I probably think about this commercial 700 times a day
Artificial intelligence is funnier than people.
There’s no sense in trying anymore.
For the record, you’re going to hell for reading this.
“Great tits,” Geoff said while glancing through his binoculars.
“Excuse me?” Becky asked.
“There’s a titmouse nest in that tree.”
Being spurned by their original canoeing partners, Becky and Geoff were fuming while floating down river. Geoff was trying to forget that his sister was with a strange man. Becky, meanwhile, wanted to make that same man jealous.
She opened her cooler and dug out a few wine shooters.
“Have you ever drank alcohol, Geoff?” she asked.
“Never. The Bible forbids it.”
“But Jesus was a wino,” she replied.
Becky then stripped off her t-shirt, exposing her bikini top. Noticing this, Geoff shifted in his seat to hide his boner. “I think I’ll try one of those,” he told Becky.
“How old are you Geoff?” she asked.
“Have you ever been married?”
“Once. I met her online. I sent her $10,000 and a picture of my butthole. I never heard from her again..”
“Aww. I’m so sorry to hear that,” Becky said. She stood up and removed her shorts, leaving only her bikini bottom. Geoff tried to disguise his glances as he sipped his wine.
“It’s a little warm out here Geoff,” Becky said. “Why are you wearing khaki pants and a pea green polo?”
“The Lord says that we should be modest at all times. I don’t even look at my penis in the shower.”
“God wouldn’t blame you for taking your shirt off.”
Geoff thought for a moment. Finally, he stood up and removed his polo, exposing his white, pasty body and hairy man boobs for God and everyone to see.
“Now that’s much better, isn’t it?” Becky said. “You can take off your pants too.”
Geoff took a deep breath, stood up again, and dropped his khakis. He sat back down in the canoe, wearing only his mildly urine stained tighty-whities.
Staring at his disgusting body, Becky continued to pound the wine. “Maybe we should stop off at this cove,” Becky said. The two paddled towards the river’s edge.
Geoff pulled the canoe out of the water while Becky laid down a towel in the grass. “Why don’t you come sit by me?” she asked. Geoff poked his glasses up to his face and waddled towards her.
Becky was relaxed while Geoff awkwardly sat up with his arms around his knees. “You have nothing to be worried about, Geoff. I don’t bite,” she said.
“Shucks,” he replied, “this is the closest I’ve ever been to a woman, other than my sister.”
Becky cozied up to Geoff and he began to relax a bit. Then she placed her hand on his thigh, uncomfortably close to his dong. “How do you feel about John being with your sister right now?” she asked him.
“Well,” he started to say while adjusting his glasses, “I don’t like it. Mom and Dad wanted me to look out for her while they’re gone.”
Becky took his hand and placed it on her boob. “And how do you feel about your sister?” she asked.
It took a moment for Geoff to gather his thoughts. “Uhh, well,” he said, “she never let me feel her boobs.”
“What do you think about my boobs?”
Becky removed her bikini top and Geoff quickly withdrew his glance. “You can look,” she said. Geoff slowly drifted his eyes towards her chest.
“Have you ever been touched down there before?” Becky asked.
“I touched myself once. It didn’t go well.”
“Well let me try”. Becky then removed Geoff’s disgusting, hole-y underwear which exposed his uncut, partially erect penis. The smell was ungodly.
Becky tried to hold back from vomiting as she placed his pathetic excuse for a penis into her mouth. Geoff thought that this was unnatural, but something was happening…something that he never experienced before. Becky stroked him once, maybe twice. Before he could say anything, 40 years of backed-up semen was UNLEASHED all over her boobs.
“Jesus Christ, Geoff!” Becky screamed.
“Wh-wh-what just happened?! Did we make a baby?”
“You did the right thing, Geoff,” Brother Ted said from behind the bushes. Startled, Becky instantly covered herself. “Were you watching us the entire time?!” she exclaimed.
“Sure was!” Ted said as he climbed out from the bushes. “And while I don’t approve of premarital sex, I think you two handled this perfectly.”
