In most ways, we live in a world in which gender has been neutralized. Men and women stand side-by-side at jobs; on sports teams; in wars. We watch the same shows and eat the same disgusting dietetic foods and when a difference exists, it’s usually only in posture: A sort of “Tastes Great” vs. “Less Filling” of purposeful gender division; it’s Miller Lite, no matter why you order it. But people like to debate.
This gender neutrality is a good thing, I’m sure of it. Many of my very good friends are women, some of whom I do traditionally masculine things with, and some feminine. It does not make the masculine stuff more feminine or vice versa; it adds a characteristic wholeness to both things, not having to bicker over guy things and girl things. Sure, at certain ultra-specific moments I miss the days when seeing a nice pair of boobies meant, unequivocally, you were looking at a woman. But it’s a small price to pay, having sex with a man by accident. In these days of dehumanized sexuality, having uncharacteristically gay thoughts, feelings, or sex is actually in the upper echelon of normal sexual behavior. Frankly, so long as you are having sex with a human, gay and straight are essentially meaningless; you are simply practicing an act of human sexuality.
I got a little off track there. The point is, we’re evolving into whole people, and that’s a good thing. We are becoming capable of appreciating each other on deeper levels; levels that couldn’t be reached when cavemen conked women on their heads with clubs, dragged them off to caves and raped them. I wouldn’t dream of doing that to any of my female friends. Okay, I did dream it about one of them, but I ate some questionable Indian food that night and watched The Flintstones. I was high! I can’t be held accountable! It was just a dream! Why can’t you let this go?!
Let’s wrap this up before I dig any deeper. The only thing left that separates the genders is the art of holding a shit too long before releasing it. I’ve never seen a woman waddle to the bathroom because she liked the feeling of squeezing a poop in her butt. If women are ever capable of producing and fertilizing their own eggs, that might be why the Y chromosome goes bye-bye. Just a theory. They’re all just theories. Until we poo butt our way into extinction.
Cultural differences can be both vast and subtle. To most Americans, the ruling by a United Arab Emirates court that a man is permitted by Islamic law to physically discipline his wife and children so long as there is no bruising would probably be categorized in the former. However, though it might not be supported by a court ruling, our great nation definitely abides by a(n) ‘merican law that allows similar “I only did it a little” liberties. Among them are:
This scale represents the equal weight given to traditional law and “but what I’m trying to say is…
Just the Tip — Often used by teenage boys looking to coerce their prude-ass girlfriends to have sex, this ‘merican law deems that it’s not actually considered sexual intercourse if you use “Just the Tip”. Though the measure rarely holds water when explaining unwanted pregnancy or the transference of sexually transmitted diseases, it has proven tremendously successful in rounding third base.
Did Not Inhale — Popularized by former President Bill Clinton, “Did Not Inhale” explains how one can use marijuana, yet receive no or minimal recourse from a legal or social standpoint. Many political analysts hypothesize that because Senator Hillary Clinton did not “Did Not Inhale”, she cost herself crucial voter support that eventually lost her the 2008 democratic presidential nomination to Barack “I Inhaled” Obama.
Did Not Inhale” does apply when referring to the use of White House interns.
It Was Already On — Though heavily debated in ‘merican law, mutual laziness between debating parties almost always settles any dispute arising from “It Was Already On”. This law comes into place when a patriot is caught watching an embarrassing television program and exclaims, “It was already on!” Though at first the prosecutor typically questions the accused’s lack of effort, the argument normally resolves once both sides get caught up in an episode of “Touched by an Angel” and can’t find the remote. [Common Programs Related to “It Was Already On”: TMZ, Grey’s Anatomy, The Hallmark Channel]
Only Gay if You Take It — In the ‘merican Book of Law, “Only Gay if You Take It” is clearly defined as, “Look, man, I was really drunk and feelin’ shitty cause my girl dumped me, and there was this dude Lance at the bar… before I knew it were back at his place and, ugh… dude, it’s only gay if you take it and I’m not like that!” The “Only Gay if You Take It” law is also sometimes referred to as “Take Ass, Don’t Tell”.
