No, as a Matter of Fact, It Doesn't Depend on What the Definition of “Up to” Is

Savage Love

My wife and I were recently regaling each other with anecdotes from our past, and she easily had the most interesting story: it seems that when she was a young woman in college, a fellow student invited her over for lunch. It turns out that he thought she was lunch. He quickly had her clothes off and was kissing her, although he was still dressed. Then he brought out a vibrator. He applied the vibrator, she had an orgasm, and then she called a halt to the proceedings. They went back to school, and that was the beginning and the end of their relationship.

Did she have sex?

…My wife’s view is that since he never got his clothes off and she never saw his cock, she really didn’t have sex. We would like your opinion on this. — Definition Essential For Intensely Novel Experience

Let’s say you and I met in a bar, DEFINE, while the wife was out of town, and we hit it off. And let’s say I took you home, stripped you naked, made out with you, sucked your dick, ate your ass, spanked you, tossed you in a sling, fist-fucked you, and then — with my right arm buried up to my elbow in your ass — slowly stroked you with my left hand until you blew a massive load all over your stomach, chest, and face.

Now let’s say I taped the whole thing and e-mailed a copy to your wife. I think it’s highly unlikely that your wife would turn to you after watching the video — remember: I don’t get naked, you never see my dick — put a hand on your knee, and say, “Well, I’m glad you didn’t have sex with Dan Savage.”

I have to agree: If you're up to your elbow in ass, you're having sex, and if the elbow or the ass isn't your betrothed's, you're cheating.

Seriously, people, this isn't even a close call.

People Do the Darnedest Things.

“Hello! I'm so glad to catch you at home.

“Before we begin, I want to thank you for taking the time to talk with me. I can appreciate how busy you are and how important the time in the evenings with your family is to you, so I won't keep you long.

“I'm Special Agent Bohica, with the United States Treasury Department's Secret Service division. How are you this evening? Good. Good.

“As I said, I know how valuable your time is so I won't waste it any further with pleasant small talk. I'll just get right to the point. It's about your Facebook poll, the one about the president.



“While no one respects your First Amendment right to criticize the government and its elected officials like we do, no one understands the restrictions on that right — especially as they apply to threats to the president — better than we do. I guess, you could call us the experts.

“Even experts need a hand every now and then, though. Sometimes, it's hard to know where someone's right ends and his prison sentence begins. That's why I called. Before I determine what action is called for in this case, I need to know what your intent was.

“Now, I'm sure you were just expressing some good, old American rage in a grossly inappropriate way, as we are all prone to do.

“In fact, when this incident is all cleared up, I'll tell you about the overreaction that got me this desk assignment. Perfect misunderstanding gone awry. Guy called the White House, and, long story short, my partner said I'd never get the whole cattle prod up there, but by golly… But that's for later.

“Anyway, back to the matter at hand. We're under a lot of pressure here to get things right because all it takes is one mistake, one misunderstanding, and someone dies. I don't want that. Believe me, you don't want that. To avoid any accidents, then, I need you to clarify your intentions. I know. It's seems so obvious, I'm almost too embarrassed to ask, but I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't. So, tell me: you weren't threatening the president of the United States from your Facebook page, were you?

“This is important, so think it over. Take all the time that you need. Don't feel rushed in the least bit. We've still got guys outside getting into place, setting up lines of sight, what have you. We can wait as long as is necessary; so, take a deep breath, relax, and give me the answer you want your survivors to read in the report.

“What's that? What poll am I talking about? Why, the one on your Facebook page about killing…


“Ah. So, we do understand each other.

“Thanks again for your time. I apologize again for taking you away from your family. You enjoy the rest of your evening.”

James, I'd Like to Join You and Dr. Joyce Brothers, but I Don't Want to Sweat Out My Perm

Voiceover: It's time for “James Brown's Celebrity Hot Tub Party,” and now, here he is The Godfather of Soul and Hot Tub Fan No. 1 JAMES BROWN!

James Brown: Should I get in the hot tub?

Band: Yeah!

James Brown: Will it make me sweat?

Band: Yeah!

James Brown: Should I get in the hot tub?

Band: Yeah!

James Brown: Will it make me wet?

Band: Yeah!

James Brown: Here I go in the hot tub. [sticks his toe in] HIIIIIIIIIE! Too hot in the hot tub. Burned myself.




You know what can make it too hot in your hot tub? A pair of gold lamé speedos. Don't kill the messenger.

If You Know of a Better Way for the Loman Kids to Get Their Daily Recommended Allowance of Nicotine, I'm All Ears

It's wrong — so very, very wrong — but it's also my new favorite website, Why the F–k Do You Have a Kid?

But Ghost? That's Still One Shitty Movie

Patrick Swayze - Chippendale
by tressage

The large-headed pelvic thrusters of the world have lost their leader, and the rest of us are the worse for his passing. Now, the sun will shine a little dimmer, the air will taste less sweet, and the roses will smell a little more like sweaty, Farley butt crack. We've been diminished by one degree of Swayze. Grieve quietly.

(By the way, Swayze, you were awesome in Roadhouse. Only you could have delivered the line “Pain don't hurt” with a straight face. Ditto, dude. Ditto)

I Told You I Was Innocent Not the Father

Marketing bosses posted a video on YouTube featuring a beautiful blonde looking for the father of her baby which she conceived during a one-night stand.

