Wonder Women Puberty Awakenings

How Old TV shows spark the incendiary first fires of teen sexuality

I noticed a petite beautiful brunette while riding the Metro today. It happens. Normally, I look over, I say to myself, "that's one hot mama," and I go back to reading the overrated novel for which I overpaid at the second-hand book shop. I consistently overpay. Okay, but I don't say ' hot mama'. 

But today, I had no book, and I was especially unable to accept any passing thought at face value. So I thought to myself, "Why do I find this woman attractive?" That, of course, can be answered in no one simple discourse, due to a wide array of possible influences - the physical, the psychological, the sociological, and so forth. But I realized that this lovely lady, who had so efficiently grabbed my attention from the sweet and naughty sound of her thighs gently skidding against the vinyl Metro seat, was especially alluring to me because of one thing - her resemblance to Erin Grey (Katherine "Kate" Summers Stratton), of the 80s situational comedy sitcom Silver Spoons fame. 

Then it hit me. Many of the incendiary sparks that kindled the first fires of my teen sexuality came from a single origin - watching re-runs of old television sitcoms with my aunt who had a peculiar penchant for watching these old shows. I suppose this should come as no surprise to a cable slave with a media-infested mind like myself, but pinpointing the various sources of my libidinous teen development proved both entertaining and enlightening. What's even more funnier is that most of these starlets are now grandmas. And let's be clear, I have no granny fetish! Anyway, the following involves a high degree of self-disclosure, but I will progress nonetheless, in chronological order.  

Maria from Sesame Street: Sonia Manzano, this Latin-American beauty captured my youthful schoolkid heart when it still could cry for a misunderstood woolly mammoth and the departing of an elderly shop keeper. With her bright smile and willingness to teach, she made me toddle back to the tube again and again. Sonia, now 70 played Maria on Sesame Street from 1971 until her departure in 2015. 

Wilma from The Flintstones: The brained beauty from the second-greatest TV cartoon of all time. Wilma’s intelligence and no-nonsense attitude, tempered by a sweetness lost on today's women, all packaged with a shock of red hair and a body that won't quit made me wonder why Fred would ever try to fool her, and why he and Barney spent so much time together with a fine piece like that at home. When she and Betty got together to make dino-cookies, I wished I was a rolling pin.

Wonder Woman: No not Gal Gadot, but Lynda Carter from the American live-action television series of the 70s. What can I say, Miss World USA Lynda Carter made me feel funny in a way for which I had no label until after puberty. It's a good thing she never threw the lasso of truth around me because I definitely would have ended up telling her how great her amazon woman tits were. Lynda is 68 now!

Vicki from The Love Boat: I believe she was the second entertainment director for the Spelling cruise, but blonde beauty Jill Whelan as Vicki Stubing, the daughter of Captain Stubing in the 70s hit cruise ship television series The Love Boat made love exciting and new for me when it truly was. I came aboard 9:00 PM every Saturday for carrom board and costume parties and Vicki. Jill is 53 now.

Daisy Duke from the Dukes of Hazzard: I know this is an obvious one, but for noobs, Catherine Bach, played the famous role in the late 70s – early 80s American television series The Dukes of Hazzard. After watching it, you can probably understand why hillbillies have a reputation for incest. If those shorts were any higher, I wouldn't have needed the sex education classes that were to follow in later years. I think she inspired my first little bitty teen erections. Catherine is 66 now.

Catwoman: Not Halle Berry but Julie Newmar, from the Batman TV series of the 1960s. Catwoman was more than just Meeooowww. helping me make the first associations between women and felines. A purrrfect template for the beginning of my understanding of female sexuality. She's hot, she's naughty, and she always takes Batman's bat-belt away. Holy hormones, Batman. Julie is 86 now.

Nellie Ruth "Nell" Harper from Gimme a Break: Don't laugh, Nell was a whole lotta woman, and boy, could she snare a man. Playing the motherly Black housekeeper for a widowed police chief and his three daughters in the 80s show, she showed me what a REAL woman wants - and she didn't take no guff from nobody. And I'm not alone - Joey Lawrence got his start as a leading man on that show- and look what a stud he turned out to be. Nell Carter passed away in 2003 aged 54.

Lauren from Family Ties: Before she became actually famous in Friends, Courtney Cox already inspired at least one 12 year old to make Friends. I made a new friend - she may just have been the first subject of my masturbatory fantasies. Incidentally, this hit 80s series in which she played Alex Keaton's Girlfriend, also featured Tom Hanks, Geena Davis, River Phoenix, Corey Feldman, Joseph Garden Levitt & Christina Applegate. Courtney is 56 now.

Wanda from Doogie Howser M.D: Even though still in my early teens, Wanda Plenn, the girlfriend (played by Lisa Dean Ryan) of the eponymous character in the early 90s series Doogie Howser, M.D. made me want to quit junior high and take up medical school. If I were Doogie, I'd have brought all kinds of medical equipment home for that little vixen. And you know Vinny watched them get down from his little window entrance all the time. I think Doogie liked it. Also, I believe Wanda to be the precursor to the later Neve Campbell craze. Lisa is 48 now.

Darlene Merriman from Head of the Class: Never saw anyone in high school that looked like Robin Givens, I'll tell you that but she was always nice to Arvid and Dennis. I still can't believe an honors student like her would go and ruin my fantasy world and marry Mike Tyson. I could talk your ear off about that...Perhaps the luscious redhead Simone played by the beautiful Khrystyne Haje is still available. btw, Robin is 55 now.

I think I started getting laid soon after that, but that wasn't really the case. However, I believe that any other TV women I found attractive after that were probably some conglomeration of what qualities this group brought to the table. If only I learned back then that if you're bored with a real woman, you can't just change the channel. 

