If you’re like me – and there are 3 states where that is illegal and 11 more that require a permit (so check with a lawyer first) – then you know there’s no better way to start your day then with a committed threesome and a slathering of grease. Put down the phone, there’s nothing your congressperson can do about my past. And, yes, the powers that be knew all about me when they handed me a contract. Of course, this time they were very careful to make sure I had easy access to coffee first. Of course, I was hired for a specific purpose. Any idiot can cover Pippa Middleton and her toy gun. No, I was hired to find and report on stuff that real adults care about. The Mormon Underwear Protests of September 2011, are a good example. So is the Gay Pseudo-Porn Meets Beloved Comic Book Icon article that inspired half the staff to completely reconsider their thoughts on Wonder Woman. The other half went quietly to the bathroom to reconsider their own feelings on gender bias.
And each and every one of them wants to know more about the joys of bacon lube, the mutli-orifice enhancer.
Get your spandex and handcuffs out — it’s about to get real slippery in here.
There’s been plenty of coverage about the morning-sex-inducing, bacon-flavored lube. But what about all the other greasy love products out there?
Today, a major rival will have its say in what could be the sexiest debate since Lincoln vs. Douglas in 1858. We’re talking, of course, about Baconlube vs. Honey Lube.
Yes, the founders of each sexual condiment has decided to lube up and smack down to convince you, the reader, to take their product into the bedroom.
In one corner, there’s Baconlube by J & D’s Foods — the result of an April Fool’s joke gone viral. Co-founder Dave Lefkow said his product smells as wonderful as the morning waft of sizzling pork in the bedroom.
In the other, there’s Honey Lube — a sexy side project of Honey Care Products — the brainchild of 20-year-old Maxx Appelman. It’s got all the nutrients of honey, and all the fruit produced by the birds and the bees.
I strongly encourage all our Hippoteers to try each product several times before making up their minds. And, you have to admit, this may be the only place in the universe where you could read the phrase “sexual condiment” and think it’s the most the most normal part of the blog.
But what if your personal love puppet won’t let you lube that special place with bacon? Not a problem. The Geminoid Singing Fembot is here to serve.
Look, robots are going to take over the world anyway so we may as well get a little freak on with them before we’re eliminated.
The video: Renowned Japanese roboticist Hiroshi Ishiguro wants to make androids that are so realistic they fool humans. And his most advanced effort, Geminoid F — the “F” is for female — is in the midst of her coming-out party at a Hong Kong mall, showing off for, and even singing to, passing shoppers and robot enthusiasts gathered for an international Robots in Motion exhibition. (See Geminoid sing below.) The fem-bot can smile, frown, pout, and make about 60 other facial expressions, powered by 12 mechanical actuators situated under her rubber skin. Most of Ishiguro’s androids sell for around $1.2 million, but Geminoid F will be more accessible at $110,000.
The reaction: “Girls, beware,” says the Daily Bhaskar. This “gorgeous female-looking robot” is so freakishly realistic, you may soon have some stiff competition. Yes, Geminoid F “can talk and sing like a human,” says John Walsh in Britain’s The Independent. But it’s not her “passive-aggressive sulk” or “blinking eyes and shy smile,” that I found creepy at a recent press conference — it was her minder, the twentysomething Japanese woman after whom Geminoid F is modeled. Stroking her android doppelganger’s cheek and hair with an indulgent smile, it looked like the minder wasn’t sure which one of them was the robot. See how real, or robotic, Geminoid F looks singing the Japanese pop song True True:
Of course, Sexbots have been around for a while. The basic concept hasn’t been that hard to bring to the fore. Mostly they’re just animated sex dolls with some cute features, like a willingness to say yes to whatever you want.
And it is in that spirit that a group is trying to save humanity by teaching perfectly boring young women how to be hookers. And, in fact, encourage them to compete in the International Miss Hooker Contest in Hollywood, California.
The “oldest living profession” was the backdrop for the oddest existing beauty pageant.
