Friday, September 17, 2010

lucrecia jenkins

(lucrecia) 68 - Female - New Orleans, Louisiana:

Baby please get serious! Momma alway enjoy game when my rangers is playin. now, when you come get some cobbler enjoy game with momma! uh oh, don't make me laugh baby...thangs start slippin out when old person laugh too hard.



Angela Genusa

Follow the instructions carefully!
The naked hot sexy women engine
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on top photo gallery of the engine.
Remove the engine air intake hose.
That's the mature adult toons oil filter
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Use a proper size wrench to remove
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master brake
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Make sure you have located the
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Look in your car's books on erotic
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Replace the hot sexy erotic oil filler cap.

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over-tighten the hot sexy erotic oil filter!


Thursday, September 16, 2010


Gary Barwin

you get out of bed
your penis has been replaced
by a ladder
you drink a cup
of cold coffee
then begin to scream
droplets of saliva
collect on the framed picture
of your mother
each of your tongue's
worm-like halves
slip out
snake their way into a nostril
though you can hardly breathe
you order a pizza:
double cheese, mushrooms
green peppers, anchovies
and yes
the blood of a boiled, skinned baby
large order please
only joking:
a diet Pepsi and some garlic bread
you think to yourself
will my trousers fit?
how will i chew?
what will my father say
climbing towards the roof
on his brother's penis?

down in the street
there are little men
their assistants hold
dour looks clouding their faces
their green uniforms
are faded
and they have only just now
begun to clap
family relations are so complicated
you say
swinging your penis into the bathroom door


Meet My Cock

Geof Huth

I sleep with my cock outside my body.
I sleep with my cock
just in case I need it.
(I never know when I might need my cock,
so it is good to have it around.)

If I see my doctor, when I see my doctor, I ask him,
“Can my cock really be this color and still work?” And he says,
“That depends on what you want to do with it.”

I think I would like to be a writer
some day
and write with my cock in the snow
and write with yellow ink through the snow all the way to the frozen earth.

I think I would like to be an artist
and paint with my cock
rub it in my palette and make any color I might want
and paint a picture of a woman in a yellow dress
resting on a rock beside an abyss you could only hear.

I must enter my cock gently
with a toothpick or a straightened paperclip slipped
into my urethra
gently because my cock she is a virgin even though I am not.

Sleep is impossible because my cock sleeps during the day
and he talks all night.
He talks all night because he is scared of the dark.

“Don’t put me,” he sometimes pleads,
“in a cunt again. Please, don’t put me in a cunt again.”
But I never listen. I have bought myself earplugs
so I can sleep. And I’ve become deathly afraid of sunlight myself.

She polishes my cock until
it is smooth and red and glistening.
She polishes my cock until
it leaks, and sometimes it leaks drops
of cum, and sometimes blood.
I worry that my cock might be too large.
But she says, “No, not at all.”
I am relieved.

Should my cock bend slightly to the left?
Should its head be always exposed?
Should its underside be peppered with blackheads?
Should it drip down my leg after I piss?
Should it become so hard that it hurts?
Should it become so hard that it leaks?
Should it pulse and redden with the beat of my heart?
Should it always be lonely?
Should it be ignored?

Is that why people ignore it?
No-one ever talks to me about my cock.
I think they don’t know I have one.
But I do.

Last week was a bad week for me
because I had lost my cock, or thought I had.
I searched in my closet, but no cock. I searched
under my bed, but no cock. I even searched the kitchen
and climbed in the rafters to look for it. Then I heard her
laughing, and I knew she had hid it
in her cunt, and she said to me,
“You would lose your cock if it weren’t bolted to your body.

And it’s not!”

She didn’t give it back to me until the morning.
I think she is jealous of my cock.

I try to make my cock useful.
Otherwise, all it would do is piss and fuck
and sometimes sweat and smell.
I have taught it to sing sea shanties
because the seamen love such songs.
I have taught it to balance on the head of a pin
because my cock is an angel to me.
I have also taught it to hide
but hiding is sometimes nothing more than fucking
and my cock complains,

“I don’t want to fuck anymore. I’m
an artist. I want to weld sculptures, I want
to build giant earthworks that intimidate the public,
I want to be a dancer. Jeté! Jeté battu! Jeté entrelacé!”

He is small and his voice is squeaky, so it is funny
when he gets excited and yells such things
in his tiny tiny voice.

My cock wants me to take her everywhere.
But I am not my cock’s keeper.
If I brought her along, she would just get in the way
if I met any girls.
(If you know what I mean.)

