1998: In the heyday of post-AIDS-panic, pre-Will & Grace gaysploitation, there was this Pride-themed print ad, launching the “Be yourself” tagline and celebrating the accessory choices we have learned to dread every June. Rainbow beads? Check. Rainbow balloons? Check. Oddly Grateful-Dead-esque cartoony rainbow top hat and purple sunglasses? Oh, Bud Light, you’re totally gonna get laid next weekend.
1999: Isn’t that shoe a little small for your average tranny? The copy refers to something called the “Miss Continental Pageant,” a Paris-is- Burning-style extravagahnzah in Chicago. A cursory glance at past contestants suggests that none of those queens wear anything smaller than a size fourteen rhinestone platform shoe, and they’re all too real to be caught drinking even light beer.
2000: What’s with the POV on this one? Passed out under the coffee table much? We think this has something to do with meth and gangbangs, but maybe that’s just us.
2001: Just like that Madonna “Cherish” video or a Herb Ritts poster! (A few decades too late, but still â€“ thanks for thinking of us DDB!) Rather than letting him be himself, this guy’s head has been cropped out like a closeted Manhunt profile, leaving only his non-fat torso, Daisy Dukes and pole-climber Act Up! boots. We’re so drunk with excitement, we’re like sideways.
2003: Apparently “being yourself” is like being a caricature with a tiny head and Parton-sized pecs. The POV on this one is also crooked (read: queer). And we’re especially intrigued by the spread-crotch dude in the back, eyes rolling into the back of his head, not even sure what the fuck’s going on he’s so drunk and he hasn’t eaten or slept in a week and about five minutes after this we suspect he just tipped over backwards and cracked his head open in the middle of Eighth Avenue.
2007: Let’s blow this one up a bit, for emphasis. Now, we prefer to stick to the rule that NOTHING good ever happens after 2 AM, and that 3 AM adventures are usually ones that involve shout-talking in cabs, drunk come-ons, Craigslist, end-runs for drugs, afterparties full of tweakers, and trips to the clinic on Monday. Thank you, DDB for endorsing “adventures” that sometimes end, like this ad campaign, in an awkward pile of regret.
A source has leaked details to The Sword about a new fucky fucky extension that will not be beholden to any of Apple's pearl-clutching restrictions.
I don't take sex seriously enough to commit to a Master/slave dynamic, so instead I'll just read this new blog written by a 39-year-old British sub slut named Fang.
1. You know it's a leather orgy when everyone takes a moment between foreplay and fucking so they can put their clothes back on.
When I discovered that a friend of mine trims his chest hair, I told him to think of the children in Africa who have no chest hair to shave in the first place. Now I've found a fur-obsessed Photoshopper who is helming the good fight against body shavers everywhere.
The hypothesis: you can put a shitload of condoms on a dildo. The conclusion: you can put a shitload of condoms on a dildo.