Lucas Lascivious

Foe of moderation, champion of excess

Category: Uncategorized

Four Alternative Uses for Boomer Banks’ Cock


If you’ve never heard of Boomer Banks, you’ve been missing out on what could perhaps be the most magnificent cock I’ve ever laid eyes on, and that’s coming from someone who’s seen a lot of cocks (‘seen’ and ‘taken’ are the same thing, right?). He wasn’t named the Top Escort in the World for 2014 for nothing. But with a member that substantial, one has to wonder, what other practical purposes could it potentially serve, outside of the obvious. A few possibilities:

As a weapon
Visualize you’re in a dark alley, giving a blowjob behind a dumpster and what have you, when suddenly you’re ambushed by a street thug seeking your valuables (meaning a cracked iPhone and credit card you’ll just cancel 10 minutes later). You’ve no weapon to defend yourself, when all of a sudden, out of the shadows emerges Boomer Banks. At first glance, it seems he’s unarmed…until he drops his pants. Fuck a Taser or a handgun or nunchuks, one whip across the face with Boomer’s cock and that would-be thief will be in physical therapy for the next six months trying to realign their jaw.

As a floatation device
Imagine you’re at sea, having a merry time, when all of a sudden, you go the way of Natalie Wood and fall overboard (whether it was accidental or intentional is debatable, but I digress). You suddenly lose your cognitive ability to swim, leaving you flailing about, your mind racked with thoughts of your inevitable, impending death. You latch onto the nearest floating object in sight, when you realize that what you initially thought was a random water log is actually a personal floatation device. As you’re reeled in closer, it becomes clear that what you perceived to be a standard life preserver is actually Boomer Banks’ cock. Salvation!

As a cure for hiccups
True story: there was a 60-year-old man who developed ostensibly incurable hiccups, except–as was determined after a battery of drug trials and experimental procedures–by way of having what’s medically referred to as a “digital rectal massage.” When his vagus nerve was stimulated, the hiccups stopped. The vagus nerve is in the anus. Basically they stuck something in his ass and it cured his hiccups. As a non-medical professional, I’d devise that even the most severe case of acute hiccups could be solved by one thrust of Boomer’s cock. (Side query: does this mean that permanently having a cock in your ass is no longer considered slutty, but instead medically sound? Prevention is key, after all.)

As a battering ram
Envision you’re a member of a SWAT team, sent to detain an amoral serial killer who’s barricaded himself within a seemingly impenetrable refuge. Try as you may, you cannot infiltrate the confines of his asylum. Conversation, negotiation, and bartering have proven futile, so you’re reduced to using a battering ram in an effort to permeate the dwelling, to no avail. You call for backup. That’s when Boomer arrives, cock in tow. Your crude technology is immediately put to shame when, with one swift onslaught, what was once thought to be an impervious sanctuary has been breached by his cock. Boomer saves the day yet again!


The Five Most Dysfunctional Iconic Movie Couples of All Time

Oftentimes people describe wanting a so-called “fairytale romance,” but since no one bothers to read anymore, what most of them really mean is they want their own relationship to emulate that of one of the many prototypical film couples that have grown to be emblematic in a lot of peoples’ minds as to what a relationship should entail. Look a little deeper, though, and you’ll find that some of the most iconic movie couples of all time were actually just as fucked up as the rest of us, if not more.

Rhett and Scarlett
Rhett and Scarlett’s relationship could be described as tumultuous at best, which, in all fairness, is the adjective I’d use to describe about 90 percent of all relationships I’ve witnessed. Their relationship has all the elements that make it ripe for instability: infidelity (or allegations of), drunken fights, and plenty of stunt queening (i.e. Scarlett falsely claiming she’s pregnant at one point). On top of it all, Rhett throws her down a flight of stairs, resulting in a miscarriage and gets drunk and tries to rape her. Clark Gable may be devastatingly handsome, but the character of Rhett was a pretty horrible person and mean drunk, which, in terms of bringing the crazy, complemented Scarlett’s psychopathy. Nonetheless, the results were disastrous.

Big and Carrie
Without even pointing out the implausible fact Carrie was a freelance writer who could somehow afford Manolo Blahniks and a $9 million NYC apartment (the equivalent of $3,000 a month in rent), who then went on to become the eventual wife of a multimillionaire, Carrie Bradshaw remains the idealized archetype for needy, love-hungry women everywhere. Since when did emotional dependency become an endearing or enviable quality?