My cock is embarrassed that he is bald
and doesn’t own a comb.
He wants to wear a hat, but he doesn’t own one
of those either. He’s trying to buy himself
Rogaine, but he’s too self-conscious
to do it. He wants me to buy him Rogaine.
“I’d buy you Rogaine,” he says, “if
you start losing all your hair.”

I doubt it.
(They’ll think it’s for him anyway.)

Someone wrote a book about my cock. It was called
The World’s Best Cock Book. I’m not sure if
that means that my cock is the best cock
or if it means that the book is the best book about cocks.
But it has good recipes.
I like the one for cock-a-leekie soup best.

Sometimes my cock gets sad or lonely,
and I have to pet her. She rises to the touch like a cat.
Sometimes I think I hear her purring, but
if I pet her too much she throws up
and everyone is embarrassed.

I think of my cock as a long-stemmed flower
resting alone in a vase
leaning against the inside of the vase.
Sometimes it droops.

My cock is demanding.
My cock is pushy and obnoxious.
My cock is fat and ugly.
My cock smokes cigars and stubs them out
in the yellowest egg yolks.
My cock has a first name but not a last name.
He doesn’t know who his father is, but his mother
calls her Bingo.
If he is happy, he yells, “Bingo!”
He likes to eat individual grains of rice and then declare,
“Oh, I am too full to eat anything else.”
If she eats too much, if she makes herself too happy,
she will then throw up. My cock is bulimic,
and I can’t get her to stop.

My cock hates herself.
My cock is shy and hides inside a hand or mouth
or inside cunt or rectum until everyone else has left.
When she does this, she usually throws up.
She is too shy for the world.
That is why I leave her at home if I go out on the town.

My cock likes to make me believe
a girl likes me until I make a fool out of myself
by talking to her.
My cock thinks this is funny.
I do not like him for that.

I built a marble replica of my cock.
At least I call it a marble statue.
Because I don’t now what else to call it.
It’s made out of marbles.
I glued them together.
It doesn’t work very well, so I tell my cock it is
the perfect copy of him.

My cock is not a dancer.
But she dances whenever she can.

22 May 2010, Schenectady, NY
Revised: 22 May 2010, Schenectady, NY


Thursday, August 26, 2010


Alex Gildzen


Galanos black bikini briefs
Alex Gildzen
purchasd in Greece in june 1992
worn at Bill Clinton’s 1st inauguration
worn as 1999 became 2000
used in print #2 in “01/01/01”
last worn 25 sept 2000 while seeing Clinton for final time as president

Jockey pink boxer briefs
D. K.
left with other personal items in feb 1998 when he went to St. Anthony’s Monastery to become a Greek Orthodox monk

Old Navy patternd boxers
discoverd in rippd condition at site of Robert Smithson’s “Partially Buried Woodshed” on Kent State University campus in may 2002

South Park boxers
Jimmy Schrader
worn as he cleand rooms at Sunburst Inn in Phoenix
removd & given to Gildzen in feb 2003
worn by Gildzen while writing “this constant fingering” on his blog in nov 2005

Hanes gray button-fly boxers
Gary Sielaff
left in Gildzen’s guest bathroom in aug 2004

Gap khaki boxers
discovered outside Gildzen’s bedroom window in Cottage L at San Vicente Inn in West Hollywood in sept 2004
used in “Bridge Over Arroyo #4” in nov 2004

Fruit of the Loom gray boxers
discovered in Gildzen’s locker at his Santa Fe gym in dec 2005

Soccer-pattern flannel boxers
John (time share salesman in Palm Springs)
given to Gildzen at Inn Exile in feb 2007

Black mesh button-fly boxer briefs
Montgomery Maxton
“bought at target in cincinnati, worn many times in manhattan hotel rooms, but never worn on my heart”
sent to Gildzen as a Xmas gift in dec 2007

Fruit of the Loom black boxer briefs
found in men’s locker room in Grand Chateau in Las Vegas in july 2008

Towncraft patternd boxers
Al Gildzen
Alex Gildzen
bought by Sal Kovach along with 3 other pairs for Gildzen Sr. who was buried in one pair
brought back to Santa Fe where they became outerwear for his son
last worn at Coral Sands in Hollywood in aug 2010 where Gildzen was
photographd wearing them at door of room 215 by nite clerk Pablo morning after a final cruise around balcony


Wednesday, August 4, 2010




Sunday, December 27, 2009

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Harold Jaffe


Like most serial murderers in this day and age, Sean is handsome. Maybe handsome is not the right word. Videogenic. That's how he charms those redheads. Chiseled cheekbones, straight blond long hair, designer stubble, small ears close to his head. And that crooked grin. That's the capper. Those white, straight teeth. Law enforcement speculates that it's a bridge since being on the road like he is he wouldn't be able to brush and floss regularly to keep those choppers healthy white.

