid-niz with the visual aid of Hustler and I INEVITABLY reached the phone line section, where my eyes fell prey to the hideous spectacle of a transsexual! What the fuckin' hell is a she-male doing in there? They have specialty items for that kind of shit, Larry Flint, you fucker!!! Just because you're paralyzed below the waist doesn't mean the rest of us want to be! That's the only time I've ever got E.D., as they euphemistically call it. Isn't erectile dysfunction just a subtle way of saying limp dick? Those people should be more honest with their advertising:

What more needs to be said? Okay, I know they have to announce the obligatory side-effects, but still, that only amounts to a 30-second commercial, which would save those pricks an awful lot of advertising dollars.

Anyway, after I experience limp dick upon seeing that chicks with dicks bullshit that old Larry-boy loves to throw in amongst those pages, I start taking a closer look at some of the other phone line ads. One thing they all share in common is pure ridiculousness. You know, things a real woman would never say to you. They run the gamut from the mundane-"cum on my juggs", to the perversely creative- "red-hot fuck puppets want to hear you jerk-off RIGHT NOW". Then we have the Zappaesque- “I’m in the mood for splooge ", and the moronic- " I want to teach you the art of masturbation"... Art? Where the fuck's the art? You pull down your pants and start fondling yourself, it's not like it takes any special talent! All you need is a fuckin' hand for Christ's sake! Any time I see that sort of shit it always makes me think about how strange it would be if women actually spoke like that. Can you imagine a woman asking you if you wanted to learn the art of masturbation? What would you say? Would you tell her that you're already an expert, and then politely suggest that maybe you 2 should just fuck instead? Or what if a girl were to tell you that she was in the mood for splooge? Wouldn't that confuse you? It almost sounds like a type of cake, doesn't it? Splooge cake. Well, there's sponge cake, why not splooge cake? Or what if a woman declared to you that she was a red-hot fuck puppet? Doesn't that seem like possible psycho territory? She might be some deranged ho-ass like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction, you know? The type of woman that would sneak into your house when you're away on family vacation and boil your daughter’s bunny rabbit in the crock pot!

Until next time, stop reaching for your 'Own Cabbage' and try finding a real person!

I read an article the other day that explained how the men in porn films all supposedly possess the unique ability to be able to ejaculate on cue! Cum on command...how does that shit work? “O.K...get ready...right...about...NOW! CUM YOU BASTARD, CUM!!!"

How do these guys learn to do that? Is there a special porn school somewhere in the San Fernando Valley where they teach this amazing feat? I wonder if these guys sometimes cum when they sneeze?!? Is it that easy for them?

“I cum on cue. I don't even need a hard-on half the time."

That explains how some of these porn guys are only about a quarter erect and don't exactly cum, but rather drool; you know what I'm talking about? Instead of a volcanic eruption, it's more like a little burp...like a rat throwing up...as a rancid little helping of carcinogenic goo oozes out of their withered willies.

Fuck watching that shit. That's why I've always preferred magazines:

“I’ll have a large order of women and hold the guys, thank you very much!!!"

It's crazy to think that nowadays people don't even have to leave their houses to get pornography. In my day, when I wanted some porn, I actually had to leave the house, and face the almost certain possibility of being totally embarrassed by the clerk at the book store...because 9 times out of 10 that clerk would be a woman. Usually a very attractive one, just to add insult to injury. Those were the days! Circling around the general vicinity of the girly mags like some shameful, degenerate vulture...casting quick, furtive glances over both shoulders before finally swooping down on the latest issue of Juggs, rolling it up in my claws and sliding over to the counter like some wretched human worm. And of course, when I got to the counter I'd have to stand up on my fuckin' tippy-toes to place it up there, and the bitch would always say something like "saayy, how old are you, little buddy?". Then I'd get pissed off and say something like." I'm a fuckin' midget; it's not my fault that I only look 10 years-old, you CUNT!!!" And then I'd be told to leave before they called the cops. Half the time I never got my hands on a fucking magazine. I'd end up going home and trying to find something in the newspaper that might be jerkable. So I'm glad porno is so easy to get! Fuck the kids, put those goddamned parental controls to work and shut the fuck up!!!

There is one thing I hate about online porno: you just never know when you might encounter a guy. It's not easy, man. I found this chick one time that was like my dream girl, this beautiful red-head with gorgeous milky skin, and about a week later I'm on the same website and I found her again...only this time she was with a guy! A greasy, knuckle-dragging, muscle bound mutant, who sodomized my dream girl and squirted his dirty dick-snot all over her face!!! I felt heart broken! How sad is that?!? It was like, “how could you do this to me after the lovely evening we spent together last week?"

Oh well, let’s get real, the pornography industry is a very sleazy business, but I think it reflects the dark side of our collective unconscious. When we deny our sometimes dark impulses and pretend that we don't really have them, the dark side appears darker when we encounter it. It's all very Jungian. Fuck Freud! Did you know that Freud's daughter came to visit him in the hospital one time when he was dying of mouth cancer and had a disturbing vision of him as a big, black worm?!? Never mind The Osbournes, I wish they had had some cameras to film the daily goings-on at the Freud household! Something untoward happened there, that's for sure. Anyway, I gave up denying my dark side...darkness is a part of life, without the dark there would be no light, regardless of what the Evangelicals tell you. So, when I saw that dirty fuck-pig sodomizing my little red-head, my fantasy took on a distinctly diabolical edge...Charles Bronson meets The Pied Piper of Hamelin. Except I wasn't a piper, I was a vengeful vigilante with a moustache, and I made it my mission to scour the globe bursting onto the sets of porn movie shoots, blowing the brains out of all the Bucks and Bufords, chainsawing all the Chads and Evans, and just going apeshit, basically. Then I took all the poor, misguided, mistreated porno-harlots and we disappeared into the side of a mountain never to be seen again.

Yeah, I know, I'm fucked-up. But if you think I'm fucked-up, I know a dude who's on a first name basis with an entire issue of Playboy's Special Lingerie edition!!!

Until next time try reaching for the stars and stop pulling on your pud!