Geoff stood up and dusted the dirt off from his flabby butt cheeks. “How so, sir?” he asked.
“You see,” Ted continued, “Onan unleashed his seed all over the ground, which angered God. But you, Geoff, busted ALL over Becky’s boobs. This pleases God. And never mind my erection, it’s a side effect of my ED medication.”
“So premarital sex is okay?” Becky asked.
“Woah woah woah, I didn’t say that!” Ted said. “For the record, God says that a man should always bust in a woman for the purposes of procreation, and you SHOULD be married for procreation. Let’s just get that out of the way. But there’s a loophole: if two…or more…people are having sexual intercourse, if the man can’t bust INSIDE the woman, he must bust ON her. Additionally, if outside of marriage, all sexual activity must be monitored by one’s pastor. Or, in this case, me. This is 100% biblical.”
Geoff exhaled. “I am so relieved,” he said.
“I can tell! That was a lot of sperm!” Ted said. “But we got bigger problems: Alyssa and John are missing. We must find them before John deflowers your sister without my supervision.”
“No!” Geoff said adamantly. “They must not have any sex whatsoever.”
“Or whatever dude,” Ted said. “I’m just here to move the plot along.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
So I dreamt that David Spade walked up to me to start some shit. Then I punched him in the stomach and said “you ain’t so tough without Chris Farley.”
Director/Screenwriter Paul Schrader, on his infamous Facebook account, reposted an article of Elizabeth Olson defending the Marvel films (I dunno, didn’t read it). This predictably started a shitstorm in the comments.
Listen, I don’t know what “art” is. It’s “expression”, I guess. That’s all I can say. The Marvel movies aren’t my cup of tea. At least not yet. Whether or not they are art is not up to me.
But would I consider Death Wish III, Robocop 2, and loads of other schlock as “art”?
So actually, under my criteria, the Marvel films easily hurdle the “art” threshold. But the bigger question is: will people remember and still be discussing these films 20 years from now?
The “disaster craze” of the 1970s… the Towering Inferno, the Airport films, Earthquake, etc, with their big budgets and all-Star casts…were all financially successful but hardly anyone remembers them. Someone compared the Marvel movies to Westerns of way back when, but I think they’re much more similar disaster films of nearly 50 years ago.
Someone once said that the Academy Awards shouldn’t be decided until at least 10 years after a film’s release. This gives it time to resonate with the people instead of simply handing out accolades because it felt good in the moment.
I agree with this.
So are Marvel movies “art”? Yes.
Are they quality “art”? I guess time will tell.
Honestly, this is probably the greatest mashup of all time. Up there with Slipknot and Justin Bieber.
Look, I’m trying to get to the good stuff (all the nasty sex). But I’m trying to get there organically, alright? Give me a break.
At the campfire, Geoff was playing Nearer, My God, To Thee on his acoustic guitar.
“Maybe you should put that away,” Alyssa told him.
Nine church goers were attending the camping trip in total. Brother Ted walked back to the camp after reliving himself in the river. “Woo! That water’s cold!” he declared.
He sat down at the edge of the fire and took out his Bible. “Being in nature reminds me of the awesome power of God,” Ted said. “But 1 John tells us to hate the world and everything in it. All of it will be destroyed in the Second Coming. None of this matters.” He then grabbed a trash bag and dumped its contents on the ground.
Alyssa tried to get close to John, but it appeared that she had competition. Sister Becky was close to Alyssa’s age. She was the touchy-feely type, laughed at every joke…even when a joke wasn’t being told. Most men responded to her flirty nature, but John was different. Alyssa tried to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“When I returned from Iraq, I successfully underwent conversion therapy,” John told Becky, “I haven’t had those kinds of feelings in nearly 2 years.”
“You’re such a brave man,” Becky responded as she gently touched his arm. Alyssa typically wasn’t the jealous type, but Becky was really trying her.
Everyone began roasting marshmallows and hotdogs but John took out a pork shoulder. He could have easily pulled back the plastic film covering it but used his Bowie knife instead.
