Friday, November 28, 2008
Blogging For Dummies Me
Okay, so I like to think that it's been established that I am just not tech-savvy. I am able to continue thinking that I am solely by the fact that I am surrounded by those who are even more technologically lame than I am- people who blink their eyes in confusion at words like 'server', 'HTML', and 'blogging'. "You're so awesome!", they proclaim as I show them my website or find a solution. And yet, compared to the real experts, I am lamer than lame. I've even chosen the simplest blogging medium, Blogger/Blogspot, made particularly for newbs like moi.
But despite Blogger being pretty easy-to-use (just register and start posting!), any time you want to get the littlest bit sophisticated, you WILL be bombarded with strings of code and talk about CSS and javascript and other words that make me cringe. It took me about a week to figure out how to create expandabe post summaries- you know, that nice feature that shortens my ridiculously long posts to a little sentence with a clickable link to read the rest, because I graciously want to keep my page short, easily navigable, and with short load times. And that was with a lot of help from Internet sources and Googling to try to get it down. Even now problems plague me- you've probably noticed the "Click Here To Read More" link appearing even at the bottom of posts where there is no more to read- but I'm satisfied enough to not tinker with it, lest it all fall apart.
So, having said that, I don't know why I thought I could even attempt Google Analytics. The service is free, provided by Google, and it basically allows you to track who visits your site, when they do, how long they stay, what patterns they follow through your hyperlinks, and how they stumbled upon your site. Sounds pretty cool, right? I'd enviously read someone else's blog about the funny search terms that would lead people to their blogs (and more serious discussions about how Google directs web traffic can always be found at Tony Comstock's blog). And while I suspect most, if not all, of my traffic is the result of Jiz Lee graciously linking me, I still wanted to know for sure.
It might sound like an exercise in vanity, but gosh darnit, I would also like to brag about how people looking for "goat ball sack" get me as a result. And maybe I'd even figure out how to get some better traffic and more visitors (not that I'm obsessed with it . . . I'd write this even if I had no readers, although it'd probably become less about promoting cool sites/stuff and more about whining about my life). So I set about applying it to my blog . . .
. . . and wouldn't you know it- I run into problems. Blogger.com converts the quotations marks in my HTML code into "e notations. I'm told there is no way around this. I soldier on, find a loophole dealing with javascript and HTML and XML and Google's code and all other sorts of things I barely understand. I'm still told that things are going wrong- tags left floating, something not closed, I'm not sure. Sigh. Why must I always come up against the problems, the bugs, the troubleshooting?
But I triumphed- as I always do, yay!- and finally got it to work. Or rather, got it to say it's working. It will still be another 24-48 hours before I know if the whole shebang is functioning correctly and accurately reporting. But I finally transformed the "Error" message into "Receiving Data", which means Google is at least recognizing the HTML I've put in. Success!
So, because it took me forever to figure it all out, and it was in different places, I want to put up what I did for anybody else to use. Hopefully it helps my fellow Luddites.
1) Get your Google Analytics profile and code, as described here.
2) If you follow all the directions and have no problem, well, lucky you. If, however, you click "Save Changes" and the new code has transformed the quotation marks in your template to "e, and your Google Analytics account says your status is anything other than "Receiving Data", here's what ya gotta do:
3) Go to Blogger.com, a.k.a. your Dashboard.
4) Click "Layout".
5) Click "Add A Gadget"; it can be anywhere, but near the bottom is preferable, for some reason (not that I tried it elsewhere).
6) Choose "HTML/JavaScript".
7) Leave the title blank, and in the text area, copy and paste the following (presuming I've transcribed it correctly):
But despite Blogger being pretty easy-to-use (just register and start posting!), any time you want to get the littlest bit sophisticated, you WILL be bombarded with strings of code and talk about CSS and javascript and other words that make me cringe. It took me about a week to figure out how to create expandabe post summaries- you know, that nice feature that shortens my ridiculously long posts to a little sentence with a clickable link to read the rest, because I graciously want to keep my page short, easily navigable, and with short load times. And that was with a lot of help from Internet sources and Googling to try to get it down. Even now problems plague me- you've probably noticed the "Click Here To Read More" link appearing even at the bottom of posts where there is no more to read- but I'm satisfied enough to not tinker with it, lest it all fall apart.
So, having said that, I don't know why I thought I could even attempt Google Analytics. The service is free, provided by Google, and it basically allows you to track who visits your site, when they do, how long they stay, what patterns they follow through your hyperlinks, and how they stumbled upon your site. Sounds pretty cool, right? I'd enviously read someone else's blog about the funny search terms that would lead people to their blogs (and more serious discussions about how Google directs web traffic can always be found at Tony Comstock's blog). And while I suspect most, if not all, of my traffic is the result of Jiz Lee graciously linking me, I still wanted to know for sure.
It might sound like an exercise in vanity, but gosh darnit, I would also like to brag about how people looking for "goat ball sack" get me as a result. And maybe I'd even figure out how to get some better traffic and more visitors (not that I'm obsessed with it . . . I'd write this even if I had no readers, although it'd probably become less about promoting cool sites/stuff and more about whining about my life). So I set about applying it to my blog . . .
. . . and wouldn't you know it- I run into problems. Blogger.com converts the quotations marks in my HTML code into "e notations. I'm told there is no way around this. I soldier on, find a loophole dealing with javascript and HTML and XML and Google's code and all other sorts of things I barely understand. I'm still told that things are going wrong- tags left floating, something not closed, I'm not sure. Sigh. Why must I always come up against the problems, the bugs, the troubleshooting?
But I triumphed- as I always do, yay!- and finally got it to work. Or rather, got it to say it's working. It will still be another 24-48 hours before I know if the whole shebang is functioning correctly and accurately reporting. But I finally transformed the "Error" message into "Receiving Data", which means Google is at least recognizing the HTML I've put in. Success!
So, because it took me forever to figure it all out, and it was in different places, I want to put up what I did for anybody else to use. Hopefully it helps my fellow Luddites.
1) Get your Google Analytics profile and code, as described here.
2) If you follow all the directions and have no problem, well, lucky you. If, however, you click "Save Changes" and the new code has transformed the quotation marks in your template to "e, and your Google Analytics account says your status is anything other than "Receiving Data", here's what ya gotta do:
3) Go to Blogger.com, a.k.a. your Dashboard.
4) Click "Layout".
5) Click "Add A Gadget"; it can be anywhere, but near the bottom is preferable, for some reason (not that I tried it elsewhere).
6) Choose "HTML/JavaScript".
7) Leave the title blank, and in the text area, copy and paste the following (presuming I've transcribed it correctly):
<script type="text/javascript">
var gaJsHost = (("https:" ==
<script type="text/javascript">
var gaJsHost = (("https:" == document.location.protocol) ? "https://ssl." : "http://www.");
document.write(unescape("%3Cscript src='" + gaJsHost + "google-analytics.com/ga.js' type='text/javascript'%3E%3C/script%3E"));
<script type="text/javascript">
try {
var pageTracker = _gat._getTracker("UA-6495752-1");
pageTracker._trackPageview();
} catch(err) {}</script>
<script type="’text/javascript’">
//<![cdata[
var + \><script src=" http://www. );
//]] google-analytics.com/ga.js" type="text/javascript">\<\/script> : https://ssl.
https:="document.location.protocol)
?" gajshost="((" gajshost
+ );
document.write(>
</script>
<script type="’text/javascript’">
//<![cdata[
var pagetracker="_gat._getTracker(" ua-6495752-1 );
pagetracker._initdata();
pagetracker._trackpageview();
//]]>
</script>
8) Be sure to change the Blog # (designated by the UA-6495752-1 on mine) to whatever yours happens to be. Otherwise it won't work- it'll be reporting on my blog, not yours!
