Let’s Make Candle Salad!

It’s been more than twenty years since ErosBlog first covered the Mormon delicacy candle salad and its deniers. Now comes Dylan from social media to recreate this innocent culinary masterpiece from a 1959 cookbook. Dylan, we quickly see, has some regrets:

Thank you, Dylan…

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Girl Eats Banana

The instant I saw this totally-innocent photo of a pretty woman eating a banana, I knew. Naw, man, that’s porn. And that banana is a promise. She’ll be sucking the guy’s cock in the next scene. Or there’ll be a banana up her cunt. Or both.

I am often wrong. But not this time. And the Rodox watermarked clinched it; that’s one of the many hardcore Danish porn brands operated under the corporate umbrella of the Color Climax Corporation, famous in the USA for eye-opening glossy import porn magazines dating back to the 1970s. Sometimes a banana is just a banana, but in the hands of the CCC it soon becomes a cock:

Likewise, the dramatic Rule of Chekhov’s Banana guaranteed that we weren’t getting out of this blog post without a banana going in her pussy:

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Doing The Banana Bra Boogie

Did you ever hear the phrase “It’s a dog-eat-dog world, and I’m wearing Milk-Bone underwear?” Well, I would call this “chased by monkeys while wearing a banana bra” scenario an analogous situation:

She’s never gonna outrun those monkeys!

ErosBlog readers of good memory will remember that back in 2008 we had a hapless heroine named Susie in a similar but even more dangerous situation.

Time For Dessert

Dessert is here … and she brought condiments:

“One Banana Actually, But You Don’t Want It.”

I found this Tijuana Bible comic panel floating around on my hard drive, thought you’d all enjoy it:

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Some Days, You Are The Gorilla…

…and some days, you’re the one wearing the bananas, that’s just how it goes:

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Life In Strip Nation

Here on ErosBlog I ignored, as I tend to, the annual frenzy of “concerned” journalists fretting about how Halloween has morphed into “Dress Like A Slut” day, ohnoes! To me, the phenomenon is obviously just a manifestation (on Halloween, how appropriate!) of the ghosts of Saturnalia and Carnival, which we in the Puritan Protestancies had taken out and shot centuries ago. I approve, as I do, of all liberating influences. Hell, I approve of nekkedness in general, so how could I glower all dour at skimpy costumes?

Surprised I therefore was to find ChelseaGirl from Pretty Dumb Things fretting on the same topic, although I’ll cheerfully grant that she did it with more thoughtfulness and nuance than any print journalist I’ve ever seen tackle the subject. Most interesting and useful in her post, I thought, was her description of a memetic landscape she calls Strip Nation:

Because this trend … also speaks to the seduction of what I’ve come to call Strip Nation.

Strip Nation is the place where little girls wear body glitter for fun, where pole dancing is a fitness pursuit, where chicks have standing appointments for monthly Brazilians, and weekly tans, French manicures and matching pedicures. It’s the place where women purposefully show bra straps and g-strings. It’s where average women have the lower-back tattoo, body piercings, and t-shirts that read “Diva” It’s the where women get breast implants, labiaplasty and anal bleaching. It’s a place where family restaurants have waitresses wearing orange short-shorts, and where drag-queen restaurants have banana deep-throat contests, and where eighteen year-old girls win them.

Strip Nation is where we live now. It’s not a bad place to live. Strip Nation gives us Carmen Electra and body butter. Strip Nation lets us shake our booty with abandon. Hell, Strip Nation, combined with Hip-Hop Nation–it’s a unified country of dual principalities–has given us the word “booty”. Without Strip Nation, we’d still be pogoing and wearing flat shoes and high-waisted pleated pants.

Strip Nation can be a lot of fun, but it’s a deeply problematic kind of fun. I am proud to have been a stripper, but I know that stripping is best kept in the strip club because stripping is about serving up a fantasy based on the most simplistic heterosexual male’s formulation of an uncomplicated woman. Most simply, Strip Nation provides a dreamscape based on a model of a two-dimensional woman and men’s desire for them. And while that is all well and fine for an eight-hour strip shift, it has major issues when it goes rampant, out into the streets, and disseminates like a virus into the culture at large.

