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Shel Silverstein: A compendium of smut and depravity from the creator of ‘Where the Sidewalk Ends’
10.15.2014
07:23 am

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Drugs
Literature
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Shel Silverstein was more than just a quirky, kid-friendly poet with whom we youthfully chuckled while leafing through Where the Sidewalk Ends or A Light in the Attic. Indeed, as your perfectly sensible dad choked back tears while reading to you about the relentlessly cruel passage of time lovingly explored in The Giving Tree, he might well have been unaware of the epically debauched lifestyle of the bittersweet story’s wild-man author.

No doubt about it, Silverstein was an amazing guy. Case in point: he won two Grammys and was posthumously inducted into the Nashville Songwriter’s Hall of Fame on top of being a celebrated children’s author selling over 20 million book copies and counting.  But he also smoked a metric shit-ton of weed, sang obscenely, engaged in legendary partying (often on a houseboat), wrote a lot of fairly bent plays for grown-ups and obviously spent a lot of time thinking, writing and drawing about smut. In fact, some of our readers might remember that Shel Silverstein spent several years as a cartoonist for Playboy Magazine.  They might also recall that not only did Silverstein pen the lyrics to “A Boy Named Sue,” a tune made famous by Johnny Cash, and for which he won one of his Grammies, but that Uncle Shelby also wrote a sequel to “A Boy Named Sue” in which Sue’s dad turns him into kind of a live-in housekeeper/sex slave. The list goes on and on, really.
 
Shel Silverstein: Crouchin on the Outside
 
So allow me, as a primer for the uninitiated, or as a walk down a rather raunchy memory lane for those of you already in the know, to take you on a perhaps enlightening, but by no means comprehensive tour of some of the more explicit Shel Silverstein content available on the world wide web.  The stuff that follows is, of course, all pretty chuckle-worthy and, while fairly tame when judged by the standards of other smut, is in no way safe for work. 

Take for example this passage from Silverstein’s long-form poem “The Devil and Billy Markham,” a Faustian ode to the hustler that pits a down-on-his luck Nashville songwriter (Billy) against the Dark Lord himself. After the devil beats Billy in a dice match, he damns him to your standard eternity of painful hell roasting. After a while though, Lucifer realizes that unending damnation isn’t quite as shitty if people don’t get a reminder now and then about how awesome life used to be. So he sends Billy back to earth for 13 hours during which time he is allowed to lecherously fornicate with anything that walks, “man or woman or beast,” and no one will say no.  To sweeten the deal, if anyone does happen to put the kibosh on Billy’s inevitable sexcapade, Billy gets to return to earth.  Of course, all good things come to an end, and the Devil sends Billy a 30 second last call for banging as it were:

And Billy Markham, he stops. . .and he squints at the Devil. . .and says. . .“Sucker. . .I’ll take you.”

“Foul!” cries the Devil. “Foul, no fair! The rules don’t hold for me.”

“You said man or woman or beast,” says Bill, “and I guess you’re all of the three.”

And a roar goes up from the demons of Hell and it shakes the earth across,
 And the imps all squeal and the demons scream, “He’s gonna fuck the boss!”

“Why, you filthy scum,” the Devil snarls, blushing a fiery red,
“I give you a chance to live again and you bust me in front of my friends.”

“Hey, play or pay,” Billy Markham says. “So set me free at last,
Or raise your tail and hear all Hell wail when I bugger your devilish ass.”

The clippings below come from Playboy Magazine and were created as part of a series in which Silverstein traveled all over the place looking for scenes from the fringes of society. They’re hardly scandalous, but perhaps offer a slightly different take on Silverstein if you’re only familiar with “Falling Up”:
 
Silverstein Hooker
 
More Shel Silverstein after the jump…

Posted by Jason Schafer | Discussion
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Man admits to having sex with over 700 cars
10.14.2014
06:20 am

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Amusing
Sex

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Edward Smith
car sex

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Edward Smith, a 63-year-old man from Yelm, Thurston County, Washington, told a live morning TV show that he had made love to over 700 vehicles, including Mustangs, luxury Jaguars and even an attack helicopter.

Smith made the admission on the British family television show This Morning, telling hosts Phillip Schofield and Amanda Holden that he was a mechaphile—someone who is sexually attracted to machines—and prefers making love to motors than women. Smith said he had sex with vehicles since first being attracted to his neighbor’s Volkswagon Beetle when he was fourteen, when he was tempted to give the vehicle a “gentle caress.”:

“It has to do with the body itself. I’ve not been attached to any sort of penetration, but petting and hugging and feeling the body. I like feeling the satisfaction—masturbation—that’s done with the car, next to it.