“Shouldn’t you cook that before you eat it?” Brother Ted asked. “Nonsense,” John replied as he tore into the meat with his teeth, “God gave our bodies everything we need to digest raw pork.”
Alyssa woke up in the middle of the night to relieve herself. She walked a few yards from the camp and squatted behind a tree. While peeing, she heard painful grunts coming a few feet away.
“Who’s there?” she whispered into the dark. But All she heard was more grunting.
When she finished, Alyssa stood up and began wondering towards the direction of the sound. Behind another tree was John, pants around his ankles, squatting in agonizing pain.
“Are you okay?!” she asked him.
“I feel like my guts exploded!” John replied. He was blasting out one fart after another.
“I’ll go get help!”
“No!” John exclaimed, “I can’t let them see me like this! You gotta help me!”
“What can I do?”
“Just stay here with me.”
Alyssa knelt down beside John and held his hand. He started expelling an ungodly amount of diarrhea out of his anus. The stench was almost unbearable. When he finished, he looked up to her with his bloodshot, watery eyes.
“Thank you,” John said. Alyssa gave him a smile.
Afterwards, he stood up and washed his fecal-covered buttcrack in the river. When he finished, he walked back to Alyssa. As he took her by the hand, he said to her, “You can’t tell anyone about this.”
She nodded in return.
The two went back to their tents. As Alyssa climbed into her sleeping bag, she thought about John and thanked God for giving her such an intimate moment with him.
The next morning, groups were pairing up for the canoe trip. Becky approached John to row down river with her. He paused and scratched his forehead. “Uhh, actually I was planning to go with Alyssa,” he told her.
Becky stood up straight. “Alyssa? Really? But I assure you that I’m a much better rower than her,” she said.
“Good! That’s why you should go with Geoff.”
As Geoff was putting on his life jacket, John grabbed him and paired him with Becky. “Good luck!” he told him, and paddled off with his sister.
“Geoff’s not gonna like that,” Alyssa said, “he’s the jealous type.”
“Sorry, but I figured that I owe you an explanation for last night,” John replied.
“None’s necessary, John. You see, I get the bubble guts too.”
“I don’t think you understand,” he said. “I have IBS…Irritable Bowel Syndrome. So you understand why I hope we can keep this a secret.”
“But why John? Why?”
“Because…,” he gave a long pause, “I was laughed at as a child. Everyone called me Mr.Poopypants. I couldn’t walk 10 feet without poop running down the back of my legs. I had to tape up the bottom of my jeans to prevent turds from slipping out and everyday my pants would fill up with poopoo.”
Tears began to well up in John’s eyes. “Everyone thinks that I’m some kind of hero,” he continued, “but in my own mind, I’m always gonna be Mr. Poopypants.”
With his back against her, Alyssa wrapped her arms around John’s body and placed her head just below his neck. “You’re not Mr. Poopypants to me, John. Your secret is safe. But maybe you should stop eating raw pork.”
John placed his left hand top of Alyssa’s that was resting on his chest. “I’m glad I’ve finally met someone like you,” he said.
TO BE CONTINUED…
For the record, I feel disgusted for writing this.
Meeting John was a welcome distraction for Alyssa. She managed to get close to him for a brief, fleeting moment. As she introduced herself, John held her hand firmly yet gently while their eyes locked. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Alyssa,” he said.
Her heart fluttered.
That night, Alyssa treated herself to a bath. She prayed and thanked God for bringing John into her life. She needed something else to think about other than her parents, who were probably being waterboarded in some cold North Korean dungeon at that very moment. While laying in the warm water, Alyssa let her mind wander.
As she thought about John, she began exploring herself, starting with her bosom on down to her excitable parts below. Though almost 30, Alyssa had only been with one other man…a premarital mistake she hoped would never happen again. She was saving herself; saving herself for a man like John.
She was both relaxed yet enraptured by thoughts of John moving up and down her body with his large, steady hands. As she was nearing climax, Geoff slid in through the bathroom door.
