Donald Trump Auditioned for Blue Velvet

By Stephen Kunk►

President Donald Trump is a lot of things: world leader, business mogul, TV personality and bestselling author, but did you know that he's also an actor? We're not just talking about his cute cameo in Home Alone 2, though. In the mid-80s, at the height of his initial rise to fame, Trump actually found time to audition for some serious roles in critically acclaimed films. Most impressive among these was David Lynch's sexy thriller Blue Velvet.

"Donny wants to fuck!"
According to Hollywood insiders, Trump read for the part of Frank Booth, the hard-bitten small-city gangster who has kidnapped the son and husband of Dorothy, the female lead played by Isabella Rossellini. The ransom? Kinky sexual favors from Dorothy whenever Frank demands it. The role would eventually go to Dennis Hopper, but not before Trump was tentatively cast for the part.

"He nailed the role," Lynch reported in a recent interview. "Donald Trump was and is Frank Booth. He read his lines just as I'd written them, adding a sheer and inimitable vileness that I couldn't capture in the dialogue alone. Had he stayed on with the role, Blue Velvet would have been a much less contemplative, much more intense film."

Of course, Trump wound up declining the role, citing a shooting schedule that conflicted with his ongoing USFL anti-trust lawsuit. However, according to Joanna Ray, the film's casting director, Trump exited the set after production began.

"He became very incensed," Ray reported, "when he learned that the rape scene in Dorothy's apartment wasn't going to be non-simulated. He insisted it had to be real, and he even made repeated references to Last Tango in Paris. When we told him it just couldn't happen, he stormed off the set."

Eventually, cooler heads prevailed, and, upon Trump's exit, Dennis Hopper took over the role.

"It was a mixed blessing," Lynch reflected. "I wanted Frank Booth to be pure id, but not completely id. At least Dennis brought some restraint to the role."

Footage of early screen tests of Trump's apartment scene with Rossellini have since been destroyed. Rossellini herself has not commented on the encounter.

Towards the end of Blue Velvet, Kyle McLaughlin's character famously asks a philosophical question of his love interest, played by Laura Dern: "Why are there people like Frank?" Perhaps the unrelenting muse powering Donald Trump possesses the answer.

***

Stephen Kunk lives in Oregon with his wife and two daughters.

Image Attribution: Gage Skidmore [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons. Alterations made by Ewedrooper staff.

Chris Langan Knows What It's Like to be a Bat

By Elton Braun & John Adam Gosham ►

In 1974, philosopher Thomas Nagel published a landmark essay entitled "What is it Like to be a Bat." Curiously premised as its eponymous thought experiment may have been, Nagel's essay poses a crucial challenge for reductionist, materialist theories of consciousness. The materialist position holds that consciousness reduces rather tidily and objectively to physical and physiological processes in the brain and the body. For Nagel, however, it is the "subjective character of experience" that makes consciousness what it is. Because there is something it feels like to be a bat (or a person or a cat or really anything above an amoeba), a reductive, materialist explanation of consciousness will always be incomplete, as subjective mental phenomenon cannot be reduced to a material substrate. Even if a human were to somehow acquire a bat's inimitable sensory apparatus, he or she would not have possessed said bat's perceptual wiring from birth, and at most, this hypothetical Batman or Batwoman would be experiencing their own consciousness superimposed upon that of the bat. Ergo, reductive materialist explanations of consciousness falter.

In 1974, however, neither Nagel nor the world knew much of Christopher Langan. Though the word "genius" is often thrown around ad nauseam at present, Langan is just that. With a tested IQ somewhere around 200, Langan is an outlier among statistical outliers, and the intelligence tests don't equivocate. Langan proved too much for the mighty American education system to handle, running laps around his most gifted classmates and teaching himself advanced math, physics, and philosophy as a teenager, all the while mastering classical languages like Latin and Greek. College couldn't handle him either, and he ended up dropping out of Montana State University on the strong hunch that he was smarter than his professors. Throughout his adult life, as he supported himself via a variety of jobs ranging from bar bouncer to cattleman, he has dedicated his intellectual efforts to finding a Theory of Everything merging math, physics, theology and even consciousness, all while remaining isolated from conventional academicians in those fields (to whom he refers as “acadummies”). The result of Langan's toil is his self-published Cognitive-Theoretic Model of the Universe (CTMU), which is, in brief, a dual-aspect monism where consciousness isn't just a subjective character of experience. Rather, cognition is inextricably linked to the existence of the physical universe itself.