“When I hold them in my arms, I feel an energy that comes from them. There’s a very deep love.”

Smith admitted he had difficulties in forming relationships with women and had only ever had one girlfriend “by some chance” in San Francisco in the early 1970s. However, he found the relationship unsatisfying.

Edward now has a long term sex partner that’s still… er… driving him wild, “Vanilla”—another VW Beetle that he bought in 1982.

“I first met her before I got her and then had the local Jehovah’s Witness driving around in one. There was something about that white ‘74 Beetle, I couldn’t keep my eyes off her,” he said.

“On my own private property is where we get mostly intimate. I’m very respectful not to be seen in public. I greet her every morning along with my truck Ginger.”

 
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Smith’s obsession of pulling up to the bumper (baby), and driving it in between tickles the Brits as he has previously appeared in the Daily Mirror last October, where he ‘fessed up to having sex with thousands of cars:

“Some guys look at boobs and bums on beautiful women. I look at the front and rear on beautiful cars.”

Then he claimed he was in an “open relationship” with his VW Vanilla and makes “love to his 1973 Opal GT called Cinnamon and a 1193 Ford Ranger called Splash.”
 
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But Vanilla is ‘the one’ and Edward likes to woo the white-coloured hatchback with picnics and wine-fuelled dates.

He added: “When I hold Vanilla in my arms there’s a powerful energy that comes from her. I would say it is extremely satisfying but at times a little melancholy because I know she cannot talk to me. But overall I know she feels what I feel and its intense.”

He added: “If anything was to happen to her I would be more than heartbroken.”

Smith also admitted in October 2013 that he was occasionally tempted to stray but added:

“I know better now than to pursue other people’s private property without permission. I will not deny that I look at other cars on TV or at shows and still get those old impulses and desires - but those were the early days. Now I want to settle down with Vanilla.”

He added: “There’s something about her that I can’t fully express on an emotional level except it’s very powerful and very sincere. I’m never ashamed or awkward in my heart. I have never questioned myself - I just love her.”

Well, that’s okay then….
 

 
Via This Morning, Daily Star and the Daily Mirror

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Discussion
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Paris museum promotes Marquis De Sade show with orgiastic trailer (NSFW)
10.10.2014
11:54 am

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Advertising
Art
Sex

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Marquis De Sade
Musée d'Orsay


 
The Musée d’Orsay, the legendary museum dedicated to impressionist and post-impressionist art housed in the former Gare d’Orsay, a Beaux-Arts railway station in the center of Paris, has a big show on the legacy of Donatien Alphonse François de Sade, better known as the Marquis de Sade, coming up in a few days (show starts October 14). The show, called “Sade: Attacking the Sun,” will focus on “the revolution of representation opened up by the author’s writings,” according to the museum. The exhibit will feature presumably challenging and sensuous works by artists such as Goya, Géricault, Ingres, Rops, Rodin, and Picasso. De Sade’s groundbreaking works include Justine, or the Misfortunes of Virtue and 120 Days of Sodom, which was later adapted by Pier Paolo Pasolini as Salò, or the 120 Days of Sodom.
 

 
On its website, the Musée d’Orsay warns (in bold text), “The violent nature of some of the works and documents may shock some visitors.” A similar disclaimer might apply to the show’s promotional video, directed by video artists David Freymond and Florent Michel. In keeping with the Marquis’ licentious philosophy and writings, the video consists entirely of quick cuts of dozens of (mostly white) people engaged in group sex in a huge darkened expanse. The camera eventually pulls out to reveal that the bodies are configured to spell the word “SADE.”

Funny—the only orgy I was ever at, we spelled out the word “EXCELSIOR.”

The video is NSFW but that should be pretty obvious, and to be honest it’s pretty low-stakes smut…..
 

 
via Artnet

Posted by Martin Schneider | Discussion
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This ridiculous Burt Reynolds paperback might mark when the 1970s truly began!
10.10.2014
10:34 am

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Books
Movies
Sex

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Burt Reynolds


 
One of the many mystifying aspects of the 1970s was the American public’s seemingly unquenchable appetite for Burt Reynolds. The same decade that is widely considered the strongest for uncompromising American cinema, a decade that produced The Godfather, Chinatown, Taxi Driver, and Nashville.... was also the decade that multiple times bestowed on Reynolds the title of America’s top box office star.

