I took a break from my normal porn this week to indulge myself with a little bit of today’s most popular porn, a book by the name of Fifty Shades of Grey. It’s a purportedly wild fuckfest involving a rich guy and a naive narrator. What more do you need? Obviously not a story-line. Genital fondling will have to do.
I normally would give you a spoiler alert, but in order to spoil a story, you must first have a plot. I searched for a plot in vain but instead found chapters filled only with grunts, thrusting, spankings, and shoddy dialog. I guess I spoiled it for you already. The plot is sex, sometimes involving a lot of foreplay, but always resulting in a speedy finish.
If you’re still with me, here’s the jizz of the – I’m sorry, gist of the book. Clueless and overly ambiguous virgin (the narrator), Anastasia, hooks up with Rich Uncle Pennybags (aka The Monopoly Guy), who is into bondage. His name is actually Christian Grey but to be honest, I can’t stomach having to look at the word Grey any more.
Every color and metaphor in this book is conveniently located somewhere on the color wheel between black and white. Everything. Get it? No, do you fucking get it? The author sledgehammered it into my brain, so you get it too. It’s gray. All of it. Every stitch of clothing, every wall, every floor, every analogy; it is all that damnable grey. THERE IS NO TIME FOR SUBTLETY. The name of the story is Fifty Shades of Grey. You’d think the author would try to be a bit less obtuse, but no. Mr. SexyTime’s name is Grey. His corporation is named Grey. His building, his office, his furniture, his tie, all his suits, his eyes, his sex toys, her dress, probably even his semen. It’s all gray. I’m sick of the color. Henceforth, I will refer to Mr. I’m-not-even-typing-it-again as, The Monopoly Guy. Because, you know, he’s rich.
So the Monopoly Man has a lot of money and he’s into kinky sex. In his words, “I don’t make love. I fuck … hard.” Ana is about to graduate college when she helps her friend – a friend who for some reason must always be accompanied by her last name every goddamn time she’s mentioned, Kate Kavanagh – by interviewing Moneybags for the school paper. This is where they meet and they are both instantly horny. Dicky McHardon then stalks her and tries to seduce her in the hardware store where she works by buying ropes and plastic ties while shifting his eyebrows and winking. Yes, goddammit, she works at a hardware store, perfect for all your sexy torture needs.
They eventually go out and he flies her in his helicopter to his mansion in the sky so he can show her a room full of medieval torture instruments.
BUT THERE’S A TWIST. Before the Monopoly Man can ejaculate into someone new, he forces little Miss Innocent to sign an NDA so no one finds out how high he ranks on the weird-shit-o-meter. She signs without reading because of her raging lady-boner and, after he shows her the torture room, he admits that the only thing he wants out of the relationship is a warm fuck toy he can torture. In order to do this, we see our first major plot point: even more documentation in need of a signature. She has to sign some legal agreement that stipulates her place as a Submissive and his place as a Dominant, and it has checkboxes for things she is or isn’t ok with; things like swallowing semen, genital clamps, and ANAL FISTING. This documentation becomes the secondary focus of many other fucking chapters.
Ana is a bit disturbed and admits her life-long lack of man-meat. Mr. E. Rection is so taken aback by the fact that our narrator has never had a dong inside her that he does something he’s never done before. He makes love to her. He calls it vanilla sex because it doesn’t involve whips or a crucifix. She, of course, climaxes with nearly every thrust, as virgins often do.
Yada, yada, yada, sex and money, regrets and rejuvenation, your mom getting hot and bothered as she reads this book in the family living room right in front of you.
At some point, the author seemed to realize there needed to be a point to the story other than coitus. The attempt at making this book palatable was for the narrator to try and find out why Moneybags was the way he was. In shocking revelations, we find out he was adopted after having been born to a crack whore and he has some burns on his chest. That’s it. You’ll have to read the other books to find out everything else. I sure as hell am not going to do it.
An Education in Painful Sexy-times
When our little grey man gets tired of humping something without causing it pain, he instructs Ana that she should look up BDSM on her brand new computer, the one he gave her in payment for sex. In all the dark corners of the internet where one could learn about the seedy underworld of torture-sex, she goes straight to Wikipedia.