Considering what we know about the sheer power of Langan's mind, would it be so farfetched to speculate that he can know what it is like to be a bat? After all, his performance on multiple IQ tests has proven that he can discriminate complex patterns in sets of data wherein lesser intellects would see none. Is it so much of a stretch to posit that Langan's expansive consciousness could, like a bat, recreate echolocation through outgoing impulses and subsequent reverberations, his nimble brain sorting the information so as to realize a sort of three dimensional forward perception, thereby enabling him to perceive and experience objects in the same way that a winged mammal does? Not all human consciousnesses are created equal, after all, and what mind would be a better bet than Langan's for realizing a bat's perspective? As far as the reader and the authors and Nagel go, we are most certainly not able to have access to what it's like to be a bat, but Chris Langan just might.

There are other subtle indicators of Langan's bat-like capacities. In the past few years, Langan's polymathic genius has branched out into a number of other intellectual pursuits, most notably politics, both American and global. As his own political opinions have been tuned up to a high-frequency shriek, our man-bat with the 200 IQ has proven he can discriminate a lot more than just complex patterns. Indeed, he has rapidly dispensed analyses of equally complex social issues for his adoring Facebook faithful. For instance, Langan offers the following with regard to immigration: "Koko [the famed gorilla] was believed to have had an IQ of between 75 and 95 and could sign more than 1,000 words. The average IQ of a human is around 90 to 110. […] Koko's elevated level of thought would have been all but incomprehensible to nearly half the population of Somalia (average IQ 68). Yet the nations of Europe and North America are being flooded with millions of unvetted Somalian refugees who are not (initially) kept in cages despite what appears to be the world's highest rate of violent crime. Obviously, this raises a question: Why is Western Civilization not admitting gorillas? They too are from Africa, and probably have a group mean IQ at least equal to that of Somalia. In addition, they have peaceful and environmentally friendly cultures, commit far less violent crime than Somalians, and with minor modifications to Western education systems, can easily be taught to use language. Why are these gentle creatures, who have been threatened with genocide for decades, not being taken in by Western nations as refugees despite the indisputable fact that they are teetering on the edge of extinction in their homelands? Can this be called humane or compassionate? What on Earth is going on here?"

Now that, dear reader, is batshit insane.

***


Elton Braun and John Adam Gosham have a combined IQ of 195. 

Image attribution: This image is a composite of two images. The Langan part is by Ben David [CC BY-SA 2.0  (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons. The bat part is originally by Oren Peles; Derivative work by User MathKnight [CC BY 2.5  (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons. 

A Dam Shame: Linguistic Relativism and Necrophilic Bestiality

By Charles Norwood (with additional files from Stephen Kunk)►

Crystal meth is a hardcore drug. And if Whitney Nycole of Washington state didn't know that, she sure as shit does now. Why? Because poor Ms. Nycole had the dubious privilege of watching a meth-head have sex with a dying beaver. And that's about as hardcore as things get right there.

Nycole first found the beaver after it had been hit by a car and left for dead. At that point, the animal was still alive, though badly injured. She hurried home to get a box so she could transport the beaver to a veterinary clinic. But when she came back, things had taken a turn for the worse.

At first she thought that Richard Delp, 35, was merely comforting the dying animal. But, as she neared, she discovered that Mr. Delp had things other than palliative care on his mind. His pants were down, and he was having intercourse with the beaver. Nycole, horrified, called the police, who arrested Delp on charges of animal cruelty and possession of methamphetamine. Tragically, however, the beaver couldn't be saved. It had perished while Delp was fucking it.

But why? Why would a man have sex with a beaver? Aside from the fact that meth is one hell of a drug, there may be something else going on here as well.

There is a hypothesis in linguistics that the languages we speak influence and shape our thoughts and even our perceptions. Known as Whorfianism, the hypothesis asserts that the structure and content of the languages we speak are reflected in the realities that we experience. Rather than merely conveying objective reality to us, our brains construct a subjectivized version of reality, and both language and culture play an unconscious role in determining how we experience the world.

And so, according to Whorfianism, Richard Delp may actually have believed he was making love to a woman rather than a dead animal. "Beaver"—the word refers to a large semi-aquatic rodent with a flat tail and a penchant for building dams. But it also refers to the genitalia of a female human being. What if Delp, due to a semantic error (not to mention a sort of synesthesia of the concrete and figurative) deep in his meth-addled brain, saw a beautiful woman with willingly parted legs lying there on the side of the road that night? What if Delp merely got "whorfed" into committing the indecent act rather than actively choosing to do something horrendous?

Nobody wins in this story. It starts with an innocent beaver being hit by a car, and it ends with necrophiliac bestiality. It's a goddamn nightmare for everybody involved (even for Richard Delp, who was presumably interrupted before he could climax). Really, the only silver lining here is that things weren't as bad as they could have been. Indeed, the only winners here are the women Delp might have assaulted that night had he not laid eyes on that mangled Castor canadensis when he had.