Romeo and Juliet
Speaking of codependency, do we even really have to go in to how fucked up these two are? We get it: you’re two people in love who come from different worlds. That doesn’t mean you should kill yourself in the process just to prove your devotion and spite your families. Plus, they were “in love” for, what, four days? I’ve had juice cleanses that have lasted longer, only talking about doing a juice cleanse is only slightly less obnoxious than this duo.

Johnny and Baby
Aside from introducing the world to “(I’ve Had) The Time of My Life”, thus prompting countless second-rate wedding reception recreations of the finale dance, Dirty Dancing tells the tale of a 17-year-old affluent, Jewish girl (a rich Jew–go figure), “Baby,” who meets a dancing instructor at a lodge while on vacation with her parents. She eventually falls in love with the lodge’s working class dance instructor, Johnny, and cons her dad out of money to pay for his primary dance partner’s abortion. Somehow the iconic finale dance has managed to distract audiences from realizing that not only did she lie to her father in order to pay for a random woman’s illegal abortion, but also that Johnny is clearly much older than her (conveniently, his exact age is never officially given). It’s a little too To Catch a Predator. On the bright side, I’ve never seen a straight man with better hip action than Patrick Swayze.

Romy and Michele
Okay, they’re not technically a couple, but their interdependent friendship has completely ruined their chances of ever landing a man, so they may as well be. All that aside, they just may be the most stable and compatible coupling on this list.

The Sexual Objectification Double Standard


As I’ve always understood it, it’s sort of an unspoken rule that heterosexual men who are very clearly straight are off limits. While I find human sexuality to be more fluid than most, in the same way that I and most gay men would find it extremely off-putting if a girl were trying to get in our pants, so do straight men when they’re being hit on by a gay guy. The only difference is that hitting on a straight guy could potentially lead to being punched in the face. What’s ironic about this straight abjection towards gay sexual attention, though, is that it highlights a glaring double standard. Apparently it’s fine for straight men to blatantly treat women as sexual objects, but when it comes to being treated as unwanted sexual objects themselves, sexual objectification is suddenly verboten.

In case you haven’t been alive for, oh, I don’t know, any given time throughout history since the beginning of humanity, most societies, generally speaking, have been patriarchal for any variety of reasons. One would think that in the tens of thousands of millennia we’ve had to evolve as Homo sapiens, we’d have been enlightened to the concept of equality of the sexes–and, to be fair, certain cultures have regarded women as equals, if not in a higher regard than their male counterparts–but for a multitude of superficial reasons, females have by and large remained a repressed group. That misogyny is obviously still very much alive today and it rears itself at no more direct a level than in the way that sexism presents itself on a daily basis.

I’m not going to lecture on the objectification of women in media because it should be obvious, given I could flip on my television and in the next three minutes point out examples of it; it goes without saying that present-day sexism does happen and that it’s overwhelmingly subconscious. Most of us have at least been out at a bar or club and witnessed the stereotype: a typical bro with far too much alcohol-induced self-confidence shamelessly hitting on girls and taking the liberty of dry-humping them on the dance floor with a flagrant disregard for the concept of personal space. To most, both males and females, that’s considered “typical” guy behavior, but their seemingly insignificant actions speak to the much large issue of female objectification.

When a gay guy finds another man attractive, it’s part of our make-up. Inherently, we’re just attracted to other men, which means that inevitably we’re going to find straight guys hot. The difference is a majority of us have the self-control that straight men also possess (but apparently don’t use), only we’re not pressured into having to prove our masculinity by being overtly sexual to the point where it becomes intrusive. That’s called respect, and it’ll get you much further than forcefulness. But, since there is seemingly no respect for sexual boundaries among most straight men when it comes to their pursuit of women, why should their sexual boundaries be respected? It’s just another example of societal pandering meant to protect the delicate, straight male ego.

The sad thing is that a lot of the men I’m talking about won’t even understand the opposing perspective, because their misogyny is so heavily ingrained it’s left them ignorant to their own plight. For legality’s sake, I should make it clear I’m not suggesting you freely make sexual advances towards straight guys; however, what I am saying is that until straight guys stop rampantly sexually objectifying women, they shouldn’t rightfully feel uncomfortable when gay guys (or anyone else for that matter) sexualize them.

