Warning! Today's column is not for children. I guess.

I'd like to be serious for a moment here. I know that's out of character, but I'm very worried about something near and dear to my heart. You see, there's a crisis facing this nation, a crisis of swollen, one might even say turgid proportions. It is a crisis upon which the future of our nation and fine culture hangs, threatening to plunge us all into a dark, depraved abyss from which we may never truly escape. I'm speaking of course about Porn.

That's right, ladies and gentlemen... I'm not going to beat around the bush. I'm talking about pornography, also known as pr0n, smut, filth, horndography, and many other names too libidinous, too salacious, and too dirty not to enjoy.

Today, our porn is in danger. Grave danger. Without immediate intervention, all hope might be lost. Obviously, porn itself won't disappear... It will always survive in some fashion, hiding in dark places like a house-rat. The problem is that it will have lost its soul.

Every year, the pornographic industry reaches for new extremes in order to tittilate our under-laid and increasingly disaffected population. Where it was sufficient in the past to simply reveal some skin and copulate, modern pornography features multi-ethnic lolitas being gang-banged by entire petting zoos just to achieve the same effect. Where will it end?

The danger here is that we appear to be reaching a limit. Pornography can, after all, only be so perverse. Acts that were unthinkable only a couple years ago are now prosaic - the absolute minimum that a new starlet must perform to make a living in the industry.

I'm utterly serious here. Two decades ago, a comely young lass could wrap up a day of work with a blowjob and some intercourse. Today's porn landscape demands double-penetration, silicone-enhanced tit-fucking, face-fucking, a gaping look at her duodenum and a multi-horse bukkake finish. That's a day's work.

But I haven't even gotten to the depressing part yet. In the race to achieve the ultimate level of depravity, porn has become oddly sterile, emotionless, inhuman. Storylines and characters disappeared entirely, replaced with the Gonzo-style, where performers openly acknowledge that they're screwing in front of cameras. Make-believe is dead, and performances now lack even the subtlest hint of desire... We, the porn-viewing-public, are settling for steady-cam recordings of inhuman fucking-machines doing their machine-like work.

The average modern porn scene is about as hot as watching a construction worker break-up concrete.

It's getting boring, and it's time for a change. Porn should inspire heavy-breathing, racing pulses and erections, not fast-forwarding and yawning. What we need is a revolution. A porno revolution.

The Porno Revolution

Let's take a moment to reflect on the porn of the '70s. Back then, porn was of a very different breed. It was the era of cheesy storylines and mustaches. Oddly enough, even though the films were driven by paper-thin plots, they offered something that today's Gonzo porn does not: Reality.

They were real people... Real horndogs with real smiles on their faces. They looked like people you might run into at the burger joint, wearing too-tight jeans. They had real bodies, with *gasp* real body hair, and you know what else? They really wanted to fuck eachother. It wasn't just business; it was honest-to-goodness lust.

Watching porn from the '70s leaves you with a different feeling than today's porn. When they tear off eachother's clothes, revealing the fleshy, hairy bodies beneath, you feel a little perverse. A little naughty, like you're peeping through someone's window, or watching their home movies.

That's how it should be.

Now, I'm not saying that the porn of the '70s was perfect. It wasn't perfect, but it's still remarkably hot, and that's something to take note of. I think it can point us towards a better pornography.

Today's pornography, in comparison, features actors and actresses of almost super-human proportions. Men are chiseled, muscular powerhouses with massive schlangs, while women are finely sculpted curves and over-inflated tits. They ceased being real people. They've become animated department store mannequins, exhibiting as much passion as a clerk filing paper work.

Pornography loses its power when it ceases being an approachable fantasy... That is, when the viewer stops being able to imagine themselves in the scene. In modern pornography, the viewer can't actually identify with anybody in a scene. Instead, it's some strangely over-idealized spectacle. It's caricature. It's symbolic of sex, rather than representative, and meanwhile manages to skip everything that makes real sex dirty.

What we need is a return to the real.

Toward Tomorrow's Porn


What I want is pretty simple; I want to be turned on. Curiously, a lot of "turned on" for me is situational, and it has a lot to do with energy and chemistry. I want to see people that want to fuck eachother. Correction - I want to watch people that need to fuck eachother.

Either get actors/actresses that are seriously horny for one another, or fool me. I don't care which.

Now on to the specifics...

Step 1 - Breaking Routine

How many times have you seen this:
Blowjob -> Eat out -> Missionary -> Doggy -> Anal -> Blowjob Reprisal -> Facial

Sure - every scene has tiny variations on the theme, and different producers will tend to focus on different elements, but this same basic formula is almost always there. It's tiresome, isn't it?

