Posts Tagged ‘erotica’
Sexist Beatdown: Rape Fantasy Edition
Welcome back to Sexist Beatdown, the erotic weekly chat wherein Sady of Tiger Beatdown and I discuss our innermost desire to be raped, forcibly married, and impregnated by a handsome and affable doctor of our parent’s choosing.
Shit, no, no—that’s the subject of our $39.99 Pay-Per-View edition of Sexist Beatdown (check local listings). This Sexist Beatdown is actually about how a handsome and affable doctor who rapes, forcibly marries, and impregnates a young woman is a totally awful and fucked up hero to write into your romance novel!
Or is he?
Are rape fantasies—and the Romance Novelists who love them—any more disturbing than all the other strange sexual fantasies being parsed out there in pages upon pages of awkward prose? Before you answer that: You should know that some of these strange sexual fantasies involve sexy role-playing as “Friends” character Chandler Bing.
Why Young Readers Don’t Like Romance Novel Rapists
Romance writer Moriah Jovan notes a disturbing new trend among the youngsters in “Romancelandia” (that would be the realm of romance novel fan-dom). Women “who love romance novels” are mocking older romance novels for their fantastically retro covers, dated cultural references—and rapist love interests. Not fair!
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Vibrating Razor Video Corner
Well, Matt Roberts, President and Founder of mytinge.com—and maker of the Tinge vibrating razor—has got me. “Our records indicate you have never purchased this or requested a press sample for review,” he writes. “If you had you’d know there is no danger with our product at all as it cannot be used as a razor and vibrator simultaneously” (demonstration above).
I’ll admit it: I have never masturbated myself with a razor.
The Tinge-fomercial is indeed eye-opening.What’s creepier—that the Tinge razor is designed discretely so as to “finally allow all of us to keep a fabulous adult toy right under their ["your kids'"] noses,” or that Roberts keeps a master list of every human who owns one?
Racist, Sexist Vagina Shaver Now Available
If the vibrating razor rubbed you the wrong way, perhaps this attempt to spice up the act of shaving your vagina will be more up your alley. Probably not, though, because it’s pretty racist. It also implicates the house cat in ways I’m not entirely comfortable with.
Sexist Beatdown: Sex Positive Negativity Edition!
To truly call myself “feminist,” must I partake of the dildo?
Earlier this week, I explained, ever-so-respectfully, why I thought sex-positive feminism was boring and dumb. In this edition of Sexist Beatdown, a chatty-thing, Tiger Beatdown’s Sady kindly explains how she came to personally identify as a “sex positive feminist” by being the only employee in a sex shop who didn’t know her anal nerve endings from the ones in her “cooter,” and I realize that a preponderance of rope restraints may be the only thing keeping me from the dark “sex-positive” side. Enjoy!
AMANDA: ok. so. sex sex sex sex feminism sex
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Promotional Materials Not to Send Me: “Classic Erotic Art” Edition
Return to Sender: Postcard advertising “Classic Erotic Art” presented “in a special live exhibition photoshoot,” featuring Playboy’s Angelina Leigh and “internationally acclaimed photographer” Jerry Harke.
Promotional Info I’m Not Interested In [crossed out]:
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Daily Palin: Sarah Palin Erotica!
Introducing “Daily Palin,” in which we detail Sarah Palin’s refusal to go away—every day. The morning news from across everyone’s favorite bridge to nowhere:
* DON’T READ Sarah Palin Erotica—that way you won’t be forced to contemplate Palin’s brain and her vagina in the same breath:
She stands in the cramped bathroom and stares at her reflection in the small, dirty mirror. An aide is rapping his knuckles against the door insistently, but she ignores him, the roar of plane engines, the incessant buzz of the press corps, her cell phone beeping in her purse. “I am Sarah Palin. I am the future president of the United States,” she says softly, allowing the corners of her mouth to curl. Carefully, she smoothes the wrinkles out of her blouse and skirt, makes sure she’s showing some cleavage, and gives her shoulders a little shake. She has been repeating this mantra for weeks now and every single time, she feels a rush of sensation between her ears and her thighs. In these vainglorious moments, she doesn’t think of the old man who brought her here or Todd or the kids or the one on the way. No. She thinks about herself and she likes it.
