Tag Archives: onanism

The REAL Reason Straight Guys Dig Lesbians

06 Sunday May 2012

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By Smaktakula

As sticky keyboards across the globe will attest, some guys have a thing for lesbians–or more properly, for lesbian sex.  These imaginative fetishists notwithstanding, the supposed sexual fixation straight men are said to have with the bedroom goings-on of gay chicks is largely a media creation. However, the affection many straight males feel for gay women is often underestimated, and goes well beyond mental spank flicks involving silicon-swollen lipstick lesbians.

The thought of Portia de Rossi-DeGeneres groping a Silence of the Lambs-era Jodie Foster is titillating for the 75-90 seconds it takes to shake loose such thoughts. Remaining in their stead is a clear-headed appraisal of the myriad reasons to like lesbians, not least because of their many dude-like qualities.

“Are You Deaf Or Just Stupid? I Didn’t Say Lovie Smith *Created* The Cover 2 Defense. But C’Mon, He Was The Fucking Linebackers Coach For Tampa Bay During The Dungy Era. You’re A Moron If You Think He Wasn’t A Big Part Of That.”

Hey guys, that was Mick on the phone–she and Chris are on their way with beer and pork rinds. ∞ T.

Sperm Bank Employees Deserve A More Dignified Title

18 Friday Nov 2011

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By Smaktakula

We Didn't See This Coming, But You Must Admit, It Makes A Certain Sense.

Sometimes, all an industry needs to pick up its spirits is a new name.  When airline stewardesses realized they weren’t being taken seriously, they became flight attendants, with all the glamour and prestige the name implies.  Other industries were quick to follow; a secretary may have been prized for her shorthand skills and ability to fellate the boss, but an administrative assistant is a power-player within the company.  It continues: doctors are now healthcare providers, street musicians are buskers and housewives are homemakers.  Even bums have been jumped up to ‘homeless people.’

But at least one industry has thus far been left behind in the evolutionary progress of language: the sperm bank employee, those dedicated professionals for whom we jerk off into a cup.  Not only is their job every bit as disgusting as the minimum-wage schlub who mops the floors at Bob’s Dirty Book Emporium, but theirs is a profession mocked and derided at every turn.  Promethean Times believes that we can best honor these hard-working spunk-monkeys by calling them by a title befitting the dignity and prestige of their position.  We suggest jizzmastre.

Yeah, It Tastes Funny, But It's Full Of Protein.

Look, if you can call the perky young thing at Starbucks a barista and still keep a straight face, jizzmastre shouldn’t be much of a stretch. ∞ T.

Nothing Good Comes From Touching Yourself

21 Thursday Jul 2011

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By Smaktakula

Back In The Day, The Worst Thing You Had To Worry About Was Going Blind.

Smaktakula’s long-ago Sunday school teacher was on to something–masturbation is a quick road to ruin.  A San Francisco man is fighting for his life after discovering the heartbreaking realities of the devil’s handshake.

The Lame Thing Is That Now It's Like Rubbing An Overcooked Tater Tot.

The  unidentified man apparently burst into flames while pleasuring himself at a local porn shop.  Details remain sketchy at this date, and authorities have yet to determine what precisely transformed the lonely degenerate into a human sparkler.  Two prominent theories have risen to the fore.

The first is based firmly in physics.  A sufficiently vigorous session of self-abuse, explains masturbation scientist Dr. Emil Haagerdäddi of the Reuben Spahnk Institute, could theoretically generate a heat sufficient to set human flesh ablaze.  Others call this notion absurd, pointing out that were such a phenomenon possible, most males would not survive beyond their junior high school years.

A far more likely culprit in the immolation is a wrathful God, Who has long held a position unfriendly to masturbation.  This anti-whacking injunction stretches all the way back to the 38th book of Genesis, where rather than impregnate his brother’s widow, a fellow named Onan takes matters into his own hands and “spills his seed upon the ground,” only to be struck dead by a decidedly unamused Deity.  To bolster their evidence, proponents of this theory claim that God has gained something of a reputation in recent years for an increasing activism, pointing to earlier incidents of vengeance such as the August 2005 episode which is widely believed to have resulted from the Almighty’s dissatisfaction with the current state of Dixieland Jazz.