Also, one has to wonder if this incident indexes rising anti-Canadian sentiment in the United States of America. In addition to signifying the vagina, the beaver is also a symbol of Canada as a nation. Given the increased trade tension between Canada and the United States at present, Delp’s erotic aggressions could speak to more than just the potency of meth. The brutality done to the beaver may suggest that the American collective unconscious, when fully awakened, seeks all-out assaults against its meek northern neighbor and the figurative vaginas that so adequately emblematize them. 

***

Charles Norwood lives in Toronto where he is involved in a diverse array of criminal activities. He is the author of Epistemology Bloody Epistemology

Were it Not for the Feint of Heart: How to Take your First Date Game to the Next Level

By Charles Norwood ►

Things got steamy for a man and a woman when the man had a heart attack on their first date.

A kiss by any other name would taste as sweet.
The couple was out paddle-boarding when suddenly the man experienced numbness, discomfort, and fatigue. Once they got out of the water, he collapsed. The couple then shared their first kiss when the woman performed CPR on the man, saving his life.

Or so it would seem.

To the untrained eye, this story may seem like a scary tale with a cute and happy ending. But it's not. To those of us with more life experience and more world weariness, it's obvious what's really going on here. This is actually a tale of deceit and manipulation.

It's called The Heart Attack Gambit, and it has been around for years. A man (or a woman, but it is almost always a man) finds himself on a date with someone whom he likes, but instead of dawdling through the numerous tedious steps circumscribed by dating culture, he decides to throw things into high gear right off the bat. So he fakes a heart attack. And almost immediately a few things take place.

Firstly, he gets a kiss. Sure, It's a clinical CPR-mediated kiss, but lip-to lip contact has still been achieved. A kiss has occurred. His foot, so to speak, is in the door. Despite the fact that he's pretending to be dead on their first date, the space between them has become alive with possibility.

Secondly, he has managed to arouse her in a non-threatening and non-creepy way. True, the source of the arousal is panic rather than sexual attraction, butand this is keythe body doesn't know the difference. Psychologically, she might be quite traumatized by the episode. But physically all she remembers is that he turned her on.

Thirdly, women like sensitive men. They do. But, at the same time, women dislike weak men. And figuring out how to walk this fine tightrope of a line between sensitivity and feebleness has been a nightmarish conundrum for heterosexual men for aeons. How is one suppose to display vulnerability while also radiating tough stoicism?

Oh yeah.
The answer, of course, is to fake a heart attack. It allows you to appear calm and collected even in the face of death while also displaying yourself in a condition of great need. Chicks can't resist that shit, and our man in the aforementioned vignette certainly knows that.

Now some peoplehaterswill try to argue that The Heart Attack Gambit is sick, creepy, psychotic, pathetic, and immoral. But these people are idiots and can be safely ignored. The bottom line is that The Gambit works. And smart, responsible people stick to what works. Ask your boss. Ten bucks says he's faked a heart attack on a date at least once.

And don't just limit yourselves to heart attacks, gents. Any terrifying medical emergency will work. Choking, seizures, fainting spells, kidney stones, sudden inability to breathget creative! Just make it super scary for her, and be sure it doesn't make you look like a pussy. I know a guy who once had a threesome because he slyly got himself stung by a hornet at a college dorm party. (He wasn't a student at the college; he was actually like 40 at the time.)

***

Charles Norwood is the author of Epistemology Bloody Epistemology. He lives in Toronto, where he is involved in a wide variety of criminal activities.



  


Stephen King's IQ is 40

By Stephen Kunk ►

Augusta, ME (AP) - A leak from the records division of the Maine State Board of Education has revealed that Stephen King, the best-selling horror author of all-time, has an IQ of 40.

Stephen King, with just a wisp 
of an innocent smirk
According to the leaked documents, the teenage King scored 40 on the Stanford-Binet Intelligence Scales (third edition), a popular test of cognitive ability at the time. Statistically speaking, this places King more than 4 standard deviations below the population mean, meaning his intelligence is drastically inferior to that of the average person. Typically, a score as low as King's indicates considerable intellectual and cognitive impairments.

In order to characterize these sorts of deficiencies, psychologist Henry H. Goddard sorted people with particularly low IQ scores into subcategories. These included "morons", who had IQs of 51–70, "imbeciles", who scored 26-50, and "idiots", who scored 0-25.

Given his score of 40, Stephen King is, in admittedly archaic terms, an "imbecile". Still, his imbecilic status has not prevented him from writing over 60 bestsellers with massive appeal to hundreds of millions of readers throughout the English-speaking world and beyond.