Clumsy Flirting Games

Flirting is a woman’s trade, play it safe!

The crossed legs, the flip of the hair, the shy smile followed by a gentle head turn and sometimes a playful wink, the hand casually placed on the arm to emphasize a point, a subtly wicked smile. All of these things have something in common. They are things that a discerning guy can pick up from an interested woman that might mean a sensitive guy, that is you - can have a shot at her – provided - you play your cards right. But many a time, it is not. She is not interested; you are the clumsy fool, her gestures simply natural and innocuous. And therein lies the risk and a potential humiliation.

Most of you would have indulged or at least seen these subtle seduction gestures used by women who know how to lead a guy on. And, I have also seen them all presented unknowingly by beautiful women towards stupid and naive men, which in turn produced an unwanted advance by the now confused, poor guy (not to mention leaving the lady wanting to know whatever gave the guy the idea that she was interested in the first place?!). Of course, some clumsy guys do tend to jump the gun on occasion with overzealous egos and thoughtless assumptions. 

All of this, however, is part of the cat and mouse game we play as man and woman. The game we all know and love but yet, we make so many mistakes. Take for example - the simple act of a woman crossing her legs. Women do it all the time, for comfort and probably never give it a second thought and some do it on purpose. 

I do find it to be an intriguing event though. As a whole, I view women as a symbol of grace and elegance. There is nothing on this earth more beautiful than a woman. Still, I cannot deny that there is always a bit of sexual attraction at the sight of a beautiful women crossing her legs, however, it is usually secondary to the event. As you are probably more aware, most men are driven by the sexuality of the women but this is not true of all men. There are a few of us that truly appreciate the beauty of a woman. Do you believe that :) 

All said and done, the whole act of placing one shapely stem across the other still can have a whole different world of meaning to different guys. From the discerning to the sensitive, or from the brash to the overzealous guy, it can have different interpretations. If you had to ask them about their opinions on women crossing their legs, most would consider it sexy, a few would call it flirtatious and probably a very few, would consider it elegant or of no consequence. 

If someone would ask me this question, my answers would probably depend on who's legs they are. Legs are a fine feature on women and the features get better as you go up :) but it will certainly depend on the woman and how much she interests me. If in pants or skirt or dress, if the latter, most certainly. Even more so if a mid-thigh skirt is worn (go figure, the shorter the better) and leg slit seems to highlight or enhance nice legs. I like it. I would be a hypocrite if I lied. 

Nonetheless, assuming, she is interested, these subtle gestures are my favorite part of the game (besides, of course, closing the deal). These first contacts with your next possible partner need to be carefully thought out though, and if you're the girl - you hope "Mr. Right" is able to read your body language correctly and if you are a guy, vice versa. There is nothing sexist about this as long as this consensual, even if it’s a deed unspoken. But for men, its a challenge, what are we guys looking to read? And what makes us look or draws us in? 

There are no written rules here so play it very safe. If in doubt about your object of affection, wait until she makes it abundantly clear that she is interested. There are no rooms for even one false move. 

Let me end this little piece on how males process these gestures with my favorite? I've always liked the open-ended lure, the sly gaze, preferably if she has her hair untied, a gaze where she looks at me yet doesn't maintain solid eye contact, sometimes with a delicate semi-smile. As someone said, a woman's eyes flirt the most. And if she talks very little, remember, she has also probably learned to say things with her eyes that others waste time putting into words. Enjoy! 

If you have liked this, you might probably like this Flirt Guide! 

Turning on the Girls - Cheryl Benard

A wickedly amusing novel with a feminist dystopian premise 

I will make a confession: I didn't really want to read this dystopian battle of the sexes satire where women rule the world sometime in the future after a great revolution. A future where patriarchy and testosterone male hood has been banished, stiletto heels, romantic novels and rape fantasies banned and vegetarianism is mandatory. 

Behind its innocent looking, flowery cover, the pitch sounded so blatantly feminist, it screamed “feminazi". A bit though provoking indeed but too "pro-women, anti-men" for my tastes. Yet, the preview still piqued my interest, and I thought I'd just buy it and read a bit to confirm my curiosities. Secondhand books can surprise you a lot. 

I barely got through the very first page, it was as if Cheryl Benard knew what was going through my head because it was as if she had started to talk to me. No, I'm not exaggerating or crazy, the author literally breaks into the story to do a little explaining for us. About four pages later, I actually liked her unconventional prose and silly sense of wicked humor and continued to read. Much to my delight, I must add. 

You can read the preview or an excerpt online to find out about the outlandish Orwellian plot with a feminist spin so I won't repeat it all here. I just have to say that it’s been a while since I read a radically inventive novel quite like this in the recent years. Weird sci-fi movies yes but a totalitarian gender-centric novel laced with erotica and dark humour? no. 

It wasn't just the plot that had a remarkable twist, it was also the way the story was told. It’s almost as if Cheryl Benard forgot to read the rules of storytelling and skipped her writing classes in college watching Terry Gilliam's terrific 1985 gem "Brazil" for inspiration instead. And much to the reader's joy, it works most of the time. The way she pokes fun at the differences between men and women without taking sides or condemnation is a comic relief throughout. 

As long as you don’t take this very seriously and ignore the many silly clichés and unnecessary gender arguments, the subtle humor placed throughout (like Justin sipping on a "Bloody Henry") is crafty and witty, alone makes a fun breezy read. If you thought women would make the world the better place, this bizarre novel turns this idea inside out, over its head, and still surprisingly succeeds.

How to Go Bald in Style

A Requiem for Receding Hairlines

Today is my friend’s birthday (a very close comrade) and if I could buy him the perfect gift, I would gift him a magic potion for his MPB problem or simply ‘Male Pattern Baldness’.