So I did too! I searched for Submissive but ended up learning about politics and sociology. NOT SEXY.
So then I typed in BDSM and got what I was looking for. Now this is more like it. I am so turned on right now.
Your Very Own Best-Seller Generator
Richie Dick pilots helicopters and drives fast cars and he’s got a room in his palace with all sorts of BDSM gear. She’s an innocent, never been laid sort of girl who longs after him for his money and the fact that he treats her more like a FleshLight than a human being. It’s a match made in heaven. The rest of the book includes variations on the following themes. Put these in a bag and shake them up, then rearrange them several times and you’ve got yourself a best-seller.
- Oh he’s so sexy. Look at the way his eyes are grey, and the way his grey flannel PJs hang off his hips, and how his grey tie leaves marks on my wrists when I’m tied to the bedpost.
- Ana: I want to be more than a FleshLight. Monopoly Man: I only want to fuck. Ana: Let’s talk about it. Monopoly Man: Let’s fuck. Ana: Ok. SPERM EVERYWHERE.
- Ana: But I want to touch you. Monopoly Man: I don’t want to be touched. Ana: Why? Oh, what could have happened to you, you poor soul? Monopoly Man: Bend over. You’ve been naughty and I’m going to fuck you. Ana: Ok. SYNCHRONIZED ORGASMING.
- Ana: [bites lip]. Monopoly Man: I’m going to fuck you because biting lips turns me on and I should be the one biting. NIPPLE ORGASMS.
- Ana: [rolls eyes]. Monopoly Man: I’m going to spank you and then fuck you because you disobey. OUCH THAT KIND OF HURTGASM.
- Monopoly Man: Here, have a new dress/underwear/phone/computer/car/first class plane ticket. Ana: I can’t possibly take this. It would be like I’m being paid for sex. Monopoly Mans: Nuh-uh. Ana: Ok. Monopoly Man: Fuck-time. Grab your ankles. MENSTRUATIONGASM.
- Monopoly Man: You need to eat something. Stop talking back. Call me Sir. Go sit in the corner until I say you can move. No play time until you do your homework. Ana: I’m so turned on right now. ELECTRA COMPLEX ORGASM.
This book is heavily redundant.
My Inner Goddess is Gagging
Let me just take a break, because you’re obviously turned on by all of this, and we need to bring it down a notch. I’d like to point out a recurring theme, which if you have already read the book, you probably never want to hear about again. Her sexual encounters and fantasies always include her “inner goddess.” This “inner goddess” is always dancing or high jumping or cheer-leading or <insert your own lame metaphor here and it will probably be better than the author’s half-assed attempt at creativity>.
My particular favorite is the time she’s giving Daddy Warbucks a blow-job in the bathtub and her inner dialogue proclaims, “My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves.” Give that a second to sink in. This is on the best-sellers list and it deserves your full attention: “My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves.” I wasn’t familiar with this particularly strained metaphor so I looked it up. Here’s the merengue with salsa moves.
This is how giving a rich guy a blowie feels.
Aside from the pain brought on by all the Inner Goddess talk, we are treated to loads and loads of awkward conversations. Every time someone opened their mouth and didn’t shove a throbbing erection in it, I was jolted awake as my inner goddess screamed, “PEOPLE DON’T TALK LIKE THAT.” There wasn’t a sentence in this book longer than three words that I could ever imagine a sane human being saying to another person in everyday conversation.
This book is bad. It’s really bad. There is no plot. But come on, when is the last time you watched porn for a plot, or read a Playboy because of the articles? Nobody rents Backdoor Sluts 9 for the story-line, and you probably don’t need to see the first eight to enjoy the continuation of some epic story arc.
So when someone tries to tell you they’re reading this book for the plot, you can comfortably laugh in their face and liken it to your fondness of Logjammin’ because you’re interested in the field of cable repair.
And above all, remember the semblance of a plot when you come across your own mother, sitting in the family living room, engrossed in reading Fifty Shades of Grey. Remember the specifics. Before your mother looks up at you from the page, remind yourself of the conversation in the book where the Monopoly Man is explaining to Ana just how wondrous the world of ANAL FISTING can be, and that if he could just warm her up with varying degrees of BUTTPLUGS, she would be sure to enjoy it. Remember that scene, as your own mother, from whose womb you came, looks up at you from Fifty Shades of Grey, with gradually reddening cheeks and a hasty dismissal of the book.