"The brain is a remarkable thing," offered Andreas Nabovsky, a neuroscientist at Florida Pacific University who has undertaken extensive research in the area of intelligence and its neural substrates. "The brain can compensate for massive deficits in a given area—math, reasoning, spatial ability—with relative facility in other areas: in Mr. King’s case, storytelling, imagination and, to some extent, verbal ability.

An early plot conceptualization of The Stand 
drawn by King himself, age 29
"Looking at his massive body of writing," Professor Nabovsky concluded, "King has done extremely well with his severely limited abilities. I would consider Stephen King a genius-level imbecile."

When approached for comment on the IQ leak, King responded with a spoken word rendition of ZZ Top's "Tube Snake Boogie."

***

Stephen Kunk lives with his wife and two daughters on the Pacific coast of the United States.

Image attribution (King Photo): By bunkosquad / Michael Femia (https://www.flickr.com/photos/bunkosquad/17915541/) [GFDL (http://www.gnu.org/copyleft/fdl.html) or CC-BY-SA-3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)], via Wikimedia Commons


Eight Awesome Anal Sex Styles!

By Stephen Kunk and David Cumberbunch►

Anal intercourse is the final frontier of human sexuality: for some people it will always remain in the realm of the unknown and unattempted. Sure, the thought of backdoor loving can be intimidating, but if done lovingly and meticulously, it can be a fun way to open up a wide chasm of new possibilities for your love life. With that in mind, our sex-gurus at Ewedrooper are counting down our favorite styles of anal sex to help you, the adventurous reader, spice things up in the bedroom!

8. Cathartic Anal
Had an especially rough week at the office? Why not sublimate all that frustration and aggression into your bedroom experimentations? Go crazy, let off some stress. A little bit of butt-play can be purifying and purgative—and not just mentally! Void your worries, and maybe even void your bowels!

7. Multicultural Anal
New immigrants in the neighborhood? What better way to bridge the cultural gap than by letting them in the back door? After all, no matter where they’re from, everybody’s got a butthole. With help from your new foreign friends, you might even learn a few new wrinkles on the ancient art of sodomy.

6. Irresponsible Anal
Who said anal sex has to be meticulously planned? Premeditated anal is for prudes! Did you and your amour just have a six burrito supper and a peanut curry lunch to boot? Don’t let that stand in the way of your spontaneity! After all, your sex life could use a little danger. Live on the edge of your seat, why don't you? Oh, and don't even think about using a condom.

5. Disenchanted Anal
Easing a tumescent appendage into a narrow and puckered aperture usually reserved for expulsion...? Yeah, anal sex might sound complicated, but it's really no big deal. Do it laissez-faire and insouciant and in the process cultivate your ennui, among other Gallicized concepts of detachment. (There's a reason it's called the vice of the French.) Anal ain’t no thang, just sayin'.

4. Inspirational Anal
Dialogue is important, no matter what orifice you’re penetrating. Make your anal excursions poignant and motivational by eschewing your usual dirty talk in favor of inspirational phrases. “Never look back”; “I’m always behind you.” Be sure to hold hands and cry out euphorically in harmony as your hind and pelvis applaud, then climax in short succession…maybe even praise God as you do so. Keep the cameras running all the while to capture your rectal rapture and then post it online, so that people worldwide can also be similarly moved by the spirit. Keep calm and bugger on!

3. Peacemaking Anal
Take your makeup sex to the next level with the ultimate act of trust… What better way to put relationship trouble in the rearview than to cram your increasingly estranged personages back together? Even if there's still a little anger left, why not take it out on each other as you accelerate your thrusts and counter-thrusts? And gentlemen, as an olive branch, you might even consider letting your put-out lady don the strap-on just to let her know you’re capable of at least a little empathy.

2. Progressive Anal
For some people, anal sex is all about domination, but it doesn’t always have to be. Modern-day, broad-minded anal ensures that the sodomizee starts on top, with equal time spent above and below. Top and bottom should ask tender questions all throughout, and should finish whilst spooned equitably against the length of each other. This is essential to progressive anal sex. Honorable mention goes out to its opposite, conservative anal: here the woman (and only a woman) is always on the bottom, and she's expected to remain indifferent to the act.

1. Emergency Anal
Okay guys, forget about the article, no time for questions, I'll explain everything after, but we have to do this NOW!

###

Stephen Kunk is a staff writer for Ewedrooper, and he lives on the Pacific Coast with his lovely wife and their two daughters. David Cumberbunch also has a daughter. 

The authors would like to thank all the guys at the office—Charles Norwood, Thesal Thayer, John Gosham, and Elton Braun, among others—for all their time and effort in thoroughly researching every aspect of this article!