“Don’t mind me,” he said, “I’m just grabbing my toothbrush.”
Startled, Alyssa sat up in the bathtub and covered herself. “Geoff!” she screamed, “do you mind?!”
“What’s the big deal?” he asked. “I’ve definitely seen a naked woman before. No need to sneak a peek of my sister in the bath.”
“Were you masturbating?” Geoff asked. “You know that the Bible says we shouldn’t spill our seed.”
“I don’t have ‘seed’ you dolt!”
“Well God says we shouldn’t take pleasures in the body. So you better get out of the tub and get to bed. And never mind my erection. It’s a side effect of my blood pressure medication.”
“I’m a grown woman Geoff. You don’t have to tell me what to do.”
Geoff sighed and scratched his forehead. “Look Alyssa,” he said, “before mom and dad went to North Korea, they wanted me to look after you until God provided you with a husband. I’m sorry if I come across as a little protective. I hope you understand.”
“I do understand,” Alyssa said as she wrapped herself in a towel, “but I’m fine. We’re both grown adults. God will release mom and dad soon. I know He will. I know that none of this has been easy for you.”
“Indeed it hasn’t,” Geoff replied, then he extended out his arms. “Hug?”
“No. I’m good.”
Alyssa attended Wednesday Bible study in hopes that John would be there. She arrived 30 minutes early to help set up chairs and tables. As she took her seat, Brother Ted laid his hand on her shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said.
She gave him a faint smile then opened her Bible. As the clock struck 7pm, Brother Ted began the study. “Please turn to Mark chapter 4,” he said.
John was nowhere to be found.
Alyssa’s heart started to sink. Although she was ashamed to admit it, she began to regret coming to the meeting. Then, as Brother Ted was reading through the passage, a handsome figure walked through the door.
“Sorry I’m late,” John said, “a madman hijacked a school bus and threatened to kill everyone on board. So I had to storm the bus and strangle the man with my barehands in front of all of the children.”
“Amen Brother John,” Ted said, “glad you could make it.”
Alyssa breathed a sigh of relief and blushed a little when he gave her a glance. Brother Ted read Mark 4:30-32:
“Again he said, “What shall we say the kingdom of God is like, or what parable shall we use to describe it? It is like a mustard seed, which is the smallest of all seeds on earth. Yet when planted, it grows and becomes the largest of all garden plants, with such big branches that the birds can perch in its shade,” Brother Ted read. “What does this passage mean to you?”
The room was silent for a few moments before John raised his hand. “What it means to me,” he began, “is that even though individually we are unimportant, collectively, if we are fruitful and multiply, we are powerful.”
The room nodded in agreement.
“Additionally,” John continued, “this is why it’s essential to preserve your seed. The more we waste, the less we can spread. That’s why I’m saving mine. So that one day I can plant mine into a fertile garden and have many offspring.”
He then looked over to Alyssa, who quickly looked away. But she knew. She knew right then that John was a part of God’s plan for her. As the study dragged on, Alyssa prayed for God to give her the strength to approach him.
When the study concluded, Alyssa started gathering her belongings. Then she heard a voice behind her. “Alyssa, right?” it asked. She turned around and there was John towering over her.
She nervously chuckled. “Yes,” she said.
“I heard about your parents, maybe I could fly to North Korea, take out my Bowie knife, and cut out the hearts of every commie bastard over there,” John joked.
“I’m sure you could,” Alyssa smiled, but the thought of him slaughtering millions made her loins quiver.
“I know that this is a difficult time for you,” John said, “Last night I prayed for God to return your parents home safely. So I’m sure that God will magically drop that $10.8 million into your lap at any moment. Either that, or the United States will nuke that godforsaken country right off the map. God Bless President Donald Trump, the REAL elected President. But until then, to get your mind off things, I want to invite you to a camping trip next week that I’ve organized with the church. Brother Ted will be there. And you can invite Geoff.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Alyssa replied.
A warm smile came over John’s face. “I guess I’ll see you then,” he said. She returned the smile.