I wonder how much women choosing to dress like a stripper for Halloween–whatever the flavor of the specific fantasy–isn’t centered on an unquestioning slide into the happy amnesia of Strip Nation: a place where men will be men, women will be girls, and no one need have a thought cross their untrammeled brows. I wonder how much the Naughty Nurse, the Sassy Satan, the Wanton Witch, the Reform School Drop Out, the Pirate Wench, and all the heaving bosom, exposed thigh rest, has more to with the prefeminist nostalgia that Strip Nation embodies. I wonder how much the naughty Halloween costume hasn’t less to do with getting one’s freak on as it does with doing so in a way that feels like you don’t have to think about it when you do.

Tomorrow, Halloween will just be a bunch of garbled stories and memories, gone for another year, But we’ll still be living in Strip Nation. Look around you, it’s everywhere. Fun, yes. But at what cost?

I think the description of Strip Nation is spot on, but I’m having trouble parsing out the objection. It seems to be something in the nature of “real life is more complicated than that”, but every cultural expression we have is idealized in one way or another; Strip Nation is a fantasy space almost by definition, and it seems odd to me to ask “at what cost?” when the full achievement of the fantasy lies as much out of our reach as do the golden shores of Brigadoon.

“You wouldn’t like to eat nothing but candy and ice cream”, warned our mothers, and we didn’t believe them. If we really lived in Strip Nation, we probably wouldn’t enjoy that either; a steady diet of oversimplified sex is probably not much better than a steady diet of high fructose corn syrup. But what’s really going on here is a whole bunch of cultural expressions reaching toward Strip Nation, but which are counterbalanced by so many other cultural anchors and drags that we’ll never reach the Strip Nation Shangri La, nor indeed get anywhere close to there. We don’t live in Strip Nation; we don’t even live next door to Strip Nation. All we do is live in a place where we can, sometimes, get away with acting as if we do live in Strip Nation.

If you grant that, is it really fair to ask “at what cost?” The only cost I see is to the competing memetic landscapes that are losing mindshare in competition with Strip Nation. I’m talking Burqa Nation, Chador and Hajib Nation, Barefoot And Pregnant Nation, Nice Girls Don’t Nation, It’s Dirty Down There Nation, Leave The Lights Off Nation, Twin Beds Nation, Save It For Marriage Nation, the entire constellation of memetic spaces in which skin must be covered, dancing must be restricted because it could lead to shagging, sex is strictly controlled, and women are (in one sense or another) chattel, not free to make their own sexual decisions.

Here in the brave new century, Strip Nation is out-competing all of those memetic spaces. Is it perfect? Heck no. Is it better? I can’t see how it isn’t. At what cost? I, for one, don’t much care, unless the cost is higher than the rolling human tragedy of the repressive memetic spaces Strip Nation is competing with and struggling to displace.

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Banana Sex

Girls putting bananas in improbable places go way way back on the internets. In fact, if I didn’t see a .gif file on that theme back in the dialup BBS days, then I’ve manufactured a memory.

For some reason, though, this banana gallery reminds me of the end of one of those “…and one this time, at band camp” shaggy dog stories. Punchline: “And then, you’ll never believe this, she ate the banana!”

Picture courtesy of the [defunct since 2014] website Get Dirty With Juliet.

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The World’s Weirdest Dildo?

When I first saw this picture, I thought it was the weirdest dildo I’ve ever seen. What’s up with those open ends, and why isn’t it ribbed all over?

But then I read the email that it was attached to, and the mystery of the strange dildo was solved.

Perfectly Innocent Photograph

I have nothing to say about this perfectly innocent picture except that I found it at Tuckle Rori.

A Universe Of Sex Stories

I’ve linked to the Alt.Sex.Stories Text Repository since the very first day ErosBlog went online. The sheer volume of free sex stories available there is mindboggling, and the diversity of subject matter is unlike any commercial text porn ever published. Last week, I noticed that the Kirsten Archives (one of the many collections hosted in the repository) featured ErosBlog as its “Momentary Link”. The traffic and recognition are appreciated, and so I’m returning the favor.