My buddy started balding at the syrupy age of sixteen. In the sunshine years of his life, when we all stood before our mirrors, affectionately examining our emerging whiskers, he stood there anxiously fingering his barren temples. Like most mere mortals, his initial reaction to this impending disaster was one of immense and soul-stirring self-pity. For a time, he spent sleepless nights pondering over the whys and wherefores of his unlucky destiny, wondering why it had to be him and his poor pate alone.

Being however, a man of enormous resilience and coaxed by my inspirational hair-raising sermons, he decided that it was valor in the mind to take arms against a sea of troubles that to suffer the slings and arrows of an outrageous tragedy. He stood up to fights the menace of baldness that the flesh is heir… hair… too.

He purchased herbal hair oils, ayurvedic hair creams, and imported hair vitalizers and massaged them into his scalp each morning and night, outwards from the crown and not inwards from the forehead, as the label erringly advised - with a religious fervor that must have impressed even the man Upstairs. Come to think of it. I wonder if He ever had to face such a ‘hair-loss' situation!!!

The results were not exactly gratifying but he didn’t give up. After all, the number of hair strands in the bathroom following each bath had registered an remarkable decline of four and a half percent in a month. Besides, he could always try the other herbal brand I’d seen at the chemist's shop, the one with the glossy cover or the green concoction in the shapely bottle or… or… It took him one year and ten thousand rupees to realize the grave truth about hair oils and hair creams - they make you poor, they give you pimples but as a rule, they never give you hair.

A friend suggested seeing a celebrated trichologist at Bangkok, who had found a connection between sex and hair-loss and had become world famous reviving hairlines of the rich and famous but my friend having already spent a huge fortune vetoed this. One of his relatives recommended a hair-growing pilgrimage to a temple in Srilanka known for fulfilling all bodily needs while an Astrologer suggested getting the bald patches licked by a cow – apparently, a foolproof method for generating new hair but this suggestion too had to be discarded for want of an understanding and obliging cow!

During these days of unsuccessful experimentation, he had also honed up his skills of improvisation – he had developed strategic haircut patterns to camouflage the bald spots and give the barren thatch a ‘fuller’ appearance and if the situation demanded, he also wore a wig.

I shall be unfair if I do pause at this point of the chronicle to pay respects to his venerable 50 something barber who being bald himself understood the gravity of the situation. A word of advice to all balding brethren on the choice of a barber – the balder, the better. The barber who has all the hair on his head intact views a thinning plumage solely as a lucrative financial prospect. The bald barber, on the other hand, having himself been a victim to the vagaries of his disappointing genes beholds his customer with an air of compassion and views the task ahead of him as a philanthropic deed and not a materialistic undertaking. Well, barber or not - slowly but surely, he resigned himself to the terrible fact that his baldness had come to stay.

For those among you who find yourselves in the same boat, here are a few time-tested techniques to reduce the psychological trauma that accompanies this common but deeply affecting malady;

• Stop Worrying. Stress causes hair loss.

• Grow a beard. It detracts attention away from your head.

• Utilize remaining hair to cover maximum area of your bare scalp. Caution - while doing this, always stay away from ceiling fans.

• Stop being ashamed of your baldhead. Accept gracefully, the fact that your hairline and neckline are working towards a merger. Consider your prematurely bald head a distinguishing feature of your personality – after all, not everyone is lucky enough to have one.

• To counter acid remarks about your empty dome, have a few humorous answers handy. Try saying a bald head is like heaven – there is no dy(e)ing, Or say God created few perfect heads, the rest he covered with hair. Make sure they appear spontaneous. For best results, rehearse before a mirror.

• And when a women makes references to your bald head, put on your deadliest “bedroom-eyes” sexy look and say, “you know, bald men are different!” For all you know, she might want to verify the veracity of your declaration!

Happy Balding!

Wintry Leg Blues

Why winter is bad for a shameless leg addict

A long winter is awaiting. Summer has come to an end (well almost) and with it, the never-ending search for the perfect pair of legs. A lot of guys call themselves breast men or booty lovers! Boobs, hooters, ass.. whatever you want to call; it is what gets their rotor in action. I am not patronizing nor am I a sexist but you can’t see getting all hot and excited on a lazy afternoon over something that women keep mostly covered up no matter what the temperature. But legs, think about it, they are generally out there, bare and beautiful and often neglected from the male psyche unless he is clearly into leg fetish. 

I think more guys are leg men then they would think of themselves like that. Breasts really require a certain amount of mass, a critical mass or a shape you could say, to reach a true erotic enticement for men. And asses are just too all over the place to find a lot of very attractive ones. Usually a woman’s, any woman’s, most attractive part, or at least the part most easily made attractive, are her legs. An expensive pair of nylons (and they are all expensive) can hide a lot of flaws. A short skirt, no matter what it is revealing, catches every guys eye. 

A good friend commented, he recently shaved his girlfriend’s legs for her! Yeah, he did. He lost a bet and she put him to work for the day, not exactly a worst gig if you think! In the end, he made his girl happy, got the full appreciation for having her legs just as smooth as he liked, and it was not much work apparently. A lot easier than shaving our man face, he told me. 

I’m making this much more personal than I intended but legs sometimes just drive me crazy. Maybe it is the knowledge of what treasure lies at the conjunction of the two beautiful rods or the beauty of two legs flailing uncontrollably in the air behind my back. You just don’t get that much in the winter though. Most everything is done under the sheets in the winter making for much constriction and zero views. Many women cannot stand to be cold no matter how hot you make her... Maybe you should try turning the heat up in the room heater. 