It isn’t so much that Reynolds is bad, exactly. It’s just that often his fame and celebrity success often seemed to come in advance of the cinematic accomplishments. If you look at Reynolds’ finishes in the “Ten Money Making Stars Poll” annually conducted by the Quigley Publishing Company, you get this:

1973: 4
1974: 6
1975: 7
1976: 6
1977: 4
1978: 1
1979: 1
1980: 1
1981: 1
1982: 1
1983: 4
1984: 6

Number one box office star—five years in a row. That feat was duplicated only by Bing Crosby from 1944 to 1948. If you look at 1973, the first year Reynolds made the list, he finished ahead of (in order) Robert Redford, Barbra Streisand, and Paul Newman. At that point his primary accomplishments as an actor were being second lead in Deliverance (an admittedly excellent movie in which he is also very good) and a brief appearance in Woody Allen’s Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex* (*But Were Afraid to Ask). In addition, of course, Reynolds had starred in The Man Who Loved Cat Dancing. For the next few years, it didn’t really matter what movies Reynolds starred in—the American public wanted more.

One of the most attention-getting episodes in Reynolds’ career was his hunkalicious nude appearance in the April 1972 issue of Cosmopolitan. Clearly, women were lusting after the cocky (ahem) and hirsute thespian and former athlete, a fact that leads us into the true subject of this post.

In 1972 Signet Books released a remarkable paperback, authored by Burt Reynolds, with the title Hot Line: The Letters I Get ... And Write! It was less a portrayal of Reynolds’ life as a man of letters than a kind of palatable, not X-rated version of his Cosmo pictorial.

Reynolds was not a man without a sense of humor, as can be seen in his confident, silly pose on the hand chair. (Yes, that’s right—hand chair.) The letters—who can say where these letters came from?—all acknowledge Reynolds’ fame and sex appeal as immutable facts and engage in some heavy double entendres—what one writer terms “Swahili.” Here’s a typical sample:
 

Dear Burt,

MAN, DO YOU EVER TURN ME ON! You’re great. When I told my husband how I love you, he said, “Well, just pretend that I’m Burt Reyolds.” To which I replied, “Nobody in the world has got that much imagination!”

I have to tell you this funny thing that happened at the office where I work. We have this 60-yr-old supervisor (lady). When we showed her the miniature picture of you from Newsweek, she said, “Well, that doesn’t turn me on!” The rest of us girls decided it would take all the men of South America put together to turn her on.

But you’re just the hottest! If I knew my tropic zone number I would use it rather than my zip code. (Sin)—Cerely

FAY IN FARGO

Dear Fay:

Why don’t you introduce your husband to the 60-year-old supervisor? Forget about your tropic zone number and bone up on your erogenous zones.

 
The pictures of these luscious babes literally draping themselves on Reynolds’ torso are a kind of visual corollary to the libido that the sexual revolution had just unleashed. You can’t exactly imagine Clark Gable doing this pictorial…. this was the new sexual frankness that would come to define the decade. In fact, you could argue that this stupid book, or the Cosmo pictorial, was the first thing that really reeked of the Seventies the way we think of it today. That hairy chest just needs a coke spoon to complete the picture.

Here are a few shagadelic scans from the book—I’m confident you won’t soon forget them.
 

 

 
More Burt Reynolds than anyone in this century could ever possibly want, after the jump…

Posted by Martin Schneider | Discussion
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‘Bob’s Boners’: The (inevitable?) ‘Bob’s Burgers’ porn parody
10.10.2014
09:14 am

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Sex
Television

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Bob's Burgers


 
This is something I never thought I’d be typing out in a million years, but here goes: There’s a Bob’s Burgers porn parody called Bob’s Boners. Now I know there are a lot of porn parodies out there like Golden Girls XXX, Gay of Thrones, Naporneon Dynamite, Down on Abby: Tales From Bottomley Manor, This Ain’t Curb Your Enthusiasm: Curb Your Orgasm, aaaannnd drumroll please… Scooby-doo XXX: The Mystery of the Missing Panties.

But Bob’s Burgers?! Really? There’s even a Tina Belcher character who moans her signature “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh.” 

This one has me flummoxed. WHO would get off on seeing the Belcher family fuck? I have no words.

 
via Geekologie

Posted by Tara McGinley | Discussion
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Brothel menu from 1912 is as naughty as it gets
10.07.2014
07:31 am

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Amusing
Sex

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brothels


 
Last week feminist blogger Amanda Marcotte tweeted an amazing piece of history: a brothel menu from 1912 curated by famed London madam and the owner of two parlours, Mrs. F.A. Tasse.