The 6 Most Bullshit Things Oprah’s Ever Done


By now we’re all well-aware that Oprah Winfrey is an institution. She’s managed to cultivate an empire, spanning television, films, print, and a slew of other mediums. She’s a billionaire with a legion of loyalists who follow her every whim and has proven to be pretty groundbreaking in terms of colored women in daytime. For all the power and innovation, though, she’s also managed to propagate her fair share of drivel. There are seemingly countless instances to choose from, but for me, the following six stick out in my mind.

She brought “rainbow parties” to the mainstream.
Back in 2003, Oprah did an episode of her talk show called “Is Your Child Living a Double Life?”, where she featured various stories about teenage sex habits. The entire episode was saturated with fear-mongering tales of adolescent promiscuity, but by far the most talked-about moment came when the conversation switched to so-called “rainbow parties.” In essence, supposed rainbow parties were gatherings where teenage girls would each wear different shades of lipstick and take turns giving blowjobs, thus leaving a “rainbow” on boys’ penises. Given Oprah is the messiah to suburban moms everywhere, there was immediate moral panic from paranoid parents and conservative pundits. But, if it sounds like too hilarious a concept to be real, that’s because it isn’t, or at least wasn’t the pandemic it was presented as…though it did give me a good theme for my next party.

She treats celebrities and faux-gurus as legitimate medical professionals.
Whether it’s Jenny McCarthy hawking her anti-vaccination babble or Deepak Chopra peddling his misconstrued understanding of quantum theory, Oprah has played host to scores of people who pass themselves off as medical and/or scientific experts without actually having any legitimate certification to show for themselves. Oprah was also instrumental in the success of The Secret, which nonsensically champions the idea that if you positively think about an outcome hard enough, it’ll happen. Of course, Oprah chose to ignore the logic that, contrarily, negative thinking must evoke negative outcomes, so basically, pessimism is to blame for HIV/AIDS, poverty, etc. Her glib endorsement eventually led to her having to bring a breast cancer patient on her show to “clarify her thoughts,” as the woman had refused the advice of her doctors and medical treatments because she’d read The Secret after hearing about it on Oprah’s show.

She’s normalized the word “vajayjay.”
I’m not sure what Oprah’s objection to the word “vagina” is, given it’s the scientific term for a reproductive organ she possesses, but in any case, using nicknames to describe body parts is childish. Sure, I’ve been known to call a penis a dick, cock, wang, schlong, peen, etc., but I’m not afraid of the word penis and most certainly wouldn’t refer to a penis as anything along the lines of a “wee-wee,” which is essentially the male equivalent of “vajayjay.” What’s more, I don’t tout myself as a “serious” talk show host. Vaginas are already on the receiving end of enough stigmatization without it being branded with an infantile sobriquet.

She once touted that people should change out the bar of soap in their guest bathroom for each new guest.
First of all, the notion that everyone has a guest bathroom to speak of is quite presumptuous. Secondly, and perhaps most obviously, it’s soap. While, yes, some bars of soap may contain bacteria, studies done on the subject show that any bacteria or microorganisms you’d potentially come into contact with would wash off with the soap, and those studies were primarily done on bars of soap in public places. Unless your house is the residential equivalent of a bathroom gas station, switching out a bar of soap after one or two uses is not only wasteful, it’s just ridiculous (just remember to wash the pubes off before a guest comes).

She took her annual “Favorite Things” list to a whole new level.
The concept started out simply enough: give a little promotion to companies whose products she enjoys and bestow a shitload of free stuff upon her audience in the process. Fair enough. Then it started to get outrageous. The gifts continued to get more lavish and absurd over the years, to the point where it’s clear she’s in a complete wealth-induced state of delusion. Even as recently as 2013, her Favorite Things list included a set of Himalayan salt shot glasses (that are $45 for a presumably one-time-use-only set of six; also, I’d like to know how the taste of Himalayan salt significantly differs from that of a supermarket), a $122 holiday candle (Pier 1 is about as extravagant as I’m willing to get for a damn cylinder of wax), a truffle popcorn kit (because popcorn just isn’t luxurious enough), and something called an Urban Muumuu (she also made sure to peddle she and Deepak Chopra’s $100 “Meditation Master Trilogy” *eye roll*). Expect 2014’s list to include top-shelf Maltese carob liqueur and gift basket with an arrangement of heart of palm, foraged sorghum, and blackcurrants.

She introduced the world to Dr. Phil.
This one is self-explanatory.