So, it’s obvious to assume that I also have a fascination (not a fetish) with a certain aspect of the female form (and just the boobs or the ass). That which keeps us upright or serves to hold us tightly to each other when in the vertical. One cannot but agree that the perfect pair of legs must be proportional and I don’t mean in regard to each other silly. Proportional: as in from the top down. Whether they are fat or slim can be a turn-on or turn-off depending on what body type you prefer. Legs can be thin, heavy, long or short and still guys are thinking what they would feel like wrapped around their torso. After all, for each, his own. All said, there is indeed something about having a smooth feminine thigh touch against your rather ugly manly (and mostly hairy) leg that just drives home the obvious contrast between men and women. And that erotic contrast is an easy one to see when you compare a man’s leg to a woman’s! 

The true problem for this appreciation is when winter arrives. Suddenly, all those women with their bare legs out there for all the world to see are nowhere to be seen in the colder climes unless of course you live in a tropical country. I am just bemoaning the fact that it will usually is between 3 to 6 long wintry months before you can spend a lazy summer afternoon just admiring the legs of the pretty women of the world. 

I travel a lot you see. I was in sunny Thailand a few months ago, on business of course. The women do have nice legs in Thailand and you’ll find them aplenty. I guess it really is a prerequisite for living in a humid climate where you must have them out there all the time. But attractive legs really do not seem to be a regional phenomenon, I have found them all across the world, even in hostile snowy weather like Russia. For instance, when I was in St. Petersburg in March, I got to sample a little whiff of the legendary Russian winter. When I say cold, it’s not like anything you have felt elsewhere, it’s really freezing cold, the extreme kind of cold that would turn your balls blue! And yet, I was surprised to so many women of all ages, all covered up on top but in short skirts and big heels, flaunting their legs fashionably as if they were impervious below to the minus degree temperatures! I must also admit, Russia has the prettiest and hottest women of the planet that probably explains how Russian men (and tourists) weather the harsh winter & stay warm and happy! 

So, it brings down to the finding the perfect set of legs? I actually found them around 5 years ago in a sports club where I was a member. She was tall, cute and a brunette to boot. She helped train basketball during the summer and her husband was the coach. They were newlywed. I remember that she was really good, better than me, and had the most incredible pair of long slender legs. Perfectly tanned too, about as tall as her legs that is. She didn’t come back the next season though. Heard she had divorced her husband over the winter. Turned out she was a closet lesbian. Imagine that guys. The best fucking legs out there and they are wrapped around some girl’s head right now. Leg up, life truly is not fair.

10 Stages of Drinking

Exploring the fine art of Alcohol Consumption

Everybody loves a drunk. Whether it be the melancholy humor of W.C. Fields, the dignified swagger of Dean Martin, or the testosterone bravado of Vin Diesel... well, nearly for every good drunk, the traits tell no lies. 

If you can suck down a six-pack of Budweiser through a funnel that 24 hours earlier served as the entry point for transmission fluid into a Dodge Charger and then wipe your chin and belch your Social Security number, let's face it, you're as cool as you need to be.

My old 64-ounce Budweiser stein has grown a bit dusty, and I've become accustomed to a highball glass filled with something dark mixed with something bubbly. Soon, I imagine I'll move up to straight scotch, or maybe martinis, although I refuse to sell myself into the ever trending martini craze. Thirty something adults acting like old sixty something adults is almost as silly looking as the opposite, a sort of mid-life crisis, if you will. 

I like drinking. I had stopped but its begun again. I think I am getting good at it. And not just the "I can drink forty eight beers and not die" good. I do it quite well. If I could make money drinking, I'd get bonuses. Quarterly.

I know alcohol is an addictive drug too. However, sometimes there's a little part of me that, I don't know, distracts the thinking part of me and sort of seduces me into getting ugly, bleached, stinking, three-sheets duhrunk. It happens all the time, to all of us. But as i told you before, I'm getting good at this too, and I've learned and mastered the stages. With expert help from ace researchers, who have taken painstaking notes and measurements of this drunken state of mind, I have gotten blotto down to a science which I am calling the fine art of consumption.

Stage 1: The Refusing

It holds true that the evenings I begin by refusing the first few drinks offered me are the ones where I end up emptying a fifth of Absolut. So take note, if you don't feel like drinking, either have one right away to take the edge off, or call a cab before the nightmare ensues. This is one of the most overlooked stages, which is a shame because early prevention is so key.

Stage 2: The Relaxing

After the first two drinks I'm in my normal routine, just hanging out, being smooth, having a good time, taking a load off. The most deceptive of the stages, stage two is almost always mistaken for a nice night out with friends.

Stage 3: The Reveling

Usually accompanied by erratic (and stupid) dancing, this stage is the latter of my normal drinking routine. By this time, I'm feeling great, not quite invincible, but definitely a few pounds lighter. If I go straight home after this stage, I've done my job.

Stage 4: The Ranting

I'm not sure why, but at some point my speech becomes littered with the "F" word. Without fail. And my proximity to the public rarely puts any restraint on it. Also, I tend to get a little mean here. Requests of "Excuse me sir, could you keep it down" are usually met with, "First of all, shave your back..." and so on. This is still a familiar stage though, and there are quite a few of us who can recognize it, or, this late in the game, have it recognized for us, and retreat back to the safety of our homes before we embarrass everyone or at least receive a good pummeling. Sometimes, I get all intellectual and talk like Noam Chomsky. 

Stage 5: The Shrinking

The first of the unrecognizable or "too late" stages, shrinking can only be detected by the shrinkee, and, thus, rarely gets caught in time. Every once in a while, I can spot shrinking. People get bigger, words get bigger, the ground gets bigger, yet I am powerless to stop it. In a most fascinating aside, the stages have begun to speed up drastically at this point, actually breaking several laws of physics.