Alyssa slowly walked out to her vehicle. When she climbed in, she turned up the radio and screamed for joy.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Alright, here’s the first chapter to my Christian erotica story.
Ain’t promising that it’s gonna be good
“Amen!” Geoff yelled. It sounded more like he yelled ammo. Her brother’s enthusiasm for Sunday service sometimes annoyed Alyssa Edwards.
The preacher, Brother Ted, addressed his parishioners. “Folks,” he said, “sometimes I wake up in a pool of my own sweat and pants soaked in urine. Could it be the side effects of medication that’s causing this? Or could it be my guilty conscience from all the nights I drove home blackout drunk and full of hydros?”
The pews echoed with amens.
“I think it is God’s way of telling me that I’m a sinner and that every morning I should wake up in absolute horror, get on my knees, and thank Him for not striking me down dead right then and there.”
“Now folks,” Brother Ted continued, “sin’s a terrible thing. For every sin committed, we should have our skin flayed, eyes poked out, and toothpicks shoved up our pee holes. But there’s a way out. In John 14:6, Jesus says ‘I am the way, the Truth, and the Life. No one comes to the Father except through me’!”
“So if you’ve ever had impure thoughts, touched yourself in impure ways, those are marks on your soul and you can’t enter the Kingdom of Heaven with any blemish! So wash yourself in the pure blood of Christ our Lord!”
The sermon was more fiery than usual from Brother Ted. Alyssa was moved by his words, but her mind was distracted by events on the other side of the world. When Brother Ted asked for any prayer requests, she stood up. “Yes,” Alyssa said, “please pray for my parents who underwent an ill advised missionary trip to North Korea. They have been taken captive and are being held ransom by the government. Please pray for their safety and for the Lord to provide us with the $10.8 million for their release.”
“Aaaaaaamen,” Brother Ted replied. “Let us all pray…”
After the sermon, the church congregation met for brunch. Alyssa was standing alone in her traditional Sunday clothes: a blue floral halter dress with a button up sweater. She typically didn’t like large gatherings, but her brother wanted her to socialize.
Brother Ted noticed Alyssa standing alone. He licked his fingers clean of cake, plate in hand, and proceeded towards her. “It’s good to see you again,” he said to her, “but church is the best place to be in a time like this.”
Brother Ted Kaczynski stood there with a wide grin on his face in his oversized suit. He was in his late forties, overweight, and sweated profusely. “It’s good to see everyone again,” Alyssa replied, “it’s been very difficult lately.”
“Sometimes the Lord tries us in ways we couldn’t possibly understand,” Brother Ted said, “like having our parents kidnapped and held ransom for an obscene amount of money that we couldn’t possibly pay in a thousand years. But God never gives us more than we can handle.”
“So true, Brother Ted.”
“The church may be able to help you with your ransom money,” Ted said as he reached out for Alyssa’s soft, small hand. “Please stop by my office anytime. As you know, men are persecuted in this country…particularly white, Christian men. So my wife left me over completely false domestic abuse allegations and I’ve been missing out on stimulating female conversation. Maybe we can work something out if you know what I mean.”
“Brother Ted,” Alyssa replied, “I don’t think it would be appropriate for a single man or woman to be alone in a room together. I’ll be sure to bring my brother Geoff along for these discussions.”
A look of disappointment came over Brother Ted’s face. “Right you are Ms. Edwards,” he said, “I look forward to speaking with you.”
Geoff waddled up to Alyssa in his khakis and pea green polo. “Is everything alright?” he asked.
“I’m fine,” she said, “I’m just ready to go home.”
Geoff then poked his thick-rimmed bifocals up to his face. “But we haven’t heard the keynote speaker yet,” he replied.
Then she saw him.
He was standing aloof off to the other side of the room. He was about 6’2, muscles bulging through his black, ironed polo. He had the gelled, high and tight hair cut. One could easily get lost in his deep blue eyes. Alyssa tried to not gaze at his body for too long, but how could it be a sin to marvel at such a creation from God?
