Meet Danny. Danny is lonely. Danny just wants to meet a woman; a woman who’s attractive. She should have features like eyes, legs, and, perhaps, automatic windows or at least a cup holder. Danny wants to take you out on a romantic date, complete with a candlelight dinner, roses, hand holding, music, and, because he knows how you women folk jibber-jabber, lots of talking. On the beach. He has a wild streak as well, once having run across the street without looking. He’s a wild man alright.
Watching this video I wonder just how closely related the man’s parents were or if the place where they made their home was riddled with high levels of radiation. I also wonder just how honest Danny is being in this video. Does the key to the city of his town even exist? Does he really want to talk or is he just looking for a real life woman to replace he crusty, worn blow-up doll? Lastly, do specific features matter or does he just need them to fill out the ever growing collection of body parts he stores in his basement?
In the battle of the sexes Aleyss K. Taylor may be women’s greatest asset. Her show, Vagina Power which is featured on Atlanta Public Access TV9, and which she hosts with her mother, is a wealth of knowledge concerning the “power of the vagina, penis, and sperm.” Or perhaps it is merely one woman’s autobiography of lust and depravity. I haven’t decided yet.
Regardless, if you are one of the many women with a cold vagina who yearns for a penis whose heat is so great that it can be felt through its owners clothes, I urge you to watch this clip. You will learn to control your, seemingly, constant urges without the aid of vibrators you sneaked into work in your purse. You will learn to never let a man find the bottom of your vagina, lest he ejaculate “all up in your brain.” And you will learn that a man should at least spend $2.99 on shrimp from Long John Silver’s for the privilege of filling your mouth and rectum with sperm. One can imagine my chagrin upon finding out that the going rate was, indeed, far lower than had been previously indicated. Ah well, live and learn.
For any of our female Ectomites looking to recreate The Dream of the Fisherman’s Wife but who do not have access to a live octopus, or do not have the desire to have a slick, razor sharp beak on their sensitive and delicate girl parts, the Screaming Octopus Clitoral Vibrator is the perfect holiday gift. Comes complete with “Tingle Tentacles” which no self respecting manufacturer of cephalopod sexual massagers would fail to include.
Ladies! Do you frequently suffer from the nervous vapors? Bouts of uncontrollable feminine hysteria? Well, then, Dr. John Robert’s Patented Electro-Massive Machine (a.k.a. The Electric Manipulator) For Curing Disease At Home is all you need to return yourself to a prim, proper maternal state. Simply apply the device to your unmentionables and thrill to the soothing electrical vibrations as they send you to the heights of curative ecstacy and gracefully (if privately) eliminate all manner of hysterical emotions!
For more information please consult the book The Technology of Orgasm: Hysteria, the Vibrator, and Women’s Sexual Satisfaction, by Rachel Maines, or the film which it inspired, Passion & Power: The Technology of Orgasm. I’m sure ladies will be impressed by the depth of study that has gone into curing their hysteria (and filming it for “educational videos” in the San Fernando Valley of California, the capitol of electro-orgasmic research) and gentlemen will be intrigued by watching the emotional balm of orgasmic therapy applied to troubled young women who have just achieved the difficult age of eighteen. Remember, it’s all for the greater good of humanity!
The first electric vibrator, invented by a British doctor in the 1880s in order to facilitate vulvular massage, an accepted form of treatment for those diagnosed with hysteria (now referred to as Histrionic Personality Disorder) and neurasthenia. It allowed doctors of the time to facilitate many more patients than had been able when the procedure was performed manually and brought some patients to “hysterical paroxysm” in as little as ten minutes.
Ripped from the very neural simulation spaces of Qais Fulton’s mental “barn o’ bad-assed bestial boning” comes the above video, a complement to his most recent post about the guy who died from horsey/human butt ballet: purportedly a clip from a documentary that aired outside the United States concerning zoophilia and all manner of weirdos who have all manner of weirdo sex with their pets, we get to watch a be-mulletted blonde guy and a lady who looks like she should be behind the counter of some “quaint” roadside Americana store selling Yankee Candles speaking very candidly about how they…well, “go ’round the world” with the lady’s miniature stallion. Discussed are their first date, in which the woman decided to try the “shock factor” on her prospective beau by ducking under the horse for a quickie, their marriage, and their current sex life…with the horse. At no point do the two ever discuss actually meshing genitalia in the traditional human-on-human approach, which leads me to believe their marriage is actually a farce–indeed, actually a threesome, in which one member is, well, a horse. Do I hear charges of bigamy?! Going once…going twice…?
I’ll bet ANY reader Out There in Ectomoland that one or both of these horse-humpin’ honkies are furries, as well. So, to anyone checking out that event in Atlanta on the 29th, keep a keen eye out for two people in horsey costumes, who may be rubbing up against each other in a manner thoroughly inappropriate to a family place like a bowling alley. If so, approach with caution: they were last sighted trying to make a campfire and chasing each other around with leathered donkey dicks.
(BTW: What the hell is up with me an alliteration these days? Damn!)
Here at ectomo, we like the bestiality. Seriously, Brownlee keeps his own stable of “whorses” and on many a night can be heard the melodious results of his amorous advances. So, it was with great anticipation that I showed him the teaser trailer for Michael Sullivan’s The Sex Life of Robots in the hopes that it would both please and arouse him so that I might not be flogged again. Sullivan, who had been working on an animated robot war movie when the idea struck him to feature robot sex as well, explains it thusly:
“It’s supposed to be like a silent robot porno movie from another planet.”
This seemed like the perfect distraction for His Enormity.
How do these fuckers expect me to contribute to this thing when, one, I’m stuck 350feet underground and I can barely pick up the global WiFi signal that Cthulhu mysteriously broadcasts–SSID…ummm, rlyehrocks0E6A3A7A8B22CD63; way to just put your WEP right out there, you dummies–and two, I can only type with my left hand now. This sucks.
As a followup to Brownlee’s earlier clip of a haunting exchange between monotone mother and slaphappy son, I present that educational movie in its entirety: The ABC’s of Sex Education for Trainables.
Based on commentary from the Peanut Gallery in the original post, it appears that this video was intended as fodder for functionally retarded children (I assume the word “trainable” refers to such).
But once again, Fate bares her slavering fangs to Ectomo, and grants us this boon: the opening scene depicts the exact method of successfully selling a moustache ride. Watch and learn, my sweetlings, and be sure to paw and fumble at as much retard hair as humanly possible while making your pitch.
Thanks to Peanuteer Brian Schlosser for giving us this link.
In sheer defiance of the World Wide Web Consortium's will, Ectomo was designed using a non-web-standard font. Luckily, it is included in the excellent font pack released by the H.P. Lovecraft Historical Society, which can be freely downloaded in Mac and PC formats here. Ectomo should still look fine without it, though.
<Squelch: recording sessions begins.?