The fake “mum” claimed the little boy was the result of boozy sex with a stranger — after she introduced him to the Danish custom of “cosiness”.…

The embarrassed tourism agency Visit Denmark were forced to pull the clip.…

The revelation the ad was a hoax caused outrage across the country, with one newspaper labelling the stunt “grotesque”.

VisitDenmark initially tried to defend their actions claiming the film was a “good and sweet story about a mature, responsible woman who lives in a free society and shoulders the responsibility of her actions”.

But backtracking chiefs later apologised and claimed the aim of the viral advertising campaign was to create a positive view of Denmark.


And nothing creates a positive view of a country like sexually active women and no-frills government assistance for children with deadbeat dads.

(Did you hear that France, or wherever Monica Bellucci calls home these days?)

Einstein Lives!

That's awes… Wait. Who's going to put the beer into the mini-fridge? Is there a beer-bot that does that, because if you're telling me I've got to waddle over and fill the fridge, myself, you, sir, have found your deal-breaker.

Genius, indeed. Good day to you, sir.

I said, “Good day!”

I Vacationed in Denmark Canada. Why do you ask?

Listen carefully because I am not going to say this again: “I did not have sex with that woman, Ms. …”

Oh, Yeah. That's It. Right There. Yes, Yes, Yes. Wait… Mom?

A woman who gave her son up for adoption 10 years ago is now accused of having sex with the teen after finding him on the Internet.

Aimee Louise Sword, 35 of Waterford Township, has been charged with third-degree criminal sexual conduct in the case.

Investigators say she used the Internet to find her biological son.

Sword was arrested after Child Protective Services informed police of the sex accusations.


“...The face is a little hazy, but I'd know that vagina anywhere.”

Sometimes, You've Got to Give the Devil His Due

Roman Catholic couples are being encouraged to pray together before they have sex.

A book published by a prominent Church group invites those setting out on married life to recite the specially-composed Prayer Before Making Love.

It is aimed at “purifying their intentions” so that the act is not about selfishness or hedonism.…


I don't mean to look askance at their efforts, but, seriously, if the woman in that picture is on her knees in my bedroom, my intentions couldn't be purified with boiling holy water and a Rosary conducted on specially crafted anal beads, pulled from my bum.

Don't believe me? Okay, I was hoping I wouldn't have to share this, but since seeing that picture of Goody Two Shoes up there, all I can think about is the sex scene in Deliverance: “You're about to get on your knees and pray, and let's hope you pray real good.” What chance does the power of prayer have against thoughts as impure as that? And before you answer, you should know that, now, I am thinking about how much fun it would be to make her squeal like a pig. Your turn: purify that with prayer.

Really, prayer shouldn't concern itself with purity; it should concern itself with expressing gratitude or begging for mercy, like “Please, god, don't let this be the last rubber” or “For what I am about to receive, let me be truly grateful,” or, possibly, “Good bread, good meat, good god, let's eat,” in which case bread and meat would, hopefully, be metaphors. Prayer in any other form would just be a waste of time.

Besides, the prayer they came up with? A real boner killer.

Hey! You with the Tofurkey! The Texas State Fair Says, “Suck It, Bitch”

Last year, Chicken Fried Bacon and a Fried Banana Split took top honors at the annual Big Tex Choice Awards to pick the best new foods at the State Fair of Texas.

This year, the competition is equally innovative (and similarly deep-fried).

• Deep Fried Butter could push the grease-o-meter to a new high. “100 percent pure butter is whipped 'til light and fluffy, then specially sweetened with a choice of several flavors.” It is then surrounded by a “special dough” and quick-fried.


Fried Coca-Cola, take a hike. Texas Fried Pecan Pie, oh, please. Fried Peanut Butter Cup Macaroon, I can't believe they didn't laugh you out of the competition. You, everyone of you, disgust me.

All you did with your clever entries was disguise what you were really frying up for the Longhorn state's Sans-a-belt and stirrup-pantsed grazers. You were cowards, afraid to be true to the mission, which is why you lost.

The creators of Deep Fried Butter, on the other hand, did what most successful entrepreneurs do: they cut out the middleman. Instead of breading and frying a fat-delivery system, they just breaded and fried fat.

Pure.

Genius.

For thinking outside the cardiac unit, they should win the prize.

They've already won my wheezing heart.

Tequila, It's a Hell of a Drug

Mr. Harper: Feel that, Mr. President. Are you appreciating how crusty and rash-y the surface is? Well, sir, that's what a tongue feels like after a night of drinking tequila.

In fact, this is an actual tongue, Mr. Calderon's. I told him to stop after three Margaritas, but then, those co-ed showed up, demanding to do body shots, and…

What's that, Mr. President? Yes, we did have to trim it down to get it to fit in the exhibit. Very astute observation.

What's that, Mr. Calderon?

Mr. Calderon: Ik wur go bawhh?

Mr. Harper: Yes, “Mister I-am-the-Lizard King. Drink-heartily-from-my-Patrón-dipped-staff-of-life-and-prosper,” once it shrinks to normal size, we can reattach it. You'll be as good as new..