He's not that tall, about six feet, but he's wiry strong with broad shoulders, long sinewy arms, real defined abs, and muscular thighs from grippin' his Harley.

The tattoos begin at the back of his neck and motorcross down his body to his ankles. He even has a tattoo on his penis: the outline of his home state: Texas, with the name "Jody" inside Texas. Jody was one of his early girlfriends who disappeared and whose remains were never found.

She had red cropped hair.

Inside the "o" of Jody there's a tattooed scorpion. Which has puzzled law enforcement.

Inside the upcurved tail of the scorpion is tattooed the word "Mom." Like most serial killers Sean loved his mom who died of colon cancer when he was real young. He hated his stepdad who abused and molested him.

I have a feeling you're wondering how he can have such a complexly interesting tattoo on his penis. He just happens to be hung like a horse. Plus he's uncut.

Which is great to listen to Nine Inch Nails with.

I'm talkin' 'bout Sean the serial murderer.

[From the story "14 Ways of Looking at a Serial Killer," in the collection Straight Razor (Northwestern University Press, 1995)

Monday, December 14, 2009

Saturday, September 5, 2009

Tina Newberry

I live in South Philly and used to be young, sporty, and lively. Now I'm old, decrepit, and complain a lot.

I got an art education at various places and wound up in South Philly. I teach at local schools and shop at the Acme. I paint in my spare time while watching TV.

After an expensive and extensive art education, I became a cleaning lady. This helped me hone my skills with sweeping strokes. None of which are actually in my paintings. It's the thought that counts [...]

Branded, 20" x 10", 2005.
"Branded, scorned as the one who ran. What do you do when you're branded and you know you're a man?"


Dress-Ups, 17" x 10", 1997.
"Wearing pantyhose makes me feel like a transvestite."



Friday, September 4, 2009



“You touched that god damned biscuit. Bullshit, I saw you touch it….I don’t give a shit about your evidence, this isn’t a court of law."

"It's just a fucking june bug, calm down. Jesus Christ, what happens when something bigger than a testicle attacks you?"

"The dog don't like you planting stuff there. It's his backyard. If you're the only one who shits in something, you own it. Remember that."

"When I used to live in Los Angeles, I used to step in human feces a lot."



Wednesday, August 26, 2009

If I Had a Penis

Lynn Behrendt

If I had a penis I’d wear it outside in cafés.
If I had a penis I would definitely worship it.
If I had a penis I’d pamper it.
If I had a penis, and it was un-cut, I’d play with the skin all day.
If I had a penis I would enjoy earning 22% more than I normally do.
If I had a penis I’d research first then ask on a public website where your grandmother would see.
If I had a penis I wouldn’t be destructive.
If I had a penis I would kill myself, they’re disgusting.
If I had a penis I’d take it to parties.
If I had a penis I would totally hang shit off it.
If I had a penis I’d run to my mother, comb out the hair, and compare it to brother.
If I had a penis I would love that penis in ways in which no one has.
If I had a penis I would probably never get much done.
If I had a penis the size of a coke can.
If I had a penis I would be the Steve McQueen of urinating.
If I had a penis I would treat people like crap, cheat, lie and all the while be loved for it.
If I had a penis I would be taken a hell of a lot more seriously.
If I had a penis and that penis were infected, I would be more worried about the scaly, itchy, oozing rash than what it “smelled” like.
If I had a penis you know what I would do with it.
If I had a penis I would shoot it like a gun. That would be my plan.
If I had a penis or if I thought I had a penis or something like that.
If I had a penis first I’d chop it off then I’d name it Winnie the Strangely Proportioned.
If I had a penis he’d wear a bow tie.
If I had a penis my penis would be friends with everyone.
If I had a penis I wouldn’t let anyone but God tamper with it.
If I had a penis it’d be named Little Juan.
If I had a penis I’d call him big Jim and the twins.
If I had a penis I’d name him Zorg Thrustor.
If I had a penis it would be named Captain James Fitzhew.
If I had a penis I’d name it Dick Van Dike because I’m destined to be misunderstood.
If I had a penis I would name it Darth Penis because I think penises look like they are adorned with Darth Vader helmets.
If I had a penis I would probably be jobless.
If I had a penis I’d be heartless.
If I had a penis I would never ever EVER put it against a shower door.
If I had a penis I’d rub it on a scratching post first.
If I had a penis that ejaculated money.
If I had a penis I would use it to write my name in butter.
If I had a penis I too would be shooting demons out of it to sell on ebay.
If I had a penis I would have to ask you to call me an insensitive prick.
If I had a penis perhaps I would care.
If I had a penis I’d get to be funny too.
If I had a penis I would use it as a donut/horse shoe/peach ring holder.
If I had a penis I would slam it in the door.
If I had a penis I would put it in a jar of peanut butter.
If I had a penis two-thirds the size of my body.
If I had a penis I would name it after famous poets like Byron or Shelley, wait, not Shelley, that’s a girl’s name.
If I had a penis I would want people to call it Mayor.
If I had a penis and a mustache.
If I had a penis, which I don’t, I wouldn’t wear that thing.
If I had a penis then I wouldn’t have needed those bananas.
If I had a penis I could urinate all over anyone who tried to attack me in a public bathroom.
If I had a penis I would try to fold it and see if it hurts.
If I had a penis we’d be in trouble.
If I had a penis like that I would have to get the rest of my body in shape in order to handle the added physical stress.
If I had a penis, one of those strange harmless-looking things swinging back and forth like a baby elephant trunk.
If I had a penis I would hate the dangling feeling.
If I had a penis I wouldn’t want anyone coming anywhere near it with a knife or a scalpel or whatever.
If I had a penis I would most definitely refer to it as “the spear of destiny.”
If I had a penis full of metal, I wouldn’t be making the statement, “Hey, look at my penis full of metal!”
If I had a penis I would curl a pearl necklace around it and all the publishers would line up.
If I had a penis and red hair.
If I had a penis I wouldn’t post it online.
If I had a penis 58 inches long I would have to learn to be creative.
If I had a penis I’d have surgery to have the horrid thing removed.
If I had a penis twin it would definitely be Jerry.
If I had a penis, I thought, I’d be assisting Pierre Monteaux.