9) Click "Save", which should close out the small window.
10) Click "Save" on the main page, and check to see if it's working with Google Analytics.
And it if doesn't work, well, what can I say . . . I'm horrible at this stuff! But maybe, just maybe I'll help one person, and that's enough for me.
Oh, and if you want to repost these instructions, or better ones you've found elsewhere, remember that all you have to do is replace < with < and > with >. It should all come out right!
So here's to hoping I'll be reporting back to you with all sorts of info from Google Analytics!
Oh, and you might have noticed some new "Digg" buttons at the bottom of my posts. Yeah, I'm trying it out. I'm still not sure if Digg is cool or has gone the way of the dodo, to be replaced by stuff like Stumbleupon or Reddit. I'm just not up-to-date on this stuff. But there it is. If you use it, and like what I've written, please, click away. Otherwise, ignore it. I won't be offended, I swear!
Labels:
blogger.com,
blogging,
code,
difficulties,
Google Analytics,
help,
HTML,
HTML code,
installation,
troubleshooting
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
100th Post: A Look Back (and Forward)
Well, here it's finally come . . . my 100th post! And I have no idea what I could write that would befit the occasion.
Ever since I started this blog in March (gosh, has it only been nine months?), I've reviewed books and toys and porn, compiled various lists, informed you to nice offers, filled heads with countless dirty ditties, asked questions to which I have no answers,whined about made suggestions for porn, done some detective sleuthing, discussed my personal life, encouraged activism for important causes, alerted you to some really cool sites, discussed porny news, offered my commentary, and, of course, made some LOLporn (by far my most linked blog ever, by the way).
I've strived to write posts that are not, as a creative writing teacher once described it, literary masturbation (his words: "It's fun and you like doing it, and people who love you might appreciate it, but everyone else just kind of thinks it's boring and maybe a little gross"). Although I've said before that I'd keep writing with or without an audience, the fact that people appear to be reading my blog means I want to offer something. Things could change, but I know that, at least in the near future, I won't be the kind of blog to break news (I'll leave that to AVN) or feature interviews and the like. Reposting links always feels like blatant stealing from other, better and more well-trafficked blogs. I don't want to say the obvious ("Oh, homophobia sucks." or "Censorship of free speech is a problem!"). I want, in other words, to offer something that can't be found elsewhere, uniquely me, and worth somebody's time. I don't know if I've done a good job of sticking to these principles, but it continues to be my goal.
Arianna Huffington was on The Daily Show a couple of nights ago, and she and Jon Stewart clashed [in a friendly manner, of course] about blogs, and I have to say that her words somewhat revitalized me for a new year and another round of a hundred blogs. Whether I'm blogging about cheese (oh, Arianna, I love cheese, too!), politics, or sex, I feel it's important and rewarding for me. I'm putting the video here so that you can see it (and also because I have a major girl crush on Arianna).
Ever since I started this blog in March (gosh, has it only been nine months?), I've reviewed books and toys and porn, compiled various lists, informed you to nice offers, filled heads with countless dirty ditties, asked questions to which I have no answers,
I've strived to write posts that are not, as a creative writing teacher once described it, literary masturbation (his words: "It's fun and you like doing it, and people who love you might appreciate it, but everyone else just kind of thinks it's boring and maybe a little gross"). Although I've said before that I'd keep writing with or without an audience, the fact that people appear to be reading my blog means I want to offer something. Things could change, but I know that, at least in the near future, I won't be the kind of blog to break news (I'll leave that to AVN) or feature interviews and the like. Reposting links always feels like blatant stealing from other, better and more well-trafficked blogs. I don't want to say the obvious ("Oh, homophobia sucks." or "Censorship of free speech is a problem!"). I want, in other words, to offer something that can't be found elsewhere, uniquely me, and worth somebody's time. I don't know if I've done a good job of sticking to these principles, but it continues to be my goal.
Arianna Huffington was on The Daily Show a couple of nights ago, and she and Jon Stewart clashed [in a friendly manner, of course] about blogs, and I have to say that her words somewhat revitalized me for a new year and another round of a hundred blogs. Whether I'm blogging about cheese (oh, Arianna, I love cheese, too!), politics, or sex, I feel it's important and rewarding for me. I'm putting the video here so that you can see it (and also because I have a major girl crush on Arianna).
The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c
So look forward to more posts, hopefully a bit more in-depth and maybe even a bit more personal, as I'll have a bunch more time not taken up by school to pursue dating, sex, activism, and all that fun stuff. And maybe even delving into technical upgrades, yikes!
All You Will Get Is Fake Peen
It's not that I'm dying to see flaccid penises on the big screen, you understand. I like 'em fine enough, but 1) if it's a porn, I'm going to expect to see it get hard, 2) if it's a mainstream film, I'm going to expect it to be either very brief and thus unimportant or unnecessary and distracting from the plot, or 3) if I'm hunting for celebrity masturbatory fodder, more non-genital nudity would go further than the peen, which I can construct just fine in my mind. So following that logic, I really shouldn't be so upset at the fact that I won't be seeing Sean Penn or James Franco's penises in the upcoming movie "Milk".
And yet I am, and I'll tell you why.
(On a side note, I am sooo excited about "Milk", the biopic about the first openly gay politican Harvey Milk. I have to admit it- I'm not that much a fan of Sean Penn. Others love him, tell me he's great, but I just don't care for his personality. But just watching the preview, I'm super-stoked, not only because it looks tremendously well-made, but because I really think it has the potential to rally people. Think about it- angry GLBTQ folks fresh off of being denied marriage + a moving portrayal of political activism + newly politically mobilized youth = a new revolution. Maybe? I don't know. But I'm still excited.)
Anyways, back on topic. When the two characters shimmy down to nothing, their penises are going to be fake prosthetics, as James Franco told Jimmy Kimmel. The question I have, though, and which doesn't seemed to be addressed in any of the other blogs posting the news, is: "Why?"
The last two big prosthetic penises I remember seeing on-screen belonged to Transamerica's Felicity Huffman and Boogie Night's Mark Walhberg- one for the actress who didn't have one herself, and one for the man needing to portray some hefty porno endowment. Both of these were exceptional cases, ones that I just don't think are present in the case of "Milk". I don't remember hearing any rumor that Milk or his lover were hung like horses, thereby requiring filmmakers to provide historical accuracy by means of plastic genitals.
