Scouts Honor

Horatio writes: The modern scout movement is all about inculcating a generation of American youths with what is referred to as "character development." Thanks to Theo Katz from Los Angeles for providing the insight into how this is done.

Scouting was my everything. I loved the feeling of being a member of a collective. Growing up in LA, I guess the need for community is pretty self-evident. I was 13 when we left for an overnight trip out into the country. It was 1983. On the way out of the city, our bus stopped in Pasadena which provided a bunch of us with just enough time to drop into one of those head shop/porn stores where I was able to procure a pack of nude playing cards which featured an array of naked Mexican ladies. The Scout Movement was all about respecting the group and helping others, so although I cannot remember my precise motivations, I am pretty sure that without thinking, I felt duty bound to share the joy by giving out the cards on the bus so that every member of my pack could experience the thrill of holding a butt nekkid senorita in their sweaty little palms. The cards progressed around the bus, but I realized my error before they had made it almost half way round. The energy level on the bus surged to electric all the while the noise level dropped to almost nothing. Two tell tale signs which even the most distracted and incompetent Scout Master knows spells one thing and one thing only. Porn on the bus. I was quickly turned in, busted, and sent home.

My parents were mortified. Both about the fact that their son was a petty thief ("You are worse than a murder!") and that the object of my affection were cheap Mexicans in maid outfits. I should add that my father considered himself to be a proper gentleman in the My Fair Lady mode. So this was one of the greatest ethical dilemmas he faced as a parent. Had I stolen a record, he would have taught me a lesson by marching me me right back to Tower Records and forcing me to face the justice of the authorities. But this was cheap and dirty porn and he was too embarrassed to actually go to the store and ally himself with the owner, a purveyor of smut. Even Dr. Benjamin Spock neglected to cover this parenting challenge. A manila envelope was found. An anonymous note of apology was written and mailed unsigned back to the sore o'porn. And I was never allowed to attend a scouting affair, or make the scout salute, again.

Great Inventions of Our Time

Horatio writes: Fire. The printing press. The Interwebs. Inventions that have changed the world. We are proud to add two to the pantheon today. Few gave have arguably done more to change the way the average American male thinks, speaks, and acts.

The first was sent in response to to Brad from New Jersey's technical angst over how one should keep track of the exact spot to rewind one's parent's porno videos to after a stealth viewing in their room. Perhaps this information is coming twenty years too late for Brad, but we believe that Ian from Brooklyn's wisdom is still worth presenting anyway. "The answer," he suggests, "is called a numerical tape counter and its' invention changed my life. I could watch whilst pounding away at my pants, calm in the knowledge that after mopping up I was left with the simple task of winding that video right back to 4937."

A semi-connected invention related to the videos Ian used to watch. Rockin' with Seka in which Seka, the legendary porno Platinum Princess, played a role that was a stretch for her... a flight attendant who explained her sexploits to entertain her fellow hostesses and break up the boredom of a lay over. Ian wrote: "Seka was the Jenna Jameson of her day, so suffice it to say, the story line was scant but I did not need one. This was pulse pounding stuff. I was 14. I only needed to watch it for 35 seconds and that was enough for me three times a day." Seka was also an inventor, neigh a visionary, as an early adopter of the shaven haven some twenty years before it became standard practice. Think about that next time you admire her work while playing the one stringed bass. She was not just a pretty face but a genius upstairs. And if we need to tell you even more to put you over the top, while researching this, we were fascinated to find out that she is a huge fan of both the Cub and the Whitseox and owns a remarkable collection of Major league baseball caps. She truly is the perfect woman. Start the week off right by enjoying some Seka in action.

This Thanksgiving, Think about how YOU can become a better man

Horatio writes: To be clear, we are not big lovers of Thanksgiving. A full house is not a house which is kind to the lover of self-pleasure. So we have always viewed the holiday as a cleansing period for self-assessment - a time to ask ourselves the question, How Can I Become A Better Man?

The answer to this question, as so many others, can be found in one of two places. The Mormon Bible, and the Porns of old. As ever, we seek inspiration in the second -- and the answer is clear thanks to these 1973 ads... Change is never on the inside. You are perfect just the way you are. And physical improvement is just a clip of a coupon away.

Our favorites: The Masculiner Co's Quick Change hairpiece set which automatically turn you into Murray from Flight of the Conchords. "Simply check the color you want or send a sample of your hair and leave the matching to our expert" ( Click to Enlarge Photos...)



Elevators by Brockton Footwear "With Elevators you have a lot going for you. Two extra inches to help you measure up. With Elevators on your feet and that gleam in your eye she will know you're up to something."

How to Be Taller Booklet by NEW HEIGHT of Brampton, ON Canada, a mysterious booklet which will give you a few inches in height for those who are "Fed up with being called 'shorty,' 'Little Man' or even "Hey you down there."

Golden Toilets

Frederick Goldensnapple of Texas writes:

Hands down, from ages 12 to 18, my house was the most popular place to shit in the neighborhood. It wasn't the toilet paper, although it was 2-ply. It wasn't the lighting, although my mom always did have the eye of a true Texas aesthete. And it wasn't the location-- my house was a good half mile by foot further away than anyone else's. It was the sink. Or rather, what lie hidden beneath it.

My friends discovered it before I did. And for weeks, could it have been years?, I couldn't figure out why all my childhood pals insisted on making my house the location for their afterschool dump du jour. In hopes of unravelling this mystery, one day after everyone had left, I secluded myself in the commode, determined to figure this thing out once and for all.

Other than mom's impressive collection of lotions and potions and dad's harsh-smelling aftershaves there was nothing out of the ordinary in here. Was I missing something? I counted the tiles on the floor. And recounted them. I then proceeded to catalogue everything in the room with a zeal to rival missieurs Coopers and Lybrand themselves. Still nothing.

In desperation, I flopped on the floor and landed face to face with the cabinet beneath the sink. But what was this? A false bottom? There, in the two or three inches between the cabinet and floor was porn, glorious porn! Hot Bottoms and Playboy! Elated, I flipped over on my back and poured through every magazine then and there.

To this day, my mom still tells her friends about the Civil War-esque case of dysentery I came down with between the ages of 12 and 18. Until, of course, I switched to soy milk in college and everything cleared up.

Rock Beats Scissors, Porn Beats Hornets

JAMES T. of Venice Beach writes:

When you're the youngest of three brothers stuff magically appears. Beers in the basement. Bongs in the back of your closet. And last but certainly not least, a stack of porn in the hornet infested attic. To say stack is an injustice. This was Alexandria: a vast, catalogued, collection of every major porn publication from the 70's and 80's. Playboy, check. Oui, check. Knockers, check. Penthouse, Penthouse Letters, Penthouse Forum, check check check. And oh yeah, the hornets. Did I mention them? It's funny how much a teenage boy with raging hormones can weather in the face of pornography. The stings and welts I received over the years pale in comparison to the joy I received from many hours spent reading in this fine library of the libido.