All that being said, if I turn up dead, having been strangled with a $90 headband, you’ll know word of this post got back to her.

The View‘s Porn Problem


On Monday’s edition of The View, so-called “Duke porn star” Belle Knox (government name: Miriam Weeks) was featured in what was supposed to be a conversation about her being outed as an adult entertainer by a fellow Duke student and the ensuing harassment she’s received as a result. Instead of taking the opportunity to actually comprehend what would make someone want to enter the sex industry or focusing on the blatant misogyny she’s experienced as a result of her “outing” she was met with castigation and patronization.

If you’ve ever watched The View, you know it’s a fairly liberal panel, but aside from the fact they’ve made some grossly antiquated, anti-feminist statements in the past, a common trend is that they treat women in the sex industry like dogs under the guise of genuine curiosity.

Take Jenna Jameson’s interview from 2008, where even rah-rah-feminist Joy Behar mockingly introduces her and states the title of her film in a flippant tone. Yes, Zombie Strippers is a ridiculous film title, but even the nepotistic ‘other’ Kardashians, who’ve all made a name for themselves based on their sister’s sex tape, garnered more professionalism and overall respect than the regard that was given to Jenna Jameson. But, by The View standards, that interview was tame.

When the panel invited Sasha Grey to talk about the uproar that surrounded her reading to elementary-aged children as a mainstream actress, it was even worse. Obviously she’s done porn, but that’s not how she was presented to the children; rather, she was being philanthropic as a mainstream actress. Of course Sherri Shepherd, the voice of ignorant puritanism, piped in to essentially demote Sasha Grey’s sexuality as a woman because of the potential effect it could have on her socially retarded child, never mind the fact women are subliminally sexualized every single day, especially when it comes to Hollywood. The only difference is Sasha Grey removed thin strips of fabric to reveal her natural, basely, human self. The irony, of course, is that she’s openly admitted to buying her husband porn to “set the mood,” but that hypocrisy seemingly escapes her anytime she’s talking to someone who produces the porn she’s bestowed upon her husband. Barbara especially highlights her austerity when she says that no parent wants their child to grow up to be a porn star. Well, no parent wants their child to grow up to be an alcoholic, drug addict, depressive, etc., but that’s a far more prevalent matter-of-fact than porn. She, the most publicly impartial of the group, even had the gall to ask why, if Sasha Grey believes so staunchly in education, she would choose a porn career, which insinuates that sex industry workers as a whole are ignorant and demeans the profession, because you obviously can’t fuck for a living and subsequently be smart.

And now we move on to the most indescribably despicable porn star interview I’ve ever seen on The View. From the get-go, the panelists were in attack mode. Personally, I don’t find Bella Knox to be particularly intelligent or eloquent, especially when she starts going on about her cursory ideas as to what feminism is, but the manner in which they “interviewed” her wasn’t so much competent as it was exploitative. It actually took a man, Jorge Ramos, to ask questions that weren’t subconsciously demeaning or without integrity. But wait, it gets better: Jenny McCarthy, who’s been in Playboy numerous times, sardonically and gloomily asked what would make someone want to go into porn. Really? Coming from someone whose entire career stemmed from her attractiveness and willingness to flash her tits?

What was appalling to the panel is that Miriam Weeks admitted to watching porn from the time she was 12. When I say “appalling,” I mean they were absolutely aghast at the fact. Statistically, nearly three-quarters of males under 18 watch porn regularly, while, in a general sense, 85 percent of males watch porn regularly, meaning at least once a month. In the bubble of The View, though, statistics don’t matter, which led Sherri to proclaim, “My heart breaks […] when I hear this.” Her heart may hurt, but it’s likely due to fat-clogged arteries, rather than her insipid view of pornography.

Porn is Capitalist 101: where there is a demand, there needs to be a supply, which is a need porn fulfills. To derogate those who nourish that demand is simpleminded sanctimony.