“Who is that man?” she asked Geoff.
“That’s the keynote speaker.”
Brother Ted stood up and called for everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “we have a new member to our congregation. He is a decorated war veteran and he has an incredible story. Please welcome John Cannon.”
The room applauded and John addressed the room. “Thank you everyone,” he began. Alyssa was taken with his deep and magnetic voice. “Brother Ted wanted me to tell you about my experience in Iraq, and well…” John stammered for a bit. “There’s really not much to tell. As a former Satan worshiper, I knew the power of the devil. But I never knew the Grace of God. So while I was in the US Army Special Forces, our convoy was attacked. All of my comrades were killed and I was the lone survivor. Suddenly I heard a voice in my head. ‘God will provide’ it said. And there in front of me was a flame thrower, a grenade belt, and an M29 Light Machine Gun. So I single-handedly torched the attacking force, killing everyone involved, then marched to the closest village and raised it to the ground, killing men, women, and children. I thought I was going to be court martialed and tried for war crimes, but to avoid the media fallout from such a massacre, I was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about killing an entire Iraqi village, but through the Grace of God and salvation through Christ Jesus, all is forgiven. But my therapist tells me that it isn’t a miracle that I found a flame thrower, grenades, and a machine gun…that those things are standard equipment with the Special Forces. They want to deny the existence of God. They also tell me that I have acute ‘PTSD’ and undiagnosed schizophrenia…and I shouldn’t carry around a Glock 19…”
John then pulled out the Glock and began waving in front of the audience. “But they can’t tell me what to do. God gave us the 2nd Amendment. And if they want to take away that right, they’re gonna face the wrath of God…and this Glock 19!”
The congregation gave him a round of applause.
Alyssa knew right then and there.. She had to know this man.
“Art thrives on limitations,” Nicholas Meyer once said.
Well this next story will put that theory to the test thanks to the limitations of its author: me.
Obviously I’ve been struggling with writer’s block for the past month. But the discovery of “Christian erotica” has awoken me from my creative slumber.
I have never written a romance story. I’ve never read one either. It’s not my thing, ya know? Plus, as a closet asexual, I don’t know what it’s like to have sex.
“But don’t you have children?” you might ask.
Sure. But I only have sex for procreation. I have never once enjoyed coming. After an orgasm, I express gratitude to my partner and we shake hands. So I’m going into this subject cold. Additionally, this will be a “Christian” story intended for a “Christian” audience.
“Why?” you might be asking. Well like I said: art thrives on limitations. But there’s another question I want to answer: can a Christian story…intended for a Christian audience…be good as opposed to absolute dogshit like most religious entertainment?
The Passion of the Christ was a decent movie from what I recall. But Mel Gibson is insane. Depictions of graphic violence is kinda his art. But like Mel Gibson, I am also insane and you have to be a little off your rocker to achieve a degree of artistic genius. I’m not saying that I’m a genius, of course. I’m just saying that I’m a clinically insane person and that’s why I’m doing this.
From my understanding, “Christian erotica” typically requires the story to revolve around a married couple. But that’s gross. So I’m gonna try to push the boundaries a little by centering it on a single woman and her desire for premarital sex with a particular man.
And that’s as far as I’ve gotten with the story. I’ll be winging it from there.
Now, some of you might have noticed that my last few stories have been somewhat “Christian”-based: According to Simon and whatever I called that one sci-fi story. But I assure you, I only pretend to be a Jehovah’s Witness online (I actually converted to Mormonism yesterday). So no worries 😉
I’ll have the opening chapter of the story posted the next time I take a shit at work.
TO BE CONTINUED…
This is an untapped market…
If Christian erotica can be a thing, so can Christian pornography.
And why limit it to Christians? The MAGA market are also a bunch of dupes…er, uhhhh…I mean EXCELLENT customers, why not branch into the right-wing crowd? Think about it…anti-woke pornography where we “own the libs” (I.e. by fucking the shit out of them)
We’re sitting on a lot of money here folks.