What a former college instructor really thinks…

Victimizing Other Bloggers

Latin for Losers

At long last, it is finally Brutus’ turn to be victimized.  He runs a blog that need not be named and uses a blavatar that comes from Roman sculpture.    When he signed up to be featured here, he contemplated whether he could inspire much “bile.”  And on his blog, he ran an article on me before he had anything to fight back against.  Since he seems rather dopey, I’ll battle him on his terms and use his own language against him.  That’s right!  It’s time to discuss a few of my favorite Latin phrases:

Ejaculatio praecox (premature ejaculation): Brutus’ inability to keep stuff from flowing before the action starts shows that he obviously suffers from this.  It might also explain why he lost his last several girlfriends.

Dulce bellum inexpertis (war is sweet to the inexperienced): I’ve already shown that he enjoys battling when he admittedly has little experience or skill with it.  I’m also thinking that he loves tacky 80’s hits like “Love is a Battlefield” and enjoys the war because he is inexperienced.  As we learned from the ejaculatio praecox entry, it’s pretty clear that his partners aren’t as happy, which adds more to the explanation of why he lost his last several girlfriends.

Aegri somnia (a sick man’s dreams): Just take a look at the pictures accompanying his most recent posts and tell me if you think Brutus hasn’t gotten over his lack of access to the Roman bathhouses.

Virile agitur (the manly thing is being done): I’m sorry… just kidding!  There’s nothing manly about Mr. Brutus.

Deus ex machina (god from a machine): For the dramaturgically unsophisticated among you, this term refers to an outlandish plot twist that resolves a seemingly unresolvable situation in a play, much like a god coming out of a machine from the sky to make everything okay again.  And I love how cultural critics like Brutus seem to think that their writing transforms them into some sort of deus ex machina for the world’s ills.  (All the world’s a stage, right?)  He seems to think that cultural criticism from a little-read blog may have some impact.  How insane!  It’s not like he’s doing any whistleblowing or something else productive.  (And I happen to be better than that.  Sooner or later, my criticism will cause someone some deep emotional distress.  How’s that for impact?)

Horror vacui (nature abhors a vacuum): And naturally, we abhor a vacuum of sufficient Classical content.  If you’re going to go Roman, why call your blog “The Spiral Staircase?”

Here are some suggestions for names that might fit the blog better:

Nemo Saltat Sobrius (nobody dances sober): But, be sure to mention that you’re a teetotaler

Quidquid Latine Dictum Sit Altum Videtur (anything that is said in Latin sounds profound) : Let’s face it… the whole faux Roman theme Brutus has going on is a way to make his blog look more profound.  This line would fit right in.

Ad Astra Per Alas Porci (To the stars on the wings of a pig): Someone important may have told Brutus that he’d become a writer when pigs fly, and now pork is going off into space.  Unfortunately, the whole situation is kind of a letdown.  We were expecting Porky to go airborne but the best thing we got was bacon on the space shuttle.  So I guess The Spriral Staircase will have to do.

Ejaculatio Praecox: Maybe he’ll get more women if they know his weak points in advance…

Victimizing a Blogger and Sigmund Freud

(I promise that I will get to the penis jokes soon…)

You may have seen me express my disapproval with the continued use of Sigmund Freud’s outdated theories.   You may even have been shocked to hear that people still quote those theories as though they were a definitive source of knowledge.  But now I have something new for you, my dear readers.  I am going to add a stage to Freud’s incomplete theories of psychosexual development.

Freud claimed that there were five stages of psychosexual development: oral, anal, phallic, latency, and genital.   You may also notice that four of these five stages are named for body parts that can be used in sexual acts.  Unfortunately, Freud failed to capture the full range of psychosexual development because I’ve found someone who is in a different stage.

Meet Theflashion.  If you visit his blog, you’ll find a lot of headless photos that have people’s bellybutton region in the center of the photo; some entries focus exclusively on people’s guts or bellybutton shots.  The blog doesn’t really focus much on other parts of the body, so I think we’ve discovered a new obsession: the bellybutton stage.

But you may object: That can’t be possible! If there’s another stage of development that Freud missed, shouldn’t it also be something people can use during a sex act?  If you asked that, you would be wrong again… and you would be showing your true lack of imagination.  There’s an obvious reason why Theflashion doesn’t reveal his gender on his blog: he must have a tiny penis and the bellybutton is the one hole on other people’s bodies he can use for his own pleasure.  (@ Theflashion: I apologize if I am using the wrong gender pronoun.  Maybe you’re a she who has a tiny penis.)

And I’ll close with a trivia question for everyone: which of the bellybuttons on Theflashion’s blog do you think he has had relations with?

(See, everyone?  I promised that you’d get your dose of penis humor.)

Man vs. Food?

Ladies and Gentleman, I am humbled to announce that I have a celebrity victim today.  Please welcome Adam Richman to Victimizing Other Bloggers!

Oh… wait.  That’s not Adam Richman?  Darn.  It sure looked like him.