Wendy Williams’ “Transphobic” Comments Should Be Cause for Education, Not Vilification


Wendy Williams, radio-shock-jock-cum-talk-show-host, is no stranger to controversy. She’s essentially made a career of being brash and with brazenness inevitably comes offensiveness, so it should come as no surprise she’s managed to ruffle her fair share of feathers throughout her career. On Thursday’s (March 13) edition of her talk show, The Wendy Williams Show, during a panel discussion about about Chloie Jonsson, a transgender personal trainer who is suing CrossFit for $2.5 million for being denied the opportunity to participate in the women’s division of the CrossFit Games, she and one of her panelists made incredibly insensitive and blatantly ignorant comments about not only Jonsson herself, but about transgendered people in general. Specifically, Williams defended CrossFit’s actions, saying:

“This is an unfair advantage… you can take away female parts or male parts or whatever — it’s like Chaz Bono! You know Chaz is a man now, but I bet she [sic] still fights like a girl like the rest of us and she’s [sic] not as strong as a man who was born a man.”

Panelist Joe Pardavila had his own absentminded opinion:

“Think about it. You look inside — she’s got all guy muscles, and the juices! You know, I’m not a doctor or anything but inside her that’s all there.”

Gay media outlets were especially quick to pounce on the comments, prematurely labeling Williams and her guest “transphobic.”

While their comments were oblivious and incredibly obtuse, what always seems to happen in instances like this is that, instead of using the moment to expand public understanding of LGBT issues, people go into attack mode. The transsexual and transgendered communities are particularly susceptible to widespread misunderstanding, even within the LGBT community. What makes the ordeal especially dismaying, though, is that Williams is a visible media figure who’s used her noteworthiness to be very vocal in her adoration of the LGBT community for pretty much her entire career and has done a lot in the way of promoting LGBT causes, specifically HIV/AIDS. That in itself is more than most of the people criticizing her can say. The sudden hostility towards her for one misguided and flippant comment is astounding. She’s not a tireless anti-gay activist who spends every waking moment trying to demean every effort made by the LGBT community to gain equality (quite the opposite actually), so why is she being treated in the same manner? She misspoke on an issue she’s clearly under-informed about, she’s not a villain.

Moreover, labeling her or Pardavila “transphobic” is as naive as the comments themselves. Not only is treating terms like “transphobia” and “homophobia” as being synonymous with “anti-trans” or “anti-gay” archaic, but neither of them fit into any of the aforementioned categories. The prefix “anti-” and suffix “-phobia” imply, respectively, an aversion towards or legitimate fear of something. They’re not ‘anti-‘ anything or so-and-so ‘-phobic’, just ill-advised, so to hastily brand them with terms that imply nefariousness is unmerited.

Williams and Pardavilla were both obviously quick to apologize after the ensuing attacks:

Apologies are nice, but hollow if you haven’t learned anything from your mistakes. While it’s clear their comments were not intended to be malignant, the best way to help the ill-informed is to better inform them. This is why, more than anything, if the LGBT community hopes to continue to improve understanding, philistinism should be met with education, not denigration.

The Seven Gayest Anti-Gay Members of Congress

It’s no secret that politicians are duplicitous. It goes along with the job for most part. But when it comes to the issue of gay equality, no party’s members have been quite so intolerant and sanctimonious as Republicans, particularly in the way of conservatives. Yet it seems there’s never more than a few months that go by that we don’t hear about some “family values” conservative getting caught foot tapping in a men’s room or hiring rent boys for hotel room trysts. Among members of Congress, these are the seven “straight” candidates who I believe would be most likely to either come out on their own or be caught trying to pay a guy to stuff a ball gag in their mouth and burn them with a cigarette for 100 bucks (because freaky Republicans are still fiscal conservatives).

Aaron Schock
Why not start with the easiest target, right? The gay rumors are nothing new for Aaron Schock, given they’ve followed him his entire political career, dating back to 2004. It’s easy to look at him and aesthetically assume that because he’s well-groomed and good-looking he must be gay. As flattering a stereotype as that may be, time and time again, he’s done nothing to disprove the rumors, all the while managing to maintain a resounding zero percent rating on the HRC’s scale of gay-friendly elected officials. It’s sort of ironic, given he seemingly lacks the ability to articulate his own opposition to gay equality.

David Vitter
Ah, David Vitter. Here’s a man who’s spoken out in favor of abstinence-only education (“…saving sex until marriage and remaining faithful afterwards is the best choice for health and happiness”), opposed amending the 2010 Defense Appropriations bill to better protect victims of sexual assault and rape at the hands of federal military contractors, and has proposed that the U.S. Constitution be amended to ban same-sex marriage (“I’m a conservative who opposes radically redefining marriage, the most important social institution in human history”). It all sounds like typical hardline conservative bullshit, until you take into consideration that, as he was saying all of this, he was a client of Deborah Jeane Palfrey’s, better known as the D.C. Madam. This is an instance of “the lady doth protest too much me thinks,” combined with hazy morals and blatant hypocrisy. There’s a thin line between cheating on your wife, abandoning your own oft-trumpeted religious beliefs, and hiring hookers, and giving handy j’s behind a dumpster in Tenleytown.