Stage 6: The Crying

Don't laugh. And stop acting like it never happens to you. This is probably the most vulnerable point in human existence short of birth. It doesn't happen every time, but if ANY amount of tequila has made its way onto my menu, I end up weeping profusely. Usually about deep things like my life or a lost friend, but also stupid things like never having become a Pilot or the being angry at the kid who broke the egg statue I made for my mom in the second grade.

Stage 7: The Bargaining

"Oh God, oh Buddha,  just let me throw up. I promise I'll..."

Stage 8: The Regurgitating

Look, you know it's coming. Don't make it such a big deal. Go to the bathroom, find a stall, and jump up and down in place. This usually gets it all out in one... heave. I know, it's disgusting, and I honestly hope you're not eating lunch or anything while you're reading this, but it's the dark fact of the social drinker. Sooner or later it's you. Note: If you've found that special someone to hold your hair, don't ever let them go.

Stage 9: The Bargaining (reprise)

"Oh God, just let me stop throwing up. I promise I'll..."

Stage 10: The Napping

I prefer to call it napping. After a hard night getting all tanked up and putting friendships and relationships and your general health on the line, you need some rest. So get home and get tucked in. And believe me, even insomniacs like me cant fight the napping power of alcohol.

These are the things society doesn't tell you. It's hard to imagine W.C. Fields bargaining, Dean Martin crying, or Vin Diesel refusing, but it happens. It happens a lot. So now, when you get set to go on that bender, you'll be prepared. And if I see you out there, let me know if I've made a difference. Unless of course I'm at stage four. Then just leave me alone until stage six, at which point I'll have all the love in the world for you.

To happy (and safe) drinking! J & W

A to Z for the Politically Illiterate

Your short cut to become politically enlightened 

The German dramaturgyst Bertolt Brecht once said "The political illiterate is so stupid that he is proud and swells his chest saying that he hates politics. The imbecile doesn’t know that, from his political ignorance is born the prostitute, the abandoned child, and the worst thieves of all, the bad politician, corrupted and flunky of the national and multinational companies". 

So, with the US presidential election round the corner, here is a A to Z to help you not become one..

Abortion:

The form of birth control most deserving of federal funds. It must be spoken of only with great solemnity,but otherwise treated the same as other birth control techniques.

Authority:

The right to coerce. It is earned either by moral certainty or by polls indicating popular support by the non-voting majority.

Bipartisanship:

The next best thing to one-party rule.

Censorship:

Dissent with authorities as to which books children should be forced to read.

Condom:

Best form of birth control as it allows sex without trust or acknowledgment of mutual risks. This prevents perversion, and retards the intimacy that can lead to troublesomely atavistic nuclear families. The only drawback is that condoms are so prohibitively expensive that no one can buy their own, so they are completely unavailable unless provided by the State.

Constitution:

1. Intangible entity by which the State is able to determine intuitively what rights it will grant its subjects. Often confused with: 

2. Actual, largely static document which purports to dictate the "proper" way to conduct matters of State.Written in such opaquely complex phraseology that only twelve living people can interpret it, it is often taken literally by ultra-right-wing arch-conservative reactionaries.See Gridlock

Compassion:

1.Political strategy of buying votes and loyalty by redistributing the confiscated property of scape goats.

2.(Archaic) Spontaneous concern for the well being of an individual, on the part of a human being.

Cruelty:

Treating animals differently than humans.

Education:

Means by which the State empowers female children and curbs the destructive phalocentric tendencies of males. This is especially important in a democracy, to insure that the electorate votes properly.

Ethics:

1.Opposite of morality (basis in self-esteem rather than humility).

2. Unwritten law by which intellectuals govern their behavior. Ethics vary according to group allegiance, but can always be determined by graduates of ethics courses.

Fanaticism:

Unnecessary philosophical consistency (with rabid stupidity and sheer hypocrisy)

God: 

1. Synonym for the State.

2. Ringleader of global reactionary phalocentric fanatic movement, and purveyor of the only pornography so vile the State must protect people from it. 

3. Sometimes useful word if used in a meaningless context.

Gridlock:

System of checks and balances instated by vaginaless caucasians to impede progress. See Constitution

Hypocrite:

1. Anyone who participates in something they claim to be opposed to. For instance: someone who says they don't like feces, and is later caught defecating.

2. Any fanatical practitioner of religion. See Fanaticism

Judgmental:

Any criticism from a member of a group known to be composed of bigoted worthless hypocrites

Morality:

Lowbrow populist substitute for ethics. Requires less education, but more religious training, often of an unsavory Judeo-Christian variety. See Judgemental

Mother:

1.Synonym for the State. 

2.A voter obsessed with the soccer matches of non-taxpayers. See Woman

Murder:

The act of killing a warm-blooded organism that is able to scream. Illegal in some states without a note from a physician.

Patriot:

One who is grateful to the government for providing a free education

Perversion: 

Sexual acts in which the partners; 

1. Trust one another more than the State,

2. Allow a chance for pregnancy to occur, 

3. Bring a penis into direct contact with a vagina, 

4. Have anything in mind other than physical pleasure.

Pregnancy:

Biological imperialism.

Prejudice:

Belief in stereotypes that are not sanctioned by authorities.

Republican:

1. Member of a small minority of extremely wealthy bunny-stompers. 

2. Member of a large majority of xenophobic, carnivorous, ignorant, trailer park dwelling Garth Brooks fans.

Society: 

1. Synonym for the State. 

2. Total set of causes for all negative behaviors in individuals. Must be eliminated.

Village: 

Synonym for the State.