Here’s an excerpt from one of the Kirsten Archives stories, a little food fetish number called “Laura’s Banana“:

“Take your pants off,” Laura breathed. “Let me see your hard cock.”

With the two bananas sticking out of her snatch, Laura handed me a third, unpeeled this time.

“Stick it in me between the others.”

With one hand on my rock hard cock, I stuck the banana in with my other. Inch by inch, Laura’s cunt accepted it.

Laura was now calling for me to fuck her with it.

“Push it in farther; then pull it out, oh yes, that’s it, only harder.”

Woman Eating A Banana

Ah, the simple pleasures.

Fun With Jelly Beans

From The Red Sneaker Diaries:

I wasn’t paying attention to him, till I felt him slip what I identified as a spotted banana bean (yellow with brown spots) between my pinkie toe and its neighbour. I smiled slightly as he slipped a cherry red cinnamon bean in the next spot, the selective toe spreading feeling almost intrusive, but in a good way.

Anal Banana Snacks

Or something. I’m not sure I follow the lingo, but at least I’m not the only one:

Lifted without shame from Across the Atlantic.

P.S. Speaking of which, have you noticed that Shell and The Group Captain are now on the same side of the Atlantic and happily eating burgers with vegemite and A1 sauce together? They’ve spared us their transports of delight, but it sounds like they are having fun. Like the man from the A-Team said, I love it when a plan comes together.

P.P.S. I am reliably informed that vegemite is actually concentrated smegma.

A Mother And A Pornographer

Here’s an interesting article in which a single mom talks about balancing her family life with her profession (pornographer). It caught my attention because, in response to the usual “How would you feel about your work if your daughter became a pornstar” hand-wringing, she writes:

My response is that in my house, there’s no such thing as a slut. I did not raise my daughter to believe such outdated claptrap. If an adult woman wants to make a living shoving bananas up her ass, then that’s her choice and her right. If my kid decides to become a porn star and she’s happy with that choice then who am I to complain? I’ve had a lot of jobs over the years that weren’t porn yet still made me feel exploited and dirty.

Right on.

Thanks to Dubberly for the link.

“Stop muttering, Mr. Freud”

This, allegedly, is food, prepared by good churchly people and served to children and maiden aunts with a straight face:

Apparently it’s called “Candle Salad” and it’s prepared in all innocence by Mormons and folk of that ilk. Theresa explains it all, in a long post about Mormon food of which this is but the tiniest excerpt:

Back then I was also taught to make candle salad, only we dipped our bananas in Dream Whip and rolled them in crushed cornflakes before placing them upright in their pineapple rings and sticking half of a red maraschino cherry onto the tip. It takes a very, very clean mind to think that up.

Oh my, yes.

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Improve the Taste of Your Semen!

It will come as no surprise to the veteran sex blog surfer that there are folks out there selling powders and pills that are supposed to improve the flavor of male semen. But, thanks to Adam Curry and the United States Patent Office, we now have details about one such product, Patent #6485773, including a recipe and a description of the oh-so-scientific methods used to perfect it.

First the recipe, which boils down to “eat more fruit”:

38-41%              Freeze-dried Pineapple Juice
12-14%              Freeze-dried Banana Powder
7-9%                Freeze-dried Broccoli Powder
5-7%                Freeze-dried Celery Powder
5-7%                Freeze-dried Strawberry or
                        Cherry Juice Powder
5-7%                Cinnamon Powder
5.5% up to 1143 mg  Calcium Powder
1.9% up to 400 mg   Magnesium Powder
1.2-2%              Ginger root Powder
1.2-2%              Nutmeg Powder
1.0% up to 200 mg   Creatine Powder
.5% up to 100 mg    Zinc AAC 20%
up to 30 mg         Selenium AAC 0.2%
up to 6 mg          Vitamin E
up to 2.5 mg        Vitamin B6
up to .5 mg         Vitamin B12
Total: 21-22 grams - in Powder

