Ultra conservative scientists invent "e-penis"

A group of ultra conservative scientists, deemed so radical that even the Tea Party has consistently distanced itself from their views, announced that they have invented a device meant to wean homosexual men from what they have called "the sure hellfire of the gay lifestyle." Craig Jeaenus, president of the non-profit Scientists for Christ and Such, said Thursday, "We've tried literally slapping the dicks out of the mouths of these young men, but their taste for penis -- firm, rigid, throbbing... hoo boy. Sorry, I'm perspiring a bit. Excuse me. Their taste for penis knows no satiation. We believe we have found a solution to cure these muscular, well-oiled sailors -- er, I mean men -- of their sinful lust for the male member. Oh dear! I didn't mean to erection -- gah, I mean drool! I didn't mean to drool."

Jeaenus went on to unveil a large cylinder with a penile appearance, not unlike a sex toy, with the exception of the glowing red base and smoke-like steam billowing from the faux urethra. The device is called the e-penis. Designed to be used for behavior cessation similar to quitting smoking with an e-cigarette, the e-penis is loaded with cartridges full of simulated semen, the essence of which is emitted in the steam into the mouth of the user. Over time, the user loads cartridges with incrementally decreased percentages of artificial semen until finally the e-penis spouts nothing more than water in the steam. 

Scientists for Christ and Such has been distributing free e-penises and semen cartridges to gay bars and clubs in major metropolitan areas throughout the United States since early April. So far, the reviews are as glowing as the end of the electronic phallus itself. Dan Carrington, a 34 year old accountant from Phoenix, has been using the e-penis for over 6 weeks. "I love it," said Carrington. "I haven't taken this darn thing out of my mouth for more than a few minutes in weeks. It's wonderful!" When asked how far along he is in the cessation program, he laughed. "Cessation? Oh, I threw away the watered-down cartridges the very first night. They keep giving away full sets of cartridges everywhere I go, so I've been sucking down the high test stuff the whole time. Full steam ahead!"

When a recording of Carrington's interview was played back for Craig Jeaenus, he appeared agitated. "No, that is not how he's supposed to use it!" He furiously scribbled notes on a legal pad, reached into a desk drawer, pulled out an e-penis, and drew it toward his lips. "Sorry, this helps me think." He loaded in a semen cartridge clearly labeled "100% Strength," mopped sweat from his brow, and inhaled deeply.

For your safety

A scene from the latest Viagra commercial

Smoking the bowl

Longtime readers will recall the ongoing struggles we've had over the years with inconsiderate poopers dirtying the workplace toilets and environs with assorted human filth. Whether it's somehow managing to make the stall appear as though a fight with ass peanut-filled pillows had taken place or coating the bowl and underside of the seat with high velocity, omnidirectional blowback, walking into the infamous Stall Two can be a literal shit show.

Though our company isn't tiny, it's small enough that through careful observation of coworkers' digestive schedules and dietary habits, ultimately those dirty of ass and devoid of consideration for others are identified. It may take months, perhaps even years, but you will be found, publicly shamed, and permanently barred from using any toilet closer than the truckstop by the freeway.

Today I discovered the identity of the hedgehog who has been littering the toilet seat with a sea of curly ass hair and toasty poop crumbs. Through pure coincidence, I walked into the mens room just as he was exiting the stall. Normally I would never follow someone's opening act and sit on a warm toilet seat, but the other bathrooms in the building were occupied, and I was already crowning. As he washed his hands, I walked into the stall to find the seat looking like the floor of a hamster barber shop. I felt like turning around and yelling, "My God, man! Did you shave a fucking chihuahua in here?" I made a passive aggressive show of spraying the whole mess down with Lysol before I closed the door, wiped the seat down, and caked it with 4 rolls of extra chalky discount warehouse toilet paper before I sat down to unload.

The hedgehog, however, is the least of my worries these days. The particularly vexing mystery shitter has been the anonymous soul who has somehow managed to coat the bowl above the water line, all the way up to and including the inside of the rim, with solid chunks of spattered cake balls that no amount of water alone will wash away (trust me, I've tried urinating these chunks away with all of the pressure I could muster, to no avail). This is not your typical shit-through-a-screen-door cloudy ass water. These are dollups of solid shit ranging in size from pushpin head, all the way up to a smashed Peanut M&M found on the bottom of your shoe.

Though this fecal blunderbussing is disturbing enough, what's more unsettling is the lone quarter-sized wad of poo that intermittently appears on the back of the rim, immediately beneath the seat. How is this even possible? Perhaps he is touching his toes whilst shitting or sitting on the throne backwards, leaning back, and renacting the chair scene from Flashdance. But the most likely theory involves the poor, fiber-starved chap halfway through squeezing out a cheese grater-textured gorilla fist. Suddenly he finally gets three stars on the last level of Angry Birds, drops his phone on the floor admist the excitement, and leans forward to retrieve it. The lever action of his body raises the femur-straight log, rippling with musculature and self-awareness, to kiss the rim gently, leaving a minature unfrosted cupcake clinging to the porcelain with the power of Fixodent and strong nuclear force.

Until we catch this ill-mannered artist-in-residence Bob Rossing the commode with happy little brown trees, we will take shifts surveilling the mens room, lingering far too long after we pee, and stopping random office mates to make desperately contrived conversation in the hallway within view of the bathroom door. Take care out there, people. Wear your vest and keep your safety off.

CES 2012 Preview: Life Alert for Heirs

While most of the buzz around the annual Consumer Electronics Show in Las Vegas centers around the latest smart phones, touchscreen pads, and 3D televisions, a surprise entrant in this year's fray is Life Alert. Life Alert is most famous for its commercials featuring frail pensioners flailing about on the floor, woodenly wailing "Help! I've fallen, and I can't get up!" For nearly 25 years, the company's bread and butter has been selling products and services geared toward the health and safety of senior citizens. However, jumping into a market apparently spawned by the economic downturn of recent years, Life Alert will soon sell a service aimed toward children and grandchildren of the elderly teetering on the brink of poor health and mobility.

The equipment for the new service, dubbed Life Alert for Heirs, looks identical to the current incarnation, but the system does not contact an ambulance or fire department when the button on the pendant is pressed. Instead, it will play a message previously recorded by one of the ailing elder's heirs. In the promotional video shown to reporters this morning, a thin white-haired senior writhed on her kitchen floor in pain. In response to her button press, the system barked in the tinny, digitized voice of a husky sounding man. "Hello, Grandma. This is David. Sorry to do this, but this system won't contact emergency services until you agree to sign over your power of attorney and assets to me. To approve this, simply press your pendant button three times in a row. Per your contract with Life Alert, this will act as a legally binding electronic signature. Once this signal is received, emergency services will be contacted. Love you, Grandma!" Less expensive versions of the system will simply make passive note of the emergency request and send no help.