My name is t.j. and I received my law degree from American Patriot Do-What-I-Want University.
The U.S. Armed Forces longstanding policy of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” has been ruled unconstitutional by a federal court in Riverside, California. Also, in an unofficial ruling from the LGBT community, the “What Was That?, Get the Fuck Out of My Face” policy has been instated. Essentially what this means is that since the military can no longer discriminate against troops based on their sexual orientation, our homosexual service men and women ain’t takin’ shit from no one.
In a perfect comedic world, this would be the point in the blog where I’d insert a video of hilariously stereotypical homosexuals kicking ass and blowing shit up. Moments in the montage would include:
A big ol’ bear gay dude with a bushy mustache firing a minigun amidst explosions. He’d probably also be wearing an effeminate hat that he pinned up to give it a little bit more flair.
A grizzled old sailor covered in tattoos who’s famed for shooting down kamikaze planes with a hand gun from aboard a sinking battleship. They gayest chorus version of “In the Navy” you’ve ever heard blares in the background.
Will Smith.
And I know there should be a lesbian in there somewhere, but I can’t seem to envision how she would be beating shit down. To some extent I think it would look like this:
Basically what I’m trying to say here is that I’m hoping for an all-gay military that wields the power to defeat aliens, monsters, and other mythical creatures. With “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” out of the way, I see this as a very real possibility.
My name is t.j. and I congratulate all the ‘merica-lovin’, freedom-fightin’ homo-soldiers out there.
With the recent overturning of California’s Proposition 8, we’ve reentered the period of straight men reclaiming this shitty joke:
It’s not the conservatives who are really upset about Prop 8 getting overturned… it’s all men. You know, cause men don’t want to get married. Gay guys are probably like, “Ohhh nooo, we can’t get married? Oh, well. Guess we lost that battle, huh?” You know what I’m saying? Men don’t want to get married!
It’s a truly pitiful twist on a joke that already wasn’t very funny. What I want to hear, though, is that same jokester try to develop a bit by applying the same gay-men-think-like-straight-men mentality to lesbian women, wherein all straight women do want to get married. The major hurdle with this—which is what really makes me want to hear it—is that the same straight men that tell this joke are generally infatuated with lesbian sex.
Awesome.
It’s not the liberals who are really excited about Prop 8 getting overturned… it’s all women. You know, cause all women want to get married. Lesbians are probably like, “Hooooray, we can finally get married! All I think about is marriage!” You know what I’m saying? I can just see it. Like, this lesbian is sitting on the couch waiting for her girlfriend to get home and, you know, she’s just wearing a kind of baggy t-shirt and some lacy panties, and maybe the shirt is really old so it’s kind of worn through and has a couple holes in it **swallows hard**… and then the girlfriend gets home. Uh, and the girlfriend sort looks like Eva Mendes but hotter, and she’s just getting back from her job at the bikini testing plant so she’s like still wearing this really sexy bikini… or just the bottom half, yeah… and she comes in the door and her girlfriend gets off the couch—she looks like Jessica Alba in Fantastic Four with the blonde hair—and she’s like, “Did you work hard today?” So Eva takes a couple steps forward and pushes her tits together and… okay, wait. What does she say before they kiss? I had a joke in here somewhere. Oh, yeah. One of them is like, “Let’s get married.” You know what I’m saying? All women want to get married. Fuck, I’ve got to sit down for a second.
Then the joke teller must excuse himself from the conversation/party/Starbucks’s line to masturbate furiously for several hours. There’s a reason these men don’t explore the possibility of the lesbian-women-are-just-like-straight-women joke. They’ll just get overturned on.
My name is t.j. and this blog supports Local Union 98 of the Bikini Testing Plant. Keep fighting for those rights!
New York and the tri-state area, provided you like longform improv in strange locations at all hours of the day and night (raise your hand, dickhead who doesn’t), have I got a treat for you. This weekend all over the borough of Manhattan, the Upright Citizens Brigade presents the Del Close Marathon!