Go over and hug your mom and tell her, it’s ok, a lot of people are into ANAL FISTING. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
Heaven is For Real for Kids is an amazing first-hand account of the reality of heaven filled with more truth than you’ll find in any science textbook. It is a fitting addition to any home-school parent’s arsenal, as it is a first person account of truth, more real than any theory so-called scientists have ever made up by digging around in the dirt. I believe this book is inappropriately labeled a children’s book when it should fall squarely under nonfiction, in the TRUTH section.
Colton Burpo has done this world a great service by bringing this story back from the other side with such precise details, and Todd Burpo has given this world an incredible gift by not dismissing Colton’s story, as so many parents would, as the delusional ramblings of a four year old, or as the result of an overactive imagination from the son of a fundamentalist Christian pastor. We are blessed that Todd Burpo had the strength to buy everything Colton said, hook, line, and sinker. What a blessing!
The facts in this book chill me to the bone! Now we know, without a doubt, the fate of anyone going under general anesthesia. They go to heaven! Temporarily! You see, tiny Colton had a burst appendix because of his or his parents’ sin (we aren’t told which), and he is taken to the hospital to be operated upon. This is where the story picks up; when an angel swoops down to bring him to heaven for an afternoon of revelation.
Heaven is for Real for Kids was directed and approved by Colton, so we know we can trust the illustrations in the book to be TRUTH. The Bible speaks of Jesus and crowns in heaven, and we now know what Jesus’ crown looks like. The King of Kings’ crown is remarkably similar to the King of Burgers’ crown. Praise Him!
It’s also worth noting that God is probably still as appalled by your naughty bits in heaven as he is on earth. All the illustrations approved by Colton show that the people and angels in heaven all wear the same white Snuggie, draped with a sash colored with one of the colors of the rainbow. It’s clear that Jesus doesn’t want anyone wandering around heaven with their tally-whacker or dirty pillows flopping around for all the angels to see. We get to bring our modesty to heaven, where God will reward us with perfect bodies that we can hide from everyone!
Colton sees all sorts of people in heaven. I was amazed that he saw King David and Samson in heaven. They weren’t even Christians! They could never have believed in Jesus or said the sinners prayer, yet there they were, hanging out with Colton. This is ground-breaking stuff! I always thought the Jews had it wrong and only Christians were allowed into heaven! We may have to rethink some of our theology, but that’s how good science is done: go where Jesus leads you for the evidence!
Another remarkable thing Colton saw was his older sister. Colton’s older sister was never born, she was a miscarriage. And she’s in heaven! This has vast implications. If all the aborted and miscarried fetuses are in heaven, this is great news! What’s more, is that if you extrapolate just a little bit, you realize that life doesn’t necessarily begin at conception, but it begins when two living cells, the sperm and the egg, join together. I may be going out on a limb, but if zygotes and blastocysts can make it into heaven, what’s to say that wasted eggs and sperm don’t get to heaven as well? This is great news! I’m in my mid-thirties, and I’ve been jerking off ever since I figured out how. And I mean a lot. How exciting is it going to be when I get to heaven and come face to face with all those billions upon billions of unrealized children that I thought were wasted in a tissue! What a joyous reunion we’ll have! They must be having a grand time right now in heaven, partying with Jesus, even as I write this!
Colton Burpo is very clear in the book that heaven is a very real, very physical place. He presents some very astounding things in the book which boggle my mind. For instance, everyone has wings except, oddly enough, Jesus, who just has a horse with homosexual rainbow hair color. He says that people can use the wings to fly if they want to, but if you inspect the pictures diagramming peoples’ wings, it’s easy to spot that the physical structure of the wings would be far too fragile for regular use. Or would they? People thought the same thing here on earth about bumblebees, that their wings were far too fragile for flight, until it was found that they just flap their wings super fast to achieve a hovering state. Imagine how much faster people in heaven must have to flap their wings in order to remain aloft! Imagine how much faster still the typical fat-ass American will have to flap their wings to keep their flabby bellies in the air. God is Great!