Despite that huge disappointment, we do have an exciting victim who happens to be an Adam Richman lookalike.  His name is Josh Sterner and he hates working in retail.   He gives a lot of reasons (and visits the topic elsewhere on his blog) but a lot of these probably apply to people in other lines of work as well.  Before he complains about these things again, I’d like to ask him a few hard-hitting questions about his job:

1: Are you required to transport old, moldy meat and produce out of the store.  I did not see that on your list and that worries me.  I’ve seen the occasional green loaf of bread and fuzzy sirloin on the shelves but it worries me that your employer is not forcing you to do these unpleasant tasks.  By not complaining about your employer making you do this, you are opening your paycheck-giver to litigation and that would be bad for your professional future.

2: Does your store rent out those fancy vacuum cleaners?  When you’re stuck doing a night shift with no customers around, have you ever tried giving your dog a bath with one of those things?

3: Have you ever tried giving a coworker a bath with one of those things?

4: Did you start dating that coworker soon after that night?

5: How many crushed insects can the customer expect to find in the average loaf of bread?

6: How many crushed insects can the customer expect not to notice in the average loaf of bread?

7: Why did your store stop carrying my favorite product?

8: Why do you always get 500 people asking you that question AFTER the product is discontinued when there were only 20 people who ever bought it in the first place?

9: Is there anything in that yellow frosting other than sugar and water?  Or: do you have less nauseating ways to release your stress?

10: Do you realize that you named your employer in an earlier post?

Appropriate Things to Do When You’re 16

Awwww.  How precious!  A cute little 16-year-old girl wants to be a victim.  That’s just so sweet!  And because I’m such a generous person, I am going to humor her.

So let’s look at some of the things she wants to do this summer:

Get a tan

With British weather?  Good luck…

Complete a 5k run without dying

It’s easier than she thinks, so this isn’t very ambitious.  If she does a little every day, her total will eventually come out to 5k.

Meet some new people

Go shopping and say hi to the cashier.  That counts.

Have a proper picnic

Bring on those wild and crazy times!

See someone famous

They’re on TV all the time.  What’s the problem?

Draw/Paint something/someone

May I recommend a stick figure?  It’s easy to do and she’d get it right on her first try.

Tie Dye!

The dawning of the Age of Aquarius is a long time past.

Revamp some old clothing

I hope “revamp” doesn’t mean “tear it enough to make me look like a prostitute”  She’s too young.

But she’s missing the most important item of all: Don’t get pregnant.  Her most recent blog post is called “Why sensible kids don’t get pregnant at 16” but she’s not striving to do what the sensible kids do.  Children really shouldn’t be allowed to reveal how insensible they are online.  Her parents should be watching over her internet activity more closely.  Maybe they could take her on a proper picnic.  That might keep her out of trouble.  And then they can build a dollhouse together; that sounds like a nice, healthy new hobby… and she’s looking for one of those too.  But no Ken dolls for our little victim; even though I doubt he’s anatomically correct, the little lady could get some bad ideas into her head by taking off his clothes.

Or her parents could just buy her a chastity belt.  That ought to keep her from becoming pregnant…

Testicular Deformations and Why Sex Ed is Important

Not too long ago, I wrote a post where I assumed the role of a kindergarten student.  Today, I am going to assume the role of a kindergarten teacher because today’s victim has barely progressed beyond these immortal words from the movie Kindergarten Cop:

Boys have a penis.  Girls have a vagina.

That’s right!  And today’s Mr. Ignorant is Maxim.  Maxim, who probably owns a set of male genitals, seems completely clueless about what that biology looks like.  Here’s an x-ray from his blog:

Oh where to begin?  I’ll start at the top.  Even though we use the word as popular slang, there is no bone in the penis.  And if Maxim’s fits through the hole in the top of that x-ray, I feel very very sorry for him.

That must be why his balls look so sad.  It’s a shame too because some part of Maxim’s anatomy needs to be called Mr Happy.  Maybe his belly button is bigger.

And if we look more closely at his balls, we’ll notice that there’s foreskin on both sides.  I think his mohel missed something.  Or: maybe the mohel decided to have mercy and let that little deformation pass by.  That looks like it would be painful to remove.

On the other hand, Maxim’s little deformation gives new meaning to the phrase “getting some head.”

And for someone who is obviously so clueless about standard male anatomy and sex in general, I find it astonishing that he has a picture on his blog of how he was conceived.  Maybe this explains the deformations:

And then there’s a photo of his birth:

Unfortunately, Maxim seems to think that these pictures are:

1: a monster in a child’s bedroom
2: a monster called the Blob 

He must have led a sheltered childhood if he can look at those images and not realize what they are.

And he says he’s a teacher.  Just think of the things he could be unwittingly traumatizing those kids with.  Before you can be an educator, you ought to be educated; Maxim is a shining example of that.

Now Bend Over For Your Punishment…

When potential victims volunteer to be featured on my blog, they sometimes tell me how wonderful they are.  I get little gems like “my professors always seemed to like me” or “I’m boring” or “you can’t make fun of me because I have inoperable brain cancer” and so on and so forth.

And then there are the honest people like Tilly Bud, a.k.a. the Laughing Housewife. If you visit her blog, you’ll find that she puts herself out on the table for everyone to see:

I am a little fat. I like food; what can I say? I have dull hair: mousey. I don’t wear much make-up and have no need of a dressing table. If I look like a bag lady, I chose my own clothes. If I look nice, the Hub picked them for me.

