I have to tell you folks, I like this planet. No, I don’t hold a great deal of soft spots in my heart for the human plague that seems intent on eating it piece by piece until nothing remains but a brown rock floating in the cosmos, but Mama Earth is a pretty keen lady in my opinion. I’ve recently gotten back into being outdoorsy – I’m even going to try my hand at camping this year. I mean real camping; previously my experiences have had less to do with “camping” and more to do with “drinking in uncomfortable wooded locales”, so I’m going to do my best to expose myself to something more authentic this time around.
Given my new-found interest in all things environmental, I’ve been doing some reading on this whole “green” movement we hear so much about, and something has become strikingly apparent to me. A lot of people share my love of our little patch of dirt and trees, and seem pretty hyped to “save the world” or whatever Al Gore is telling us to do this week, but there’s a catch – we don’t really want to do an awful lot of actual work.
What do I mean? Well, think about it this way. Everybody feels good about recycling, right? Separate your cans from your plastics from your newspapers from your used condoms and put them all in special boxes that you set at the edge of your property, where they’re magically emptied by what we can only assume are Enviro-Fairies in the night and we can all wake up feeling better about ourselves. The fact of the matter is that recycling isn’t all that and a bag of chips as far as the environment is concerned, but we still like to gaze down imperiously from our high horses at all the backward Earth-hating philistines who refuse to put in the modicum of effort it takes to separate the New York Times you don’t read from the empty cheeseburger cans on which you gorged yourself the night before. Recycling, and in fact most “green” initiatives, serve basically one purpose: to make guilty white Liberals feel like they’re not just as bad as the rest of the resource-consuming parasites that constitute the denizens of their gated communities.
In the spirit of this kind of lackadaisical environmental consciousness, one of my Correspondents sent me a link to a website that sells perhaps the ultimate expression in lazy green technology, and I felt the need to share it with you, my dear readers, on the off chance you can find more use for these interesting but ultimately bourgeoisie products than I currently have. I give you, in no particular order, the Top Five Green Sex Toys, courtesy of the tree-humpers at Earth Erotics, who invite you to “sustain your passion”.
It might sound like something you’d find hanging in stringy, goopy rivulets from talking trees in the forests of Neverland after the filming of “Tink Takes It All, Volume 5” but thankfully, it’s not. It is, however, still weird: unlike most oils and lotions I’m familiar with (peripherally of course, Mom), Glow Oil comes in a convenient spray format. Yes, you too can grease up your lover with the enviro-sexual equivalent of non-stick PAM, and just like PAM it’s edible! Nothing like some hemp seed, coconut, soy, apricot, avocado, jojoba and vitamin E seasoning to really get the coital juices flowing. No girlfriend? No problem! It can also be used as an “everyday after-shaving moisturizer” – and, one presumes, a condiment. Yum yum!
If you’re one of those basement-dwelling mouth breathers who regularly beat off to the Sandals section of your Sears catalogue, Earth Erotica has not forsaken you – unlike your parents, the rest of the civilized world, and the shattered remnants of your self-respect. Much like Edible Glow Oil, Foot Foreplay is a top-end moisturizer specifically designed for the tender tootsies that populate your wet dreams. The blend of shea butter, soya bean oil, sweet almond oil and Gogi Berry extracts (because I really want my feet to smell like fruit) is guaranteed to make your smelly shoe-fillers “kissably soft”, and it’s even Vegan-friendly – I don’t know if this means you’re supposed to be able to eat it too (because licking feet is about a step above licking rectum and a step below licking armpit in my book) or if it just means the Vegans can assuage their inborn guilt knowing they didn’t test it on rabbits first. All they’ll have to deal with is the shame of loving feet way, way too much.
There is no way I couldn’t include this monstrosity on my list. I mean, look at the fucking thing (har har, did you get that?) It looks like a sea anemone. Throw a pair of googly eyes on it and give it James Earl Jones’ baritone voice, and this cartoonishly large chunk of 100% silicone could be the lead villain in “The Little Mermaid Part Twelve: Under the Covers”. It’s even water-safe, which should come as a surprise to no one, but the part that really cooks my noodle is that it can be used for anal penetration. Why you’d want to insert this combination crown/egg beater/undersea atrocity into your butt I’ll never understand, but as the King of Victory performs its slow, methodical sloughing of your lower intestine, you can grin and bear the pain because you’ll know you’re doing your part to make the world a better place for your children – who will hopefully have better things to do than put cumbersome (if environmentally friendly) mechanical horrors in their asses. VICTORY!
Sort of sounds like something an androgynous Anime teen would shriek before unleashing his giant robot’s patented attack, doesn’t it? I particularly like the use of the word “direct”, because it removes the ambiguity from the device’s proper usage. I mean, “indirect slap” could result in serious injury. It only gets better: the website refers to it as an “eco-flogger” and promises the only one you’ll be punishing is your significant other, “not the environment”. You know what, though? I think I see a way around paying fifty bucks for a recycled rubber reamer. Take an old bicycle tire, slice it into thin strips and tie the ends to a PVC pipe scrounged from your local junkyard. Proceed to flay away. Environmentally conscious and thrifty! You can’t lose, unless you happen to be the poor sap on your knees asking “please sir can I have another”.
The spiritual counterpart to King Victory, no doubt, and a cute double-entente to boot. Leaving aside the fact that I have yet to meet a woman with internals that would suit that corkscrew shape, there’s something that bothers me on a very fundamental level about the idea of inserting something made of glass into extremely vulnerable parts of your body. I mean, I’m sure it’s been tested for safety, and it is professionally blown (hurr hurr), but it’s still made of one of the more breakable substances on Earth. I used to live with a trauma room nurse, and let me tell you – people using glass accoutrements for carnal pleasure is nothing new, and neither is the obvious, often terrifying outcome. She told me the details. You don’t want to hear them. And yes, I suppose glass is easily-recyclable, but no matter how hot and hypoallergenic that glass might get, I still wouldn’t be particularly comfortable purchasing a jar of pickles if I knew it was made out of used dildos. But hey! For a mere eighty dollars you can scratch the Itch That Dare Not Name Itself using a piece of original art! Save the environment, support local talent and get yourself off? It’s win-win-win!
So there you go, guilty white Liberals. This is about as remorse-free as your sex lives are going to get, leaving aside the inevitable morning-after beer goggle regret you’re going to end up with anyway. And if you’re really into it, you can even purchase one of Earth Erotics’ clever 100% organic cotton tops, which might as well read “I fucked a fat chick to save the environment and all I got was this lousy teeshirt.” Just remember to extend the safety you’re affording Mother Earth to yourself: while “green sex” might sound great on paper, you definitely don’t want it to be a descriptive term for your genitals. Use a condom. Made of hemp, if that makes you feel better, hippie.