Mind you, I'm not faulting Penn or Franco. Not only must it be incredibly difficult to expose yourself to millions of strangers, making yourself vulnerable through the removal of protective clothes, but it also opens up the wide and ridiculous arena of penis commentary that is sure to follow. Anybody not swinging an enormous club is immediately subject to intense discussion and criticism- all we have to do is look at what happened to poor Jude Law. One outside changing of clothes and boom! everybody is talking about how small the guy is, despite the fact that he appears more than average to moi. (And I've read countless articles in "defense" of Jude Law's penis- from claims of shrinkage in the pool, a hairy bush hiding and diminishing the goods, all the way to the hydraulics of his crouching stance). Dropping trow is a huge risk to one's career, and if I were an agent, I wouldn't be recommending my male talent to be flopping freely in front of cameras, either. And who wouldn't rather put on a fake and let it take all the heat? Penn and Franco, it turns out, are victims of our size-obsessed culture.
I'm just very tired of penis size being yakked about so much. Even after Enzyte has been sued for its false claims and lack of peer-reviewed evidence (even though c'mon, anybody who bought it was an idiot!), I still have to see Bob's damn smiling face while a cheery announcer tells me all about natural male enhancement. Guys are incredibly worried about their size and national male anxiety increases tenfold. But there's little men can do about penis size without dropping serious cash or risking lumpiness (eek!). It truly is the most ridiculous thing to worry about- it just ain't changing. Best learn to love your penis (why are women encouraged to love their bodies, but men rarely are?), learn to modify your lovemaking skills and tool box if your lady/man says size is causing you to lack, and stop stressing.
But unfortunately, watching "Milk" will make sweat break out on your forehead all over again. You might feel better, having heard Franco regale audiences with his humorous tale, as you remind yourself that they're fake, and even Sean Penn, who bedded the eminently beddable Madonna, worried about his own size. Or not. Nobody seems to be calling out the fake penises for what it says about our culture and our sexual anxieties, and I don't care if it's been talked about to death. Somebody should say it and put it on the table, at the very least.
Until then, though, expect a new trend- Judd Apatow be damned- of the dicks being larger than life, because all you're getting is fake peen.
Ah, well. Go and see "Milk" when it comes out- for the story, instead.
And yet I am, and I'll tell you why.
(On a side note, I am sooo excited about "Milk", the biopic about the first openly gay politican Harvey Milk. I have to admit it- I'm not that much a fan of Sean Penn. Others love him, tell me he's great, but I just don't care for his personality. But just watching the preview, I'm super-stoked, not only because it looks tremendously well-made, but because I really think it has the potential to rally people. Think about it- angry GLBTQ folks fresh off of being denied marriage + a moving portrayal of political activism + newly politically mobilized youth = a new revolution. Maybe? I don't know. But I'm still excited.)
Anyways, back on topic. When the two characters shimmy down to nothing, their penises are going to be fake prosthetics, as James Franco told Jimmy Kimmel. The question I have, though, and which doesn't seemed to be addressed in any of the other blogs posting the news, is: "Why?"
The last two big prosthetic penises I remember seeing on-screen belonged to Transamerica's Felicity Huffman and Boogie Night's Mark Walhberg- one for the actress who didn't have one herself, and one for the man needing to portray some hefty porno endowment. Both of these were exceptional cases, ones that I just don't think are present in the case of "Milk". I don't remember hearing any rumor that Milk or his lover were hung like horses, thereby requiring filmmakers to provide historical accuracy by means of plastic genitals.
Mind you, I'm not faulting Penn or Franco. Not only must it be incredibly difficult to expose yourself to millions of strangers, making yourself vulnerable through the removal of protective clothes, but it also opens up the wide and ridiculous arena of penis commentary that is sure to follow. Anybody not swinging an enormous club is immediately subject to intense discussion and criticism- all we have to do is look at what happened to poor Jude Law. One outside changing of clothes and boom! everybody is talking about how small the guy is, despite the fact that he appears more than average to moi. (And I've read countless articles in "defense" of Jude Law's penis- from claims of shrinkage in the pool, a hairy bush hiding and diminishing the goods, all the way to the hydraulics of his crouching stance). Dropping trow is a huge risk to one's career, and if I were an agent, I wouldn't be recommending my male talent to be flopping freely in front of cameras, either. And who wouldn't rather put on a fake and let it take all the heat? Penn and Franco, it turns out, are victims of our size-obsessed culture.
I'm just very tired of penis size being yakked about so much. Even after Enzyte has been sued for its false claims and lack of peer-reviewed evidence (even though c'mon, anybody who bought it was an idiot!), I still have to see Bob's damn smiling face while a cheery announcer tells me all about natural male enhancement. Guys are incredibly worried about their size and national male anxiety increases tenfold. But there's little men can do about penis size without dropping serious cash or risking lumpiness (eek!). It truly is the most ridiculous thing to worry about- it just ain't changing. Best learn to love your penis (why are women encouraged to love their bodies, but men rarely are?), learn to modify your lovemaking skills and tool box if your lady/man says size is causing you to lack, and stop stressing.
But unfortunately, watching "Milk" will make sweat break out on your forehead all over again. You might feel better, having heard Franco regale audiences with his humorous tale, as you remind yourself that they're fake, and even Sean Penn, who bedded the eminently beddable Madonna, worried about his own size. Or not. Nobody seems to be calling out the fake penises for what it says about our culture and our sexual anxieties, and I don't care if it's been talked about to death. Somebody should say it and put it on the table, at the very least.
Until then, though, expect a new trend- Judd Apatow be damned- of the dicks being larger than life, because all you're getting is fake peen.
Ah, well. Go and see "Milk" when it comes out- for the story, instead.
Labels:
anxiety,
bigger is better,
fake,
gay,
james franco,
milk,
movie,
penis,
penis size,
prosthetic,
sean penn,
size
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
If They Were Boys
What's up with all these girls singing hypothetical songs about being guys? It's not that I'm opposed to the gender-bending, but these songs tend to forget all the wonderful things about being boys, or the wonderful things they'd lose about being girls, and instead focus on- what else?- their menfolk cheating and being playas. I'm all for feminist anthems and calling the boys out and pointing out double standards, but I'd like to see us get past this a little bit. With Dar Williams' song being the only exception, the others paint guys as callous cheating jerks, and little more. It's rather insulting, really. Beyonce's new song is being played everywhere, getting stuck in my head (which I hate doubly because CIARA did it first!), and thus this post was born.
* Ciara's "Like A Boy", which gets major props from Ciara's actually butching it up (if the whole superstar thing falls through, she could make a great drag king!) in the video (unfortunately not here, since they all disabled embedding):
* Beyonce's "If I Were A Boy", which is actually a cover of BC Jean's original. Once again, it's essentially man-bashing (not that it isn't true, though), and Jenton Lee calls it out with its female equivalent, If I Were A Girl.
* Fefe Dobson's "If I Was A Guy" (more of the guys sexin' and then being jerks):
* Dar Williams' "When I Was A Boy", which actually manages to be quite sweet and deep.
What do you guys think? Legitimate songs, or boring shit trying to pass for revolutionary feminist calling out of double standards?
* Ciara's "Like A Boy", which gets major props from Ciara's actually butching it up (if the whole superstar thing falls through, she could make a great drag king!) in the video (unfortunately not here, since they all disabled embedding):
* Beyonce's "If I Were A Boy", which is actually a cover of BC Jean's original. Once again, it's essentially man-bashing (not that it isn't true, though), and Jenton Lee calls it out with its female equivalent, If I Were A Girl.