Jeff Flake
In this instance, when I say he’s pretty gay, I mean it in a completely complimentary sense. While, yes, like a lot of his Republican counterparts, he’s voted to Constitutionally ban same-sex marriage, he’s not as bad (which really doesn’t speak volumes), given he voted to prohibit job discrimination based on sexual orientation, and was one of a handful of Republican Senators who rapidly and publicly shunned Arizona’s discriminatory SB1062 bill, and asked it be vetoed. By congressional standards, he’s far and away one of the more handsome Senators and, most importantly, ripped:

Yes ma’am.

Michele Bachmann
I know what you’re thinking. “But Lucas, she’s notoriously anti-gay and has the highest rate of LGBT youth suicides in the country within her district, which she refused to publicly condemn or even speak about. She’s not anti-gayly gay, she’s just unabashedly anti-gay.” While that may be true, let’s be honest: the girl looks good, albeit a bit deranged in the eyes. You don’t get hair and makeup like that unless there’s a gay somewhere on your team, and I’m not just talking about her closet case of a husband. While we’re on that subject, though, you’ve got to applaud her dedication to being a top-notch beard. She’s deluded herself so much that the notion her husband is a flaming homo has never even crossed her mind, making her the only person to lay claim to that distinct feat.

James Lankford
James Lankford has an abhorrent voting record when it comes to civil liberties in general and, as far as I can tell, seems to only be in politics to make money off of voting in lobbyists’ favor, but elsewhere, I’m not sure if it’s just the tinges of gay-face he’s giving or the fact that I want him to be gay to feed into my ginge fetish.

…okay, it’s just the former. Those gelled bangs scream “repressed Midwestern homosexual.” At least his wife/lavender marriage companion is pretty.

Duncan D. Hunter
Upon first glance, he reeks of douche. Then you read through his voting record and he is confirmed to be a douche. He’s noted for his military service, but based on his execrable stances on gay equality, he strikes me as one of those military bros who, in public, keeps the façade of a homophobic asshole going, but in private trolls Grindr for power bottoms he can call “faggot” during sex. Anyone as staunchly opposed to everything gay as he is makes me question if there’s something deeper going on there…and I’m not just talking about anal sex.

Jack Kingston
Between Saxby Chambliss and Johnny Isakson, it’s apparent that Georgia is awful at choosing U.S. Senators, which is why it should come as a surprise to no one that Jack Kingston stands a fair shot at taking over the Senate seat Chambliss will be vacating in 2014. When he’s not telling poor schoolchildren that they should sweep floors in order to be fed a school lunch while subsequently racking up tens of thousands of dollars in personal taxpayer-funded expenses and advocating against taxpayer health subsidies while himself receiving taxpayer health subsidies, he’s diligently working to maintain his zero percent HRC score. However, what sets off my gaydar is that I can’t look at him without being reminded of Uncle Arthur from “Bewitched”.
I hate to even sully Paul Lynde’s good, booze-soaked name by comparing him to a puritanical, hypocritical bigot, but they even sound similar. If Jack Kingston weren’t a humorless homophobe, I’d fully expect a sexual double entendre at the end of each of his floor speeches.

Twitter’s #prayforcameron Hashtag Has Decimated My Optimism for Gen Z


In between episodes of season two of House of Cards (side note: how brilliant is this season?), I took a break to check my social media accounts. While on Twitter, I noticed the hashtag #prayforcameron. Hashtags asking for prayer requests aren’t really abnormal on Twitter and generally I’ll click on them to see if I’ve missed something worthwhile in the news. I fully expected this Cameron person to be a cancer-stricken child or murdered civilian who had been politically martyred by the media as a representation of civil unrest in a foreign country.

The reality: he’s an Internet “celebrity” who cut his foot while filming a video. I’m being serious. Mind you, this wasn’t some minor blip on the list of the U.S.’s trending topics, it was number two:


You may notice that ‘Venezuela’ also happens to be a trending topic. Well, most certainly, whatever happens to be going on in Venezuela can’t be nearly as important as an Internet figure’s lacerated foot, can it? Not unless you consider protests against massive inflation in Venezuela that has subsequently resulted in skyrocketing crime rates and widespread food shortages–a simplified version of a much more complex political labyrinth–to be more dire than a foot injury.

