Looking for an unclean experience? Tune in to “Temptation Island.”

The whole show went something like this: Closeup of a guy rubbing salt on his nipple in preparation for tequila body shots. Cut to the wide-eyed, buxom girl he’s on a date with, “He’s so so DEEP.”

Yeah. He’s the Grand Canyon of humility and spiritual enlightenment. Perhaps he’ll engage in rabid monkey sex with you.

Then again, who am I to talk? The show was so embarrassing that it made my eyes water, but I watched the WHOLE thing. Sure, I showered a few times afterward, but I can still feel the dark stain on my soul.

11:44 a.m.

I’ve unwittingly misled you. One of the Americans for Purity informed me that all of the pages I link to below are spoofs (except the Biblical action figures). I was pretty hard hit until Jason sent me a link to the Church of Latterday Saints’ Steps to Overcoming Masturbation. Mr. Kottke favors step 19, “In very severe cases it may be necessary to tie a hand to the bed frame with a tie in order that the habit of masturbating in a semi-sleep condition can be broken.” I’m a fan of the Church’s take on aversion therapy: “If you are tempted to masturbate, think of having to bathe in a tub of worms, and eat several of them as you do the act.”

10:03 a.m.

So my friend Kristi sent me an URL. “God hates it when men waste sperm, no matter what the reason.” Finally, a site addressing the self-abuse epidemic. But after poking around a bit, I realized that the site had so much more to offer. As far as I can tell, none of these sites are spoofs. Oh man. Crackpot Jackpot:

  • Biblical action figures.
  • The force is a tool of satan. A Website dedicated to rooting out the evil in the Star Wars series. (Note the fantastic URL.)
  • Virigaurd, a combination athletic support and chastity belt. I highly recommend the Installation and Testimonial links. “When young boys from my congregation come to me with sexual inquiries, I counsel them to let God take care of them. If that doesn’t work, I ask them to try the Purity Athletic Viriguard for a few months. Sometimes they resist at first, but once they get used to it, they become more manageable, attend church more often, and show the signs of improvement you’d expect from those who do not pollute themselves through self-stimulation.
  • Ban breastfeeding! “Women who breast-feed enjoy an erotic experience that offensively imposes oral gratification on innocent infants. This reprehensible act teaches children illicit sex that subsequently manifests promiscuity, homosexuality and addiction to cybersex.”

2:19 p.m.

Walking home from work, I had an absurdity attack as I passed 24-Hour Fitness. The huge windows and frenetic step-class activity combined for the effect of a giant jar full of panicked bugs. The guys running on the treadmill were the bugs that keep climbing up to the top of the jar, falling, then climbing back up again. Glah.

9:27 a.m.

Gratuitous Blogger/Web Techniques Plug: Have I mentioned I love my job, and my boss? The magazine I work for just donated a new server to Blogger, the exceptional and free service I use to update my page. Here’s the announcement from the Blogger home page:

Woohoo! Remember I mentioned there would be more good news about the Server Fund? It’s this: on top of the huge contributions you all made, WebTechniques magazine bought us another server. That brings our total Server Fund contributions over $15,000 and gives us enough fire power to last a long time — or enough to hurt ourselves, we’ll see.
Here’s the official press release. Yay! WebTechniques rocks.

-Ev. [1/23/2001 10:43:23 AM]

10:58 a.m.

The best headlines from this month’s Martha Stuart Living:

  • Collecting Pincushions
  • Remembering Brioche
  • Finger-Puppet Master
  • Crocus: A little flower packed with big surprises.
  • President’s Day Pretzel Log Cabin

10:19 a.m.

After you’ve had your aura cleaned, consider having your ass read. You send Jaqueline “a fanny gram,” she tells you what your buttprint says about your soul. Well, at least now you have an excuse when your boss catches you perched on top of the photocopier. (Click on the “rumpology” button in the upper left corner.)

3:14 p.m.

This is creepy Web art. Childlike drawings with hostile-man score. If you’re at work, bust out the headphones before you click.

12:36 a.m.

EMAIL MOMENT!

Subject: College friend reminisces about his youth.