And look at the photo of herself she put in her header:

And she keeps a less conspicuous photo of herself on her “About” page, where she also has pictures of her kids and permissive husband.  She puts up a good facade, but there are cracks.  (It’s always the modest, quiet people who are the sickest.)  This is the same woman who has a post called “I Know What You Did Last Night. You Disgusting Creature” and it’s moments like that where she shows her true colors.

That’s right, my friends, we have our first dominatrix here at Necrotic Hijinks!  It’s odd to meet a dominatrix who wants to get her butt whipped (usually it’s the other way around) so she may not be very good at sex work.  There’s something about the whole “housewife by day, BDSM queen at night” that’s a little questionable.  How exactly does she punish her children?  Is it legal to spank your children in Great Britain?

With what he has learned from his mother, I bet her teenage son is quite popular with the ladies.

And take another look at her header photo.  Imagine a dominatrix who makes faces like that when she’s punishing you.  Is she reacting to the stench because you forgot to clean your naughty bits beforehand?  Are those glasses supposed to make her slave feel like he has a small penis?  And shouldn’t she think about sharpening those teeth so she can inflict some additional pain?  Those canines look a little too flat.

And just imagine a dominatrix laughing that way at you as you strip down.  I bet it’s not an evil laugh.  It’s probably a giggle and snort like you’d expect from the female reincarnation of Steve Urkel.  But then again, there are a lot of sickos out there who would go for something like that… and Tilly Bud would know.  Therefore, I have to give her a lot of credit for her intelligent marketing tactics. (And: I expect to receive 33% of the extra profits she receives for her “services” from people who discovered her through my blog.)

Betty Crocker’s Zombie Cookbook

I’m not entirely clear whether sex with zombies is illegal in the state I live in, so I’ll have to be very careful about what I write in this edition of Victimizing Other Bloggers.  I’m sure sex with corpses has to be legally questionable, but Zombies are able to give informed consent.  It’s a gray area.

Today, I am taking aim at A.M. Harte, who happens to be a published writer of “zombie love” stories. I think that officially makes me NOT the sickest person on WordPress.  Fortunately, Harte has also figured out that there’s a limit to how far a person can go with someone who is dead.  If you’re going to do zombie love, you’ll need a different type of love.  And here’s what she has to offer:

I think that's a phallic knife.

If the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, then the way for a Zombie to get to your heart is through your stomach.  And that seems to be what Harte is proposing.  In her blog, she offers up writing tips that are modeled after instructions for baking a cake.  This is a classic example of someone not being willing to give up the tricks of their trade.    Does anyone really believe that this woman spends her time baking cake?  Therefore, I would like to offer up a revised version of her writing tips so that people who want to write zombie stories will find something that is relevant to them:


Writing is like frying zombie brains (and other body parts).

There are thousands of different kinds of zombies and thousands of different ways to make them tasty. But the basic ingredients remain the same: flour, sugar, eggs, butter…

So what are the basic ingredients every story should have?

Frying Zombie Hearts (and other body parts)

• Plot
• Characters
• Setting
• Theme

1. The zombie feet are the plot of the story.
It’s the basis, the foundation — more than just a chain of tiny little bones. If they are not washed properly, they will turn your entree into a foul mess.  Although zombie feet with the traditional odor may sound tasty, you need to liven up your zombie’s flavor if you want anyone to eat them.  Chewing on zombie feet is a romantic activity that is not prohibited by law, which is an added bonus.

2. The zombie heart is the main character.
It adds flavor, but that’s not all: it adds volume and keeps your story fresh. If you slice and dice it properly, you will find that a generous amount of blood will spurt out into your entree.  That gives your dinner a nice irony taste and your story all the gratuitous violence it needs.

3. The setting is the butter.
Harte says, “It glues the characters and plot together, it provides texture and depth.”  Um… no.  The butter provides a lubricating agent that allows the zombie love to proceed smoothly.  You can never have too much butter.

4. And the zombie bile is the theme.
It’s the hidden ingredient without which everything would fall apart.  Since zombie flesh tends to fall apart during cooking and sex, you need something to hold it together.  Everyone loves scatological humor, and who doesn’t get excited to see the friendly neighborhood zombie pooping on the buffet table?

And now you are ready to publish your own exciting zombie love stories, subject to state and local laws.


This has been another installment of “Victimizing Other Bloggers.”  If you would like to become a future victim, click on the “Become a Victim” picture and leave a request.  Being a victim might not be as much fun as zombie love, but few things are.

Sand is Good for the Skin and Good for the Soul

In this installment of Victimizing Other Bloggers, I have decided to go into business with today’s victim, who also happens to be unemployed.  This is a very exciting opportunity for both of us and we hope you will invest generously.

My business partner is Sandylikeabeach, and together we have discovered the secret to eternal youth and beauty.  Just take a look at this picture:

This is what Hillary Clinton could have looked like if she had taken better care of herself.

VA-VA-VA-VOOM!  And she’s FIFTY!!!!   Sandy’s friends get excited when her boobs come flying out of her clothes, too.  That’s something you should aspire to.

