Hookers or Cake

(Source: triplej18)

The picture I used for yesterdays post is from a wonderful set by .

I love the way these are put together.

In other news, the “pin feature” lost me about thirty five followers and gained me five.

(Source: )

Did you know that Hookers or Cake began life as a pornographic blog? Perhaps that helps explain the name. I would post softcore, amatuer porn and write terrible poetry inspired by the pictures. Here is an example (for scientific use only! NSFW)

I’ve since learned that all forms of pornography are wrong. Interestingly its only men who have pointed this out to me. They love and care about women so much that they feel it thier duty to eradicate pornography from the face of the earth. I am with them. I love women too and I do not want them hurt by this dirty filth we know as pornography.

Tis a shame because I really liked looking at boobies. Actually its the face and the boobs in unison. Really it was the whole naked ladieness of giggling, jiggling radiance that I enjoyed. But its wrong, so no more.

The problem is that since I’ve given up porn I’ve noticed myself looking at even modestly clothed ladies, lustily. Yesterday I saw a newspaper ad with a woman wearing a brassiere and almost bit a hole in my favorite cardigan. National Geographic is off limits, so are museums. Those Spanish speaking TV channels are full of porn. Bouncing, laughing, full blown, temptresses - saying God only knows, to leering little fat men. Women’s tennis is out of the question with all the grunting and lunging. The WNBA is fine. Bjork? Nope, can’t listen to it for two seconds. There is a fruit stand on 4th street that I’ve learned to avoid. Full ripe melons glistening in the sun…

I’ve also become suspicious of nature. The way the sun warms me and makes me feel. The gentle fragrant breeze caressing my face. Have you ever pondered just what exactly a tree is doing to the sky? I’ve stopped going to the bathroom too as I found the process fundamental dirty, wrong, and suspiciously stimulating.

I’ve had to give up drawing. First it was curved lines, but now even using only straight lines, the way some of them would intersect… why it would make even Prince Rodgers Nelson blush. Piet Mondrain is a whore-monger!

I don’t know what shall become of me, but I love and respect women too much to view any aspect of them as sexually exciting or pleasurable. My sole interest in them is now purely analytic. We are friends and co-workers and business associate’s, except for the ones that dress like whores. Like my boss, Nicole who insists on wearing short sleeves. She shall be cast in a lake of fire for all eternity. She’d probably like that though. She’d probably find that one great big turn on.

Yeah, in my version of the Thebean trilogy, Oedipus stabs out his eyes while trying to spread Nutella on a frozen banana.

Something I’ve never done.

I was trying to stage a rewrite of the Deadulus myth staring cute sweet little kittens. But after a quarter million dollars and countless hours of practice all the kittens turned out to be rabid and died. Those last few reheasals though!

So like the high flying Icarus, my wings melted and I fell into the sea. It was while drowning that it hit me, Maniac Robot Kittens!  I will build and army and kill everyone who doesn’t think I’m a fucking genius! And you know what that means…

No more solo ice cream socials for me.

…to pull you over the desk and bind you with my hunger
sliding my hands up the back of your legs
slowly sneaking my way inside
letting my fingers reach in and unwind you

a gleaming labyrinth of pleasure
drowning in the reflection
of flushed hot breath

shuddering and whispering
begging to come undone
torn open in front of everyone
you are the ever radiant sun
shining

sighing

singing

deep into the darkness

There is a song my dead father still sings

Its the sound of an orchestra tuning up while the crickets loose their punk rock minds. It blinks and winks from eye to eye like synaptic kisses and is haunted by elephant dreams. It is the suck of a trillion sentient beings feeding at the teat of our infinite black mother. The black madonna at Chartres. An ancient cathedral built over a succession of burned down altars that were built on top of an ancient cave. If you go down into the crypt you can still hear its tuneless roaring whisper. Its black maw reflecting infinite outer space.

Eve should’ve stayed with the snake. They had it going on. Telling God to fuck off, eating of the tree of knowlege, kickin it in the Garden of Eden, but she had to tell that meathead, Adam. And Adam squealed to God and blamed her, another total whimp bitch move, they both got evicted - had some real asshole kids…

What a shitty fucking story. No wonder most Christians suck. We fucked up heaven and God threw us out. No wonder we treat the world like shit. Heaven exists somewhere else, fuck this place. Its womans fault! Not mine. I’m just a dumb nice guy.

See also, knowlege equals bad news.  

Stay with the snake, ladies. God is love and totally digs snakes.

Sweet Jesus, I hope I’m not turning into Jim Morrison.

After I slayed the monster, seven terrifying kittens crawled out of her trash can heart. They spoke to me in whispers, they told me the horrific truth about my true nature and that the monster I’d just killed was my mother. It opened a hole in me that all the Cap’n Crunch in the world couldn’t fill.

I did hideous things to forget myself. I was human toilet paper, I was a writer on Chelsea Lately, I was paid to masturbate inside of a bee hive.

It was as if I was constantly being taunted by outer-space, by telepathic stars confiding in me their disapproval. I felt unsafe in my head, like I might explode into madness at any moment. I shot up massive quantities of horse tranquilizers and watched a lot of TV. One day, for no reason I will crawl out of this hole. I’ll go to McDonalds, eat a McRib and burn down this pitiful little reality.

Actually? The truth is, I’ve crawled out of my hole three or four times now and went to a McDonalds but they never have the McRib, I guess its a only available for limited times which according to a 2011 study correlates to domestic pork prices?

So I’m just stuck sitting around waiting for the price of pork to drop… dreaming of being, smothered in my own sassy sauce.

The Shittiest Gods Ever

What kinda car was the holy spirit driving

when it lost his license for speeding?

Where did Adam & Eve shit

in the Garden of Eden?

Why didn’t Jesus wear his penis

when he was busy down here bleeding?