Woman:

1. Crypto-feminist. 

2. Voter so receptive to education that her support can be counted on, even if you drop your pants and say "Kiss it". 

3. Breeder. 

4. A type of voter best appealed to by fear and compassion. 

5. Gynaecologicaly- endowed- american.

Y:

A chromosome that must be apologized for when it appears in conjunction with heterosexuality and melanin-deficiency.

Zoo:

Concentration camp for quadruped-americans.

Fu King Chinese Takeaway Stories

Bad food and bad sex go hand in hand!

Eating Chinese take-aways and having casual sex are two things I don't do very often, but after having a Special Chow-Mien the other night I realized the similarities between the two are numerous.  

The desire to indulge in either usually has something to do with alcohol intake and a night in the club. Being "under the influence" somehow heightens certain desires and the senses become slightly blurred. Instant gratification must be had. There are ways around this, but the rational part of our brains has long ceased to function. There's a good chance there is food in the fridge to put something vaguely edible together, and every girl or guy who knows how to scratch that itch should keep the inconspicuous snickers handy for times like these. But no, the juices are flowing, the Chinese take-way/casual sexual encounter must be had, despite those consequences. 

Seconds before consumption, a little voice will speak and you chose to ignore it. That voice will tell you that you still have time to stop, you'll regret it in the morning…. Yes, I am going to talk about the consequences, even though it hurts. Every time I do it I remember why I swore the last time I'd never do it again. So, for my benefit and the benefit of many others, here's some good reasons not to partake of either. Maybe the message will eventually sink in. 

Despite how good it feels at the time, (and you can be sure it feels gooooood!), within half an hour you will start feeling yucky. If you manage to sleep (full stomach/ stomach full, stranger in the bed maybe) you can be guaranteed you will feel so crap in the morning you will want to puke. You will hate yourself and vow to never do it again. You probably will puke, and take several showers. 

Then there's the smell. Chinese food has a way of lingering for hours, as does the latex smell of condoms. Even without condoms, sex has a smell all of it's own, not to mention sticky, sweaty bodies. The only thing to do is open the windows wide and wash everything in disinfectant, mouthwash or soap. 

I'm not completely knocking either sex or Chinese take-aways. What I will do though is suggest quality, rather than quantity. Try a sit-down meal in a restaurant, or a good Indian take-away for variation. The same goes with close encounters. If you never want to see the guy or gal again, a one-night-stand is the way to do it. If you do, I suggest giving him or her a sample of what's to come, lots and lots of snogging, even show him some nifty handwork. Or just put the whole thing down to experience. Pearl P

Happy Fathers Day !

Happy Fathers Day Greetings

Two great quote comes to mind - 'A man knows he is growing old because he begins to look like his father' but 'its a wise father that knows his own child'! And here's a funny cartoon that's more relevant of our wired times! Happy Fathers Day!

The Return of the Blog

Will be back! 

The Websnacker is out on a unconference at a beautiful tropical island deep in the Andaman sea, disconnected from the wired world and to a large extent, human civilization. Even this is an automated scheduled post. Like the iconic Terminator catchphrase, this blog will be back, very shortly! Trust the Websnacker!

Happy Labor Day!

So, How much are you REALLY Worth?

Its (a thousand or) a million dollar question?

This a way off topic but I was asked exactly this a few days ago. Its a million dollar question..okay, a few thousand dollars question? Do YOU really know your NET WORTH? Are you the picture of financial health? Do you REALLY KNOW?

You won't know the answer to that question until you take your 'Financial Snapshot' - of your financial situation, that is. In the financial world, that "financial snapshot" is known as your net worth. It's arrived at by adding the value of everything you own, then subtracting what you owe (or in accounting terms, assets minus liabilities). When you look at the bottom line, you'll quickly see whether you're financially sound. If your net worth is a big, fat positive number, chances are you're in good shape. But if the figure you come up with is barely on the positive side of the ledger - or worse, has a minus sign in front of it - you've got some work ahead of you. 

Its easy! To put together your personal financial snapshot, use a sheet of paper or appropriate computer software and follow these steps: 

First, find your most recent statements for mortgages, credit cards, bank loans, investments and any other assets or liabilities. In one column, list the current market values of all the big ticket liquid items you own - including your house, car, vacation property, furniture, art and collectibles, fine jewelry, and other valuables. Be careful not to overestimate their value. It might make you feel better, but will lead to a less-than-accurate assessment of your finances. Don't bother with small items, since they are usually difficult to convert to cash and are often of little value. 

In the same column, list the cash values of your investments - include bank accounts, stocks, bonds, mutual funds, guaranteed investment certificates, employee shareholder plans, deferred profit sharing plans, real estate investments (apart from your home) and other holdings. Don't forget to include investments held inside your registered retirement savings plan. 

In another column, list all your liabilities - include debts such as mortgages, car and other personal loans, lines of credit, credit card balances, income taxes owing (including future taxes such as those on RRSPs upon death) and other outstanding bills. Add up both columns individually to come up with your total assets and total liabilities. Finally, subtract your liabilities from your assets. The result is your net worth. 

You and your spouse (if you one) can calculate your individual net worth separately, but it is better to view your assets and liabilities together, since this will provide a more accurate picture of your family finances. You may be surprised to discover that you're worth more than you thought. On the other hand, some people will find just the opposite - that if they converted their assets to cash and paid off all debts there would be little or nothing left over. But that's not necessarily a reason to despair. For example, if you're young your net worth may be lower because you've had less time to accumulate assets. You may even have a large mortgage. As you move on in life, however, your wealth should grow. 