Friday, August 21, 2009

A Florida woman was duped into changing diapers

and providing care for a man she met through Craigslist who feigned disabilities. Turns out the man who hired Janet Schulte to look after an adult brother with diminished mental capacity was the same guy she bottle-fed and treated like a child for 3 months.

Janet Schulte believed the man when he told her by phone that his 40-something, disabled brother needed a caregiver who could bottle-feed him and change his diapers.

"I feel violated," Schulte said, sharing her story because she said the man has deceived other women and will try again. "I feel disgusted."

Investigators and prosecutors have refused to pursue charges, saying Schulte was paid [$600 a week] and agreed to provide the care.

"I consented to change his diapers, but I legitimately thought this man needed help," she said. "How can that not be a crime for him to come into my house and expose himself?"

Schulte said he never broke character, and on the phone always gave an excuse when she tried to meet his "brother."

She and her husband got suspicious and found the man out after subtle behavior changes and a few late payments.



Wednesday, July 22, 2009

The Joydick,

a wearable haptic device for controlling video gameplay based on realtime male masturbation:

[Sent by Iain Keith]

Saturday, July 4, 2009

"motherfucker with gonarea,"

as found at the Anacostia stop of the Washington Metro, 7/2/09:





Thursday, June 4, 2009

Monday, May 18, 2009

Hot Blonde Brazilian Bank Teller Amoeba

Lanny Quarles

I am here again..

Amoeba breaking wind,
non-upgraded, fixed lumbar bmw seat
hole filled with black plug

I am Amoeba
hear me roar.

I could paint a really cool picture
anytime I am in Starbucks shopping.
Like, I am having this fantasy about a
Brazilian bank-teller

she's a bank teller

blonde amoeba


I'm cashing checks
and she sounds like
some 70's comedian
talking about her pussy

I'm all


She's all

"I saw your BMW.."

and that is when the

Shiva-Turkey-Molecule example
burns through the post-man's eyelids

It's like the postman
who always rings twice
has returned to Starbucks

in his mermaid-mobile

Where I am still sitting there
with the Advil crowd

trying to paint this picture
on a bulldozer scoop in the parking lot

a painting of this obscure
French poet of the 17th century
not Ronsard

this poet who hangs out by the fire

In America
people don't like the French
nor being told
that humans are like

Amoebas with internal crutch-assemblages

They are already all like

"my manatee"
"super quantum"
"spin brigades are doubling"

and then I am just so
like into Starbucks,
my Wives of Merry Windsor knots,
these memories of woodchucks

It's a huge hangover I get
from being wet inside
like a bank teller

I'm all, like I say something inane like
"He's a professor.."
when she shows me her

comedic principle..


Thursday, May 14, 2009



[Collected by Bob Bobster, with this caption, "Physical examination of aviation recruits at the Episcopal Eye & Ear Hospital, Washington, D.C. Bones, joints, flat foot, etc., 1918. From the New York Public Library.]

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Condom Song in Telugu

from Nrityanjali Academy, Andhra Pradesh, India:


Lysistrata defending the Acropolis, 1929

Aubrey Beardsley