Whether you’re spending Valentine’s Day with your favorite lover or the old ball and chain, or possibly better than either — your imagination — you could sit there on the holiday and look at a dozen long-stemmed roses, or you could have an orgasm, or a dozen, with the Wilde one, a dildo named for Oscar Wilde, who said, “To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance.”
Dildos have been around since the Stone Age, but have come a long way. (read more…)
The New York launch for Wake Up and Smell the Shit: Hilarious Travel Disasters, Monstrous Toilets and a Demon Dildo is on Saturday November 21, at 6:00 PM at People Kitchen and Lounge (163 Allen St., 2nd floor). The event is free but there are cocktails and food for sale from an exciting menu and of course autographed books (cash sales for books only), so you can put some signed shit in a loved one’s Christmas stocking. (I’ve been just itching for a chance to say “put some shit in a loved one’s stocking.”)
The editor and contributors will be entertaining you with their shockers and sexy times abroad: (read more…)
Stand back! The 31 tales in this raunchy round-the-world romp might get you dirty. (read more…)
According to Cornell University Law School, there aren’t any laws in the US prohibiting cannibalism (the nonconsensual consumption of people).
In July (2013), Tyree Lincoln Smith (Fla.) was found not guilty for gorging on a vagrant. Then on Sept. 9, three Superior Court judges committed Smith to 60 years in a Connecticut psychiatric hospital. They feared he’d eat more humans if left free to roam.
Unlike Tyree Lincoln Smith, or serial killer Jeffrey Dahmer — whose flesh fetish landed him in prison — many cannibal cases are cases of survival.
Every time I fly over the Andes Mountains I look at the icy peaks piercing through the clouds and imagine the infamous 1972 plane crash survivors eating their frozen rugby teammates to stay alive.
Would I eat people? Of course I’d eat people.
But last month I tucked into alpaca steak and was overwhelmed by the maleness of the alpaca meat. My little alpaca had that masculine essence of a big buck killed by a car instead of a bullet.
Would the meat of a human male killed in a plane crash have the overpowering rankness of roadkill buck? Maybe women would taste better. And what is that man taste — is it hormonal?
I knew the perfect expert to ask, so I fired off a Facebook message to Paula Lee, PhD, at University of Chicago, author of the new book “Deer Hunting in Paris; a Memoir of God, Guns & Game Meat” and, on a more serious note, author of “Meat, Modernity, and the Rise of the Slaughterhouse.” (read more…)