There is no hard and fast rule as to what constitutes "acceptable" net worth. The best way to determine whether you're on track is to consult with your financial advisor. He or she can make a quick assessment, and show you how to fine tune your finances if necessary. Now, thank the Websnacker for this handy guide!!

Happy Fathers Day

Random Randomness

An utterly random post this one! You see sometimes I just get silly for no reason I can pin down. Music, Movies or maybe the company of good friends in a good mood... whatever it is it's fun and all too rare. 

Too often the creatives live in tiny boxes and we get so used to staring at the walls of our own inventions and imposed limits that we forget that this isn't the whole big world. We pull down and bury ourselves in the work. 

Jump up! Hey, it's kind of cool out here with the silly people. Not as a steady, diet, maybe, but for a lark, it's... well, a lark. Get me lit enough and I'll stand on the back deck and sing Vivaldi or dance tango steps at bus stops. Heck, I don't even have to be drunk on alcohol to do it. Drunk on giddiness will do. 

While laughing my head off with a friend over dinner in a pub, noticed that the single geek at the table next over was trying not to stare at us. Poor thing: crouching over his laptop and annoyed that the girls at the next were laughing and talking about sex, music, art and beer.... Obviously the poor fella needed a few more beers himself....

Self-aggrandizing Me, Myself & Movie Blogging

Vanity, Cinema reviews & iconoclasms

I have been seeing a rather unusual upward spike in my Blog Traffic this year. New visitors, loads of comments and plenty of new subscribers! So, if you’re new to this blog, here’s how it works. 

Along with my fellow bloggers in crime, I ramble on and on and say whatever comes into our head - mostly films, music, everyday life, etc but by and large its Cinema (or at least if you consider all the recent posts). I think Peter Weller’s “The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension” released in 1984 is a cult gem. Wait a minute, did I say Buckaroo Banzai? I know what you’re thinking. We should be crazy but then everyone has opinions about movies! 

Here’s how it started many years ago! I was moonshining for an indie men’s magazine based at Seattle, and I got invited to write a weekly movie/music review column to give it a little zing and color. Well, I gave it tonnes of vim & zing and my contribution was tremendously popular (honestly). 

In a country-wide poll, my movie review column was voted the best new thing in recent issues - better even than the hot busty babes in the center spreads. I’m usually a diffident humble sort of fellow, but I confess that I could immediately see column syndication, international recognition, a potential best selling book, and incalculable prosperity just ahead. 

Then, all of a sudden, in one of those tragic ironies of job life, I was booted out - a victim of editorial jealousy or my editor would want to believe ‘corporate downsizing’. Maybe as Scott ‘Dilbert’ Adams would say, I got “happy-sized.” 

My only consolation being, a lot of people who still had their jobs at the mag, some of them the inept editors responsible for ousting me, were (and probably still are) night after night stupidly bringing DVDs of horrid movies like Cop Out, Gigli, Alexander, Blood Rayne…and later saying to their spouses, “Sorry, honey, I guess that wasn’t a good choice - I do wish Websnacker still wrote that video column.” Poor dumb slobs. 

Meanwhile, my column enjoyed a short but happy revived life in the web edition of a popular but (now dead) ezine, until my old blog was born (now, that’s dead too)! Ok! Enough of the self-aggrandizement! 

Let’s just say the column has continued in different reincarnations including this blog – a way to reassure my loyal readers and a welcome to a whole new generation of film devotees with energizing blend of cinematic criticism and inspiring movie iconoclasm. Well, at least until I burn all my savings, close my current company and lose my web capabilities. 

And for those of you who don’t know what I mean about that movie iconoclasm stuff, I’ll give you an example. Here’s a scandalous declaration: This year's Oscars sucked and Spielberg’s Lincoln was a unnecessarily long, boring, bad movie and the stuff they made about Slavery in the US – utterly and historically untrue! 

There, I said it. Now, if you feel weak, bend over, puke and put your head between your knees or drink up a Red Bull, go to your nearest library and pick a good history book!

Citizen Toxie: The Toxic Avenger IV (2000)

Hilariously bizarre 4th sequel to the 80s Cult Hit  

Nobody makes disgusting, lowbrow, depraved films devoid of any form of redeeming value better than Lloyd Kaufman and the folks at Troma Entertainment and that's what makes them so fun. Kaufman's fourth installment in the adventures of the Toxic Avenger, the cult campy classic from the 1980s is an unashamed, downward spiral into a cesspool of severed limbs and toilet humor with myriad political, cultural and societal references thrown in for added pleasure.

The difference between this low budget gem of a flick and other gross-out fare (including from the B-movie specialists at Troma) is that Citizen Toxie has a take-no-prisoners attitude with enough social commentary. There is something to offend everybody in this edition and I do mean everybody. 

This time around, our beloved Toxie finds himself replacing his evil counterpart - the Noxious Offender aka Noxie in an alternate time warped universe - Amortville (Troma in reverse), where corrupt politicians, crooked cops and evil drug dealers reign supreme - sort of like the present day United States on steroids. 

I want say more but Citizen Toxie is the best Toxic Avenger film since the ground-breaking cult original that was released in 1985 (it's also one of Troma's best). Watch out for Ron Jeremy, B-movie queen Debbie Rochon and fun cameos by Corey Feldman, Hugh Hefner, Al Goldstein, Eli Roth,  Julie Strain, the director himself - Lloyd Kaufman and others. A bizarre superhero movie of the cult kind to end 2012! 

Free Video Link - Streaming and Download - VeeHD

A Piece of Ass for Thanksgiving !

How were you Born ?

I was certainly born to Boogie!!

A Flight Experience Like No Other

Helluva Ride inside the Cockpit! 

