It’s April 1, but I could not make this up. Check out the anonymous comment on the link I posted a year ago to the God is a Masturbator website.

Yup, you are reading that right:

“u r sick… i will prey for you!”

I tremble, I surely do.

I couldn’t make that up. The news story:

Monday, March 29, 2004

Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

State police have charged a 15-year-old Latrobe girl with child pornography for taking photos of herself and posting them on the Internet.

Police said the girl, whose identity they withheld, photographed herself in various states of undress and performing a variety of sexual acts. She then sent the photos to people she met in chat rooms.

A police report did not say how police learned about the girl. They found dozens of pictures of her on her computer.

She has been charged with sexual abuse of children, possession of child pornography and dissemination of child pornography.

Yup, she was charged with abusing herself by taking self-portraits.

Here are some photos from the 419 Eaters Trophy Room. These people make it their business to engage the Nigerian scammers and waste their time. For style points, they convince the Nigerians to pose with various objects and scurrilous signs, and post the resulting photographs in the trophy room. Some samples:

I’m quoting this appeal for the light it sheds on international variations in pornography. Sending pornography, if you bother, is up to you. Me, I think I would insist on trading for some of that perverted Frenchie stuff, if I still bothered with dead tree porn:

“I don’t know if any of you are aware of this, but I’m in a real mess. As some of you may know, I happen to be in France. And in France, it’s really hard to get a decent porno magazine, that doesn’t cost 20 bucks and doesn’t have horses and shit in it (French people are perverts!!)

This is what I humbly ask, and whether you agree with it or not, please just try to pass the word around:

I’d really like it if somebody would mail me a Playboy. A Hustler even, or one of those mini-magazines that don’t cost as much to mail….”

Thanks to Harvey at Bad Money (that infamous den of rum, buggery, the lash, and pirate pickup lines) for calling this poor expatriate’s plight to my attention.

It’s time for some erotic art to lighten things up. I believe the art is by Fameni:

Care to speculate what’s in the picture the young man is looking at?

The Village Voice (popup warning!) lampoons the ridiculous straw man (straw dog?) argument opponents of gay marriage prefer to raise rather than treat with the issue on its merits. This is no mere “attack-the-looniest-conservative-you-can-find” lefty smear job; the article found more than a thousand examples of this meme in Lexis-Nexis, and cites five prominent politicians and four prominent religious figures who have worried publicly about this pressing and terrible problem. I’m with author Richard Goldstein: “I hadn’t realized that so many men of God are worried about folks helping sheep through the fence.”

Thanks to Daze for the link, and to Goldstein for the punning word “petaphilia”. Does that have anything to do with this, I wonder?

I suppose it’s a little surprising it took all this time for the fire and brimstone brigade to come around here. In case you missed it, my comments were graced with this lovely sentiment, unburdened by any actual discussion of or engagement with the topic of my post:

“Whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire.”

Which is from Revelations 20:15, although the commenter with the barbecue fetish was apparently too busy visualizing roasted human flesh to bother saying so. Having assumed, for blogging purposes, the identity of the Roman god of intoxication and orgies, I naturally find this sort of badly-directed preaching to be at least as funny as Io in her heifer suit.

Although this particular sex blog is not the place for discussions of Christian religion, me being neither Christian nor convertible, there’s no particular reason why sex blogs (even kinky ones) can’t handle the subject with grace, intelligence, and wit when it comes up. Alas, that’s apparently too much to expect from the littering pamphleteers with the sulphurous savor of burning flesh in their nostrils.