And you could have it if you purchase our product.  Since we believe in simplicity, we are calling it “Sand.”  You can rub Sand all over your body and it eliminates all of those pesky wrinkles in a flash.  Sand is cheaper than Oil of Olay and it’s not subject to liquid restrictions that the TSA has placed on airline passengers.  (Caveat: we still cannot guarantee that the security guards will allow you to take this on a plane.)

But wait, there’s more!  For all of you creationists out there, this is a great way to hinder evolution.  Sandy says her soul is still evolving, which doesn’t conflict with your religion because she’s not saying anything that could be wrongly interpreted as evidence against the existence of a Higher Power.  You’re more concerned about biological evolution and Sandy has you covered there.  By preventing wrinkles, Sand keeps your skin from evolving.  Sandy has shown her dedication to the cause of Static Skin Biology by refusing to be tattooed.  This is a valiant statement in favor of your theological cause.  She also doesn’t do threesomes with the married men she flirts with on Craigslist, which means that our product contributes to the promotion of healthy family values.

I can’t say it often enough: Sand is good for the skin and good for the soul.

What Cougars Like to Put in their Mouths (And What We Don’t)

Today I am writing about a blog written by someone who goes by the name M. Rae.  Fortunately, this is her bowling name… which means that we’re off to the gutter again.

M. Rae’s blog is called Peas and Cougars and the banner image shows the cougar chewing on something tasty:

That’s right, the cougar is chomping on a pea.  There are several reasons why this might be significant.  Cougars are old by definition and they need a high fiber diet to stay healthy.  But: there’s another P-word that cougars like to have between their lips… but this is a PG-rated blog and it is impolite to talk about that here.  If we talk about impolite things, the WordPress Angel of Doom will come for us.

The danger is that our cougar (M. Rae) and the catlike Angel of Doom will get friendly and make cougar babies:

Um… no.  That was a misprint.  Since no one in their right mind would want to have sex with babies, we will have to find a new use for these cougar kittens.  It was hard for me to find anything on M. Rae’s site that wasn’t sexually charged, but there was one idea that really stands out in my mind:

And that brings me back to the high fiber diet.  M. Rae is doing a great disservice to her readers by encouraging them to follow that healthy practice; it makes everything taste bad.  Those kittens would have loved to give up their lives to make a tasty entree and she’s insulting their sacrifice by cooking up “Peas and Cougars.”


This has been another installment of Victimizing Other Bloggers.  All images were taken from Peas and Cougars, although I did have some fun messing with the picture from this post

And as a gratuitous public service announcement: don’t forget that sharing these posts and clicking on my Facebook Like Box will help future victims find this blog.  We all must work together to make sure that everybody has a chance to be victimized!  (When I run for President, that last sentence will be my campaign slogan.  I tell it like it is…)

What Kind of Evil Lurks in the Heart of Miss Independant?

Today I will be slashing and burning Miss Independant’s blog.  Miss Independant is obviously an independent thinker because she spells her name with an A instead of an E.  A lot of fifth graders spell her name that way too, so she’s sure to become very popular.  After all, agreeing with 90% of fifth graders is the best way to showcase your personal independence.

But you need to understand that Miss Independant is a real badass.  Just look at that gravatar:

It sends shivers down my spine!  And I bet her writing will have the same effect on me.   It’s easy to tell because she names a lot of her blog posts after song titles and the playlist kicks ass.  Here are a few examples of the music that has inspired her; I’m sure you’ll figure out pretty quickly that this isn’t someone you’d want to bump into alone in a dark alley:

Careless Whisper: Okay, okay.  I won’t do any cheap jokes about being alone with George Michael in a dark alley.  But even though there was a halfway decent remake of this song by Seether, it’s still a pretty lame choice for someone who bills herself as independent.  If I’m not mistaken, the song is about a guy who is not able to go on after a relationship failed.   Hmmmm…..

I Will Survive: At least Miss Independant got the topic right on this one.  But: it is still a standard choice for anyone claiming independence (and I’m still refusing to make cheap jokes about George Michael), meaning that Miss Independant was not displaying independence of thought with this choice.  This selection made me want to exercise my independence of bowels.

Against All Odds: I’m not sure that Phil Collins ever recorded a song that would belong on a playlist for independent people.  I mean really, look at these mopey lyrics:

So take a look at me now,
‘cos there’s just an empty space
And there’s nothing left here to remind me,
just the memory of your face

Do I see a theme here?  On second thought, Miss Independant’s blavatar has no face either, so maybe she’s going for a theme of people who bathe in hydrochloric acid.

Bad Moon Rising: In theory, this is a good choice.  Just look at the lyrics:

I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightning.
I see bad times today.

Don’t go ’round tonight
it’s bound to take your life,
there’s a bad moon on the rise.

I hear hurricanes a-blowing,
I know the end is coming soon.
I fear rivers over flowing.
I hear the voice of rage and ruin…

Hope you got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.

In reality, this song is by Creedence Clearwater Revival and it had lost any badass quality long before Missy says she was born.  Maybe it might strike fear into the hearts of men if it were written by the artist who recorded the next song on the list:

Me, Myself and I: Or maybe not.  Beyonce may be scary, but not in the way Missy needs her to be.