San Francisco: It's Not Like They Haven't Been Warned.

For Some, Work Can Be A Grind

19 Thursday May 2011

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By Smaktakula

There's No Simple Answer To The Question 'What Time Does Ana Get Off?'

Life is stressful.  Work is stressful.  For most of us, there’s no escaping it.  But those for whom the pressures of everyday life are too much grasp desperately for anything which might bring a modicum of  relief.   One such person is Brazil’s Ana Catarina Silvares Bezerra, an accountant who takes a hands-on approach to stress relief.  Bezerra combats her workday woes by masturbating as much as 47 times a day.

Direct Physical Manipulation Is The Secret.

Unsurprisingly, Bezerra initially encountered some resistance from her employer, who asked that the accountant not flick her bean at work.  Bezerra was undeterred, and took her complaint to the Brazilian courts, insisting that she was suffering from severe anxiety and hypersexuality, and that rubbing one out was the only sure means to combat these conditions.  The courts agreed, and now Bezerra is free to watch porn on her work computer, all the while vigorously pleasuring herself.

Sometimes Ana Keeps A Snack In The Top Drawer Of Her Desk.

Although the accountant’s co-workers have gradually come to accept her thrice-hourly grind, she met with some resistance at first.  Bezerra’s orgiastic gyrations were often misperceived as fits of some kind, and even after the nature of her unique ailment was revealed, her onanistic episodes still caused moments of confusion.  Said one coworker, “We couldn’t tell if she was having a stroke or just having a stroke.”

Touch It. Go Ahead. Maybe Rub It A Little.

Osama’s Pakistani Whack Shack

16 Monday May 2011

Posted by in Celebrity, Cinema, Culture, News, Religion

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By Smaktakula

Bin Laden Debunks The Myth About Hairy Palms.

The Navy SEALs tasked with eliminating resilient Saudi boogeyman Osama bin Laden were trained to expect just about anything.  They knew, for example, that they would encounter fierce resistance from bin Laden and his lieutenants, and that the terror mastermind would not hesitate to toss away one of his countless wives like spent Kleenex if it meant adding a few more malice-drenched moments to his own tumultuous time on earth.  But what the SEAL team found was something America’s intelligence industry failed to anticipate, and which took the SEALs completely by surprise: bin Laden’s impressive and more-than-slightly-used pornography collection.

Osama Repeatedly Claimed It Was For His Dry Skin.

This information gap does US intelligence no credit, particularly since for the better part of a year, several publications–most notably Promethean Times–have been warning of the pervasive Pakistani predilection for particularly prurient and perverse porn.  As is now becoming more widely known, Pakistanis lead the rest of the world in filthy internet searches, and are rapidly gaining a reputation for harboring not only terrorists among their population, but goat-fuckers as well.

Osama's Fingerprints Were All Over This. Literally.

Is it any wonder then, that bin Laden–a guest in that great nation–would seek onanistic relief in such delightful naughtiness as Salaam Salami!, You Mecca Me Horny II and Riders of the Three-Humped Camel?  The picture becomes clearer when one considers bin Laden’s legendary sex drive, the horny hatemonger having more wives than the desert has sand.

A Copy Of This Book Was Found Under Osama's Mattress. It Was Identified Only After Investigators Were Able To Separate The Pages With A Razor Blade.

Because of the high security and the presence of so many people in the compound, privacy was at a minimum and as such, valued as a premium.  Even placing extra locks on the doors didn’t stop careless security personnel or nosy wives from barging in on bin Laden just as he was in the process of ‘blowing the first tower.’  Ironically, in the days before he was executed by US Forces, bin Laden devised a system whereby he would leave his turban hanging over the doorknob to let people know he was ‘taking the Haj.’

Fortunately, Osama Died Without Ever Knowing That His Favorite Footlong Was 100% Kosher.