Photo Attribution:  By Mark J Sebastian (Go Go Dancer (#91686)) [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons. Some alternations were made by the staff at Ewedrooper.

President Trump Set to Appear in Mortal Kombat 11

By Stephen Kunk ►

Donald Trump is many things: real estate mogul, reality TV star, President of the United States, and potentially even a Nobel Peace Prize winner. Now he can also add video game star to his incomparable resume, as he will be appearing as a playable character in the next edition of Mortal Kombat.

According to a leak from NetherRealm Studios in the midst of E3, the 45th POTUS will grace the lineup of Kombatants in 2019’s Mortal Kombat 11 (as the game is tentatively known). Trump will be available right out of the case as a “semi-hidden” character—that is, he will only be selectable for use against fighters belonging to visible minorities. You read that right—in single player mode, Trump’s tower consists entirely of female and non-Caucasian opponents.

Screenshot from the 3DS version:
How will Trump FINISH HER!?
The leak also highlights key details of Trump’s backstory, fitting him into the MK universe. Looking to expand his real estate empire, the Donald began development on a Trump Tower in Outworld. During this time, he became acquainted with Sheeva, a four-armed female from the half-human, half-dragon Shokan race. By Sheeva’s account, one morning she encountered Trump in a Tower elevator and he kissed her directly on the mouth, and then began groping her breasts. Too shocked to retaliate in the moment, and unable to register a sexual misconduct grievance through the complicated Outworld legal system, Sheeva seeks her revenge on Trump in the Mortal Kombat tournament.

Trump’s fighting style will be based upon professional wrestling maneuvers, as well as verbally-launched projectiles. Finishing moves are of course a hallmark of the MK series, and also described in the leak was one of Trump’s fatalities. This involves grabbing his opponent by (you guessed it) their genitalia and then ripping out their entire reproductive tract.

Trump has already teased his full endorsement of the game on Twitter:


The new Mortal Kombat is set for release on PS4, Xbox One and 3DS in Spring 2019. A percentage of the proceeds from every unit sold will go towards building the border wall with Mexico. Outstanding? No…Tremendous!

All There is to Know about Donald Trump

By Thesal Thayer
(with apologies to Leonard Cohen)

EYES:……………………………………...Green
HAIR:……………………………………...Blond
WEIGHT:………………………………...Heavy
HEIGHT:………………………………....6'2
DISTINGUISHING FEATURES….Wealth
NUMBER OF FINGERS:………......Ten
NUMBER OF TOES……………….....Ten
INTELLIGENCE……………………....Genius


What were you expecting?

Nuance?

Rationality?

Perspicuity?

Coherence?


###

Thesal Thayer is the editor of Done to Death: The Last Zombie Anthology Ever.


Read Cohen's original here.

The Texas Fajita Heist: A Case for Capital Punishment?

By John Adam Gosham and Charles Norwood▸

We are entering into a dark epoch for Tex-Mex cuisine. Just days ago, a Texan man who pleaded guilty to stealing $1.2 million worth of fajitas received his sentence: 50 years in prison. Even with this lengthy prison term, we still must ask: has justice been served? Is 50 years really enough for stealing fajitas?

This sad fajita mourns its irretrievable compadres
Gilberto Escamilla’s plan was simple enough. He would order fajitas through his county-funded work place, the Darrel B. Hester Detention Center, only to reroute them to customers of his own for profit. In 2017, the scheme was thwarted when 800 pounds of fajitas were delivered to the detention center and Escamilla wasn’t there to pick them up. The fact that fajitas weren’t on the detention center’s menu was a red flag. The cache of county-funded fajitas in Escamilla's refrigerator was the smoking gun.

Escamilla’s guilty plea won him little mercy. The county prosecutors asked for a Texas-sized prison term, and visiting State District Judge J. Manuel Banales gave it to them. This sends a message to public-sector employees: don’t mess with the public coffers, or your life as you know it is over.

But is Mr. Escamilla’s life really over? Only in a matter of speaking. He will still, after all, occupy a prison cell and continue to use up taxpayer money for five decades. This means clothing, recreation and three square meals a day—perhaps sometimes even fajitas. According to one source, Texas taxpayers pay $50.79 per inmate per day, or $18,538 per year.  That’s $929,150 over the course of Mr. Escamilla’s sentence. Turns out, it will cost almost as much as Mr. Escamilla stole in order to keep him alive and imprisoned. So why keep him alive?

