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These, as Salon.com puts it, are very apt terms to describe a man who engages in sexual practices with a doll. When examining the notion of a "sex doll" imagery of the blow up doll with gaping mouth frequently used as comic relief in shameless films comes to mind. However, it would seem that the company Real Doll has been attempting to change this stereotype since 1996. That's right, for around 00.

00 you could have a "life like" sex doll crafted with state of the art "Hollywood special effects technology".

Historically speaking, ginandtacos.com has introduced its readers to a vast array of stories that could be said to make fun of themselves. That said, when I first became aware of this phenomenon when reading a story on Salon.com I realized that never before had something been so instrinsically ridiculous as to need no further fun making.

So then, as opposed to actually making any sort of attempt at degrading these people's "lifestyles" I will instead try to explain to you how I came to the conclusion that this is the single most absurd thing ever posted on ginandtacos.com.

All right then….

To start, when I clicked on the story, I was greeted by this photo:

Yes, this man clearly spent $6500 on the worlds most realistic sex doll

This man….is playing video games with his sex doll. He gave his sex doll a controller? I began reading the article and found out that he has named the doll Sidore and discribes it as being "…everything that turns him on: beautiful, loyal, a great listener." Yes, I know that in its own right, this is creepy. However we soon find out that the doll is half british half Japanese, has the atrological sign Cancer, and get ready for it…..IS A GOTH. The owner of this particular doll, named Davecat, is also goth, has a very bizzare anglophile obsession (I am led to believe that he speaks in a fake British accent), thinks that his doll is an intellectual who, it if could, would walk around with Sylvia Plath books under her/its arms, and sadly believes that "No real woman seems to think I'm good enough for them."

Now, correct me if I am wrong, but this is already exceptionally absurd. However, the article proceeds to regale you with tales of others' doll experiences. We find out that some people have multiple dolls and choose particular ones for particular sex acts. We get the advice from Mike Kelly that "Head 4 is very tight orally. It has a small mouth if you've got a Head 4/Body 5 …
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you've pretty much got it covered. Tight as a drum."

So as you can imagine, at this point I am treading a very fine line between thinking that this is hysterical and being exceptionally creeped out. This is when I notice that the story has a photo gallery. I proceed to see a picture of two dolls posed on a bed. The caption informed me that the owner claims that they are sisters. He does not have sex with them, he just likes posing them and taking pictures – yes, that is clearly what happens.

Finally, a story related by a man who specializes in repairing the dolls:

Another time, an Asian undergraduate student at a university in California dropped his 1-year-old doll off for repairs. Fiero says the young man told him that his parents bought him the doll so that he would stay at home and study rather than go out chasing women. Fiero's photographs of the damaged doll make me cringe: Her leg was torn off, revealing the steel hardware of her hip joints; an arm hung by an inch of silicone flesh; two fingers were severed; and the cleavage between her buttocks was torn into a ragged crevasse.

"Her vagina was so blown out," Fiero told me.
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"I was appalled. I couldn't believe someone could fuck something like that up so quickly. It blew me away. How could somebody be so callous? I was offended in so many ways," he continues. "He put her feet behind her head and reamed that doll with whatever cock he's got. He fucked her violently. She was achieving positions she shouldn't achieve or be forced to try. Her vagina and anus were a giant gaping hole."

Well, basically this article is about 8000 words worth of viceral, amusing, and incredibly disturbing imagery. As a final note, he sells about 2 million dollars worth of these a year.

If you are interested in being truely creeped out, read the Realdoll.com FAQ. I honestly could not read any more than a fraction of it before I had to close the browser. My feelings about this can be best described by the Big Lebowski quote:

I was quite disappointed when I learned that the much-circulated Suicide Bomber VW Ad appeared to have been a professionally made spoof, not meant for actual release. I very much missed the thought of "How could anyone in a professional role have thought this would be a good idea?
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", which although one can get it easily enough by checking out current movie trailers or network television, is fun when it comes around in advertising.
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Luckily, I have a new favorite:

Click here (pdf) to see a large detailed image, and here for a story. Before you think that muslim groups are just too sensitive here, or the ad is being misinterpreted, evidently the sign on the side of the building in question translates as "Muhammad Mosque." Whoops.

When historians are pouring over the record to make sense of the first decade of this new millenium, in all it's Hobbesian misery of skyscraper infernos, flooded cities, Republican machine-building and unilateral militarism, I hope they take a quick peek at this ad.
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You can almost hear the *whack* of the back-slapping. It's not just the military-industrial nightmare of "Team Osprey." What's really interesting is the way religious imagery ("Heaven…Hell…from above"), the consumer hard-sell of a sports car ("faster…farther…quieter"), the marketing department design and the corporate-talk ("capabilities extended. Options multiplied") all unite in the destruction of a small mosque and its neighborhood. This mix, people of the future, makes up the air we breathe these days. Wake me up next decade.

And if anyone comes across this ad in a magazine, holler in the comments.
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I want a copy.

Here at ginandtacos.com we receive several dozen emails each week centered around a certain topic, of which the following is an example:

Dear ginandtacos.com,

Being a fan of drinking, gin, and tacos I am drawn to your webpage. Your gin reviews, guide for being a good bar partron, and drinking games are all wonderful and show you are worthy of 'gin' in your domain name – but what about 'tacos'? I've been all over your page and their [sic] is not a lot of impressive material about mexican food. Are you really a fan?