So what can we conclude from all of this?  Because I’d like to assume the best from Miss Independant, I am guessing that she’s an 80-year-old woman who is trying to stay “hip.”  (She says she’s 22, but that seems doubtful.)  She gets credit for being independent because a lot of people her age won’t touch a computer and she’s obviously independent enough to operate a keyboard.   And because she’s so old, she’s not current enough with the music world to know how bad some of her choices were.  Despite that, it is always good to see older people remaining active and trying new things.  Miss Independant deserves credit for that.

Or maybe Miss Independant is really the guy who George Michael made those careless whispers about…


This has been another installment of Victimizing Other Bloggers.  No animals or elderly ladies were harmed during the production of this post.  Neither was George Michael.  If you would like to join the ranks of the victimized, click on the “Victimhood Can Be Yours” tab at the top of the page.

Are You Ready for a Ditty Battle?

Warning: do not visit the victim’s blog until the game is over.

Meet Prettierthanpink.  She is in her 30’s or 40’s and calls herself an “old girl.”  Her blog is full of girly thoughts.  And here’s what she chose as her gravatar:

It is now time for Prettierinpink to defend her honor as an Old Girl.  So here’s the game: there are seven ditties in this post and Prettierinpink wrote three of them.  I wrote the other four.  Visitors who have never been to her blog will have to guess which three were written by her.  (No cheating!)  Her work had better be unique because I’m sure it would be embarrassing if a straight male nerd like me could out-girl the Old Girl, even just once.  It would be like a sumo wrestler losing a match to Barack Obama.  And the great thing is that Prettierinpink loses if anyone gets a single answer wrong!

Here we go…

I’m safe and warm within your erection,

then hand and eye make a connection,

turmoil ensues, no time to peruse,

soft, wet and warm, a time for reflection,

and also time for tissue detection…

My fantasies are not detestable,

I dreamt last night, of Bieber’s testicles,

one day, the boy of seventeen,

will know that I should be his queen,

although I look like Paula Deen…

Madam Whiplash, slave on tether,

high heeled thigh boots, patent leather,

whip in hand, she makes her stand,

Master Thomas, “do you need a hand?”

bratty subbie bows her head

bratty subbie hears words to dread,

bratty subbie looks up in fright,

Madam Whiplash “she’s yours all night”

Scissors, glue, and vaseline,

can make any woman clean,

for it has been my secret art,

to craft my way into your heart,

now draw upon my expert care,

and glide into my hairless lair

The hands of time are deathly cruel,

they chant that I can be a fool,

they said I strayed into the shade,

and did the things that they forbade,

then Baby Daddy set me free,

until he finished his degree,

and when our eyes again did meet,

he was living on the street,

I took him in, I gave him care,

it was my fault that he was there…

I felt a glow inside my heart,

when you said “I won’t depart”,

when you said you’d stay with me,

and rub my feet as I decree,

and start my bubble bath and tea,

and love me even when I fart,

that, my love, was a good start

I think that every womans wish is,

to find a man to do the dishes,

a man who likes to be the “housework whore,”

who really relishes a dirty floor,

with gusto he’ll do it all unseen,

the man who loves to keep your house clean…


Here are the correct answers: Correct Answer and Correct Answer and Correct AnswerWhich ones did you think were real?  Share your guesses in the comments section.

This has been another episode of “Victimizing Other Bloggers.”  If you want to volunteer, you can do so by clicking on the “Victimhood Can Be Yours” tab at the top of the page.”  And remember to help control the pet population.  Have your pets spayed or neutered.

Blogging for Booze

We’ve all heard stories about how atrocious young peoples’ writing often is these days and it can be difficult to convince then that proper grammar and spelling, not to mention coherent thought, are profoundly important.  However, I’m happy to announce that I’ve discovered a true innovator on this front and I encourage you to check out her blog to take a look.

Sayali611’s blog is called “Finding 42,” which she says here is a reference to “the answer to all questions about life” from The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.  Most blog visitors don’t visit “About” pages and many won’t recognize the literary reference, so the title might be puzzling to some.  Well, it might be puzzling until they look at her thumbnail picture:

This is how Sayali's photo appears on her blog.

With this photo size, Sayali looks like she’s 41 and trying to find her 42nd year… and she writes well enough to pass for someone older.  (She’s only 22 and she looks her real age if you open the bigger image on her blog.)  And: she appears to live in a country where the legal drinking age in some regions is as high as 25.  So while it had seemed odd that she would want to make herself look 20 years older, I think I see the purpose.  When she goes out partying, she could be using a printed copy of her blog’s home page as ID to obtain alcohol.  Judging from those sunglasses, she must have a pretty wicked hangover.

It may sound silly, but I think it’s true because Sayali shows all the signs of being a happy and serene drunk.  On her “Backstage Pass” page, she has these instructions for readers:

“P.S. – Before you go, why don’t you leave a comment about your most profound encounter? Would love to know how your hearts were touched…”

And her mini bio sounds like it could have been written while under the influence:

“Spent a lifetime building a wall around myself, only to realize that what remained inside was as hideous as anything i would protect myself from. this blog is my attempt to break free, one brick at a time, and to make sense of what was yet blocked out.

Maybe she had some weed with that vodka…?

But on a more serious note, I think Sayali could serve as an inspiration for American college students and the people who pass our nation’s drinking laws.  Just imagine: tell students that they have to create a blog that displays a high level of intelligence.  If they succeed, they will be permitted to use that blog as ID at a bar.  Since so many kids are blogging anyway, it might be a lot easier for them than waiting for someone older to accompany them to the liquor store.

And if the female students do this, they’ll be more like Sayali in another respect… and I’ll send this one out to the men: who doesn’t love a woman who’s smart, attractive, and drunk?  It’s a winning combination!


If you would like to be featured in a future installment of Victimizing Other Bloggers, you can volunteer through the “Victimhood Can be Yours” tab on the header menu.

Mr. Skull’s Kindergarten Class

This is the seventh installment of my “Victimizing Other Bloggers” series.  If you would like to be featured in a future post, click on the “Victimhood Can Be Yours” tab at the top of the page and leave a comment.
My posts in this series have taken a turn towards grown-up themes lately and I had expected that trend to continue.  And then I visited Sami116’s blog.  Unfortunately, nothing about Sami’s blog inspired unclean thoughts.  But that wasn’t a surprise; a blogger who uses crayons as his header image isn’t going to send anyone’s mind to the gutter.  So maybe he should become a kindergarten teacher…

What child wouldn't go batty for a teacher who looks like this?

His “About” page shows that his presentation already fits the younger age group.  Here’s what he writes:

“This blog is about things and their practicality and how they do or don’t affect our lives. This is a light hearted attempt at bringing to fore some of the not so important things in life.”

It’s inspiring, and I’ve decided that I’d like to be his first kindergarten student.  Therefore: I’ve taken the liberty of drawing a few pictures about the not-so-important topics Sami teaches about so lightheartedly:


Bomb blasts in Mumbai


Dangerous bus rides


And this last one will require a little explanation…

Sami writes:

“A truck lay on its side across the road. Massive chunks of watermelon that had been on board now lay scattered across the floor.People from all directions hurried towards the scene, each one keen on analyzing the extent of the damage done and pass their verdict. No one in particular seemed moved by what had happened . A few feet from the overturned truck a small crowd had gathered. As I encroached, the bloody sight came into my view. The truck driver lay on his back, drenched in blood. His wounds were all exposed. Massive pieces of his flesh were missing. He kept saying something in an unfamiliar language. It sounded like a prayer.

I was witness to this site when I was 11 years old.”


Even though I’m supposed to be thrashing Sami in this post, I have to admit that he’s doing an excellent job of taking unimportant topics and making them enjoyable for his crayon-wielding audience.  Bravo!

What is Ass Fiction?

This is the sixth entry in my Victimizing Other Bloggers series.  If you would like a chance to be victimized on my blog, submit your request here.


Today I will be taking aim at Aeliusblythe and his blog Cheap Ass Fiction.  The title puzzled me for a moment because I couldn’t figure out what ass fiction might be.  And then I took a closer look at Blythe’s gravatar:

And then it dawned on me: ass fiction is stories about constipation.  Now I know exactly what to expect from his blog and I click on the home page… and OOPS!  The home page looks like a newspaper.  I guess ass fiction must be what you read on the toilet when you’re constipated.  Close enough, I suppose, but aren’t there cheaper types of ass fiction than newspapers?  (I know, I know.  The newspaper can double as toilet tissue and a book cannot… but you’re forgetting that we’re talking about constipation here.  Toilet tissue doesn’t enter the equation.)  Long story short: what in the hell does a newspaper have to do with cheapness?

And then I notice that my definition of ass fiction may still be wrong.  Once I look at the words on the page, one headline stands out because it is so much bigger than everything else: ” Part II of What Pirates Say To Copyright.”  Now I understand; ass fiction is tales of gay sex.  So Blythe is a homophobe writing about gay sex?  The psychology behind that sounds really intriguing.  Maybe the reason he has to sell his fiction so cheaply is because he’s insulting his potential customers; I’m the only one around here who can get away with that.

And if you need any more evidence that Blythe has some serious problems with his target audience, take a look at how he introduces part one of the pirate article:

“For the record, piracy–even the kind that doesn’t involve killing people at sea–is illegal in most places. I’m not encouraging it, because, face it, who needs to be encouraged? A six year old with Google could figure it out. Fair warning.”

Has Aelius Van Winkle been asleep for the past hundred years?  I’m not entirely sure… but that’s just because he’d have to be awake to know about Google.  I also think it’s remarkable that he believes six year olds would be looking that kind of thing up… and it’s downright shocking that he would title the article “They’re Not Buying Diapers.”  If he thinks babies would or should be getting in on the action, I think he needs to see a psychiatrist.  If he’s talking about elderly people, he has reached into ageist stereotypes.

This guy needs to be stopped.

Introducing the School’s New Lunch Lady

When Momfog volunteered to be featured in my Victimizing Other Bloggers series, here’s what she wrote:

“I’m not sure there’s much to ridicule about my blog. I’m extremely vanilla but you’re welcome to it. I like a good roast, myself.”

Vanilla?  This is a mother of five and she says she’s like a white creamy substance.  I happen to think she’s full of it.  Literally.  (Of course, I’m referring to a different white creamy substance.  Where do you think the kids came from?)

I hope it's vanilla she put in that frosting...

Of course I jest… sort of.  And she’s obviously a good sport, seeing as she wrote that she likes a good roast.  I’m impressed with anyone who could write the line “I like a good roast” so soon after her house burned down.  On the other hand, she has less laundry to do, fewer toilets to clean, no more closets to organize, no more “being happy about it,” and no more of the brain fogging condition all that work induces.  Or: maybe I misunderstood “I like a good roast.”  She might have meant roast beef, or maybe she meant Hell.  The way she keeps such a positive attitude after everything that has happened to her, maybe she meant that she likes going through Hell.  (The roast beef idea was a bit of a stretch for a lunch lady…)

And take a look at her beautiful children.  They’re adorable and they’re young.  Very young.  And cute.  And they’re having to learn how to behave like grown-ups at such an early age.  As Momfog explains,”there is room in our lives for serious books, adult themed movies or theater, or ridiculously priced lattes in pretentious coffee shops.”  Gee, I wish my mom gave me porn and coffee when I was that age!  That must be why Momfog won this lovely porn star award, which also helps to explain where those five kids came from.

And this is the lady who could be feeding your kids at school every day…

Neurons Asunder

In this fourth installment of Victimizing Other Bloggers I will be taking on Words Asunder, who happens to be a poet.  If this is your first time visiting my blog, you should know that all victims volunteered for the honor.  You can be slaughtered too if you like (and if I choose you).
the parts of your mind
with formaldehyde
that other blogs
make a feint at.
neurons asunder
brains are red
and pink
and squishy
like a hog before its demise.
so what is
the neurons
torn asunder from the blood vessels.
the ones that gave
in their relative ephemeralness
they dance
like a dead
they lack
nuclei and
neurons asunder
and what
should I do with
perhaps I shall
and hit
over and over again
and call it
a poem.
in the infinitesimal wisdom
of the
I shall eat
and excavate
my dead wife’s
for my blue
I think it’s the way I touched
her brain
that made it
blue and green.
she was rather
highly strung and fretful
like a guitar
one day I’m sure she’ll
my caress
and fire a synapse for me

If you’d like to see what I stole from, check this out.  A few words came from other places, but that’s the big one.

How to Talk About Sex Without Being Attacked by Feminists

Blogger’s note: This is the third in my series called “Victimizing Other Bloggers.”  If you would like to be attacked in a future post, leave a message for me here.


As I’ve written before in this blog, our nation’s colleges and universities are making sure that their students continue to be infants.  This is especially noticeable when we look at how colleges have trained people to talk about sex.  There are several important culprits here: the trumpeting of crass sexual talk by women, the denunciation of crass sexual talk by men, and an Orwellian enforcement of politically correct language among everyone.  This has made a generation or more of college graduates dysfunctional when it comes to talking about such a major part of life.

This comes through loud and clear when you read Corkscrewboo’s blog. Here’s a picture of our friend:

I get it.  She likes to screw.  She didn’t have to beat around the bush to say that.    But it seems obvious that she literally likes to beat around the bush.  Here’s another picture of her:

This is obviously her way of saying “I like to screw chicks.”  If I (a man) were to say “I like to screw chicks,” every feminist on WordPress would be telling me to show the ladies more respect.  But in today’s politically correct world, men are the only ones who have to show women respect.   But you may object: Corky didn’t come out and say that!  And you’d be right… but she’s asking chicks to tweet them so she can screw them and I’m kind of sure WordPress doesn’t condone that sort of behavior on its website.

I don’t think I would recommend that chicks let Corky screw them.  That curled metal dildo looks like it would hurt.  And judging from the flatness of her breasts in the photo, most women could probably do a lot better.  (Is that why she’s looking at nipple bras?)

Wait a minute… Corky has a penis and a flat chest.  Are we sure she isn’t a guy who is just trying to get around the oppressive social expectations that feminists have placed on men?  If she is, good for him and I hope he gets his chicks.  And so the advice I have for him is taken directly from his website:

Don’t whine.  Just drink it in.  Fill it to the brim.  Leave no cork unpopped.  Make like the grape and feel good in your skin.

Church Chat with the Gothic Blog Princess

Blogger‘s note: In my first post, I offered visitors the chance to be attacked featured on my blog.  If you are interested, leave a message in the comments area of that post.  However: I won’t accept all requests.  If you’re too nondescript for me to attack, don’t hold your breath…


I love advertisements.  I especially love advertisements on blogs, and this is where my friend Raincoaster excels.  Sort of.

Rainy runs a blog that is rather interesting, but I’d prefer to take a look at the business side of her work.  If you click here, you will find that our wet little friend offers social media workshops and public speaking engagements.  Okay.  That’s nice.  And on that page and her “About” page, she builds herself up as some sort of high-octane softcore goth princess.  The picture on her “About” page looks a lot like Morticia Addams with bigger boobs, so you can’t really miss the image she’s trying to project.  And she projects that image, like, sort of throughout her blog, but she offers a link to an external professional page where the photo of her shows a sweet looking blond woman with some minor bling.  Damn.