Nine gals were vying for the nation’s most coveted award: Miss Hooker 2012. The competition was held at the Dragonfly Bar in Hollywood, California. Questions darted through my head. Where was the tenth shady lady listed on the event flyer? Was she strolling down the runway at the county jail? Was Donald Trump her “one phone call?” Was this a battle of beauty, brains and bedroom skills; or something altogether different? And if turning tricks was a pageant prerequisite, what about an arrest record? Would this mean bonus points or disqualification? Might someone win Miss Congeniality; or were all gals deemed “congenial” by thriving in this “people person” profession in the first place?
After arriving at the contest, I learned my preconceived notions were premature: none of the girls were hookers. In fact, during backstage interviews with several contestants, I learned they had never even met a call girl.
“Frankly, I’m more qualified to be Miss Hooker than you,” I told Miss Anthropy, a tall brunette immersed in silver sequins. “At least, I’ve known prostitutes.”
Another competitor told me she had a serious crush on Johnny Depp, thus if given the opportunity, would charge him zero for her services. I informed her she clearly lacked the business acumen to work in this specialized field.
The talent competition was another area of consternation. One girl ate a hot dog. Another read a book on stage and still another twirled the hula hoop — clearly not the skills I expected from Heidi Fleiss wannabes.
Yet, when contestant Miss Kitty Cadillac worked the stripper pole and set her breasts on fire, the show climaxed. The crowd roared and the judges were mesmerized. Then Kitty purred through her interview question with a raunchiness that made her the ideal candidate for the crown. She was asked at what point a girl becomes a woman, and replied that it required mastering a particular sexual position (details which I cannot disclose without alarming the moral majority). Kitty’s erotic answer sealed the deal. She had come from humble beginnings in her lifelong quest (or rather her two-month quest) to be Miss Hooker 2012; and she had prevailed.
However, the competition was more than frivolity, gigolo jokes and roasted mammary glands. It was an opportunity to explore the deeper questions of life, such as, “Where the heck is contestant number ten and can she meet bail?” I was told she had never shown for rehearsals, thus proving two things: she had not taken prostitution training seriously, and she’d opted not to “show up” in life.
“Showing up” is a field of study unto itself. I’ve been informally examining it for the past eight years, since being elected into local political office and working as a Los Angeles city commissioner. Although women comprise 51 percent of the population, they are glaringly absent from political, legal and community events. Women fought tirelessly for the vote during the 19th and early 20th century, and they yearn for equality; but today they earn 77 cents on the male dollar. They claim to want leadership roles in society; but comprise only 16.4 percent of U.S. Congress and only 22.1 percent of executive positions — a number that has decreased in the past decade, according to the Center for American Women and Politics at Rutgers University.
Politics is where the power is, so if women desire that power, why does testosterone consume the room when it is time to affect change? Why are political events crammed with dudes? Do most ladies lack interest in these matters? Are they secretly content with letting men lead? Or are they are intimidated by a society-wide “males only” mentality?
Miss Demeanor, who had hula-hooped her way to a loss in the Hooker pageant, told me that women don’t “show up” because the world is a boys’ club. Women are quietly edged out of the arena. “My mom said I could be whatever I wanted, but not every girl gets this sort of encouragement.”
Regardless of whether Miss Demeanor is right, the first step towards true equality is realizing where the power is and “showing up” to grab it. Females must burst into the public sphere, frequenting political meetings, community events and legal forums. They must run for political office, and elect each other. They must assert their opinions, rather than let males dominate the conversation. They must stop muffling their voice.
I was glad I “showed up” to meet the beautiful and empowered women who participated in this admittedly bizarre pageant; they were independent, stylish and strong. I congratulated the winner, Miss Kitty Cadillac, who flaunted her leg tattoo, leopard print leotard and rhinestone wand from the edge of the stage. She gave me reassurance that she was the right gal for the job, confiding that she had once met a call girl and had no interest in Johnny Depp.
“Good for you,” I smiled. “You’re as qualified as I am to wear that crown.”
Doesn’t that just make you proud to be a human?
While some of the “woman’s empowerment” campaigns baffle me, and most right thinking humans, combining fun, intellect and sexuality isn’t one of the confusing ones. It is this kind of stuff that, while superficially odd, is exactly what we humans need.
No robot overlord, no matter how well programmed, will ever replace a woman greased with bacon hanging off a stripper pole.
Listen to Bill McCormick on WBIG (FOX! Sports) every Friday around 9:10 AM.