A Visit to the World’s Largest Porn Convention

Sex sells. From sandpaper to steak, there is seemingly nothing it can’t be used to market—save baby formula. That being said, I’m sure a think tank of modern Mad Men are currently trying to eroticize the formula game. Of course, sex is best at selling itself, which makes the Adult Entertainment Expo business as usual; emphasis on business. A literal circle jerk for folks who make their living off lasciviousness, combined with a lil’ somethin’ for fuck fans—and by “a lil’ somethin’,” I mean, “the opportunity to take awkwardly staged photographs with bored looking women in sheer shirts”—the self-proclaimed “World’s Largest Adult Trade Event” is a veritable smorgasbord of smut, all of which can be possessed for a price.

The Adult Entertainment Expo takes place where events of its ilk should take place: Las Vegas, aka Xanadu for mouth breathers; where the cocktail waitresses are already conveniently dressed like sex objects. In the casino that surrounded the expo (Hard Rock, natch), degenerate gamblers refused to look up from the slot machines they were vacantly poking at, not even to gawk at the scantily clad ladies go-go dancing right in front of them. Countless others, I’m sure, sat in the rooms above, watching television on their vacations. Vegas, baby! Vegas!
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A Visit to the World’s Largest Porn Convention

Sex sells. From sandpaper to steak, there is seemingly nothing it can’t be used to market—save baby formula. That being said, I’m sure a think tank of modern Mad Men are currently trying to eroticize the formula game. Of course, sex is best at selling itself, which makes the Adult Entertainment Expo business as usual; emphasis on business. A literal circle jerk for folks who make their living off lasciviousness, combined with a lil’ somethin’ for fuck fans—and by “a lil’ somethin’,” I mean, “the opportunity to take awkwardly staged photographs with bored looking women in sheer shirts”—the self-proclaimed “World’s Largest Adult Trade Event” is a veritable smorgasbord of smut, all of which can be possessed for a price.

The Adult Entertainment Expo takes place where events of its ilk should take place: Las Vegas, aka Xanadu for mouth breathers; where the cocktail waitresses are already conveniently dressed like sex objects. In the casino that surrounded the expo (Hard Rock, natch), degenerate gamblers refused to look up from the slot machines they were vacantly poking at, not even to gawk at the scantily clad ladies go-go dancing right in front of them. Countless others, I’m sure, sat in the rooms above, watching television on their vacations. Vegas, baby! Vegas!

Continue

Anne of Green Gables Is Now Totally Boneable
This is what Anne looks like on the new cover. Anne of Green Gables should not be jerk-off fodder, but here we are.
The new book jacket of Anne of Green Gables has been causing a stir among fans of the book, who say that (paraphrasing): “That whore is not Anne of Green-fucking-Gables.”
It might be a coming-of-age story, but this edition really seems to focus on the “of-age” aspect—as in, “barely legal.” Furthermore, enough of the plot is predicated on her red hair to suggest that whoever took this photo didn’t bother reading the book. What is this, fifth grade? Read the book before you hand in your assignment, cover art designer dude.
Based on this cover, I would guess that Anne of Green Gables is the sultry tale of a romp in the barn with the farmer’s daughter, not a story about a spunky, adventurous, red-headed orphan with her own unique sensibilities.
Continue

Anne of Green Gables Is Now Totally Boneable

This is what Anne looks like on the new cover. Anne of Green Gables should not be jerk-off fodder, but here we are.

The new book jacket of Anne of Green Gables has been causing a stir among fans of the book, who say that (paraphrasing): “That whore is not Anne of Green-fucking-Gables.”

It might be a coming-of-age story, but this edition really seems to focus on the “of-age” aspect—as in, “barely legal.” Furthermore, enough of the plot is predicated on her red hair to suggest that whoever took this photo didn’t bother reading the book. What is this, fifth grade? Read the book before you hand in your assignment, cover art designer dude.

Based on this cover, I would guess that Anne of Green Gables is the sultry tale of a romp in the barn with the farmer’s daughter, not a story about a spunky, adventurous, red-headed orphan with her own unique sensibilities.

Continue