The Del Close Marathon is a weekend-long celebration of . . . aw hell, I’ll just show you this promotional video:
Okay, that didn’t help at all. DCM is a giant improv festival held in New York each year celebrating the founder of longform improvisation Del Close and featuring the best and brightest from the UCB theaters in New York and LA. Many of your favorite stars from film and TV got their starts at this theater and at this festival and many of them will be returning to join in the celebration alongside some of the future stars of those very same media. It’s a great time and if I was on the East Coast I would sure as shit be there.
I’ve been told $25 will secure you a pass to all the festivities, or you can but tickets to individual shows if you’re just looking for a taste. Many of our friends including Convoy, Arts & Athletics, Fat Magic Bear, The Midnight Show, DERRICK Comedy, and many others will be performing shows that could otherwise only be seen in Los Angeles. I encourage you to get a glimpse of the other coast, though don’t sleep on the New York teams either. Here’s a schedule of the 150+ performances between Friday and Sunday.
Let me take a minute now to speak to some of the performers; friends of mine who will be doing dunken, unconscionable for the next 96 hours:
To all my drunk female friends, put down that dick. It’s not a champagne bottle and you won’t like what comes bubbling out when you pop the cork.
To all my drunk, gay-curious male friends, don’t even think about doing that with that champagne bottle. It’s not a dick, and you won’t like what comes shooting out when you put it in your ass.
To all my gay, fabulous friends . . . You do you, guys. This is like Improv Mardi Gras. I encourage you to fuck all the straight guys.
My name is Ben and what happens at DCM stays at DCM untul it’s brought back from DCM and told to everyone.
Terrell Owens not only is a big dick, he probably has one. Both are necessary traits of professional athletes.
In general Poop or Chocolate chooses to steer clear of generalizations, but since t.j.’s bringing a more man-loving audience to the site today I figure there’s no better time to share a general hypothesis I formed about penises recently. So here goes: In order to be a professional athlete you have to have an above-average-sized penis. There. I said it. Cue the backlash from prideful small-dicked athletes everywhere.
First of all, when I refer to professional athletes here, I mean male baseball, basketball, football, and hockey players. (Soccer should be added to the list, except I secretly (until now) feel like soccer players universally have small penises.) This isn’t about sexism or the pyramid of sports hierarchy, other sports just aren’t as penis-centric. So if you play a game other than the four mentioned, I’m sorry, I’ll talk about your penis another time. Maybe over drinks?
Physiologically, professional athletes are society’s alpha males, so it stands to reason this dominant physiology would extend to their DNA shooters. That’s not why I believe professional athletes all have big penises, though. Physical fitness and penis size are not correlatives. I’ve seen lots of dudes with big muscles precisely because they have small penises. But anyone who makes it from high school athletics to college athletics to professional athletics needs to have the confidence that only comes from having a large penis just to make it through all that locker room time. No other job makes you shower with your co-workers.
Showering with other men takes confidence. People with embarrassing penises don’t have confidence. Really, none of the time, but especially in situations involving public nudity. Having a small penis is like telling a lie: You constantly worry about getting caught. If you have a subpar penis I don’t have to tell you how much time you spend worrying about getting caught. And I certainly don’t have to tell you that a locker room is the last place you wanna go to avoid getting caught. That’s like stealing a car and parking it at the police station.
If that last paragraph taught you anything it’s that having a small penis is metaphorically always a sin and sometimes a crime.
Sports certainly isn’t the only profession where you get paid to look at other guys’ penises. And it isn’t the only profession where you get paid to have other guys look at your penis. But I think it is the only profession where you get paid to do both. And it’s definitely the only profession where it’s merely an unfortunate side effect of the job.
I have never worked at a job where you got to know the penis size of everyone in the office and I have also never worked a job where knowing that information wouldn’t have changed EVERYTHING. In pro sports it can’t change anything. Professional athletes are already wired like prisoners; penis-measuring contests would lead to dick shankings in the shower. The fact that no athlete ever gets his penis stabbed by a teammate is evidence of the big-dicked cock-confidence of all professional athletes.
Listen my dudes: Confidence in all facets of life starts with the penis. Yours doesn’t have to be a tree trunk, it just has to be a penis you’re comfortable with. I’m sure there are professional athletes with small penises and an abundance of confidence, but those are the ones you should really fear. Because they can probably beat up everyone. Tune in tomorrow for my post on how all bullies have small penises. Just kidding. I don’t wanna get beat up.
No homo, picture his penis. Biiiiig, right?
My name is Ben and I’m proud of myself for making it through this whole post without a single WNBA penis joke.
Poop or Chocolate supports the gay(er)ing of Twilight. Well, I don’t know if the others support it, but I do, and I’m in the power position to do things autocratically. Can’t no one stop me! Suicidal Hitler on the site banner? That’s my “our” choice. Gayer Twilight? That’s me “us” too.
This next statement is controversial, but Poop or Chocolate stands by it. Well, I don’t know if the others stand by it, but again, I wield the power of the pen. Do I believe in democracy? Sure, I just don’t practice it. Like Christianity during football season. Anyway, back to the ugly truth. Bella is the type of girl that human males rape. Not well-adjusted human males, but still, human males. And when it happens, publicly the townspeople act dismayed, but privately they call her a tease who “had it coming.” That’s the Bella archetype: A girl no one is surprised to see get raped by humans.
Let’s qualify: Poop or Chocolate doesn’t support the notion that anyone “has it coming” from humans. In fact, notions like that are why Poop or Chocolate moved away from that town in the first place. But monsters are a different story. If one was to ever argue that someone deserved it, it would have to be the girl playing a game of emotional cat and mouse with a VAMPIRE AND A FUCKING WEREWOLF, right? Again, nobody is ever asking for rape. But the girl who falls in love with two monsters is probably tackling more than daddy issues. That’s why I’m saying, Jake, Eddie, tell the tease to be easy. Love on each other.
There have been some fairly risque jokes in this post, but this is obviously a serious subject and demands a serious conclusion. If any kids are reading, especially sexy but sullen teenage girls, heed this advice: Stick to online shopping and pregnancy pacts. Don’t tease blood-thirsty monsters sexually. They’ll rape you and eat the evidence. The evidence is you.
NBA Basketball season starts today and the big question on everyone’s minds is: NBA Basketball season starts today? Yes, it does, and I’m as shocked as you are. It seems like just yesterday I was saying, “Thank God basketball season is over.” Maybe the off-season got shorter; maybe it’s the lack of climate shift in LA messing with my head; or maybe time just flies. But seriously: When did it become fucking late October???
With basketball’s return we embark on the two-week period each year when all the major sports are active at the same time. I like sports, quite a bit actually, but these two weeks are a massive overload. Sports are a nice dessert, but I don’t want them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Someone asks if you saw the game last night and you wonder what sport he’s even referring to. It’s just too much of a good thing. I’m reminded of living back home in Detroit at the end of July/beginning of August when 90% of my friends have birthdays within a ten-day span. By week 2 I’d find myself saying, “Alright, cake. Enough is enough already.” And then I’d get a wicked case of heartburn. (I’m convinced that heartburn is your inner child jabbing you in the chest as revenge for you doing, saying, or feeling something old-seeming.)
I’m digressing. A few people have wondered about the future of A FENNIS FOR DEMBO; namely, if there will be a future. The answer is: I don’t know. Keeping up with two blogs while writing scripts, getting inebriated, and passive-aggressively searching for work is a lot to handle. I would like to say we will absolutely be providing humorous coverage of this and every basketball season, but the reality is I forgot about basketball season. I’m not sure that’s what you want out of your hoops blogger.
So I guess the tentative answer is: No, LA Dubbs and BA Brokeass won’t be back for the beginning of basketball season. But we might meet up with you somewhere down the line. Probably as soon as something gay, racist, ignorant, or violent happens. Which could be as soon as today or as far off as never. I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime: Enjoy more goddamn sports!