* Fefe Dobson's "If I Was A Guy" (more of the guys sexin' and then being jerks):
* Dar Williams' "When I Was A Boy", which actually manages to be quite sweet and deep.
What do you guys think? Legitimate songs, or boring shit trying to pass for revolutionary feminist calling out of double standards?
Betrayal, or Becoming What I Hate
I give up all my ideals and morals to become seduced by the sweet siren of the Internet, after the jump.
I'm just old enough to be one of the transitional generation- the switch from CD's (and before that, cassette tapes- gasp!) to MP3's, DVD's to Netflix, and virtually all tangible media to some sort of digital form, transferred as information over the Internet. It's pretty dang cool.
And, of course, a bitch to police.
Producers work hard to add DRM restrictions to their media, as hackers work hard to get around them. Lawyers shut down Napster, as people everywhere plead the innocence of their downloading. Viacom pulls my beloved slash fanvideos from Youtube, as the fangirls go underground and trade them on Bongo. More music and videos are being uploaded, downloaded, traded and shared on the Web than ever before. Most of it is, of course, technically illegaly.
I have always been a firm believer in intellectual rights. If you make something, it belongs to you. Your work and energy went into its creation, and therefore you deserve just compensation for it. While friends were off talking about downloading songs, I was humming "Don't Download This Song" and proudly proclaiming that I bought all the media I consumed. "It's theft!" I chided. I was happy to support the musicians and filmmakers I loved, safely nestled in my clean conscience. While I generally gave leeway to reproductions like Youtube fanvideos that clearly stated the owners of the media (I have the "Fair Use" clause of copyright law nearly memorized), it was the downloading of something you hadn't bought that really got my goat.
And then I got tech-savvy.
It started off slowly- a legitimate download from a porn site membership was going too slow. One forum suggested Internet Download Manager, which was promptly installed and, sure enough, sped up the downloads quite remarkably. But unexpected was the new feature, a tiny clickable button appearing over every video and song player that I encountered, asking me if I'd like to download it with IDM. At first I ignored it, said "no" when the inevitable box would pop up, but then gave in out of curiosity. And it worked just fine enough. I tucked away that piece of information, downloaded a few things I really, truly loved, and let it be.
Fast-forward; now I'm working on another of my beloved Xtube videos, and I try again and again to import the stubborn video, which I legally bought and purchased from an online retailer, into my Windows Movie Maker. I consulted troubleshooting websites, and stumbled into the big wide world of DRM restrictions. There were tons of eager people sharing programs, discussing how to fight Windows, new updates, and all the time almost frantically proclaiming that this stuff was not meant to help illegal downloads, but rather to help people be able to, say, listen to their DRM-protected Itunes song on another music player, or transfer them to a CD so the could listen to them on stereo. Perhaps true, but it sure sounded like a "Thou doth protesth too much." sort of situation. But I did it, too- cracking the DRM code on my bought video and using it as I saw fit.
And then there was the whole question of file transfers. A fellow Crash Pad Series afficionado on Xtube vigorously agreed about the lack of queer porn and offered a trade of some of the missing links we had in our collection. And whaddya know, but I took it, with the help of Megaupload.com . . . and felt little guilt, surprising myself.
And then, while searching for some movie or another, impossible to find, Google offered in my search results one listed "Bittorrent". Up until then, I'd heard once or twice of this mysterious service, and while in Japan, got a firsthand taste of the wonders it could bring. Locked miserably with the few DVD's we had brought with us and the impossibility of renting any (due to lack of a TV with a DVD player and the 3-times region-switching rule of our laptops), a fellow exchange student searched around online and, two or three hours later, there it miraculously was. I tentatively asked about it, and got a confusing answer, something about sharing and seeds and leeches. I gave up, only to be so desperate for the movie that I downloaded the program and gave it a whirl. Though it took forever (at this point, I hadn't mastered said concept of seeds and leeches), it actually worked. I'd successfully downloaded a movie from the Internet.
I should have felt more remorse, more guilt . . . but all I felt- and sadly continue to feel- is mostly joy. I'm starting to think all my posturing before was just the result of not knowing how to access all this media-stealing technology. The minute I found out, I became just as much a thieving fan as the rest of them. Can we say 'hypocrisy'?
I try to somehow justify it in my mind- no, no, I only download movies I can't get at my local Blockbuster, you know, the rare and hard-to-find! Of cousre, it's all bull . . . the type of movie downloaded hardly matters, and even if it did, I'd probably be more guilty, since the big companies (Warner Bros., etc.) have the money to spare on their popular movies, and the little companies with their indie films struggle. There's always the old argument that illegal downloading doesn't really matter; real fans will go and attend the concerts, buy the DVD's and the fan merchandise. And perhaps that's true for some. But I'm not sure it's true for me. I keep on working to support the kind of music, films, and porn that I like by purchasing it, but the temptresses of Internet downloading are calling to me in the night. I'm running out of space on my hard drive.
And I've become what I hate- the glib young gal shrugging off the accusations that it's stealing, or, perhaps worse, knowing that it is and just not caring. I try and tell myself that I'm not alone- everybody does it. But that doesn't make it right, and my heart knows that.
And yet off again I go, hunting for more free stuff. :(
I'm just old enough to be one of the transitional generation- the switch from CD's (and before that, cassette tapes- gasp!) to MP3's, DVD's to Netflix, and virtually all tangible media to some sort of digital form, transferred as information over the Internet. It's pretty dang cool.
And, of course, a bitch to police.
Producers work hard to add DRM restrictions to their media, as hackers work hard to get around them. Lawyers shut down Napster, as people everywhere plead the innocence of their downloading. Viacom pulls my beloved slash fanvideos from Youtube, as the fangirls go underground and trade them on Bongo. More music and videos are being uploaded, downloaded, traded and shared on the Web than ever before. Most of it is, of course, technically illegaly.
I have always been a firm believer in intellectual rights. If you make something, it belongs to you. Your work and energy went into its creation, and therefore you deserve just compensation for it. While friends were off talking about downloading songs, I was humming "Don't Download This Song" and proudly proclaiming that I bought all the media I consumed. "It's theft!" I chided. I was happy to support the musicians and filmmakers I loved, safely nestled in my clean conscience. While I generally gave leeway to reproductions like Youtube fanvideos that clearly stated the owners of the media (I have the "Fair Use" clause of copyright law nearly memorized), it was the downloading of something you hadn't bought that really got my goat.
And then I got tech-savvy.
It started off slowly- a legitimate download from a porn site membership was going too slow. One forum suggested Internet Download Manager, which was promptly installed and, sure enough, sped up the downloads quite remarkably. But unexpected was the new feature, a tiny clickable button appearing over every video and song player that I encountered, asking me if I'd like to download it with IDM. At first I ignored it, said "no" when the inevitable box would pop up, but then gave in out of curiosity. And it worked just fine enough. I tucked away that piece of information, downloaded a few things I really, truly loved, and let it be.