Generation Y is defined as including people born between the early 1980s and early 2000s, though I’d argue that that’s both far too broad a range of people and that it should only include those born up until the mid-90s, while Generation Z encompasses people born between the late 1990s and mid-2000s. Both groups have been stereotyped as being self-involved, narcissistic young people with a pervasive Peter Pan complex, but that image holds far truer in the case of Gen Z.

It’s easy to say that Gen Z is at a disadvantage because they’re being brought up in a world where lackluster formal education is the norm, superficiality being valued over intellect is at an all-time high, and the witless media is ubiquitous, but realistically, they’re at an advantage in terms of their access to information. The real problem lies in their lack of a want to expand their minds and understanding of the world. It’s true that the American media is notorious for whitewashing and diluting the news, particularly when it pertains to international matters, but if there is a desire to open yourself to the realities and goings-on in the world, you easily can. The Internet is infinite and practically as instinctive to Gen Z as breathing. However, if there’s no will to venture outside of what’s comfortable, people won’t.

Therein lies the problem: there’s no aspiration to self-educate or be more mindful and cerebrally vigilant.

That’s why a photo of a foot gash like this:


Gets more attention than an image like this, of a woman who died after she was shot in the head during the Venezuelan protests:


The unfortunate irony between the two photos is that they both highlight societal frivolity concerning human aesthetic. Strangers care about Cameron Dallas because he happens to be a generically attractive person, while the bottom photo has arguably been the most extensively shared because Génesis Carmona happened to be a Venezuelan beauty queen. The headline ‘Venezuelan beauty queen killed’ piques more interest and garners more readership because it concerns a good-looking, glamorous person.

To be clear, this isn’t an attack on Cameron Dallas himself; I don’t know him personally (nor do 99.9 percent of his 1.16 million Twitter followers), but he seems like a nice kid. It’s also not my saying people aren’t allowed their mindless vices, which would be highly hypocritical on my part. What I am denouncing is contentedness with being uninformed. Willful ignorance is not only a self-detriment, but it stunts human progression as a whole. Amelioration will never be the result of knowing less.

The Seven Stages of a Seven-Day Cleanse


As I’ve gotten older and can no longer put my body through the hell I could when I was 21, I’ve come to rely on juice cleanses. Usually after a particularly boozy, debauched weekend, I’ll go on a one or two day juice cleanse as a quick fix, but I’ve started making a seven-day juice cleanse a part of my monthly routine, just to flush out all of my bodily toxins and for physical rejuvenation. Downing blended fruits and vegetables for a few days sounds simple enough, but the reality is that it can be painstaking, not only to stick to the diet, but also to refrain from slapping the first person who gives you a dubiously shifty look (or at least what you perceive to be one in your malnourished state of mind). What I’ve found is that during any week-long juice cleanse, you’ll inevitably find yourself going through seven different phases.

Day One: Optimism
As with any diet, the first day is the easiest. You’re in a rose-colored haze and looking forward to seeing the results of your hard work. You’ve got your juice-comprised “meals” mapped out for the day, you’re in a chipper mood at the prospect of feeling healthier, and, to top it all off, you’ll drop a few pounds in the process.

Day Two: Coasting
Your idealistic assuredness is still in tact, though mild hunger pangs may begin to set it.

Day Three: Bitterness
The first two days were easy, but you’ve now reached the point where even seeing the people around you eating elicits an innate scowl. “Look at these people with their solid foods,” you’ll bitingly think to yourself. Alas, with the prospect of a lustrated and slimmer body, you press on.

Day Four: Temptation
Now you’ve hit a plateau and suddenly your body is channeling Oprah at the Texas state fair, where everything slathered in butter and deep-fried sounds delicious. But, you reason, the entire reason for the cleanse is to purge your body of unhealthy outside provisions and you’ve already made it this far, so you may as well keep at it.

Day Five: White-Knuckling It
Imagine you’re a heroin addict who’s been forced into detox after years of heavy use. Now envision what day five of withdrawal is like for them. Further conceptualize what resisting heroin would be like for them if they couldn’t drive more than a mile or two without seeing visually enticing establishments with drive-throughs where they could conveniently purchase and indulge in their vice. That’s what it’s going to be like every time you drive past a fast food restaurant. Resist!