Now, capital punishment is a complex and multifaceted issue, and should not be taken lightly. However, in this case it seems clear-cut that death would have been the more sensible sentence. By letting the guilty party live, it’s like he’s stealing those fajitas all over again. Lethal injection, on the other hand, would prevent the guilty from essentially committing the crime twice. Moreover, it would send an even more powerful message to anyone handling tax dollars, from peons like Escamilla right up to police, politicians and even state district judges: if you misuse our money in any way, you will pay the ultimate price. Death.

The case for capital punishment grows more compelling when we consider the cultural toll of Escamilla’s crime. For a very long time to come, the average Texas taxpayer will get a bad taste in his or her mouth even at the simple thought of fajitas. This is the sentence an untold number of Texans and Tex-Mex restauranteurs have just started serve. This very real pain should also be taken into account in meting out truly just sentences for monsters like Mr. Escamilla.

We are moving toward a hot-blooded, lex talionis mentality here. Some might say we should be ashamed of this. But is that true? No, it isn't. We can’t ignore the real victims. The fajitas. In the aftermath of Mr. Escamilla’s crimes, their stories will never be told. All they wanted was to be a part of the American dream—that is, to be a part of the cycle of consumption. Instead, their fates will remain forever undocumented, their incalculable markup swallowed into an untaxable void. Thus, we must never forget the victims of any crime when contemplating our most fittingly barbaric sentences: justice is, much like fajitas, far more satisfying when served red hot.

###

John Adam Gosham and Charles Norwood are regular contributors to Ewedrooper. Gosham is the author of The Stink Ape: An Erotic Ensemble. Norwood is a co-founder of Goathanger.com, and author of Epistemology Bloody Epistemology: An Academic Satire.

Image attribution: By Lenin and McCarthy [CC BY-SA 3.0  (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], from Wikimedia Commons

Stoked for Sodomy: An Alternative to School Shootings

By Charles Norwood ►

Conservative radio personality Jamie Allman recently resigned from his job with a St. Louis TV station after he made less-than-complimentary comments about a survivor of the Stoneman Douglas school shooting.

Mr. Allman, a grown man, threatened to "ram a hot poker" up the ass of David Hogg, a teenage boy. Why? Because they disagreed politically. Mr. Hogg, who recently witnessed the assault-rifle massacre of 17 classmates on February 14th of this year, supports gun law reform, whereas Mr. Allman does not.

Within hours of the comment, advertisers began to pull support for Allman's show, which inevitably led to his resignation. Advertisers, apparently, thought it would be bad PR to associate with anybody threatening teenagers with sodomy.

Allman lovingly preps the instrument
Presumably, they also questioned Allman's insistence on heating up the poker first. If the forcible insertion of a room-temperature poker into somebody's asshole isn't enough to intellectually persuade him or her of your position, it's unlikely that heat is going to make much of a difference.

Additionally, Allman's fan base was ruffled by the incident, as it cast doubt on his loyalty to Republicanism. By insinuating that sticking a hot poker up Hogg's ass might be an effective way of changing his political orientation, Allman inadvertently implied that he himself might possibly change his own mind in the event that a Democrat were to insert something sharp and burning into his rectum.

Given that conservatism is almost by definition founded on a resistance to changing one's mind, Allman's credibility was shot right there. He showed his tribe that his loyalty extended only up to the point of rectal insertion, but no further. And let's be honest: that's not really loyalty at all, is it?

But Allman is not without his defenders. Some people (namely myself) are quick to draw attention to the positive aspects of his threat. For example, Allman may have threatened to sodomize Hogg, but at least he didn't threaten to shoot him. Instead he sent a strong message that there are other, healthier ways to express disapproval besides picking up a gun and massacring people.

If the Parkland shooter, they say, had only been armed with a hot poker, things would have ended much differently. Sure, one or two anuses may have been decimated, but the 17 victims would still be alive. And even the shooter would have wound up with, at most, community service instead of what's likely to be the death penalty.

So is Jamie Allman a monster? Probably. But if next week some kid makes headlines for chasing his classmates around with a white-hot fireplace tool instead of an assault rifle, it will be clear that this monster has made a difference.

###

Charles Norwood is the author of Epistemology Bloody Epistemology: An Academic Satire, and is the co-founder of Goathanger.com. He lives in Toronto, where he is involved with a variety of criminal activities; writing, after all, does not pay.

Image attribution: By Taken byfir0002 | flagstaffotos.com.auCanon 20D + Tamron 28-75mm f/2.8 - Own work, GFDL 1.2, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=136229

The Best Little Dollhouse in Paris

By Charles Norwood ►

Do you feel the urge to make love to a sex doll? If so, there's good news: a brothel specializing in life-like sex dolls has opened in Paris. Patrons of the establishment can pay $110 to take a high-quality silicone sex doll into a private room for one hour. The dolls are then sanitized and preened between "sessions."