The menu is some straightforward shit. Read the paragraph below to see what I mean:

No discount for cash. Stink fingers and jerking-off matinees for young men under 21, every Wednesday from 2:30 to 4. Customers must enter with cash in one hand and tool in the other. If you are not a self-starter, stay at home and jack yourself off.

I can’t help but laugh at some of the options. I mean, this is something that would make even the Trailer Park Boys blush!

  • Blowing in the asshole, new style… 1.70
  • Finger fucking, with juice… .50
  • Sitting on prick, shoving in stones and all… 2.59

“New style”?

Some people on the Internet are saying this is fake. According to a few folks online this was something printed and sold in the vaudeville era to make people laugh. Kinda of like tourists merchandise. Others are saying, “Yeah, this is remarkably fake. Look at the font - it’s obviously a computer generated and printed font.”

Now I’m not going to type out all the specialties, but you can read a larger version of the menu here.

Posted by Tara McGinley | Discussion
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‘The Mysteries of Conjugal Love Revealed!’ 18th century sex manual is a total hoot!
09.30.2014
03:14 pm

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Amusing
Books
History
Sex

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sex
18th Century


English caricaturist James Gillray‘s famous cartoon ‘Fashionable Contrasts’
 
If you’re not following John Overholt on Twitter, I suggest you get on it. As a Curator of Early Modern Books and Manuscripts for Houghton Library at Harvard, he Tweets about some strange, beautiful and often hilarious texts. Take The Mysteries of Conjugal Love Revealed an 18th century sex manual written by a French doctor, then translated to (“done into”) English by “a gentleman” (is a gentleman supposed to call himself a gentleman? Sounds a little excessively boastful to me.) Though the language is prissy, and the “information” wildly inaccurate, it’s important to remember that England was in the midst of a sexual revolution at the time, and books like this one represented a major move in cultural liberalism (for the upper classes, at least).

Still, let’s laugh at some particularly absurd excerpts!

We call the principle part of the Man’s Privaties the Virile Member, which the Ancients ranked among the number of their Gods under the Name of Falscines, to teach us what Empire it has acquir’d in the World: For no Charms or Enlightenments can equal it. If perchance a Woman perceives it thro’ some slight unfolding of the Garments, her Heart is at the same Instant inflam’d with a Passion, that is with Difficulty assuaged.

I feel like you might be giving yourself a little too much credit here.

The Privy parts of a Woman, by some called Nature, because all Men owe their Origin to them, are the cause of most of our Sorrows, as well as our Pleasures; and I dare say, that all Disorders, that every happen’d in the World, or do happen in this our time, spring form the same source.

I feel like you might be giving us a little too much credit here.

There is a part above the [Nympha?], longer more or less than half a Finger, called by Anatomists Clitoris,which I may justly term the Fury and Rage of Love. There Nature has plac’d the fear of Pleasure and Lust, as it has, on the other hand, in the Glans of Man. There is has plac’d those excessive Ticklings, and there is Leachery and Lasciviousnes establish’d;

I stopped after “half a finger.”

But ‘tis certain that Women have Testicles, spermatick Vessels and Seed, because they sometimes pollute themselves; and their Testicles, which are hollow instead of being solid, as Men’s are, contain several small Cellules, wherein a Humor is kept, that spurts up in the Face of those that cut them.

I don’t know what you’re doing, or with whom, or why there is “cutting” involved, but this does not sound like conventional heterosexual sex to me.

As soon as the Fancy is touched, and the small Fibres of the Brain shaken by the Thoughts of Love, there is an internal Sweat in our Privy Parts, and the Spirits which rush thither with Precipitation, force out a limpid Liquor of the Prostate which prepares the Conduit for the Passage of the Seed. But when one is join’d amorously to a Woman, the 2 small Bladders, most ready for evacuation, empty

Okay. Gonna start calling it “The Fancy”!

Chapter 6: What Hour of the Day one ought to kiss one’s Wife.

Well… they’re still English.
 