Fast-forward; now I'm working on another of my beloved Xtube videos, and I try again and again to import the stubborn video, which I legally bought and purchased from an online retailer, into my Windows Movie Maker. I consulted troubleshooting websites, and stumbled into the big wide world of DRM restrictions. There were tons of eager people sharing programs, discussing how to fight Windows, new updates, and all the time almost frantically proclaiming that this stuff was not meant to help illegal downloads, but rather to help people be able to, say, listen to their DRM-protected Itunes song on another music player, or transfer them to a CD so the could listen to them on stereo. Perhaps true, but it sure sounded like a "Thou doth protesth too much." sort of situation. But I did it, too- cracking the DRM code on my bought video and using it as I saw fit.
And then there was the whole question of file transfers. A fellow Crash Pad Series afficionado on Xtube vigorously agreed about the lack of queer porn and offered a trade of some of the missing links we had in our collection. And whaddya know, but I took it, with the help of Megaupload.com . . . and felt little guilt, surprising myself.
And then, while searching for some movie or another, impossible to find, Google offered in my search results one listed "Bittorrent". Up until then, I'd heard once or twice of this mysterious service, and while in Japan, got a firsthand taste of the wonders it could bring. Locked miserably with the few DVD's we had brought with us and the impossibility of renting any (due to lack of a TV with a DVD player and the 3-times region-switching rule of our laptops), a fellow exchange student searched around online and, two or three hours later, there it miraculously was. I tentatively asked about it, and got a confusing answer, something about sharing and seeds and leeches. I gave up, only to be so desperate for the movie that I downloaded the program and gave it a whirl. Though it took forever (at this point, I hadn't mastered said concept of seeds and leeches), it actually worked. I'd successfully downloaded a movie from the Internet.
I should have felt more remorse, more guilt . . . but all I felt- and sadly continue to feel- is mostly joy. I'm starting to think all my posturing before was just the result of not knowing how to access all this media-stealing technology. The minute I found out, I became just as much a thieving fan as the rest of them. Can we say 'hypocrisy'?
I try to somehow justify it in my mind- no, no, I only download movies I can't get at my local Blockbuster, you know, the rare and hard-to-find! Of cousre, it's all bull . . . the type of movie downloaded hardly matters, and even if it did, I'd probably be more guilty, since the big companies (Warner Bros., etc.) have the money to spare on their popular movies, and the little companies with their indie films struggle. There's always the old argument that illegal downloading doesn't really matter; real fans will go and attend the concerts, buy the DVD's and the fan merchandise. And perhaps that's true for some. But I'm not sure it's true for me. I keep on working to support the kind of music, films, and porn that I like by purchasing it, but the temptresses of Internet downloading are calling to me in the night. I'm running out of space on my hard drive.
And I've become what I hate- the glib young gal shrugging off the accusations that it's stealing, or, perhaps worse, knowing that it is and just not caring. I try and tell myself that I'm not alone- everybody does it. But that doesn't make it right, and my heart knows that.
And yet off again I go, hunting for more free stuff. :(
Labels:
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Saturday, November 15, 2008
Behind The Scenes Of Queer Porn, 3 Views
This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.Thursday, November 13, 2008
Darkest Fantasies
I can always tell my life is getting too complicated and stressful when I find myself daydreaming about master/slave relationships. All of the sudden my fantasies turn more towards being subservient- and not only sexually. A peaceful wave sweeps through me to imagine handing over the reigns of my life to someone wise and all-powerful who I trusted, to be delivered from all obligations of thought and especially decisions. An abdication of having to live my life, really.
That's when I start watching "Secretary" yet again, but even more longingly, and wonder if I shouldn't be looking harder for a domme willing to take me up like this. God help me, I was browsing through Fetlife and came upon a beautiful dandy butch profile, and her invitation looking for housegirls and houseboys. The mere thought actually had me sighing wistfully. I like to cook and clean and keep a house- I could take so much joy out of serving in that way. And my domme- male or female or whatever- could plot out a perfect course for me. She'd come home from work and ask me about my classes; there's no chance of procrastination, and I read my chapters while curled up as her human footstool. Then there's the dinner I've cooked us- fragrant, exotic cuisine that's vegan (because, in my fantasy, she's incredibly healthy and helps me give up meat), perhaps perched at her side as she feeds me just the amount I should have. She's my exercise trainer, pushing me hard and regularly (because I wouldn't- and don't- do it on my own now). She puts me to bed early and wakes me up early. She has a strict schedule laid out for me. And she gives me incredible orgasms- opens me up to sensual pleasures of both the soft and the whacking, stinging, shocking kind. There are play parties on the weekends. Training that takes up all of my concentration and consumes me with a single minded drive whose accomplishment gives me incredible pleasure. When she comes home, the house is spotless and I am utterly content.
Except that I know this is all ridiculous.
I am not a sub, or at least, not in the way I described above. I'm a switch and I definitely don't think I have the stamina or the dedication to a 24/7 lifestyle either way. I'm headstrong and I'm sure that within far too short a timespan, I'd buck and chafe at the rules, feel resentment, and want to be in charge of my life again. The dynamic would wear thin, as it does with anyone who doesn't truly take pleasure out of being servile.
I know that it's stupid. And yet they are my fantasies, still faintly erotic but mostly oddly de-sexualized, where I become almost something of a child- without any of the pressures and emotional minefields that constitute adulthood. It's probably the most shameful and guilt-inducing fantasy I have, actually. Rape play, pissing, and incestual orgies fade in comparison to the cheek-flushing confession that I want someone else to take care of it all, to let me run away from my fears and anxieties, to live in some sort of simplified world that only skims the surface. To find freedom and relief in shackles, because if you have no choice, you feel no agony, and if you fail, someone else shares the burden of that failure with you.
It's poetic and pathetic, but whatever. It's 1:30 in the morning and I'm procrastinating on a paper due at 8:00. These are just thoughts running through my head. Sigh.
That's when I start watching "Secretary" yet again, but even more longingly, and wonder if I shouldn't be looking harder for a domme willing to take me up like this. God help me, I was browsing through Fetlife and came upon a beautiful dandy butch profile, and her invitation looking for housegirls and houseboys. The mere thought actually had me sighing wistfully. I like to cook and clean and keep a house- I could take so much joy out of serving in that way. And my domme- male or female or whatever- could plot out a perfect course for me. She'd come home from work and ask me about my classes; there's no chance of procrastination, and I read my chapters while curled up as her human footstool. Then there's the dinner I've cooked us- fragrant, exotic cuisine that's vegan (because, in my fantasy, she's incredibly healthy and helps me give up meat), perhaps perched at her side as she feeds me just the amount I should have. She's my exercise trainer, pushing me hard and regularly (because I wouldn't- and don't- do it on my own now). She puts me to bed early and wakes me up early. She has a strict schedule laid out for me. And she gives me incredible orgasms- opens me up to sensual pleasures of both the soft and the whacking, stinging, shocking kind. There are play parties on the weekends. Training that takes up all of my concentration and consumes me with a single minded drive whose accomplishment gives me incredible pleasure. When she comes home, the house is spotless and I am utterly content.
Except that I know this is all ridiculous.
I am not a sub, or at least, not in the way I described above. I'm a switch and I definitely don't think I have the stamina or the dedication to a 24/7 lifestyle either way. I'm headstrong and I'm sure that within far too short a timespan, I'd buck and chafe at the rules, feel resentment, and want to be in charge of my life again. The dynamic would wear thin, as it does with anyone who doesn't truly take pleasure out of being servile.