Rosario Salois
Baco Raton Fl.

*sigh* This is something we worry about: how to best show our appreciation of all things tacos.
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We held the Ginaissance, which gave our webpage a lot of new taco related material. Yet the public questions our dedication. This is odd, as if you were ever around us you would know that our love for steak wrapped in a flour or corn shell is second-to-none. Last weekend I flew into Berkeley, California. Here are two random stories, highlighting the love our page has for all things tacos.

Burrito #1 – Midway Airport Chicago, September 23rd, 7:23pm (Flight Boarding Ends 7:25pm)

I was running late to the airport. It was the late where you enter the airport, pre-ticket and security, and see a "Now Boarding" for your flight. I was starving and had to use the bathroom. Worse, it was a four hour flight on Southwest Airlines, an airline that saves you money (god bless them, everyone) by not serving any food. For other reasons, I would not be able to eat once I landed in Ca., so I raced. I got my ticket and swept through security in record time, and had about 2 minutes left for boarding when I arrived at my gate.
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Luckily there was a burrito stand right across from the departing gate with no line and a bathroom right next to it. I quickly purchased a large carne asada burrito. But I still had to use the bathroom, and the clock was ticking. I feared I wasn't going to get another chance to go until we were in the air, and in the adrenaline rush of running through the airport my brain didn't realize that I could probably have taken food on the plane with me. A choice had to be made – and if you can't tell what I did you probably don't belong at this webpage.

Now there are not many places in the world where a man can eat a large carne asada burrito in one hand while standing and urinating into a urinal with the other hand, but Midway Airport, on Chicago's southside, is one of them. And I was that man. The people standing next to me didn't blink. I like to think they viewed me as a spiritual brother-in-arms. Some of them may have thought "now why didn't I think of that?" It was a good burrito (Rating 7/10), and I got on the plane just in time.

Two things: (1) I'd like to get a comments poll going as to where that action lands on a continuum between 'hardcore' and 'horrendous' and (2) though I very much liked all the people I met and places I visited in Berkeley, I never really felt that if I was to immediately start eating a very large steak-filled burrito while urinating at the same time I would be treated as a brother-in-arms by the people around me.

Burrito #2 – San Francisco, Mission Area, September 25th, 2:15am (Bar Time 2:00am)

Someone in our group threw out the idea of us all getting mexican food after the bar we were at kicked us out. Naturally I agreed, and we all walked to a nearby taco stand.

Now I realized I might have been in a little over my head, seeing as I was in a part of town that I took to be some sort of weird combination of hipster and hippie hangout (if anyone can explain the Mission part of SF, particularly around 24th, please do so in the comments). But then I thought: I've been to the always dependable La Bamba's in Champaign past bar time, where all the guys who didn't hook up pour out of the frat bars wanting to cause a scene. I've also eaten tacos in Wrigleyville, both after bar time (see Champaign) and accidently around the time of a Cubs game, where it's even worse. I thought I could handle this.

I was wrong. The line was crowded and folded into itself twice, so I was surrounded on all sides by people.
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And by people, I mean the most bizarre mix of hippie-hipster I had ever seen. White men with dreadlocks and converse shoes. Then there were the straight-up hippies, wearing things that looked like woven rugs for clothing and sporting even longer dreadlocks. There was a group of transexuals – or to be more accurate, short body-building men with dresses and breasts. Then there were even more hippies smelling even worse. The awful smell of patchouli, BO, and disreputableness was blocking out the sweet nourishing smell of cumin. I was ready to bail and say "No burrito is worth being around these many hippies!"

Then I thought of you, our readers. And that I couldn't look any of you in the eye if I had run. So I stayed. Rating: 5.5/10. The shell wasn't cooked right, and the grease was causing it all to dissolve. The meat was bad, unspiced and spongy, even with the credit I'm willing to give the place serving to drunk people in the middle of the night. They did give free chips, but they didn't have a three taco deal (and their menu was unclear on their two-taco meal).

So question what you will, but never question our dedication to tacos.
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Ever.

Let's get a working definition of a 'concept album' : "In a concept album…all songs contribute to a single overall theme or unified story." "Pet Sounds", Sgt. Pepper, "Dark Side on the Moon", "Double Nickels on the Dime", and "Ok Computer" are just some of the concept albums that people will debate for inclusion into the best of the best list. I'd like to put a new album, available online, into consideration: Denis Marshall's Betrayed. The unified story? The story of how Denis Marshall's ex-girlfriend gave him herpes.

Continue reading →

**It has come to my attention that some ginandtacos.com readers believe this entry to be immature and cruel. Once again, it would seem that people found themselves focusing on the one point wherein they could utilize all their worthless pent up reactionary energy, thereby completely missing out on actual meaning. So, for all of you who are too amazingly stupid to read between the lines, I will spell out for you what it was I was talking about.

I have not written anything for ginandtacos for quite some time now. Last week I began writing something that turned into an exceptionally long, more than likely quite boring, description of "intelligent design.
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" Perhaps if in the future I can manage to get it to be more amusing and less depressing I might post it. That said, I have decided that my first post will not be visiting any type of intellectual subject. