GIANT Size Uncanny X-Apendages? Science Says: Shape Matters

Evolution, it’s happening right now, right under our stupid little noses, which will naturally one day evolve the ability to smell color so that the blind can understand rainbows.

But yesterday, Science thought it would share what it had found out about evolution happening a little farther under our noses. Around the area that I’ve often refered to as the “nose of the pelvis”. Ask anyone, that’s what I call it.

Genitals and Science: two of our favorite topics here at Van Full of Candy converging in one handy study. If only alcohol had somehow been involved in these findings it would have been a perfect storm of topicry. But really, when ever there’s a story of the study of the evolution of beetle genitalia, it’s pretty likely that alcohol was in there at some point, and more likely at the genesis of the idea. And not surprisingly when it’s nerds examining groin importance, the first finding is that size doesn’t matter. Predictable nerds. Shape, these minisculely hung lab hermits at Indiana University say, is what matters more in genitalogical evolution.

The genitals of tomorrow, TODAY!

Now, many of us have seen more than our own particular configuration. Whether it be at he gym, in the pelvic inspection office you work in or at your weekly orgy pot luck get togethers, we’re seen several other varieties of our own style of bits. In those instances when you have seen someone else’s unmentionables, either by unfortunate chance, or by very careful observation finally bearing fruit… crotch fruit… You have likely seen something that both horrified and intrigued you and then horrified you again.

A penis bent at an impossible angle, boggling your mind at what positions this unfortunate might have to maintain in order to accomplish what could charitably be called “humpin’”. Or perhaps labia so out of control you can’t be certain it’s not growing toward you every time you take your eye off of it, leaving you in a horrible position of not wanting to look away, while at the same time wanting nothing more in the world than to look away and burn your top layers of eye off.

Those, are apparently evolved genitalia.

Now, no where in this study or article does it SAY that. The research and findings are based entirely on “data from scarab beetle populations”, but I like to think that I’m merely extrapolating the next obvious conclusion based on my general lack of knowledge and daring leaps in logic that is truly the basis for all advancements in the understanding of our world around us. Only I seem to have the bravery to call these knotted, floppy bits of confusing flesh what they seem to be, a great leap forward in future boning.

According to these findings in beetles, which, as we all know, share over 99% of the genetic markers of humans*, genital divergence between species is noticable in at little as 50 years of “genital evolution”. Which naturally got me to thinking, which generally speaking is never any good for anyone.

All New, All Different Genitals!

The X-Man; follow me on this one. Mutants in the X-Men line of comicy books as produced by the Marvel company, are often refered to as the “next step in human evolution”. These X mans first appeared in the Marvel brand comiced book “The X-Men #1″ in 1963, NEARLY 50 years ago. So in addition to the strange and unusual powers that these mutant threats possess, you can add strange and unusual junks in the worn on the outside of their pants, trunks! Just extrapolating from the powers that we know these mutants possess I can probably fairly accurately imagine the horrible mutant penis powers they have concealed from the public. Wolverine and his three metal dongs, springing from his hips on command being just the tip of the penisberg!

It all used to be so easy. We all knew that when the pants came off, everything would work itself out just fine. But now, science tells us that even that is no guarantee anymore. Way to go science, just because you weren’t getting any was no reason for you to go and make me wary of potential interconnectivity issues I may have with the lady friend I bring home after a night of plying her with “get ta know ya” juice at my local alcohol room. How I miss the good old days when my only worry was whether or not she was going to pass out before she threw up on me, or throw up on me before she passes out… Simpler times…

* Likely not true, but don’t quote me one way or the other. But if you do want to quote me, feel free to use this one: “You won’t be enslaving the beautiful Nymphomians TODAY, Evil General Gross! Prepare to be pummeled about the face and neck by the Amazing POWER ROD!”

In the Air and Office Chairs: Lady Parts is Everywheres!

Hey you, shut up, I have a penis and it demands to be heard!

I am a man, and as such, it is my god given duty to not care about a woman’s pleasure! My divinely given external genitalia are my genetic signal to all of the animal kingdom that I am strong and make fire and am not to be fucked with. Like the tails of lesser animals, my phallus is expressive, so without even having to speak you can know exactly when I am happy or sad, frightened or rapey, simply by looking at my manhood. Mine is to be feared and worshiped at all times, which is why I do not approve of the attention that the frightening, confusing female crotchular region seems to be getting lately.

Now here is something my penis understands...

The in flight movie is the domain of Kevin James and cable repairman themed comedians. These films engage the penis on its own level, while not challenging it with feelings or story or entertainment. The male reproductive organ configuration likes things simple and dumb. Our dong can keep up with that and still split its concentration with rating the physical attractiveness of every female passenger within’ spitting distance, and that makes Mister, Happy.

But in Australia, airplanes are trying to teach people that women can enjoy sex times too.

This filthy propaganda is being carried by Australian airline ”Qantas” (which I now understand is Australian for “Vagina”) in the form of a 50 minute French film entitled “The Female Orgasm Explained”. I have long heard of this mythical creature called “The Female Orgasm”, a fantasy concocted by mad sorcerers and damaged explorers returned from insane quests for lost relics. I myself have never been in the same room as one, have you? Of course not! Because we all know that this creation of the liberal media, long a puppet of Big Vagina is about as “real” as a leprechaun riding a unicorn through a field of fresh, spring Clitori… Which I assume is the plural for clitoris, ANOTHER fabrication of the vast Labial Conspiracy!

The film is available on long-haul “Video on Demand” on “The Edge” channel. And while it’s dumb and evil and I hate it, I am also naturally drawn to it. I enjoy science fiction pornography, so this premise intrigues me. And the article says that the film includes “naked scenes” which are my penis’ favorite kind! You see, this is exactly how these animals lure you in. Offering you titillation and groinal excitement, and then delivering their message of hate while your blood flow is diverted away from your brain skull. But I know their tricks, I see through their ploys. Besides, with this being a French film, it’s very unlikely that the nudity will meet my American genital grooming standards.

The flight crew are apparently able, at the request of parents, to block the content to the seats of minors. Which is comforting, because the only thing more frightening than the threat of genital equality is the possibility of future generations being taught that women are capable of sexual pleasure.

But the horrors of female pleasure don’t stop there!

I have always believed that unnecessary sex-tech should be reserved for the appendages of the hairier sex.  If there is a robot capable of repetitive tugging motions, it should be equipped with a soft silicone sleeve and placed in doctor’s offices around the globe. But the people at “Crave” an upstart “adult product” company is trying to introduce plug and play technology to the lady port.

"Put your memory where my mouth is." Slogan idea Crave, you can have that...

Their new device, the “Duet” has “four different patterns of vibration, five power levels, and runs almost silently”. Which I don’t understand at all. How complicated are your parts that you need so much trickery and flim flammery to achieve excitism? If this “female orgasm” is such a real, existing thing, why do you need to be able to conduct a vibrational symphony to lure it out of it’s cave? Why can’t you just rub your pelvis up against something sturdy for a couple minutes until you have to change your pants, like a NORMAL person?

And one of its main features is it’s discrete design and silent running. To which I say my bologna has a first name, it’s “Bullshit!” If you want a machine to do your dirty work, it should stand three feet tall and make obscene gestures so that all the world knows what it’s all about. I don’t want to accidentally pick up a rubber paper clip off your desk, completely unaware that until I knocked on your office door your “executive assistant” was buzzing away at your little chairman in the boat in a near infinite number of possible pattern and intensity combinations!

So please, can I just review my report on my plane ride without being bombarded by things explaining the inner working of, or having possibly been recently IN your twat! Just let me just watch “Zookeeper” and ogle the well tanned sleeping student three rows up in peace, vaginas!

The “No Cut Off My Penis” Clause

Men, burn this image into your memory !!

This is probably the most painful thing I’ve ever had to write, no seriously !! The lady above, Kieu Becker, decided enough was enough with her marriage and decided to whack her husband’s pecker off and throw it in the garbage disposal. But it gets worse! She then decided to turn the garbage disposal on … HOLY F WOMAN !! That’s some badass shit right there. You wanna talk about somebody’s sex-life going down the drain. I don’t even know if I continue writing this all hunched over the keyboard grabbing my junk.

I guess I can finish this with one hand, so here goes … I don’t know what dude did to his wife, but I think there needs to be a new rule in place for relationships, and that rule is: If you are so dissatisfied with your relationship and you are thinking about cutting the sexual organ off of your partner (man or woman) you have to say it out loud once to your partner so that they have fair warning that it’s a possibility.

Example #1: “I really feel like putting sleeping pills in your dinner tonight, and once you’re passed out I’m going to tie you up and cut off your dick!” … See? Fair warning. This man now has a choice to get the F out of Dodge.

Example #2: “After I talk you into having kinky sex with me tonight and letting me tie you up to the bed, I’m going to cut your vagina off.” …  See how this works? Simple. Just a little warn-warn.

So people, women in particular, please, put the knife down, take a deep breath and give us a quick heads up that you’re thinking of “Bobbit’ing” us so that we will one day be able to get our … heads up … again. Thanks.

Bulls and Beers: Nothing to Fear

People do stupid things. To be more accurate, college aged kids do stupid things. To be even more accurate, drunken, college aged kids do stupid things. I wouldn’t know, I was torn from the thigh of Zeus, fully formed, wizened beyond reason and sent here to entertain the masses with my razor sharp wit and imaginative usages of the word “cunt”. But today, two stories involving predominantly drunken, college age participants caught my eye.

A poll published in the online edition of the journal Psychology of Addictive Behaviors showed that “Drinky, yay!”

CHUG CHUG CHUG RESPONSIBLY!

This survey of ”nearly 500 college students” revealed to the shock of absolutely no one, that the “positive” effects of binge drinking out weighed the “negative” effects, in their drunken eyes. Asking college students if they think partying like lunatics and fucking their brains out is worth potentially having a headache in the morning and maybe missing class and expecting them to not respond with “Woo!” is like asking anyone being punched in the face if they have ever enjoyed anything less in their entire lives and expecting them to reply with “Well, I was miserable until this face punching started.”

I personally never had a problem with binge drinking, I simply had a short period in my life where I would drink large quantities of alcohol and throw up on things. But between point A and point Blurgh, I had an excellent time, and that’s what alcohol is.

One of the authors of the report, University of Washington Professor of Psychology Kevin King said, between what had to have been a couple drinks:

“There is some kind of bias that’s happening when people experience these things. You could compare it to touching a hot stove. What we are seeing is that only when people get really burnt by their drinking are they deterred.”

And while that statement is, on one hand insane, on the other there is an element of truth to it. It’s absolutely true that drinking in excess does carry with it many potential negative effects when combined with other activities, such as improperly operating a motor vehicle or a penis. My problem with this analogy is the comparison between drinking and touching a hot stove. Drinking alcohol has many enjoyable effects along with several less desirable potential outcomes. Touching a hot stove carries with it little to no positive outcomes. If touching a hot stove responsibly and in moderation made me and those around me more entertaining and attractive, while touching it irresponsibly burned the flesh from my bones, this would be a fair comparison, but as it stands, only the latter of those two outcomes is true.

College is a place where teens go with little to no adult supervision and scant responsibility to live in close quarters with other hormonally charged young adults enjoying their new found freedoms, many of them for the first time in their lives. They are going to put things in their bodies and then put their bodies in other bodies until they’ve had their fill of that and are ready to move on to what ever’s next. Telling them that their fun might murder them will make them think twice at the first drink and giggle like a freshman who was just told she was the prettiest girl in the world by the Basketball team’s third string center after keg three.

"Why are we running?!" "BULLS!" "Ah, gotcha!"

Meanwhile, in Pamplona Spain, drunks are running in front of bulls when they absolutely don’t have to be… again. But good news! Day 1: No gorings!

That was news. That was in the headline, the excitement of no one being gored by animals that don’t belong on paved roads, running after drunken tourists who have spent money to fly half a world away to do something incredibly stupid. Everyone who gets gored and or maimed at the annual “Trampling of the Dipshits” deserves every painful stitch, itchy cast or scornful shake of the head over their casket, that they get.

This event is only made possible by drinking to excess, and when it’s cause to celebrate that no one was murdered by wild animals during your national celebration, perhaps it’s time to rethink how you spend your leisure time. But despite the inherent stupidity of this festival, it continues, seemingly unabated while practically every year someone is mutilated by angry, confused beasts running wildly through these Spanish streets, and occasionally by the bulls as well.

But just as with the drunken activities of college kids wasting their parents’ money at home, the problem with these drunken college kids wasting their parents’ money abroad is not merely consumption of alcohol, but what follows said drinking. Give two people the same amount of alcohol, have them drink it in the same amount of time, set Drunk A loose in an open field filled with pillows and Drunk B loose in an open field filled with pistols and odds are the one thrown into an already stupid situation will probably be more likely to suffer stupid consequences.

What I’m saying is, alcohol doesn’t kill people, dangerous, stupid things combined with alcohol kill people. So I guess the message I’m trying to get across with all of this is this: friends don’t let friends be cunts.

Now take a shot.

Sweden Wants to Steal Your Baby’s Genitals

As men, our number one mission in life is to ensure that no harm comes to our external reproductive organs. Above all else, this is our divine purpose in life. Our very existence revolves around the grandeur and majesty of our god granted penis. But if it were up to Sweden our magnificent boy glands would be treated as no more special than the common vagina!

 

I’ve talked in the past about a Canadian family’s attempt to keep you from knowing what their groin spawn’s packin’ in it’s Pampers, and today I find that this degenderfication of the toddler crotchscape, while just beginning to stir in the North America continent is fully engorged and raging in ye Olden Europe Towne.

 

Genderless Swedish "its" at play.

In Stockholm Sweden, staff at ”Egalia” preschool don’t refer to the children as him, her, he or she. Boys and girls play house together in a toy kitchen surrounded by Lego bricks and building blocks “to make sure the children draw no mental barriers  between cooking and construction”. The bookcases are stocked with tales of homosexual couples, single parents and adopted children. And their dolls are all anatomically correct and racially diverse

They want children to believe that their entire psychological make up and social worth and potential aren’t dictated entirely by what’s goin’ on in the pants you wear under your pants.

 

These penis hating, equality hugging, homosexual propagandists have some parents convinced that “An obsession with obliterating gender roles could make the children confused and ill-prepared to face the world outside kindergarten.” Because if a little boy grows up not knowing that the penis he has been favored with by the creator of the heavens and the Earth makes him special and entitled to unquestioned dominion over those cursed with the devil’s gash, how will HE ever know how much more favored HE is?

 

“Society expects girls to be girlie, nice and pretty and boys to be manly, rough and outgoing,” says Jenny Johnsson, a 31-year-old teacher. “Egalia gives them a fantastic opportunity to be whoever they want to be.”

 

Really, they just get to be WHOEVER THEY WANT TO BE? Who thought that was a good idea? Then who will be manly and outgoing? Ms. Johnsson? Girls? Don’t be ridiculous. Girls are demure and submissive, because that’s what we tell them to be, because that’s what we were told to tell them to be. An outgoing child? They have a name for that already Ms. Johnsson, it’s “boy”. And if not girls, who will be girlie and nice Ms. Johnsson? Boys? Then we’d have to call it “boylie” and that just sounds stupid. And you’re stupid for suggesting it!

 

But these deviants don’t just stop at claiming that boys and girls are “equals”, they also place “a special emphasis on fostering an environment tolerant of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people.” Noting a particular example of homosexual indoctrination sitting on the children’s bookcase: “a story about two male giraffes who are sad to be childless — until they come across an abandoned crocodile egg.” That’s right, these perverts are forcing down these children’s throats tales of manic-depressive beastial-homosexual interspecies child abduction as just another socially acceptable “alternative lifestyle choice”! To suggest that two male giraffes could raise an orphaned crocodile better than a male giraffe and a female giraffe, still together only to raise the child in their loveless, spiteful, blessed union, is just irresponsible and dangerous!

 

But it doesn’t stop there, why would it? Why not introduce Sweden’s 1-6 year olds to the wonderful world of lesbian polygamy? 

Lotta Rajalin: Inventer of the "Infinite Moms" theory.

“When they’re playing ‘house’ and the role of the mom already is taken and they start to squabble,” Egalia Director Lotta Rajalin says. “Then we suggest two moms or three moms and so on.

You know what? At this point, why not? Why stop there? Why not five moms or ten moms or a hundred sexy, scantily clad moms, bathing each other every night while trying to balance their late night washings with the responsibility of raising a child all on their own without the firm, strong guidance of a male role model telling them that they’re doing it all wrong.

 

But like me Jay Belsky, child psychologist at the University of California, Davis and proud penis owner, can see clearly exactly what’s really going on in this twisted world of “gender equality” “mind control”.

 

“The kind of things that boys like to do — run around and turn sticks into swords — will soon be disapproved of,” he said. “So gender neutrality at its worst is emasculating maleness.”

 

Exactly. In a world where anything phallic is the enemy, and a country specifically where, and I am not making this up, the “Swedish Science Council had granted $80,000 for a postdoctoral fellowship aimed at analyzing ‘the trumpet as a symbol of gender.’ ” it’s all about the metaphorical castration of masculinity. Oh, children will still be able to run around and turn sticks into swords, female children, and they will be lauded, praise heaped upon them for their bravely in creating their own strong, powerful, imaginary womyn penis. While the male children will be told that their sticks are not swords at all, but merely sticks, and then their sticks will be taken away from them. And given to girls.

 

Because naturally, the only appropriate reaction to people proposing a de-emphasization of gender roles is to see it as an attack on maleness. The only appropriate reaction to people proposing that gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people actually be viewed as human beings worthy of equal treatment rather than scorn and derision, is to see it as an attack on maleness. The only appropriate reaction to people suggesting that a child should be allowed to discover who they might be on their own without the automatic restrictions of preprogrammed gender roles, is to see it as an attack on maleness. There is no other explanation.

 

There isn’t a war on the uniquely male appendage. It is not constantly under attack by those who would tell us that it doesn’t make us the most powerful, most capable, most important species of animal the planet has ever been blessed to foster. Not teaching kids that they have to be this and they have to be that just because of how they were born isn’t emasculating future men, and it isn’t masculating future women, it’s just giving kids a chance to see what else is out there, before those that weren’t raised that way tell them exactly how they have to live based solely on what parts their pants are covering. And everything’ll be right with the world once again…

Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to get back to thinking about those poor 100 moms, struggling to make it in a world where clothes must be rationed and lotions and oils must be constantly applied to protect against the blistering, chapped hellscape.

Science Hates Your Balls: The War on Sperm

Scientists, in laboratories all over the globe, are busy thinking of new and hilarious ways to make mice fucking even more pointless. But don’t laugh too hard at blank shooting rodents, because science’ll be coming for your testicles next!

On your mark, get set, SPLOOGE!

Since the invention of the penis approximately 47 billion years ago man has been desperately trying to devise ways to control them. They are godless fornication machines, guided only by impulse and an unyielding quest for personal gain and satisfaction of their unquenchable desires. Hell bent on destroying all those that possess them, whether it be through their devilish creation of distilled, fermented spirits used to bend the will of their symbiotic hosts, or their ingenious invention of the internet which they use to transmit their images around the globe to all of those who would marvel at their grandeur.

At the moment there are only two proven methods of male contraception: prayer and butt sex. And if you ask any homosexual couple trying to have a child, they’ll tell you it’s nigh impossible to impregnate each other, try as they might, but science still isn’t sure if it’s the power of the prayers of people who hate other people despite their own god telling them not to hate anyone, or just the simple fact that the homosexual uterus is located just below the left lung, too far for the penis to reach through either of the homosexual’s two favorite orifices… try as they might.

Fortunately, or unfortunately depending on the proclivity or selfish laziness of whom you ask, heterosexual procreation is much more easily achievable. Almost anyone can do it. But that seems to be the problem. And rather than continue on as we have for the last fifty years, allowing the ladies to take almost complete responsibility for repelling the seminal onslaught on their innards, science says that gentlemen should have more contraceptive options than simply genital mutilation or specially designed poison coated miniature trash bags.

So armies of spooge hating scientists around the world are experimenting with all sorts ways to keep testicle tadpoles from getting from point A to unfertilized egg B. With experimental “solutions” including stopping and restarting sperm production in mice, bombarding scrotums with ultrasound waves, removing proteins that keep sperm cells from being able to penetrate eggs, and blocking vitamin A. You see, apparently as this article seems to suggests and I’m not interested enough to look for confirmation of, “life wigglies” as I so childishly refer to them, are composed solely of vitamin A. So just know, if you ever take any supplement that contains vitamin A, you’re swallowing semen.

In India they’re testing an injectable synthetic substance that “sabotages sperm as they leave the testes and lasts for years”. I don’t even know what that means, or have any idea of what it COULD mean. I didn’t realize that a sperm cell had so many moving parts that you could simply loosen a bolt or two and it’d fly apart, slam into your urethral wall and explode in a tiny, tiny fireball.

So many options yet there's still so many stupid people...

As for what’s already on the market, in addition to the customary permanent snip and latex straight jackets there’s also apparently other “hormone gels and implants that can make men temporarily infertile” available in America “for other purposes”. I’m going to chalk up the “for other purposes” in their description of these currently available temporary infertility gels and implants as some sort of error in translation from what ever language is native to this jizm hating propagandist, because aside from preventing unintentional impregnation, I’m not entirely sure what other purposes temporary infertility could serve. I can’t even think of any ridiculous explanations for a statement as seemingly nonsensical as this one. And when I can’t think of a way to properly ridicule the stupid thing that you just said, it makes me angry, and frightened, and then angry again. Because I don’t know if you’re the smartest person in the world or if you’ve just invented a new stupid that will surely kill us all.

Me, I’m a traditionalist. I don’t need any fancy doodads and rigmarole to make sure I don’t end up a with a miniature version of myself that only seems to take pleasure in shitting on me. I personally employ the time tested ”paint the naval” technique of birth control, which, in doing actual research on the subject I have found when done properly has almost the same effectiveness as any other form of over the counter birth control. Of course, when done incorrectly the failure rate sextuples, but I just have a hard time understanding how the “thorax frosting” method could be done incorrectly. Maybe I’ve lived a sheltered life, but I’ve never been surprised by the culmination of my own pelvic efforts. At no point in my life have I ever suddenly, and without substantial forewarning experienced an eruption of mount baldy that’s caught me completely unawares… But I guess I just understand how my personal workings and doings present themselves, and apparently that makes me special.

So science: leave my gonads alone! Let the ladies handle the parenthood prevention, because left in the hands of those completely ruled by their more powerful apendage, contraception will be less than pointless. I can’t be trusted to not to forget to put my watch on before leaving for wok, you think I’m going to remember to spray my groin with vitamin A killing lasers every morning?

Besides, what me and my seed do is nobody’s business but mine and who or what ever I decide to shellac with it.

Wow! What A Wiener, Weiner!

I think the family photos in the background are a nice touch

New York Congressman, Anthony Weiner, decided he was going to show his pee-pee to some ladies on the interwebs. Apparently he thought women could keep their mouths shut, and I mean that in the most loving way possible, seriously. Let’s just take a quick look at this shit, shall we Weiner?

#1. You are a U.S. Representative, New York Congressman, and your wife is an aide to Hilary Clinton. Did you think you weren’t just a smidge high profile?

#2. You sent pics of your beautifully shorn chest and your boxer-brief’s bulge via Twitter and Facebook to about 6 different women? Why in the hell would you use your real Twitter account name you FOOL?!? It’s @RepWeiner for those of you who’d like to try and hook up with him. Everybody knows that you have a REAL account and a “I wanna show my schlong” account. Stupid, stupid man!

That pickle doesn't look too kosher.

#3. As soon as you pressed “Send” you must have known that some shit was gonna go down, right? There must have been a slight moment of hesitation where you said “I know I shouldn’t do this, but this girl isn’t gonna throw me under the bus, we’re tight.” I mean seriously. Did you not think that in this day and age with how fast information flies across the world, that any one of these girls wouldn’t try to make some serious money off your stupidity? Did you not think that any one of them would possibly want to get on a Good Morning news program, want to write a book, get on Oprah’s new network and talk, talk, talk about your groin?

I hope my allergies pass as being really upset.

Look bro, I’m not mad at ya, I just feel sorry for you since you got caught. But when you don’t think things through, that’s what happens, and now you’re gonna get a slap on the hand, you’ll need to make a Tiger Woods apology-interview,  and then just stay under the radar for a few days because the bigger, better, shavier chested news story is quickly coming around the corner, and your “5 minutes of fame” is going to fade away into the media abyss, and we’ll all go back to commuting to work, eating our turkey sandwiches and having no clue who you are.

Secret Baby Genitalia Are Destroying Our Country

Your child needs to be told by everyone exactly what their genitalia mean to them socially and psychologically but then must never, under any circumstances, ever actually be instructed on how to use them by anyone. Especially not with weird anatomically correctish stuffed toys… But we’ll get to that…

You see, two equally and oppositely frustrating stories popped up in various newsy type web siteries recently that just made me want to tell everyone not directly involved with the current raising of a child anywhere in the world to take a nice big cleansing breath and shut entirely the fuck up.

Like anyone else, I just see this happy baby and need to know, what's goin' on DOWN THERE!"

Firstly, a relatively popular story of a newborn it named “Storm Stocker” has for no good reason pissed off a number of people who have absolutely nothing to do with this particular child thing. Apparently the reason this baby makes so many people angry is that it doesn’t know if it should shit itself like a baby girl or throw up on everyone that touches it like a baby boy. This genderless diaper of confusion is being raised by a pair of child endangermenters in Canada who have decided that they would simply rather not tell the world what’s going on in their infant’s nappy. They have this crazy notion that the world doesn’t need to know the specifics of their offspring’s genital configuration, which for some reason seems to have caused an uproar in a rather vocal group of baby penis and vagina enthusiasts.

And of course, rather than simply allow these parents to raise their very own child as they damned well see fit complete strangers call them crazy and experts call it “potentially disastrous”, while not understanding what words mean.

“To raise a child not as a boy or a girl is creating, in some sense, a freak,” said Dr. Eugene Beresin, director of training in child and adolescent psychiatry at Massachusetts General Hospital. “It sets them up for not knowing who they are.”

So this “expert” on ASOLESCENT PSYCHIATRY believes that the best way to describe this child who he knows nothing about and who frankly, knows nothing about itself,  is ”freak”. Firstly, its people calling others freaks that sort of make them that thing. Secondly, this “expert” seems to imply that the only way a person knows anything about who they are, as a person, is by understanding who’s parts they have and what society says that means about who they are.

“To have a sense of self and personal identity is a critical part of normal healthy development,” he said. “This blocks that and sets the child up for bullying, scapegoating, and marginalization.”

To have a sense of self and personal identity IS a critical part of normal, healthy development, but to have that sense of self and personal identity hamstrung immediately by gender roles imposed by society and dogma does nothing what so ever to help promote the normal or healthy development of a human being’s personal sense of self and identity. Gender, more than anything, inhibits and limits the discovery of an individual’s personal identity, because to honestly explore exactly who you are in a way that contradicts preconceived gender specifications makes people fucking uncomfortable, if  for no other reason than pointing out the lack of choice they had and how fucked up THEY were by the roles they were forced into.

“We all have sexual identity,” said Beresin. “The mission to have masculine and feminine traits more equalized and more flexible and not judgmental is awesome in a utopian community. But we take pride in our sexual identity.”

A child takes absolutely no pride in their sexual identity. These parts that make them specifically this or specifically that mean no more to a young child than an ear lobe or an asshole. There’s plenty of time for their parts to define them later, when it’s unavoidable and everyone around them is unable to judge them by anything other than their gender because that’s how they were taught to identify everyone in their lives. And just because the world ain’t perfect, doesn’t mean these parents can’t try to strip away one of the biggest obstacles in their child’s future struggles for as long as they can while their child tries to discover other, more important things about themselves.

“Identity formation is really critical for every human being and part of that is gender,” Beresin said. “There are many cultural and social forces at play.”

It’s impossible to deny, part of that identity formation is indeed gender, but it should be the smallest part of it, not the biggest as all of the busy body opponents of these parent’s plan for raising their child want to make it. Your slit or your schlong shouldn’t be the first things that determine the direction of your life, it’ll direct the kid enough later, let’s spend some time learning what else might be going on inside it first before we tell it what it can and can’t be.

Meanwhile, in Switzerland sex ed programs are handing out stuffed vagina and wooden penis toys to school kids and the Swiss are losing their shit.

“Children should be encouraged to develop and experience their sexuality in a pleasurable way,” Daniel Schneider, a deputy kindergarten rector for Basel who helped develop the sex ed curriculum along with experts.

When a lumpy thing loves another weird squishy thing very much...

 

Of course, the same people who want to make sure their children understand that they’re a boy and they should do boy things, don’t want them to know what the boyest thing they could do is or how to do it.

Sure, some of the details sound kinda odd, such as the kindergarten teachers being instructed to “show that contacting body parts can be pleasurable.” and “recommends having children massage each other or to rub themselves with warm sand bags, all accompanied by soft music.” That seems more like entrapment than anything else, but I’m not a child sexology expert either, so what do I know?

But maybe the biggest problem for these parents IS encouraging children to “experience their sexuality in a pleasurable way”. These people believe that they should know what being a boy or a girl, a man or a woman means, but that they shouldn’t express, explore or discover anything else beyond their predetermined role. That hiding from them what their parts do is the best way to keep them from using them. It seems thousands of years of history has proven that to be a ridiculous theory, so why not then try to teach these children, who will learn it one way or another, how to do so safely, responsibly and enjoyably, rather than tell them that they shouldn’t do anything and if they do, they should keep it a secret and be ashamed of it. Talk to your kid, treat them like a responsible, thoughtful person, and they might be one.

Ultimately, a school doctor quoted in the “sex box” article sums it all up much more succinctly than I have been saying that the ”the taboo around sex and sex ed is a problem that only adults have.”

Osama bin Jackin’: The Diary of the “Little Terrorist”‘s Mind

Osama bin Laden was just like you and me. Wait. No. What I meant to say is that, you’re no different than Osama bin Laden. NO! No, that’s not it. Okay, let me start over.

Oh the naughty things that happen behind those walls

Osama bin Laden’s penis. It existed. So does yours. If you were born with one. Or if yours wasn’t lost in a horrible accident that you have changed the details of to sound much tougher than we all really know it was. The point is, Osama bin Laden was a man, a terror man, but a man none the less, and as such, he had a collection of pornography that “consists of modern, electronically recorded video and is fairly extensive”. Or so says Reuters. That’s right, when he wasn’t plotting ways to terrorize otherwise peace loving citizens of the world, he was terrorizing his Jihad junk, in what I can only imagine were dry, sandy, angry sessions of joyless, medically prescribed masturbation sessions. Mostly because when I try to think of it any other way, my brain turns off to protect me from myself and I wake up several hours later in a pool of what ever was in me before I went out.

It's always a surprise inside the dirty dirty burqa!

Of course this is the main reason I hope I’m not killed in a raid on my compound by highly trained military personnel… The embarrassing shit of mine they’ll find… And because I mostly haven’t done anything to warrant such action against me, but mostly because of the embarrassing thing…

But not surprisingly to those who know and understand us by now, we at Van Full of Candy have been able to obtain a list of the confiscated collection through one of our MANY friends in the special operations fields of our nation’s armed forces. We’re big with people who can murder you almost accidentally. So VFoC is proud to present just a very small sampling of some of Osama bin Laden’s personal compound stash entitled: “Osama bin Jackin’: The Pornographic Diary of a Big Terrorist’s “Little Terrorist”‘s Mind.”

“Adiba Does Abbottabad”

In the dusty footsteps of the ongoing saga of the ever popular “Debbie Does Dallas” series, Malik Productions introduces the latest Middle East version. Filmed on location in Abbottabad, this latest chapter follows the sexcapades of a young, hot, rogue, lady of the night as she explores as many Pakistani army men as one desert-hooker can possibly handle, and with a surprise ending that will leave you breathless and sandy in your crevices.

Starring: Foxy Fadiyah, Big Bahir, Ishaq and Salim Stone

“Over Privileged Infidel Cows Gone Wild”

It’s Spring Break and the painted whores of the decadent west are AT IT AGAIN! See them prance about, baring their disgusting flesh for the lascivious enjoyment of the gathered throngs… and YOU! Then, when they get back to the hotel, see ‘em defiling their bodies, wantonly dishonoring their families and ancestors ALL, NIGHT, LONG!

Starring: The yellow haired hussy, the ginger whore, that one who does that horrible thing in the shower and a cast of hundreds of sub human dogs.

“The Towers Twins Explode (Squirter Edition)”

Those hot, sexy, twins of the desert, Pixi Towers and Candy Towers are at it once again! In some of the hottest scenes ever captured on a magic carpet, these girls will blow your mind while they blow their geysers. So sit back, relax, throw on your snorkel gear and grab a seriously absorbent towel, cause it’s about to get explodingly wet up in here!

Starring: Pixi Towers, Candy Towers, Hung Habib and none other than Rafi the Rock

“Martyr Al Kahwai’s Heavenly Reward”

They may be 72 virgins, but you wouldn’t know it by how hot the action is! After exploding himself in a glorious attack on a food court full of non-believers, Yakish Al Kahwai awakens to find he’s late to the party and his 72 ladies have started without him! How will he ever catch up, he’s only got… ETERNITY!

Starring: Amtullah ”Tah-tahs” Afsoon, Muffy Marjaneh, Bambi Banou and Hareesusa laykum Logjammer as Martyr Al Kahwai

“Glory Burqa – Hidden Surprises 2″

If you’re a fan of glory holes, then this is the movie for you. Three possibly beautiful women show up where you would least expect and many lucky little Jihadists get t0 explore their Glory Burqa. You never know what the heck is underneath, it’s the Russian Roulette of oral indulgence, but all you need to know is that this is the most orgasmic Burqa flick you’ll ever lay eyes on, not that that even matters since you can’t see them.

Starring: F Me Fayruz, “Lips” Rubaba, and introducing Tameemah the Tongue

“Beard on Beard: Hot Cave Action #64″

When you’re battling along side fellow Jihadists in the most inaccessible mountains in the world for decades on end, you develop a bond, closer than friends, deeper than brothers, hotter than lovers. It gets hot in the caves of Afghanistan, and when the sun goes down, so does Fareed.

Starring: Yaseen bin Schlong, Aalam Al Throbknob and Imam Suck Puppet bin Qaaid ul Ghur ul Muhjjaleen.

Reaching 100 With Class

Cooler than that hundred. Not quite as cool as the hundred he got shortly after taking this picture.

It’s been almost exactly four months since this Candy filled Van of hilarity and yuks hit the road. We like to think in that time we have firmly established ourselves as one of the class acts of internet humor sites.

It is with that standard of excellence in mind that we come to you today to celebrate our 100th bloggy contribution to the world of internet chuckles. Naturally, on such a momentous occasion, we at Van Full of Candy wanted to celebrate our 100th post in the classiest way we could think of. And after much pinky extended thought and salad fork musing, we finally settled on how best to mark this special moment in keeping with the lofty standards of excellence that we have established for ourselves and our viewers over the previous 99 classy missives.

So ladies and gentlemen, in honor of our 100th post Van Full of Candy is proud to present 100 newly minted terms for our favorite private parts in no particular.

Please, enjoy.

Dumb & Dumber
No Shoes No Shirt No Service
BAM SUCKA!!
T-shirt Tents
Earl Grey
The Baby Laser
Squeezy Toys
Bajing-jangs
Whistle Rocket with Report
The Comfy Sisters
Big & Slightly Bigger
Clackers
Moist Cave
The Orbs of Testicleez
The Stinky Off Ramp
Justice Gavel
Two Percent & Skim
Foul Mouthed Cheeky Bastard
The Womb Wick
DJ Spunky on the Ones and Twos
Wrong Turn of the Taint Junction
Convex Happiness
Marble Madness
The Good Kind of Fatty Sacks
Dangly Bits
Two Cups of Cream
Professor Blumpkin’s Mine
Low Hanging Fruit of the Vine
Cashew and Pistachio
Vangina
Groin Uvula
Comfort Food
Happy Dampy
The Batcave
The Fellas
Gashy
Smeary sandwich
Cave of Wonder
Turtle Crowning
Red Velvet Cake Taco
The Goal
Rusty Busted Pipe Burst
Abalone Avenue
The Enchanted Forest
Kielbasa Holder
Sack Religious
Germany’s Main Event
Kate Spades
Hefty Cinch SAK
Don King
Jack LaLanne’s Power Juicer
Non Almond Joys
2 Egg Omelette
Happy Time Fun Factory
Flotilla
Slip n Slide
Uncle Peen’s Humid Summer Cabin
Jack’s Magical Beans
The Mystery Spot
The Brothers Bouncy
The Joy Chasm
Puddin’ Pie
Easy Bake Oven
Corn Smuggler
The Tender’s
Spitter of Unborn Souls
Target Practice
Bag o’ Fun
Salami Sleeve
Bread Box
Bologna Rollup
Manual Transmission Stick
Daddy’s One Time Only Drunken Birthday Promise
Splinterless Totem Pole
The Sprinkler
Duncan Hines Brownie Factory
Chilean Mine Collapse
You’re Welcome
The Log Ride
Severe Tire Damage
Tijuana Pony Show
The ol’ Mouth Full
Silky Soft Semen Satchel
Sneezy
The ex’s Speed Bag
Cream filled Flesh Twinkie
The Inside Out Uterus
Please Hammer Don’t Hurt ‘Em
Flappy Hand Warmer
The Dream Eater
The Rib Cage Ridge
Stargate: Pooplantis
Spare Eyeballs
Open Face Tuna Melt
The Path of Least Resistance
The Apology Hole
The Pink Piston
Torso Speed Bumps
The Llama
Perky Poncho Protrusions
The Man Handle