I know that it's stupid. And yet they are my fantasies, still faintly erotic but mostly oddly de-sexualized, where I become almost something of a child- without any of the pressures and emotional minefields that constitute adulthood. It's probably the most shameful and guilt-inducing fantasy I have, actually. Rape play, pissing, and incestual orgies fade in comparison to the cheek-flushing confession that I want someone else to take care of it all, to let me run away from my fears and anxieties, to live in some sort of simplified world that only skims the surface. To find freedom and relief in shackles, because if you have no choice, you feel no agony, and if you fail, someone else shares the burden of that failure with you.
It's poetic and pathetic, but whatever. It's 1:30 in the morning and I'm procrastinating on a paper due at 8:00. These are just thoughts running through my head. Sigh.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Gender-Bending, Squared
It's a common misconception by those not-in-the-know, I think, that drag queens are simply men who want to be women, and drag kings are simply women who want to be men. The non-queer community has a pretty difficult time differentiating between all those similar T-words- transgender, transsexual, transvestite. Don't even get 'em started on transfags or transdykes! So there's a tendency to believe that if you like dressing up and acting like the opposite sex, the only possible reason is because of deep-seated desires to become that sex.
Well, cross-dressing transfolk and transfolk in drag totally put that to shame. And I decided to give them some blogspace, to combat the above silly idea (as well as because I find it wonderfully hot and deliciously subversive).
Even though FtM Dan, here in these pictures, (lifted from Photographer Richard A. Chase's journal Commentaries and Love Letters", where you can find a wonderful description of Dan, as well as his own words), is cross-dressing as part of neither a kink nor a drag routine, but instead almost as a way to revisit his past, it's still somewhat incredible to see. If you get confused at the idea of a straight crossdressing man, get ready for your head to spin at Dan- a guy who used to be a girl, dressed in girl's clothes.
FtM Adrian Dalton, however, is dressing up in women's clothes for the stage, and his drag persona, the lovely, campy Miss Lola, appears below at roughly 5:49.
If you scour the Internet for MtF drag kings, you do find a few, and they all seem think they're the only ones (yes, we totally need to get them together). The most famous, perhaps, is Brooklynne M. Thomas, who performs as drag king persona U.B. Mackin and his sister persona, Pandora Paradox. But Brooklynne rocks most in my eyes for her brilliant rationale for being a transwoman drag king, "Dissection Of A MtF Drag King".
And let us not forget the wonderful Traci Klawes, who tours with the drag king troupe The Milton Kings and the Tranny Roadshow as Willie P. Fister.
And here's transwoman Natalie practices her drag king routine (her persona is the cleverly-named Isa Jak Ingov).
I just adore all these crazy gender-benders, whose donning of drag is only more of a confirmation that transsexuality is a genetic thing- about the body (and a profound statement on our gender duality- the masculinity and femininity within all of us). Plus, they're SEX-AY!
Well, cross-dressing transfolk and transfolk in drag totally put that to shame. And I decided to give them some blogspace, to combat the above silly idea (as well as because I find it wonderfully hot and deliciously subversive).
Even though FtM Dan, here in these pictures, (lifted from Photographer Richard A. Chase's journal Commentaries and Love Letters", where you can find a wonderful description of Dan, as well as his own words), is cross-dressing as part of neither a kink nor a drag routine, but instead almost as a way to revisit his past, it's still somewhat incredible to see. If you get confused at the idea of a straight crossdressing man, get ready for your head to spin at Dan- a guy who used to be a girl, dressed in girl's clothes.
FtM Adrian Dalton, however, is dressing up in women's clothes for the stage, and his drag persona, the lovely, campy Miss Lola, appears below at roughly 5:49.
If you scour the Internet for MtF drag kings, you do find a few, and they all seem think they're the only ones (yes, we totally need to get them together). The most famous, perhaps, is Brooklynne M. Thomas, who performs as drag king persona U.B. Mackin and his sister persona, Pandora Paradox. But Brooklynne rocks most in my eyes for her brilliant rationale for being a transwoman drag king, "Dissection Of A MtF Drag King".
And let us not forget the wonderful Traci Klawes, who tours with the drag king troupe The Milton Kings and the Tranny Roadshow as Willie P. Fister.
And here's transwoman Natalie practices her drag king routine (her persona is the cleverly-named Isa Jak Ingov).
I just adore all these crazy gender-benders, whose donning of drag is only more of a confirmation that transsexuality is a genetic thing- about the body (and a profound statement on our gender duality- the masculinity and femininity within all of us). Plus, they're SEX-AY!
Labels:
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ftm,
ftm drag queen,
MtF,
mtf drag king,
transman,
transsexual,
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Now That It's (Sorta) Over . . .
Well . . . we lost. Despite my fellow porn enthusiasts going out and buying to your heart's content, and despite voting (as I know you all did), we failed to defeat the ban on gay marriage here in California (a.k.a. Prop 8).
Of course, that doesn't mean defeat; the results were so incredibly close, support and opposition was huge on both sides, and, as Jiz Lee so wonderfully brought to my attention, the fight soldiers on. And hooray for that, because the last thing we need is to become demoralized and give up. We do not live in a democracy, where a majority rules our lives- we live in a republic, where the majority rules . . . so long as they don't infringe on our rights. I'd say refusing the right of marriage is one of those that we're entitled to (as citizens, taxpayers, and heck, human beings). So we'll turn to the blindfolded lady Justice and let her weigh it out in the times to come.
But now that all's said and done, I don't want an angry rant about homophobia, or a weepy rant about losing, or even an inspirational manifesto about overcoming. I want to ask: what are we doing?
It's incredible, I think, the amount of money we were able to raise in support of the "No On 8" campaign- a brilliant $38,432,873. We even beat out the other side with their $36,122,538 (not that it helped). I can hardly fathom these numbers- they seem fantastical. All for a few ads to try and sway the general public.
I don't mean to say that opposing Prop 8 isn't important- I hope that it's clear that it's a huge deal and one that certainly makes a difference in lives- it's not just about some abstract "rights", but about respect and tolerance and being acknowledged, in being able to be with your partner, and, for those already married, for staying that way. But was it worth such a price tag?
I'll admit that my thoughts have been seriously swayed by a book I bought a while back- Mattilda Bernstein's That's Revolting. In it are a bevy of essays asking the somewhat taboo question that doesn't get asked nearly enough in queer circles- the biggest of which is "Do we even need marriage?". Some will scream- of course we do! And on the other side of the divide is the radicals who would like to do away with the whole institution on the basis of what it used to be and maybe still stands for (the symbolic passing over of a bride from her father to her new husband as chattel?), or favor the philsophical approach that we don't need no stinkin' pieces of paper to prove our bonds. You've got queer folks who want to get married, queer folks who don't and never would, thinking it's too "straight", queer folks who want to have something but don't want to call it marriage, and those who won't stand for anything less than the M word. There isn't a queer around (I think) who says we don't deserve the right to marriage; that's a given. But as to whether we ought be fighting one of our many battles here, on this issue, and spending our money here, I just don't know if it's that clear-cut.
