A report in The Scotsman claims that Uday Hussein is into pony girls. Well, sort of anyway:

A former security guard at Baghdad racecourse recently claimed that Uday and his friends would gather at the clubhouse where, after consuming prodigious amounts of whisky, they would force naked women to wear numbers and race around the track.

Now there’s an image sufficient to capture the mind’s eye…until brutal reality intrudes and reminds one of the terror that must come to these poor women when they are “invited” to go to one of Uday’s parties.

We now join Babs as she flaunts her stuff for the edification of the teenage neighbor boy watching from the window across the way:

This afternoon, Babs and her lover were goofing off on the air mattress in their guest room. They were fully clothed and the blinds were open. After subjecting Babs to some killer tickles on her quadriceps, the Lover rolled over on top of her, presumably to keep her from running away after the affectionate torture session. At that moment, Babs gazed out the window to the apartment across the way. A teenage boy was sitting at his kitchen table having a snack and happened to glance up just in time to see Babs’ lover cop a feel.

The young lad then rotated his entire body to face the window and sat watching intently for about thirty seconds. Finally, Babs looked right at him and waved. The boy put one hand over his eyes and turned his back to the window. However, Babs knew that he was bound to look again, so she got on all fours and did a few donkey-style kicks toward the window. Then, her lover started to smack her rear to get her running around the room on all fours, which she did.

Before Babs had even reached full trot, the boy vacated the kitchen.

Bacchus is pleased to find a sister-in-spirit who blogs in the third person for no discernible reason.

Moving rapidly along, it’s only fair to point out that Babs claims to have been put up to it by her lovely and talented pen-pal, the Crazy Naked Neighbor Who Thinks She’s a Superhero.

Bacchus is pissed off. As a casual Google search reveals, there are lots of kinky people out there who enjoy giving each other sex enemas. And like any other kinky sex practice, it helps to have good tools. One brand of “anal retention catheter” (you know, a rubber tube for shoving up the ass, usually with one or more inflatable balloons to keep it there) is Bardex.

One would think that the maker of such devices would appreciate free publicity. One would be wrong. One must have failed to consider the kind of lawyers likely to be hired by people who make things to shove up your ass.

The result? Threatening letters to kinky folk on the web.

“By using BARDEX in connection with goods and services that do not originate with C.R. Bard, Inc., You are misrepresenting the source of these goods and services as well as deceiving the public. This use of BARDEX is likely to cause confusion as to origin of the products or services identified and dilute the value of our client’s registered mark in violation of the trademark laws. Furthermore, the manner in which you promote and advertise the products or services creates a negative image, damaging the reputation and goodwill associated with our client’s mark and products”.

The result? Some quality sites have been forced to revise their content — not because there’s any real risk that Bardex would win a lawsuit, but simply because the people involved can’t afford (in money, in time, or in energy) to fight.

What’s wrong with that? Well, as it happens, these lawyers are bluffing. The trademark law in question is the one that lets Nike shut down Ebay auctions for cheap Chinese knockoff shoes. References to bootleg goods really does “deceive the public” and “dilutes the value of the brand.”

The law does NOT let a brand owner decide how its products will be used. Nor does it allow the brand owner to stop people from talking about what they like to do with the product.

What Bardex is doing here — trying to stamp out web references to “non-medical” uses of its enema gear — is just plain old-fashioned cheap bullying. They don’t want their medical customers finding out (as if they didn’t already know) that people use their product to have a little anal fun. And they have learned that they can threaten folks who do that, to get them to shut up about it.

Alas, it doesn’t usually make sense to fight these assholes when they send their threatening letters. Although you could win in court, it could easily cost tens of thousands of dollars to get that victory. No little site about pervy sex has that kind of revenue, and even kinky folks have families to feed.

These guys know they don’t have a legal leg to stand on, but they know that when they send out their insupportable legalistic nastygrams, most folks will have no choice but to comply. Even by the ethical standards for which lawyers are already infamous, that’s just disgusting. Weasels Lawyers who lie, and know they are lying, and do it deliberately and with intent to intimidate, are just rotten. And so are the folks who hire them.

This site has yet to make a dime. Your host has no assets that can readily be attached. And your host’s host can be replaced, complete with a DNS update, in under 24 hours. So, Bardex, this is for you:

Deal with it.

Folks, it’s time for camel toe haiku:

Riding on the seam
Split between good and evil
I cannot choose sides.

Or how about:

Twin islands rising
in a sliding Spandex sea.
Land ho, camel toe!

As my grandmother used to say, “Everbody’s crazy but me and thee, and sometimes I wonder about thee.”

[This post is technically obsolete and has become entirely irrelevant; it is retained solely because there is no compelling reason to delete it.]

OK, no sex in this entry, just an explanation of my ugly new comment system.

I want comments. A blog just isn’t a blog without them. But I’m using a sort of unusual setup here. My hosting arrangement doesn’t allow any sort of server side scripting, and I like it for other reasons. So I’m using a freeware client-side database-oriented blogging application called (creatively) “Blog“. It’s handy as heck, but there’s a catch.

The catch is, Blog’s provisions for a comment system are email based and not terribly sophisticated. It works like this:

You click the comment link, you send an email. Thanks!

Blog checks its email every 10 minutes. (My email provider gets unhappy with more frequent checking.)

If Blog gets an email with a proper comment header (which happens only if your email client faithfully notices and inserts the proper subject string from the mailto: URL) the email is downloaded. Then ErosBlog gets immediately republished to include your comment.

Although the comment can contain any HTML you like, the system doesn’t automatically show the email address or web page of the person emailing the comment. Please do feel free to include these in the body of your email (although they won’t be clickable unless you surround them with the appropriate href tags).

Lots of problems with this ugly system. But, in a crude primitive way, it should make it possible to comment on my blog. I’ll look for a better way, I promise! Meanwhile, thanks for reading and commenting.

2024 Update: Amazingly, the author of the Blog software referenced in this post still maintains his old pages about it. And the Internet Archive still has a working copy of his erstwhile downloads page, with working downloads links.

Apparently hraka is not all they like to eat over at Rabbit Central. This time, they have “sperm sommelier” tasting notes. You have to read it; it can’t reasonably be excerpted.

Groovy Robin over at One Girl’s Life has had her mind officially boggled at the concept of labia reduction surgery. Bacchus being himself quite fond of the diverse glory of fleshy female parts in all the myriad ways that nature presents them, the very concept makes him cringe.

However, the interesting part of the post comes when Robin brings up a clueless ex husband. What in hell could this feckless moron have been thinking? Big head or little head, what was going on in there?

Actually, my first husband did tell me my vagina was too low. I always wondered “Too low for what?”