And if you wrongly thought angelic wings were only the fever-induced dream of the schizophrenic author of the Book of Revelation, you’ll also be surprised to learn that circular halos hovering above the head are one hundred percent absolute fact! Take a look at Colton’s picture above. Everyone has halos! Even the upside-down guy on the left has one and it’s still hovering inches from his cranium despite gravity. Creepy! I don’t see any steel rods jammed into their skulls so I’m assuming God’s using another one of his unexplainable tricks: Magnets! How do they work?
If, like me, you thought it was crazy that God allowed a few Jews into heaven, get ready for this: Colton played with elephants and kangaroos in heaven! I thought C.S. Lewis was out of his gourd when he portrayed Jesus as an actual lion in the Narnia books, but apparently, that’s all true too! Animals also need to accept Jesus into their hearts! This must be especially joyous for animals that have multiple hearts. The squid has three hearts! Triple the Jesus! Lucky!
One of the themes that keeps coming up is that, in heaven, rank is determined by size. Colton describes the more important angels as being as tall as giants. One of them carries around a flaming sword that’s reportedly as big as Colton’s father. I bet Colton’s mom would disagree with that!
The most important one in heaven, and the largest in stature, is of course, God the Father. Colton visits the cold and sterile throne room of the Trinity, reporting that it’s his favorite place. To me, the thrones just look unnecessary and uncomfortable, but the same can be said of English royalty. It’s probably just God’s way of looking down on us, something he must do regularly because, at his size, we are about as small as kittens. Boy, no wonder Mary lived life as a virgin! After taking something the size of the Holy Wang, she probably couldn’t walk for days!
This dispels yet another myth for me. I was always under the impression that God sat on an Aeron chair. Thanks for the clarification, Colton! Now we know that the three Gods sit in straight-backed uncomfortable chairs with no padding, and that the Holy Spirit sits awkwardly to the left of God and Jesus. He always gets the shaft! And, he doesn’t even get a Burger King crown to wear; just a shitty magnetic halo hoop like any old angel.
I don’t want to ruin the book for anyone, so if you don’t want to know the ending, stop here. Spoiler Alert!
Colton doesn’t die! Ever! He’s just unconscious for a little while as
the doctors perform surgery to save his life Jesus miraculously and inexplicably saves his life! He brings back great tidings of joy and the never before heard message that – wait for it – Jesus really, really loves children! It’s just that ridiculously simple. Or, more aptly, simply ridiculous!
Disclaimer: booksneeze.com unwittingly provided me with this book in exchange for a review. It seems to be a website for Christian-only books and reviewers. Let’s see how long I last before they catch on.
My lovely wife bought me a Kindle as a gift and I’ve been playing with it the first few days. So far, I love this thing.
I’ve been spending a few days hoarding free books that I can find all over the internet. Amazon has a bunch of free books on their site but also recommends other repositories. Project Gutenberg is pretty damn slick. Plus, today I found a totally free collection of HP Lovecraft’s works over at CthulhuChick.com. Well done, Ruth. You rock!
Amazon also has this nifty way of getting books to your Kindle. By registering your device, you have a specific @kindle.com email address assigned (managed on amazon.com) and you can send books as attachments in an email and they’ll show up the next time your e-reader connects to the web. It accepts zip files as well as .mobi files and a few other formats. Plus, they keep a hold of the books you send over email so that if you accidentally delete something, like I already have, you can just pull it up under the Personal Documents section of the Kindle management page and resend it to your device.
I was a bit of a naysayer when these things first came out, but I can definitely see the benefit of having one. Now I just wish I could squeeze my huge-ass hardcover copy of the Autobiography of Mark Twain into digital format without buying it again, because that thing is freaking heavy.
My pace has slowed through Mein Kampf and I’m still less than a third of the way through it. I’ve been taking breaks and getting reacquainted with my old friend, Edgar Allan Poe; a companion more suitable for these autumn evenings.