The various essays bring up strong, radical points that I don't always believe/agree with, but which are provocative nonetheless. Is marriage, and this fight for gay marriage, a fight that only benefits some queers? Does it represent a class of relatively elite, affluent, mainly white conservative (i.e. non-radical, not non-liberal) gays and lesbians, who have a vested interest in the institution of marriage, and the privileges it brings, both pyschological, in social reception, and least not in asset sharing and whatnot? How much of the fight for gay marriage has to do with wanting the status and privilege that comes with it, and the normalizing effect that goes with it? I'm not saying that queer folks are somehow less equipped or less inclined to go hand-in-hand with marriage. Gay marriage naturally belongs on the list of the gay agenda list (you know, the real one, not the one that has 'recruit and convert all the innocent chitlins on it).
My question is this: could that money have been put to other, better use? How many lives could have been bettered if the money went to helping the queers that get left out of the HRC meetings, or blatantly turned away? What if instead of waging a neverending battle against the lies thrown out by the Prop 8 supporters, the money was used for organizations with outreach and education? What if we created more and helped keep the public queer spaces open? How about providing aid to the GLBTQ homeless and at-risk youth?
Those are just some of the thoughts running through my head. Hmm.
Of course, that doesn't mean defeat; the results were so incredibly close, support and opposition was huge on both sides, and, as Jiz Lee so wonderfully brought to my attention, the fight soldiers on. And hooray for that, because the last thing we need is to become demoralized and give up. We do not live in a democracy, where a majority rules our lives- we live in a republic, where the majority rules . . . so long as they don't infringe on our rights. I'd say refusing the right of marriage is one of those that we're entitled to (as citizens, taxpayers, and heck, human beings). So we'll turn to the blindfolded lady Justice and let her weigh it out in the times to come.
But now that all's said and done, I don't want an angry rant about homophobia, or a weepy rant about losing, or even an inspirational manifesto about overcoming. I want to ask: what are we doing?
It's incredible, I think, the amount of money we were able to raise in support of the "No On 8" campaign- a brilliant $38,432,873. We even beat out the other side with their $36,122,538 (not that it helped). I can hardly fathom these numbers- they seem fantastical. All for a few ads to try and sway the general public.
I don't mean to say that opposing Prop 8 isn't important- I hope that it's clear that it's a huge deal and one that certainly makes a difference in lives- it's not just about some abstract "rights", but about respect and tolerance and being acknowledged, in being able to be with your partner, and, for those already married, for staying that way. But was it worth such a price tag?
I'll admit that my thoughts have been seriously swayed by a book I bought a while back- Mattilda Bernstein's That's Revolting. In it are a bevy of essays asking the somewhat taboo question that doesn't get asked nearly enough in queer circles- the biggest of which is "Do we even need marriage?". Some will scream- of course we do! And on the other side of the divide is the radicals who would like to do away with the whole institution on the basis of what it used to be and maybe still stands for (the symbolic passing over of a bride from her father to her new husband as chattel?), or favor the philsophical approach that we don't need no stinkin' pieces of paper to prove our bonds. You've got queer folks who want to get married, queer folks who don't and never would, thinking it's too "straight", queer folks who want to have something but don't want to call it marriage, and those who won't stand for anything less than the M word. There isn't a queer around (I think) who says we don't deserve the right to marriage; that's a given. But as to whether we ought be fighting one of our many battles here, on this issue, and spending our money here, I just don't know if it's that clear-cut.
The various essays bring up strong, radical points that I don't always believe/agree with, but which are provocative nonetheless. Is marriage, and this fight for gay marriage, a fight that only benefits some queers? Does it represent a class of relatively elite, affluent, mainly white conservative (i.e. non-radical, not non-liberal) gays and lesbians, who have a vested interest in the institution of marriage, and the privileges it brings, both pyschological, in social reception, and least not in asset sharing and whatnot? How much of the fight for gay marriage has to do with wanting the status and privilege that comes with it, and the normalizing effect that goes with it? I'm not saying that queer folks are somehow less equipped or less inclined to go hand-in-hand with marriage. Gay marriage naturally belongs on the list of the gay agenda list (you know, the real one, not the one that has 'recruit and convert all the innocent chitlins on it).
My question is this: could that money have been put to other, better use? How many lives could have been bettered if the money went to helping the queers that get left out of the HRC meetings, or blatantly turned away? What if instead of waging a neverending battle against the lies thrown out by the Prop 8 supporters, the money was used for organizations with outreach and education? What if we created more and helped keep the public queer spaces open? How about providing aid to the GLBTQ homeless and at-risk youth?
Those are just some of the thoughts running through my head. Hmm.
Labels:
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prop 8,
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Monday, November 3, 2008
Fellatio Singalong
Remember when I did the Cunnilingus Singalong? Well, now it's the boys' turn. I'm just sad I couldn't find any songs about gay fellatio!
1) The Waitstaff's "The Blowjob Song". It's so adorable. Everybody's smiling- cuz they're thinking about blowjobs. ;)
2) "The Blowjob Song" by Richy. A song that manages to be coy- you know what they're talking about, but you want to say "Nah, it's about lollipops!". And it'll get stuck in your head all day, guaranteed.
3) Jonathan Fin's "Blowjob Song". Not a fave, really, because if somebody said "You fucking bitch, your hand doesn't belong there at all.", I'd definitely get down on my knees to give them a blowjob- and then bite it off. But it's still stupidly catchy.
4) "The Blowjob Song" by Blink 182. Sophomoric humor dealing with sex and your mom (as is 95% of teen boys'- and adult mens'- humor), but it's very famous.
5) "Suck My Cock" by . . . I'm not sure. I couldn't find out! But it's perfect- Christmas is coming, sooner than you think!
6) "The Most Offensive Song Ever" from "South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut". Very fitting, considering how many kids nowadays don't think that oral sex compromises one's virginity.
7) "Gimmie Some Head" by dilly21ny. Nice beat!
8) G.G. Allin's "Blowjobs". A little poor quality here, but still head-boppitty.
9) "Suck My Dick" by Sleezy Dee and The Suck My Dick Krew. I'm pretty sure a song about fellatio can't fail when it's written by the "The Suck My Dick Krew".
10) Carl Meachin's "Can I Have A Blowjob?". I like this one, because there's a very polite "please" at the end there. Always nice to be polite when requesting oral lovin' because you haven't got the energy to fuck.
11) Barkymark's "Blow Job". Added in because he sings very nicely and I didn't want to forget him.
So go on, serenade somebody, all you boys (and girls with your strap-ons!), and get some head!
1) The Waitstaff's "The Blowjob Song". It's so adorable. Everybody's smiling- cuz they're thinking about blowjobs. ;)
2) "The Blowjob Song" by Richy. A song that manages to be coy- you know what they're talking about, but you want to say "Nah, it's about lollipops!". And it'll get stuck in your head all day, guaranteed.
3) Jonathan Fin's "Blowjob Song". Not a fave, really, because if somebody said "You fucking bitch, your hand doesn't belong there at all.", I'd definitely get down on my knees to give them a blowjob- and then bite it off. But it's still stupidly catchy.
4) "The Blowjob Song" by Blink 182. Sophomoric humor dealing with sex and your mom (as is 95% of teen boys'- and adult mens'- humor), but it's very famous.