Currently, the average scene either adheres to this formula (give or take), or specializes on just one act (fetishizes). This doesn't work for me. I get burned out. I might be obsessed with sex, but I'm not a fetishist, and I think that describes most people. Give us a little change-up. Give us variety.

Porn needs to break out of the routine. Don't make it easy for the viewer to predict what's going to happen next... Surprise us. Predictable, heavily scripted scenes destroy the illusion of spontaneity. I don't want to detect the invisible hand of the director. I just want to watch people fuck.

What I'm suggesting is more organic scene selection. Every now and then, a scene should just be about a blowjob. Sometimes, a couple might spontaneously fuck against a wall. On other occasions, perhaps they blow, munch, and then finish with some good ol' missionary. Hell, maybe they just feel eachother up. Switch. It. Up.

And please, please remember... Not every scene has to end in a facial.

Step 2 - Body Work

I want to see people that look like people. That means a little extra fat here-and-there, body hair, and real breast's for god's sake (anyone remember those?). The industry standards of beach-ball tits and 20-inch cocks are more distracting than exciting. Get over it already.

Step 3 - Having Fun

I want to believe that the actors and actresses are enjoying themselves. I don't want to detect a hint of boredom. They shouldn't look like they're at work. I've got enough of that in my own life. Let them have fun. Let them have senses of humor. Let them tease and entice eachother.

For humanity's sake, I'd also like to see a bit more kissing. Maybe that's just me.

Step 4 - Skillful Editing

Look Mr. Porn Director... I know it was hard work getting 15 minutes of sex on film. Still, you don't have to put it all in. We're just going to fast-forward through the boring parts, anyway.

While we're at it, it wouldn't hurt to study actual film-making. You're not shooting a documentary. It's entertainment. Give us some cuts of reactions... Gasps, sighs, smiles, giggles, necking, huffing and puffing... Tell a damn story with your film. Otherwise I might just flip over to the Discovery Channel and watch buffalos fuck. Odds are, it'll have roughly the same effect.

...And That's The New Porno Movement

These are four simple pillars of a new pornography. A better pornography. A hotter pornography. In honor of Dogme95, I hereby dub this movement Shagme06.

Tell a friend.

And in other news...

Of course, I've got a backup plan in case my exciting new movement fails. I'm going to start a new fetish: People screwing while wearing stupid hats.

I call it Chapeau.

Hey, who doesn't like stupid hats?

Until next time, keep it on ice hep kats...


Follow Ups

Tonight finds me in an 'update' mood, so update I shall. God bless the bottle of wine working its way through my veins.

My dogs are barking...

About that pair of Rod Lavers... Good news. I'm finding them more comfortable as I go. Either that or I really like the way they look, and I'm learning to enjoy the pain. Stranger things have been known to happen.

And they're really good for hacky-sack.


Shut up.

Ow, my feet.


My computer now changes its wallpaper to match the day or night. How awesome is that? Well, kind of dorky, but I don't care. I like it. It took a lot of trial and error to arrive at a working answer, but I learned a good number of things about cron and shell scripts in the process.

It's always fun when you get to type out crap like:
CURRENTDESKTOP=`/opt/kde/bin/dcop --user spectre7 kdesktop KBackgroundIface currentWallpaper 1`

Well, I think it's fun.

Didn't I already tell you to shut up?

On that note, I'm considering writing a guide to getting started with Linux. It seems like the type of thing that would have a pretty good market... I mean, frustration with Microsoft is at an all-time high, even with non-techies. Of course, this project will have to take a back seat to finishing my pants-igniting fantasy novel...

On Writer's Block

Yep... I still haven't cured myself of that affliction just yet. Extended bouts of writer's block usually stem from story problems in my experience. If you're not particularly happy with where you are in the story, it's damn hard to proceed. Makes some kind of sense, doesn't it?

I intend to cure this writer's block with...... Hell, I'm not sure. Something. I will finish this god damned book before I'm 26. That much is for sure. How's that for a cure?

Seu Jorge

I'm currently listening to Seu Jorge who was responsible for most of the music in The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou. I can hartily recommend them both. How can I describe the music? It's a Brazilian fellow performing a bunchy-load of Ziggy Stardust songs in portuguese with an acoustic guitar. What doesn't sound awesome about that? And the movie? Imagine a run-down, American Jacques Cousteau hunting down a striped shark that ate his friend. What does this all add up to? A lot of entertainment, and me over-using question marks.



That's all for tonight. Keep it on ice, hep kats...