Let’s review: Mixed martial artists who are trying to sell a tough-guy image can’t be photographed carrying a teddy bear and sucking their thumb.  Somehow, “blond lady with bling” kind of destroys the product image I was imagining from this woman.  It’s kind of like seeing Dennis Rodman in drag, but at least Rainy’s boobs are probably real.  But you may object: might Rainy want to show her potential customers that she is an intelligent professional?  I suppose, but then why go for the “blond lady with bling” photo?  Since when do people associate “blond” with “intelligent professional?”  However, “blond” does correlate nicely with “overly high view of herself” in most people’s minds.

Hey, Rainy!  Do you really think you’re so great that you can transcend the Laws of Marketing?  Really?

However, we all know that money is at the heart of all blogging endeavors… so I can’t blame her for coming out of the broom closet for a moment.  But she seems to have forgotten the most important rule of online media management: God has a sense of humor and will ruin your website at his earliest convenience.  And so I’m sure you can imagine the breathtaking image I found on Rainy’s page underneath the Voluptuous Morticia.  You know… it’s the advertisement Rainy sold her soul to have on her page.  In case you’re too dumb to figure out what I saw, here it is:

Now… I don’t attend church or browse any websites that could ever cause Google to put a religiously oriented ad on my screen.   (Maybe Google thought my call to bring back crucifixion was a way of urging the faithful towards a holy mission.)  But fairly or not, the ad reflects poorly on Rainy’s ability to keep her online presence on theme.  Either that or she’s going soft.  (Wait a minute… I think we already figured out that she’s going soft.)  Or she found religion.  And if you give Voluptuous Morticia some more clothes, she could almost pass for a nun… and all of a sudden you’d have a blog that’s fit for the new Church Lady.

Raincoaster calls herself the most infamous, and I suppose she’s right.  Anyone who can attract divine intervention on her blog deserves to call herself infamous.  And anyone’s whose work has been taught at several universities probably deserves some sort of divine intervention to set them straight.  Because I’m such a fan of fireworks, I would have preferred to see lightning bolts… but obnoxious blog ads are okay too.

Moral of the Story: Money is the root of all religion.

My First Victim is not a Victim, or the Faults of Academic Liberals

In my first post on this blog, I offered to thrash kindly critique the blog of anyone who wanted to be victimized (wait a minute… maybe “victimized” was right) by my humor.  I just got my volunteer and it is the last thing I expected…

Idiot Photographer volunteered and s/he does a photography blog that has recently been featuring men in drag.  Having spent so many years in a university setting, I constantly heard feminists and gay advocates harp on how everyone who isn’t their brand of liberal is obviously anti-gay, anti-woman, and anti-anything-but-medieval-traditional.  These professors write theories about it,  author books about it,  tattoo slogans about it on their butts, etc.   And so I must say that it is refreshing to have I.P. making an invitation to me, a blogger who sometimes likes to make acidic commentary in the direction of academic liberal activists.

Unfortunately, Idiot Photographer is not someone I can victimize and it has nothing to do with political correctness.  I.P. would seem to have an uncorrupted brain.  I don’t know whether s/he is gay or not, but s/he obviously has an interest in gay-related themes.  It is most unusual for me to find someone from that arena who seems to just be going along and living his or her life, not referring to people as bigots solely on the basis of their non-leftist views.  (Well, either that or s/he missed the posts where I talked politics…)

And so my first victim in this blog is not a victim.  A little less mutual distrust goes a long way and it would be nice if professors could realize that.  On the other hand, professors can’t let themselves realize that little detail because they would be undermining their life’s work.  Conservatives, centrists, and anyone else not on the left (with the possible exception of Libertarians) have to be the professors’ enemy just so they can keep the boat afloat.  You can sell “Victim Studies” to students and fill classrooms because these topics make the students feel good.  (That’s right: students feel good because they believe they are being good people by learning the stuff.)  You can’t sell “Minority Photography that Doesn’t Discuss Victimhood” because students are no longer given the illusion of helping people.  Remember: university life is about people believing that they’re improving the world by reading and writing things that no one else looks at; real improvements aren’t usually part of the equation.

The Part Where I Burn Idiot Photographer at the Stake:

Okay, I lied earlier.  Idiot Photographer will be my first victim.  Even though I.P. hasn’t been corrupted, s/he surely has lots of friends who have been.   (Demographically, gays tend to be pretty liberal… probably because of the BS from the academic Left and bigotry from certain people on the Right.)  Some of these friends may consider interactions with a non-lefty to be a capital offense.   And so my message to Idiot Photographer is this: I apologize if you get beat up by your friends.  If you are gay, I hope they understand that you should be able to interact with whomever you please as long as you do not infringe upon anyone else.  Lefties can be extraordinarily intolerant that way.  And since you wanted a review of your site, I’ll say this: the drag photos aren’t my thing even though the quality of the photography is pretty good.  And I’m rather fond of the stairwells, bridges, and cathedrals.  But: keep doing what you’re doing.