Via John Overholt and Harvard Library

Posted by Amber Frost | Discussion
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Flaming Creatures: Icon of perversion Jack Smith’s fabulous photographs
09.26.2014
10:53 am

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Art
Sex

Tags:
photography
Jack Smith

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Jack Smith was a visionary performance artist and underground filmmaker who produced and directed a series of no-budget films during the 1950s and 1960s, the most famous being Flaming Creatures and Normal Love both from 1963. Smith peopled his camp B-movie melodramas with friends, and often shot them on out-of-date film stock. As a filmmaker he seemed often careless about the fate of his movies, but their success and influence was far greater than the size of the audience that saw them. John Waters hailed Smith as “the only true underground filmmaker.” Susan Sontag described the controversial and allegedly pornographic Flaming Creatures as “a rare modern work of art; about joy and innocence.” While Andy Warhol said Smith was the only filmmaker he would steal from.

Smith was also a photographer whose beautiful prints have rarely been seen outside of a gallery exhibition. Many of his images capture moments from his films, or portraits of the cast and friends.  They vary from the haunting and dreamlike to the comically irreverent—yet all are fabulously beautiful.
 
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Three self-portraits:
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It used to be that screenings of Jack Smith’s films were raided by New York’s vice squad and they were all but impossible to see for many years. Not anymore. To demonstrate just how far the culture war goalposts have moved since the early 1960s, what was once considered utterly depraved is now on YouTube getting piped right into your home or handset.

Below, the longer edit of Smith’s Normal Love:
 

 
H/T The Heavy Mental and Photo 2a.

Posted by Paul Gallagher | Discussion
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Lydia Lunch wants to be Louis CK’s ‘friend with benefits’


 
This was uploaded a couple of months ago, and how I missed it for this long I do not know, but No-Wave high priestess Lydia Lunch has posted a video openly soliciting a sexual relationship with the doughy ginger comedian Louis CK. I found it on the Vimeo page of photographer Jasmine Hurst, at which, if you’re a fan of Lunch, you should really have a look, as it also contains a recording of her Future Feminism monologue from a couple of weeks ago.

But back to the wanting to eff Louis CK (OK, specifically, she suggests jacking/jilling off in front of each other, but tomayto/tomahto)—it should be obvious that it’s a not-even-close-to-work-safe soliloquy, shot in a confessional-booth style, with lighting so blown out that Lunch looks disquietingly not unlike Jeff the Killer. Given that Lunch has been known to deploy sarcasm as a rhetorical tool from time to time, just once in a while, there might be some kind of satirical point to this, but I feel it can be enjoyed more fully just taken at face value. The balls are in your court, Louis.
 

 
Previously on Dangerous Minds
Future Feminism: a social cultural and political vision for a feminine utopia
Dangerous women: Lydia Lunch interviews Admiral Grey of Cellular Chaos

Posted by Ron Kretsch | Discussion
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NSFW boobs and butts embroidery is strictly adults-only
09.25.2014
07:10 am

Topics:
Art
Sex

Tags:
Sally Hewett
embroidery


Rising Moons
 
Sally Hewett’s embroidery specializes in the four B’s—boobs, butt, boners, and bagina, and it has resulted in an intriguing and sometimes troubling body of work that has gotten the attention of the people at Saatchi Art, where her works run as high as $800 a pop.

Here’s Hewett’s high-minded description of the meaning of her artworks, although I think we all know that the real reason is that dicks and tits and butts are awesome and hilarious:
 

Men and women almost ritualistically shave and remove hair from their bodies – beards, underarm hair, pubic hair, leg hair etc, whereas other hair – hair on the head, eyebrows, eyelashes – are valued and encouraged to flourish. But there is other hair which not everyone has. Sometimes this special hair seems to be reason to feel ashamed. A large number of women and men submit their bodies to extraordinary procedures in the name of convention or beauty – liposuction, implants, scarification, surgery, laser treatment, electrolysis etc.

 
There’s a lot more of Hewett’s works on her website. Hewett is a graduate of the Kent Institute of Art and Design, where her dissertation focused, perhaps predictably, on “Hair and Body Detritus in Art.”

The degree to which Hewett’s work stands out is worthy of note—it’s difficult to find analogues for her work. If you look up 2010’s The Subversive Stitch by Rozsika Parker, what you’ll get is a carefully considered academic treatment of embroidery and femininity—not exactly the same thing. And Diana Grygo’s ebook Extreme Bead Embroidery isn’t half as exciting as it sounds.

Without further ado, and I have to tell you, it feels like I’ve been waiting all my life to write these words, the following embroidery is NSFW.
 
See Hewett’s marvelous works of embroidery after the jump…...

Posted by Martin Schneider | Discussion
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