The world is changing. The glory days are over. There was once a time when the only danger of visiting the Playboy Mansion was a mild case of a sticky, tingling feeling embedded in your skin for a week or so, most likely from being in contact with anything The Hef has touched.

Wow.

In case you're wondering, the photo to the left is the recent mugshot of Janine Lindemulder, porn superstar. She was arrested yesterday for harassing her ex-husband Jesse James after he was awarded full custody of their daughter. Reportedly, Lindemulder harassed James by calling him no less than 25 times in in the last couple days.

While we disagree that 25 phone calls from Janine Lindemulder over several days should be considered harassment, we do believe that Janine's mug shot and neck tattoo should be considered visual harassment.

Anywhoo, Janine's back in the pokey.

Ahhh, now this is the kind of news I love. Earlier this week, a gentleman by the name of Alexander Ofner (who looks sort of like a cross between Pennsylvania's soon-to-be-ex-governor Ed Rendell and Beau Bridges) was arrested for pleasuring himself during the latest installment of the oft-loved, yet oft-er-reviled Harry Potter film series. This news comes at an opportune moment in my life, because as you may or may not know, I finally sat down and watched the last Harry Potter movie last night. Not the new one, but the one from last year, The Half-Blood Prince. Clearly, these movies are in our collective consciousness at the moment. There's some sort of Harry Potter zeitgeist going on, I guess, and it's apparently sexually arousing people.

If you're one of those folks who thinks that the idea of two men kissing each other or having sex with each other or marrying each other or killing Talibans with each other and stuff like that is gross...well, you're probably not going to want to read the rest of this article. Seriously, feel free to move on. Maybe go look at Zoe Voss or James Deen's blogs or something like that. Because this story's gonna feature some serious gay content. Total graphic butt-fucking and everything.

If that's too much for you, move on. If not, did you hear about the hubbub that director Richard Wolstencroft is getting over the gay porn/horror movie, L.A. Zombie? It's nuts!

It's been a long day at work. You're belly is starting to grumble, and you don't have nearly enough energy to cook dinner. As you drive past a McDonald's, you think, "Damn, I could really go for a Big Mac right about now." (This wouldn't be my personal preference, but with billions and billions served, I suspect this craving is experienced by many.) The building looks suspiciously deserted, and as you pull up to the drive through window, you find it closed and obscured by a notice stating, "Closed by the US Supreme Court for distributing unhealthy products within the community."

Hey, we love big tits as much as the next person around her at POPPORN, but we really don't...actually...you know what? I'm, personally, not really all that into big tits. I can't speak for Bangs or BUCKTON, but they're just not my cup of tea. Physically speaking, I'd take a Lexi Belle or a Stoya to a Gianna or Carmella Bing any day of the week. But I realize that I'm in the minority here, so let's just move on to the real impetus of this rant.

You may recall (although you may not because you fuckos aren’t much for reading) our previous article concerning the future of Prop 8 and the rights of the homosexual community within our society at large. Included amongst the normal drivel was a passionate appeal for the amendment of hate crime legislation to include homosexuals, targeted for their sexual preference, under the “umbrella” of protected status as per federal law. Ring any bells? Matthew Shepard, who was brutally murdered, was mentioned? Well the idea of protecting members of the LGBT from persecution based solely on their sexual preference (not that persecution for any reason is ok, you know, unless you’re a conservative wind-bag, but you know what I mean) has been contentious since gay-rights activists began fighting for inclusion since this conversation began waaaaaay back in the early 90’s. In fact, when a similar bill was being pushed through Congress, Bush II threatened to veto it if it ever reached his desk (it didn’t).

So apparently the supreme court of the great state of Kentucky has just struck down a law that requires sex offenders, convicted prior to the enactment of the 2006 law prohibiting them from living and working in certain areas (near schools, daycares and the like), to abide by the same set of laws restricting those convicted after the law was passed.

Before we start, I should mention that I haven't watched Letterman since I was in high school. For me, that means the mid-90s. So it's probably been a good ten years since I grooved out on that gap-toothed motherfuckers cavalcade of mirth and whimsy. So it might be totally old as fuck news that he likes fucking people who work on his show, but I didn't know it.

A little while back, it seemed like we were posting four or five bestiality stories a week and then the trend seemed to die down for a while. It was a real shame because, you know, that shit's unnatural and all, but damn it if the act of sexual congress between man and beast ain't just a little bit funny, right?

So, just to make sure we start off in the right frame of mind, here' s a quote from Kevin Morgan, assistant county prosecutor of Burlington County NJ: "I think any reasonable juror could infer that a man's penis in the mouth of a calf is torment".

It would be downright ridiculous to expect a group of bad-ass motherfuckers like the 501st to spend their day helping out sick children, right? I mean, that would be like watching Baron Zemo's Masters of Evil setting up a soup kitchen for the underprivileged brothers of the street. It just doesn't make any fucking sense. Which is probably why the Dutch police realized something stunk to high heaven here and locked the fuckers up.

Goddamn it, is this how we treat our heroes?

News broke recently that legendary sexual-performer, director, legitimate actor, ass-destroyer and gaper-inducer, Rocco Siffredi has been accused of the heinous act of tax evasion by the Italian government. The Guardia di Finanza, also known as the Italian financial police, are accusing the veteran fuck maker of owing nearly half a million dollars in back taxes. The fuckers are saying he concealed $442,500. Shit, that's a lotta bread, all right. But you know what? This is fucking Rocco! He doesn't have to pay taxes! He's fucking Rocco, god dammit!

Boy oh fuckin' boy, I sure love a good blackmail story! Seriously, if there's anything on this Earth that's better than blackmail, I ain't fuckin' heard about it. Blackmail is just such a wonderful concept. You get somebody to do something they like doing, then you find a way to prove that they liked doing whatever it was, then you shame them for liking whatever it was that they liked doing! It's genius, and, in an icing-on-the-cake sort of deal, it usually involves somebody fucking somebody else! Blackmail! What's not to love?

Hello. Do you sell porno to children? If so, it may interest you to know that if your underage-targeted pornography bazaar operates within Great Britain, you're immune to prosecution for the next three months. I realize that it doesn't do you a whole hell of a lot of good if you're already sitting in a jail cell for selling some cockney bootblack's son a copy of Ben Dover's British Adventures (or whatever the fuck else they make in Britain), but shit, you can pass the word on to your esteemed colleagues.

I saw a story about how 61-year-old strippers are legal in the great state of Rhode Island, and my first instinct was what's the big fucking deal? I mean, sure, some folks might not be into the idea of watching a woman who was born before the famous Truman-over-Dewey election of 1948 bare their all for a room full of gawking strangers, but hey, to each their own, right? Besides, if some of you motherfuckers opened your minds a little bit, you might realize that women who have lived for six or more decades are usually a little bit more advanced in the ways of love than your average barely-legal nymphs, and can often take you places you never even dreamed existed (carnally, at least). So, I say again, what's the big deal about 61-year-old strippers?