I am going to break a secret! A hush-hush pact between 4 other souls and me - two of whom who I had actually never ever met before. A secret (if known to the authorities) that’s guaranteed to make them lose their plush jobs and probably get me into a legal nightmare!! Okay, before you make vague assumptions of what whale of a sin we had all committed, I am breaking that oath for you!  

Once, I had to travel urgently from Metropolis A to Cosmopolis B and there was a mess-up with my flight ticket, boarding to realize that it was fully overbooked. Opposing all attempts to be booted down, I desperately pleaded with the senior flight attendant who as my luck would have it, happened to be a very good friend (a junior at college) to help me take this flight. Fortunately for me, the Pilot i.e the Captain was his cousin and help they did - going beyond their call of flight duty and committing a deadly sin. I was shown to be moved into the Business Class area (which was also filling up fast) and then surreptitiously invited to ride on the Jump Seat. Yes, the Jump Seat of their aircraft. And that’s a one-in-a- million luxury that no common man can afford to ride on! Seriously! 

To those uninitiated in Airline terminology, all major aircrafts have a petite, secretive, tiny seat in the cockpit area that opens out to accommodate one additional crew – the Jump Seat, perhaps named so for reasons one does not want to certainly imagine. Also known as the Auxiliary Crew Seat, it is placed between the two pilots, slightly to the back of the cockpit but believe me, it offers a spellbinding experience and spectacular views compensating for all the inconvenience of the small seat! 

I will not describe the take-off, it was too quick and all over before I could settle in but have no doubt; the scenery from the Cockpit is downright stunning. Miles and miles ahead, the visibility was crystal-clear astounding; with beautiful clouds with their weird human like patterns for company. Besides, I could actually see other aircrafts in mid-air, the ocean and mountains from over maybe 100 miles away. 

It’s like watching a National Geographic special in an IMAX 4D theater compared to the rudimentary views we are used to seeing from the puny, flight windows in any airline seat. As a passenger, you can only see sideways and you cannot get the feeling of the range and distance that the aircraft is flying but from inside the cockpit, the view is almost 180 degrees and the depth of that subtle yet dazzling experience is something that you can only realize if you ever get this chance. It would be nice if all Aircraft manufacturers realize this potential money spinner and maybe one day, build special seats that will allow the lucky passenger to witness and feel this amazing experience. 

Even when flying along at roughly 500 miles per hour, the ride on the Jump seat was super smooth and I got to listen to all the air traffic control chatter which seems to come in small incessant bursts. The sheer assortment of switches and buttons present inside the cockpit is also spectacularly perplexing but both the pilots (the Captain, a burly friendly guy in his early fifties and his young, early thirtyish co-pilot) knew how to use them with an amazing craftsmanship like ease. And if you are those who have this fancy idea from countless mid-air movies that any man, woman or that hot buxom babe in distress, preferably in a see through torn dress, can land an aircraft, ditch that. Well, I can positively tell you that it is not just improbable; it’s unquestionably impossible and is surely not as easy as it sounds. 

Tempting as it is, I was almost driven by an irresistible urge to toggle one button or two and see what happens. One lever like appendage particularly caught my attention – it read something like 'Reverse Thrusters' but sanely, just the thought of the horrified looks on the faces of my fellow passengers aboard the aircraft was more than enough to deter me from trying that stunt. 

Midway after a few minutes, when we were all offered refreshments, the Captain informed me that the aircraft was now on auto-pilot - flying all by itself and that if required, it could also equally land on its own. Not in the mood to make him try anything so adventurous, I graciously declined to experience such a landing, the thought being so audacious. Even so, the plane sped along happily like a kite, swaying beautifully as if under some type of an arcane spell. 

Anyone with a dread of flying will find the cockpit comforting. I think that a person’s fear of flying lies in the unknown – all those scary bumps, jerks, sudden drops in height, long shudders and seemingly strange noises from the aircraft ominously mean something but inside the cockpit, they vanish - you are here in the driver’s seat and all those noises and movements seem like an artisan at work. 

After almost 6 hours, it was landing time. Coming back to earthly land was oddly like slowing down your sports car in traffic and finding a nice place to park. The air traffic control chatter was suddenly back in full throttle, lots of switches were clicked, buttons pushed and screens looked at. I guess, both the Pilots deciphered all that babble and directed the craft at a runway ahead which was magnifying in size almost instantaneously. The Captain made the standard landing announcement and after a few seconds of momentarily silence, came in slowly and landed as gently as a feather touch! But I was for some strange reason, palpably tensed throughout the landing. 

After maybe a few minutes of landed leisurely ride on the runway, I could see an animated young chap on the ground with flags in hand who helped in the parking and bringing the craft to a standstill. The Pilots smiled at each other, switched off an assortment of devices and then looked at me, as if to ask “ So, how was the ride ? “ 

My flight attendant friend was soon back, telling me that I had to wait and I would be the last person to depart. On leaving, the captain gave me a firm handshake and made me promise not to tell anyone or even faintly admit that I ever got into their cockpit (hence the silly codenames for the cities). I just thanked him and the co-pilot, feebly nodding my head to convey my concurrence. The flight experience had been so exhilarating that I was visibly lost for words. 

A good 25 to 30 minutes later, when it was sure that every passenger had departed, I was stealthily escorted out and driven to the terminal. My friend repeatedly reminding that I needed to keep this promise and I owed her now a big favour!

It’s almost few years now but that ride is still all very vivid and fresh to me. And every time I board a aircraft, like a little child, I still yearn to sit up in front with the modern equivalent of the train driver and relive those delightful moments all over again. 

And to every one who has a valid ticket but still end up getting deboarded, ensure you make friends with the aircraft flying types and you never know, one day, you may get this chance and one helluva ride on undeniably the best seat on the plane!