For Lack of Good Seasons

Today marks the return of my Word-A-Day assault on mutual-english-comprehension. Sadly, I don't remember a single one of the words I invented in the past... Oh criminy, month and a half since I last posted one. It doesn't matter. I'm (mildly) confident they all sucked, anyway.

Today's new word is:


What's that you say? The word "Sprinter" already exists? Like hell it does.


That season occuring between Winter and Spring, noted for its general grey-ness and lack of truly interesting weather.

Of, relating to, occurring in, or appropriate to the season of Sprinter: sprinter day, sprinter gloom

[Middle-Californian portmanteau of Spring and Winter... and "Wing" sounded like crap.]


The Further Adventures...

I'm in a summarizing mood, so I'm going to chronicle my most recent adventures in chewy, bite-sized pieces tonight. Feel free to enjoy these adventures with a refreshing beverage.

Geisha Feet

I got myself a brand-spankin' new pair of shoes... a pair of Rod Lavers. Against my own better judgement, I ordered online and had them delivered. Needless to say, they are not the most comfortable shoes I've ever worn. I'll be damned if they don't look sweet though. If I'm lucky, the leather will stretch.... Not that I've ever been particularly lucky before.

Street Solder

Circuit boards continue to taunt me. Those which I haven't retardedly broken through my own gross negligence seem to eventually fail of their own accord. The most recent casualty was my Soundblaster Live!, may it rest in peace... Or in my sock-drawer. In an unusual spate of luck, it turns out that my motherboard has an onboard AC97 soundchip which I oddly, perhaps presciently included support for in my kernel. Will wonders never cease?

The DVD on my Xbox is flaky as hell, and for that, I extend my middle-finger in the direction of Redmond, Washington. I've dismantled and cleaned the device (Spectre counts on fingers)... ummm, several times. The good news is that it crashes less now. Yay for 'less'.

The best news is that I finally repaired my headset. A little background... About a month ago, I stupidly hooked the on-cable volume control to my belt. This might not have been so stupid, had I not also absent-mindedly rested my foot on the other end of the cable. Imagine this... Headset on my head (fancy that), volume control hooked to belt, foot on other end of cable. Now... imagine me trying to stand up.


My soldering skills are typically... *ahem* pathetic. The wire leads that attach the microphone to the volume control board are miniscule. The combination of these two factors should be a recipe for disaster, or at least comedy. The shocker here is that I actually fixed it. What'd I just say? That's right, I actually fixed it on my first try. Suck on that, incompetence! I solder on...

There's Magic in that Command Line

I'm not completely sure when I switched over, but I've been rockin' the penguin for about a year now. I've gotten myself pretty well acquainted with the OS (I like to think), but it's time to take the next step. It's time to become a Command Line Wizard.

Now, before I started on this little adventure, I wasn't totally command-line ignorant. I knew my way around the filesystem, and I had a pretty good grasp of basic file management and what-not, but... What's the fun of the Unixy-world without writing scripts?

So, I started assigning myself projects. My first project came about because I wanted to prove someone else was an idiot (funny how many of my projects start that way). The goal? To write a Bash script that scans through a directory and its subdirectories and changes every upper-case letter to a lower-case letter. I had a working version that night (Yipee!).

Today, I made myself a day-time and night-time wallpaper. My project, once I chose to accept it, was to automate switching between the two wallpapers. I couldn't (quickly) figure out a way to grab times for sunrise and sunset, so instead it switches desktop at 6:30am and 6:30pm, and that's good enough.... At least, I suspect it's good enough. I should know some time tomorrow afternoon.

Oh no!

Selected excerpts from inside my head during the past week:
  • Ow, my damn finger!

  • Jesus, haven't I finished writing that book?

  • That 15 year old girl thinks I'm a bit tooooo funny.

  • Ow, my damn finger!

  • Why does my room smell like that?

  • OW! Damn you, finger!

On Writer's Block

It's a bitch. 'Nuff said.

On Silly Trademarks

It seems that Marvel and DC have jointly trademarked the term "Super-Hero". Hmmm... Perhaps I should trademark "Get fucked, you cock-biting shit lickers!" and patent a method for flipping them off.
The preceding snarkiness brought to you by Swear-O-Matic 3000!

Shaun of the Dead

Just thought I'd drop a little note about this fine movie. If you like zombies and british humor....... well, then you've probably already seen it.

Stanton Moore

You like jazz? Well, I do. I'm listening to Stanton Moore's Flyin' The Koop right now, and it's a right fine album. I like it more every time I hear it. Good stuff. Yeah. If you were expecting an in depth music review, I exist only to disappoint you.


I guess that's about it. Exciting life, isn't it? Next week, I'll... umm... Probably be passed out or something.