Day Six: The Final Stretch
By now you’ve regained your senses and stopped breaking into a cold sweat at the sight of a heating bin full of 7-Eleven Taquitos, food (I use that term loosely) usually reserved for the drunkest and most THC-laden among us. A few more liquid meals and you’re done–solids are within sight.

Day Seven: Success!
You’ve accomplished your goal! You feel a sense of elation you mustered through it, feel better internally, and have the external results to show for it. Now if you can just limit yourself to be an alcoholic shitshow maybe three days a week instead of all seven (by far the hardest part for me) and keep yourself on a decent diet, you’ll find that not only will your unforgiving hangovers be a thing of the past, but you’ll feel better overall.

Why Kylie is (and Will Always Be) Queen


When examining Kylie Minogue’s popularity, it’s really easy to simplify her excellence by deeming her “the fucking queen,” but in today’s world, it seems pop stars are as disposable as Sarah Palin’s political career. Few pop singers last more than a few years before fading into either mediocrity or altogether obscurity, and the ones who do last are persistently fighting to stay relevant and subject to excessive criticism. Whether it’s Beyoncé being labeled anti-feminist or Britney’s oft-demeaned lackluster vocals, the biggest so-called “divas” in the music business aren’t immune to the acerbity.

Except for, that is, Kylie Minogue.

Don’t get me wrong, Kylie has experienced her fair share of criticism, but the critical pervasiveness between her and her contemporaries isn’t comparable. It’s easy enough to explain away her likeability: she’s gorgeous, amiable, and makes fantastically catchy music. That being said, those are qualities found in other big-name, mainstream pop artists as well: Lady Gaga, Christina Aguilera, Kelly Clarkson, Rihanna, Mariah Carey, etc. So what is it that seemingly makes Kylie immune to the same sorts of criticisms that these other women experience? She’s loved by men and women ranging from homos to feminists.

I think that, as with someone like Madonna, part of Kylie’s longevity has been due to her ever-morphing image; each album brings about a new era. Unlike Madonna, however, Kylie as a person has never changed. While Madonna’s progression has brought us a faux-British accent, grill, and overall aura of pretension, Kylie has never strayed from the personality that made her such a likeable public figure to begin with. Of course she’s matured in age (flawlessly so) over the years, but her cultivation hasn’t resulted in a complete loss of sense of self, as has been the case with certain other iconic musical figures.

From the beginning, Kylie’s been consciously headstrong and decisive concerning her musical career. Initially, she went the prepackaged pop star route of the 80s, but it didn’t take long for Kylie to make others realize that she was not that girl. She couldn’t just be gussied up and packaged as a pedestrian sex symbol, à la Madonna–she actually had conviction, musically and in terms of her image.

That sentiment made itself present in her third album, Rhythm of Love. It produced the infamous gay anthem “Better the Devil You Know”, but more importantly marked the transition between what was expected of Kylie by her record company and what Kylie expected of herself, which was a desire for self-artistry.

Kylie released Rhythm of Love, as well as her prior two albums, under the PWL label before transferring to Deconstruction and eventually Parlophone. From a musical standpoint, Parlophone has been where she flourished. The label has unofficially garnered a reputation for allowing for creativity among its artists, particularly in terms of its most notable and profitable artist: Kylie.

Outside of her musical genius, though, Kylie’s managed to fine-craft an image that spans a singular classification. She’s not just a pop artist, she’s a cultural figure. Her status as a pop singer would stereotypically reap aspersion, but she’s somehow managed to supersede classification, and, as such, ignominy.

The feminist argument that’s been lodged against Beyoncé and the like isn’t applicable, because Kylie has never induced herself as being one-half of a man, nor has she ever sexually pandered specifically to a straight, male audience like her counterparts; rather than using her sexuality to her advantage, she embraces her sexuality. The lack of vocal excellence isn’t applicable, as is the case with Britney, and she doesn’t have to be vocally acrobatic like Christina, because she’s proven she has the vocal chops (see: “Your Disco Needs You” live). Her longevity hasn’t driven her to desperation, like Madonna. She has nothing to prove, other than the fact that she’s perpetually paradisiacal.

Oh, did I mention she also beat cancer?

That is why Kylie is and will always be the Queen of Pop.