Finally, a brothel where the employees don't judge.
But even though this brothel is a godsend for men who like to ravish dolls, not everybody is happy about it. A feminist group has spoken out against the brothel on the grounds that it encourages men to indulge in violent rape fantasies. It seems that one of the benefits of having sex with a doll is that your "passion" won't be limited by the sentience and/or legal rights of your partner.

But are the feminists justified in their concern?

It's hard to say.

On the one hand, it's easy to imagine a scenario in which an ostensibly ordinary man brutalizes a sex doll and, in doing so, awakens within himself an erotic bloodlust that had hitherto lain dormant. Perhaps such a man would be more likely to hurt an actual woman after such an experience. But, on the other hand, it's also easy to imagine a scenario in which some psycho viciously beats his sex doll and, having discharged and sublimated his insanity, is less likely to commit an actual sexual assault.

So which is it?

Sadly, in the absence of a monumentally unethical controlled experiment, it's impossible to know. But, despite this uncertainty, there is a relatively easy solution to the standoff between the feminists and the brothel owners—a solution in which everybody wins. Consider, if you will, the following proposal:

Instead of closing down the sex doll brothel, the owners should consider expanding their operation. Imagine if they were to create a sister brothel which exclusively features life-like male sex dolls. That way, the feminists, for the low price of $110, could simulate the experience of beating the living shit out of a man for a whole hour. Sure, it might not solve the original problem that they came to protest, but it would feel fantastic.

The sister brothel would offer a safe outlet for the rage that comes from having to live in an oppressive patriarchal society. Women put up with a lot of mistreatment at the hands of men. Think of how cathartic it would be to savagely thrash a male doll with a crowbar and then to castrate it with a Bowie knife!

As for the brothel owners, this new dimension of their operation would easily make up for any business lost due to the controversy created by the feminists. They could even direct their earnings towards the further betterment of society, donating a portion of their profits to causes aiding battered women and rehabilitating sex workers.

Like I said, everybody wins.

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Charles Norwood is the author of Epistemology Bloody Epistemology: An Academic Satire and co-founder of the literary collective Goathanger.com. He lives in Toronto, where he is involved in a variety of criminal activities; writing, after all, does not pay.

Trump vs. Biden: Who Would Win in a Fight?

By John Adam Gosham ►


In a recent multimedia altercation, President Donald Trump and former Vice President Joe Biden exchanged unequivocal fighting words. Biden publicly stated that if he and Trump were in high school, he would "take him behind the gym and beat the hell out of him." The POTUS promptly tweeted back, imagining a much different outcome for the hypothetical donnybrook: "[Biden] would go down fast and hard, crying all the way." This war of words necessarily provokes the question: who would win a fistic dustup between Joe Biden and President Trump? The answer depends on the nature of the fight.

If Trump and Biden were to meet in a boxing match, the former VP has the obvious edge. While Trump has a two inch height advantage, he carries considerably more weight than the relatively svelte Biden. Biden would be able to slip Trump’s haymakers and pepper the POTUS with some quick counter-jabs. One size advantage Biden does have is in his hands, with which he'd surely be able to land some heavy hooks and uppercuts on Trump’s pouty orange moue. By contrast, Trump’s balled-white, child-sized fists would leave lots of room in twelve-ounce gloves, making for punches that would land pillowy at best against Biden's all-American chin. Biden also has a sports background, having played football and baseball in his youth, so he'd likely be able to last into the later rounds against Trump, whose athletic ventures go no further than golf and some recreational tennis. The fight wouldn't be a long one, though: two blasts from Biden’s soup-bone fists and Trump would be wearing his famed flaxen hair-swoop like a mullet. The result: Biden by knockout in the early rounds.

If Trump and Biden were to meet in the UFC cage, the matchup would be much more closely contested. If the fight went to the ground, Trump’s size would give him a tremendous advantage, especially with his girdle off. It is a well-alleged fact that Trump is skilled at distributing the considerable surface area of his frame to immobilize other people—he was, for instance, readily able to pin Jill Harth and later on Natasha Stoynoff against the walls of his Mar-a-Lago estate. In this regard, Trump could also use the walls of the cage to his advantage. But again, Biden's athleticism and relative mobility would be to his benefit. If he could escape the inevitable mount and get Trump on his back, a little ground and pound could dizzy the President, giving Biden the opportunity to exploit the Donald's pre-existing injuries—namely, the bone spurs in his heel. The result: Biden by tap-out (heel hook) in round one.