5) "Suck My Cock" by . . . I'm not sure. I couldn't find out! But it's perfect- Christmas is coming, sooner than you think!
6) "The Most Offensive Song Ever" from "South Park: Bigger, Longer, and Uncut". Very fitting, considering how many kids nowadays don't think that oral sex compromises one's virginity.
7) "Gimmie Some Head" by dilly21ny. Nice beat!
8) G.G. Allin's "Blowjobs". A little poor quality here, but still head-boppitty.
9) "Suck My Dick" by Sleezy Dee and The Suck My Dick Krew. I'm pretty sure a song about fellatio can't fail when it's written by the "The Suck My Dick Krew".
10) Carl Meachin's "Can I Have A Blowjob?". I like this one, because there's a very polite "please" at the end there. Always nice to be polite when requesting oral lovin' because you haven't got the energy to fuck.
11) Barkymark's "Blow Job". Added in because he sings very nicely and I didn't want to forget him.
So go on, serenade somebody, all you boys (and girls with your strap-ons!), and get some head!
Labels:
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Finite Resources, Infinite Good Causes
There is a question that still manages to plague me, even after contemplating it since forever: where should I buy my sex supplies?Easy, you say. Buy it from wherever they sell it.
But it's not so easy. Just look at my fave retailers at the right; although they each have their particular strengths and weaknesses, I hold Blowfish, Babeland, and Good Vibrations in pretty much the same regard. There are no real favorites- they all rock, both in their service and selections, and in their company ethos. And that's forgetting all the little companies- Good For Her, Smitten Kitten, Early2Bed, and on and on with others I should know. Should I support these little companies who are still struggling, and forgo those big companies who are well-off enough to miss out on my purchase of a $20 dildo? That always seems like reverse capitalism to me- an act that, in effect, punishes companies who have found success through their hard work, good customer service, and superior product selection. How's that for incentive? And what's more- when I give my money to a big company that I support and shares my views and outlooks, my chances increase, as all that extra capital spills over into new ventures- a store opening close(r) to me, for example (so I can actually walk in, instead of doing only online orders!), or making their own porn or sex toys. If a good deal of people had funneled their funds into other smaller companies instead of Blowfish, would the result have been many medium-sized and growing companies, and Blowfish not helping to release and distribute Pink & White's films? Heaven forbid!
And this isn't even taking into account buying sex toys through folks who get kickbacks when you shop through their links. Should I purchase this DVD from my favorite blogger X, who gets a small percentage of that, thus telling them they have fans and hopefully increasing their output and awesomeness? What about paying for Jiz Lee's eye surgery (because I figure the best way to keep her making fantastic porn is to keep her happy)? Or should it go to institution Y, whose goals I truly support and believe in? And for heaven's sake, what about institution Z? Both Y and Z are great causes! This isn't even a problem of donation, where it's all charitable; I'm going to buy the sex toy anyway for my own selfish reasons, and I just want to help somebody in the meantime.
And speaking of it, what about donating to causes? I've made it clear before- I'm poor and broke. But I want to help, and I want to see change in so many places. Where should my money go? To big organizations who are doing relatively fine on their own? To small ones who really need the help, but probably won't be affecting any real change for a long while, or not without some massive donations? How am I supposed to rank my interests- should I donate to free speech, or sex worker rights, or feminist causes, or defending our porn, or political parties (which, with my third party-support, would probably be seen as wasted anyways), or voting down/up propositions, or what?
And then let us not forget that naggling part of me that says "Here you are whining about how to put your measly money to good use- how about doing something for real?". I have limited money, so why aren't I writing letters to Congress, marching in protests, volunteering my time? How long can I pretend that donating money isn't just a sorry way to excuse laziness by forking over some cash in a hostile hostage exchange for my conscience and sense of satisfaction as a do-gooder?
Ugh. I'm overwhelmed by choices, frustrated by my inefficacy.
How do you do it, my readers? Whether it's giving donations or just making your purchases, how do you choose the recipient of your time, your effort, your money, your business? When there are so many good people out there, great businesses, wonderful institutions, how do you mete out your input?
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And Eros-Zine Was Gone . . .
Even though I knew the site was dead and no longer being updated when I put it on my blogroll or even wrote about it here, I still wanted to list Eros-Zine, because they had an amazing backlog of wonderful posts- porn reviews, interviews, news headlines, erotic photography and artistry . . . the list goes on.
Then I went to look up something today, and it's all gone.
I'm not quite sure if somebody else bought the domain name and kept the overall layout, or if the owners decided to reduce the room they were taking up on the server and keep the site alive by getting some advertisers, but now it's little more than a page full of links, albeit links to good places, like Kink.com's sites and the Stockroom and all that.
I'm actually pretty sad. Back when I was a wee little queer thang just barely standing up on her wobbly Bambi legs, some blessed person in the Bisexual.com forums wrote a post about a movie called "The Crash Pad". I went to Google and typed it in. One of the first sites that came up was Eros-Zine, with a review of the movie, and even up until it was gone, it was one of the only reviews that featured pictures of everyone- Dylan, Shawn, Jiz, Jo, Dusty Ryder. And the review was spot-on. I bought it, became a pervalicious queer chick (as happens to anyone who views the film, naturally), and haven't looked back since. Eros-Zine introduced me to Marty Klein, author of one of my favorite blogs, Sexual Intlligence. And before I knew about other erotic blogs and adult industry news sources, I checked there daily to learn about Morty Diamond and Tony Comstock and Eon McKai. In other words, it was a crucial aid in making me who I am today.
So, bye, Eros-Zine. I suppose I should remove you from my blogroll, and let this post serve as a memory of what was. Thanks for everything.
Then I went to look up something today, and it's all gone.
I'm not quite sure if somebody else bought the domain name and kept the overall layout, or if the owners decided to reduce the room they were taking up on the server and keep the site alive by getting some advertisers, but now it's little more than a page full of links, albeit links to good places, like Kink.com's sites and the Stockroom and all that.
I'm actually pretty sad. Back when I was a wee little queer thang just barely standing up on her wobbly Bambi legs, some blessed person in the Bisexual.com forums wrote a post about a movie called "The Crash Pad". I went to Google and typed it in. One of the first sites that came up was Eros-Zine, with a review of the movie, and even up until it was gone, it was one of the only reviews that featured pictures of everyone- Dylan, Shawn, Jiz, Jo, Dusty Ryder. And the review was spot-on. I bought it, became a pervalicious queer chick (as happens to anyone who views the film, naturally), and haven't looked back since. Eros-Zine introduced me to Marty Klein, author of one of my favorite blogs, Sexual Intlligence. And before I knew about other erotic blogs and adult industry news sources, I checked there daily to learn about Morty Diamond and Tony Comstock and Eon McKai. In other words, it was a crucial aid in making me who I am today.
So, bye, Eros-Zine. I suppose I should remove you from my blogroll, and let this post serve as a memory of what was. Thanks for everything.
When Non-Fetishists Shoot Fetish Porn
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Labels:
boi,
fetish,
fetish porn,
forced,
forced masculinization,
girlfriend films,
masculinization,
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mommy's boi,
porn,
review
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