And here’s how they figured it out:

During the research and development phase of this invention, it was discovered that pineapple juice and broccoli were only slightly effective in improving semen taste, regardless how much of either or both were ingested. As a result, powder concentrates of both ingredients were tested, with only slightly better results. Finally, freeze-dried forms of these same ingredients were tried with significantly improved results. As certain other fruits and vegetables were also somewhat effective in improving taste results, banana, celery, and strawberry/cherry were also ultimately selected and added to the formulation. The cumulative effects of these five ingredients in freeze-dried form produced greatly improved semen-taste results. Further research and testing resulted in discovering that three specific spices (Ginger, Cinnamon, and Nutmeg) were successful in neutralizing the generally salty/bitter taste usually attributed to the male ejaculate. As a result, these three spices were also added to the invention formulation in optimal ratios, as determined during our research and development.
…
Following this, marketing testing began with 27 local couples of different ages, races, and health regimens (e.g. smokers/non-smokers, drinkers/non-drinkers, healthy/not-so-healthy lifestyles and diets). Questionnaires were created and used for data collection by said couples and, after several months, the data was examined. The results were highly positive, clearly indicating that regardless of the lifestyles of the couples, significant semen-taste improvement was experienced by all in the market-test group. Subsequent to this, the product was placed on the market where after thousands of orders and with a 100% Money-back Guarantee, less than 1.5% return of product has been experienced.

I really love that last line. I can see the letter now: “Dear Sir: I would like a refund for your semen taste-improving product. It does not work. My cum still tastes nasty. Sincerely, your customer.”

Life Among The Nymphs (With Bananas)

It’s hard. So very hard. Uh, life, that is.

Bacchus loves him some edible swimwear.

They Should Do Cruise Ship Programming

From the Mainichi Daily News (logo shown below) yet another story about the myriad benefits of unbridled capitalism, as manifested in the form of unusual sex entertainment options offered up by the highly competitive sex industry in Osaka. Fried octopus balls on a living platter? No problem. Pre-chewed bananas? Just kiss the girl, she’s got ’em! Thirsty for breast milk? Will that be “on tap” or in a glass?

And for the main course:

For just an extra 1,000 yen on top of the regular 9,000 yen price, workers will wear panties made of paper and supply clients with a filled water pistol. The customer is then encouraged to blast the water pistol until it makes the garment dissolve or renders the panties so sopping they can only be ripped off.

Andrea Dworkin, your scholarship is calling.

“Dr. Atkins, Your Girlfriend Called”

Kim Kelly wants to lose some weight. So she’s going on a 100% man juice diet. Or so the promotional press release reads:

For the entire month of December Kim Kelly will diet by eating nothing but cum for an entire month!

Beginning December 1st/2002 BBW Live’s “Queen of Princesses” Kim Kelly will be attempting to add her name to the star-roster of “Sexual World Record” holders by sucking down a minimum of 90 cum enriched meals… and probably a number of “snacks”. That’s a diet of nothing more solid than cum, at least three meals a day for a month!

However, she’s quoted as saying she also plans to eat “plenty of banana smoothies” because “I’m not going to kill myself for this.”

If You’ve Got The Honey, I’ve Got The Time

From the all-encompassing Volokh Conspiracy comes word of a positively Bacchanalian festival: Splosh!

Splosh — is the most infamous night of squishy, sexy, safe and sticky fun with a menu of edible and slimy, tasty and grimy dishes and people.

On the messy fun menu:

Pudding, cake batter, corn syrup, liquefied bananas, oils galore, paints, gak, splosh paint, syrups, fruit loops, oats, flour, paste, fruits and veggies of all kinds and a rainbow of food coloring.

Alas, Bacchus is too many kilomiles away from San Francisco to make this party, even if he started walking now. And a good thing too, since each participant must bring a date. If Bacchus were to be attending, he would need to start taking applications for the Legion of Messy Nymphs on an accelerated schedule.