But back to Hitler. One of his comments caught my eye, as he was discussing suitable ways for advancing a philosophy near the end of the fifth chapter:
Any attempt to combat a philosophy with methods of violence will fail in the end, unless the fight takes the form of attack for a new spiritual attitude. Only in the struggle between two philosophies can the weapon of brutal force, persistently and ruthlessly applied, lead to a decision for the side it supports.
Proposing violence as a means to convincing opponents of the merits of an argument. That sounded familiar.
It reminded me of his experience as a youth arguing politics with workers in Vienna near the beginning of chapter two. The men with whom he was arguing became fed up and threatened him with violence. I went back and reread that section, expecting to find a Hitler condemning such use of violence. But I didn’t. Instead, he never seems to condemn their threats but only complains a little bit, then seeks to do more research to make his argument clearer. And of course, he spends a while ranting and raving about Jews.
I actually don’t think he ever made a connection, or ever truly thought of his opponents’ threats as wrong. He never realized that by resorting to violence, that side is really just admitting defeat. Instead, it seemed to have become one of his core tactics and here, he admits it plainly. Was there anything in this guy’s head besides a nationalistic fury? He spends so much time attacking Marxism, Jews, and anything else you can think of, and all he offers in return is a feeling of how cool it is to be German. Was his nationalistic leaning just a tool to get rid of those he deemed undesirable? His comments in this chapter seem to point to him thinking that it’s just a necessary filler to be used in eradicating other philosophies.
I’ve forced my way through a couple more chapters of Mein Kampf. It’s been a bit more of a struggle to wade through these last few. They delve into many of the underlying social and governmental currents of the time and despite frequent visits to Wikipedia, I’m having a hard time keeping up. My high school education was none too specific on all the conflicting undercurrents in Europe during the early part of the last century.
Frankly, it all makes me a little sleepy. At first, I tried to keep up on exactly what parts of government he was attacking but the resolution of his problems always seemed to turn to the extermination of the Jews or the exaltation of the Germans. It’s really hard to take anyone seriously when you know it’s all a nationalistic ploy to get rid of his proclaimed undesirables.
What’s weird about it is the fact that he’s very up front about the means he intends to employ in subverting the masses to his delusions. Hitler mentions the desire to utilize other forms of propaganda that have worked so well for other campaigns. He exalts those politicians that are great speakers, he talks about the importance of finding a common scapegoat for the people to rally against, he’s blunt about stating that if a race can’t defend itself, it doesn’t deserve to live, and on and on. He’s not trying to be underhanded in his tactics. Rather, he’s very upfront. And so many millions of people still bought into it.
Hitler bashes all available governments, yet has a strange love/hate relationship with the English Parliament, with which he at times admonishes and at other times, reviles. After he knocks down straw men from monarchies, parliamentary systems, the previous German Reich, other democracies, and a host of other alliances, he plants seeds of the importance of a dictatorship, but in much simpler terms. He talks of the fact that politicians have really nothing to lose by serving temporary terms and that the real, true leader, would have absolute control and would be responsible for his decisions, even with his life. There is no what-if scenario describing what could happen if such a dictator turned out to be a lunatic.
It’s not hard to point out weak points with any type of government. It is hard to offer reasonable alternatives. I can’t find a single reasonable alternative offered by Hitler. His solutions revolve around an increase in nationalistic pride and the extermination of any non-Aryan races. That’s about it. That’s his master plan.
Hindsight is 20/20, and we all know that this is how he followed through with his plan in the second World War. To read his plans and ideas in such raw detail years before they were put into action is somewhat surreal. It’s easy to spot the lunacy and misguided thought processes behind this monster now that we look back. Was it so obvious during his rise to Fuhrer? How was this nonsense so convincing to those who rallied to his side? How were people so susceptible? What would I have done?
It’s all too easy, now, to say that, had I been a German youth during those days, I would have been opposed to the rise of National Socialism. Anyone living in a post-WWII world would be obliged to say as much. But what does that really say? With all my education and knowledge today, of course I would be opposed to any of the nonsense put forth by Hitler. But the German youth didn’t have that insight. If Mein Kampf is any indication, they were raised with a heavy handed worship of nationality and a hateful outlook towards outsiders, especially those of Jewish descent. If you think about it coming from that frame of mind, the question of “what would I do?” becomes frightening to contemplate. I hesitate, myself.