The only way Trump could win a matchup with Biden is if they met in a WWE ring. Match outcomes in pro wrestling are, of course, pre-determined, with the most popular performers "going over" like clockwork at the marquee events. Wrestling fans are largely comprised of shiftless sons-of-the-soil and self-deluded uber-bros run to fat, most of whom are looking for a superman savior to salve unmet expectations vis-à-vis their personal experience of manhood. As such, they make up a significant subset of the people who voted for Trump, and will vote for him again. Biden, meanwhile, as a Juris Doctor and career establishment politician (Democrat, no less), is precisely the kind of accomplished individual that wrestling fans hate. Hence, the obvious choice for WWE's writing staff would be to give the fan-favorite Trump the win. The decision: Trump by pin-fall after Vladimir Putin interferes, laying out Biden with a chair.

Though Biden would clearly come out the winner in any legitimate fight with President Trump, the thought of a Biden-Trump dream match is still eminently intriguing. It is truly a testament to the electrifying state of American political discourse when two high-ranking septuagenarian statesmen can trade provocations in a public forum in a manner akin to that of roid-raging pro wrestlers. Perhaps we can even dream of a consummately all-American future in which voting will be done away with entirely to be replaced by a Republican vs. Democrat, candidate vs. candidate cage match for the Presidency, the primaries having been decided by a no-holds-barred, bunkhouse battle royal.

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John Adam Gosham is the author of The Stink Ape: An Erotic Ensemble, the all-time best-selling book on Goathanger.com. He lives in a shack in an undisclosed location in the Midwestern United States.

Image Attribution: Biden: By World Economic Forum [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons. Trump: Gage Skidmore [CC BY-SA 3.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons. Photos have been amalgamated by Ewedrooper; users are free to distribute the newly created image under their respective licenses listed here above.

How to Avoid a DUI on Your Wedding Day

By Charles Norwood and Thesal Thayer ▸ 

You may have recently read the tragic story of Amber Young, a thirty-two-year-old bride-to-be from Arizona who was arrested for driving under the influence on the way to her wedding. Obviously, the story yanks at the heartstrings, and so we at Ewedrooper have compiled a list of helpful hints to assure that no one else has to go through a similar indignity on their special day.
 
Stock photo of shitfaced bride
1) Always drink something light. If you're going to be driving to your own wedding, hammered, stay away from the hard stuff. Try something citrusy and carbonated, like a nice Zima Clearmalt or, if you're a beer-drinking bride, a Corona Light. In fact, the only justification for drinking Corona Light, ever, is if you're driving.

2) Wear your veil down. This way your bleary, punch-drunk gaze will be sufficiently hidden from other motorists. Behind the gauzy shroud, your ruddy drunkenness will look no more incriminating than that radiant glow the whole world expects of the blushing bride. If a concerned citizen or officer of the law does ask to see your face, tell them you can't lift the veil for religious reasons.

3) Let other motorists know whose day it is. Some non-bride going too slow in your lane? Roll down the window on your way past and tell them to get their ass out of your way! It's your goddamn wedding day!

4) Create relationship drama. If you do get stopped by a law enforcement officer, say that you're actually fleeing your wedding because you just found out your spouse is cheating on you. If that doesn't get rid of that pesky copper, start providing excessive levels of detail about the infidelity (positions used, relatives involved, etc.).

5) Use seduction. If #4 doesn't work, offer the officer, whether they're male or female, a special invitation to your honeymoon suite to join in on the wedding night festivities. It's the most special of all special nights, so why not do some experimenting? Remember: you were totally wasted when it happened.

6) Carry a weapon. If the officer isn't down for a matrimonial three-way, you're going to have to speed away. It's handy to have a 9mm tucked into your garter to fend off your eventual police pursuer(s).

7) Wear flats. If a motor-vehicle collision proves unavoidable, you'll have to proceed on foot, and nine out of ten brides will tell you: flats are easier to flee in than heels. Do not for any reason stop to attend to other motorists or pedestrians you may have injured or killed, because remember: it's your day. Keep repeating this loudly as you sprint from the scene of the accident to the church.

Follow these guidelines and, unlike Ms. Young, you can still enjoy the privilege of stumbling down that aisle, plastered, passing out momentarily in the arms of the man you've settled for. On your wedding day(s), as in life, there will be times when you have to drink and drive, so at least be smart about it. Marriage is a long, slow-motion car wreck anyway, so don't risk the real thing in real-time before the vows have even been exchanged.

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Charles Norwood and Thesal Thayer are the co-founders of the literary collective Goathanger.com. Norwood is the author of Epistemology Blood Epistemology: An Academic Satire. Thayer is the editor of Done to Death: the Last Zombie Anthology Ever

Image attribution: By Sarah Bresee (fainting couch) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)], via Wikimedia Commons