Excerpt:

My mother would frequently record tape cassettes and send
them to my grandparents, uncles and aunts, et al. to
mark our progress (this was before the invention of
the motion-picture camera). On one these tapes, my
mother tells me “stop that” seventy-eight times in a
matter of fifteen minutes. One of my favorite lines is
when she yells, “you better NOT pee on the couch.”

9:55 a.m.

Watching a kid’s infomercial about a spectacular new mechanical toothbrush, the voiceover exclaims, “BUT THAT’S NOT ALL!” My five year old niece turns to me smiling and says, “They always say, ‘that’s not all.'” Smart kid.

4:01 p.m.

The last week has not been so good. A few days ago, I managed to upset one of my closest friends. Last night, a violently crazy homeless woman charged at me while I was trying to find someplace to eat on Valencia. (She also called me a bitch, which–I think you’ll agree–was really just uncalled for.) In a few hours, I’m off to have several needles inserted in my currently unperforated arms, so some sleepy little diseases can have a party with my immune system. What wonders will the weekend hold? It could be anything, really: severe food poisoning, mugging, drive by, or a friend could visit and demand that I take him to Pier 39.

10:33 a.m.

Amazing article about an abandoned National Security Association spy station.

5:20 p.m.

My friend Sam blogged about a bumper sticker he saw that said, “Shake Your Ass for Jesus.” That’s fairly in line with my personal philosopy, which is that Jesus is a big fan of joyous booty motion.

2:44 p.m.

I cut this out of Newsweek a few years ago, and just came across it again:

“A mistake was made by a junior staffer who is no longer with the campaign.”

Dole for president deputy press secretary Christina Martin, on a letter Washington DC resident Irv Rastin received thanking him for his contribution, which began “Dear Cheetoh Breath”

9:49 a.m.

“It is no coincidence that you cross your fingers when you say ‘ready’ in sign language.”

From “Unrelated Individuals Forming a Group Waiting to Cross” by Melanie Bogue.

2:56 p.m.

Another reason I love Jane magazine, this review of the “Buttkicker Shaker”:

A $700 device you can attach to your couch to electrify your movie watching and music-listening experiences. Let’s say you rent Vertical Limit. When snow roars down the mountain, your Buttkicker-enhanced sofa will shake like you were actually in an avalanche, except without the death part. When I watch movies, I never think, “I’m missing out because when the bombs go off onscreen, I don’t feel anything in my butt.”

12:20 p.m.

I had a dream last night that a ’50s-dad type was telling me about taking his family on a trip out to California: “Yeah, we went to Silicon Valley to see the Internet. I thought we’d be able to just walk right up close enough to touch it, but they kept it behind about five feet of glass. The kids were disappointed.”

10:39 a.m.

Yes, it’s a poem, but it’s a good poem. Besides which, there’s a link to pornographic balloons below it. So humor me:

Sentimental Moment or Why Did
the Baguette Cross the Road?

     Don't fill up on bread
     I say absent-mindedly
     The servings here are huge

     My son, whose hair may be
     receding a bit, says
     Did you really just
     say that to me?

     What he doesn't know
     is that when we're walking
     together, when we get
     to the curb
     I sometimes start to reach
     for his hand

     Robert Hershon

1:12 p.m.

You thought clowns were scary before. Wait until you check out these balloons
9:55 a.m.

Great post from Metafilter:

Four out of Five Americans Know Earth Revolves around the Sun. I certainly wish this was an Onion Headline. Should we all know this? I’m inclined to think so. Elsewhere in the article, 2% of Americans believe that Independence was won from France. Shoot me in the face.

posted by liquidgnome at 11:00 AM PST

1:09 p.m.

Today’s not-good thing:

My fly has been open for several hours. My pants are tan. My underwear is red.

5:03 p.m.

Thanks to this what-happened-on-your-birthday-type site, I now know that the first shipment of fresh oysters came overland from Baltimore on the day I was born. Well, about a kazillion years before I was born on that day, but still. Crucial.

12:57 p.m.

This is a seven-year-old body builder. I’ve been there once, I’m never, ever going there again.

10:42 a.m.