It’s yet another reason why critical thinking and skepticism are such important tools. It doesn’t take more than a cursory glance at some lists of logical fallacies to bring up a slew of problems set forth by Hitler’s thinking in his magnus opus. The simple act of reading Mein Kampf and seeing Hitler spell out the specific ways in which he plans on deceiving the German masses in order to spur them into action should raise red flags all over the place. Hindsight is 20/20. Education is priceless.
I’m sixty pages into Mein Kampf, and I feel like I’m going to vomit.
The first fifty pages start off slowly, with Hitler building up a skewed and praiseworthy history of his own past; constructing for himself a false reality, much like you would expect out of any demented fuckwit with messianic tendencies. There are only brief flashes and hints at lunacy. He only mentions Jews once or twice.
He’s got daddy issues. Around age twelve, he’s dead set against his father’s desire for him to be a civil servant because he’d rather be an artist or a musician, or as he later focuses on, an architect. His dad dies while he’s 13, and his mother two years after that. Hitler then runs off to Vienna and applies to an art school because he wants to be a painter. His rejection by the school is painted in terms of the school master’s realization that he’s just oh-so-good an architect that he couldn’t possibly bear placing him in a lowly art school and instead, Hitler decides to study architecture.
So, he enters architect school, or whatever, and becomes ever-so-poetic about the hardships he endures now that he’s no longer part of the bourgeoisie. He’s constantly struggling to survive and always battling hunger, of all things. Yea, that’s fucked up. Hitler’s whining about being hungry. Goddammit.
He flies into a few rages in his writing about the working class and unions and how everyone in the union is under some hypnotic spell. Hitler then does his homework to find out how to argue with those low class union-folk. In doing so, he plays the martyr and complains about how the union workers threatened him with violence when they disagreed with him. Apparently, using violence as a means of persuasion is below Hitler.
ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!?
The first few chapters are filled with random rants. You can just feel him building up into a frenzy, and it’s like, oh geez, he forgot to take his pills again. And he hasn’t even gotten to any of the racial stuff yet. Most of it revolves around his desire that everyone realize just how supercool being of German heritage was. He’s not a fan of the Austrian state and feels that it should be dissolved and absorbed into the whole Germanic nationality.
So then, you get to about page fifty and you take the dog for a walk. You’re thinking, this fucker’s got some issues but you’re wondering when he’s gonna take that dive off the deep end. And then you get to page fifty-one.
I only made it to page sixty so far in this edition. On each of those ten pages, it was harder and harder to go on. It’s here that the raving becomes focused on the Jews. Hitler describes his descent into antisemitism in a way that feels like he’s trying to convince you of how he has seen the light. He describes how he never really thought of the Jewish problem until slowly beginning to open his eyes and read some of the antisemitic literature and fliers out there. He praises some of the local antisemitic douchebags for showing him the way, and continues to vomit racial lie after lie, spewing hatred in a way I had mistakenly thought society had long since surpassed.
The first fifty pages contained brief hints at this madness and ensuing fervor. These last few pages begin to lay it bare. I’m done for tonight. I can’t take any more.
Last year’s was my favorite so far: The Satanic Verses by Salman Rushdie. I had no idea what it was about up front but was pleasantly surprised at the story. It’s a work of fiction where a lot of dizzying bouncing around takes place between time, place, dream states, and in between species and monsters, angels and demons. The allegories seemed more poignant to the religious and class struggle of Indians, especially those transplanted to the Western world. All the blasphemous subplots involving Mohammed’s source of his religion and the ensuing parodies by his local critics are vastly entertaining, and must have stung to the core of many Islamist fundamentalists, some of whom are still calling for his death.
This time, I’m going to up the stakes and go with something that makes me a little queasy. Something that will probably get me on some kind of Homeland Security watch list. Mein Kampf.
Yikes. It has the same sort of ring as the dreaded Necronomicon by the Mad Abdul Alhazred.
For all its infamy and loathing, I’m expecting it to be somewhat of a boring and dry read about some lunatic’s obsession with racial and societal “purity,” and his whacked out justifications for what was to come. It’s in the interest of free speech that I’m taking on this daunting task. I’ll be sure to blog my review of the book.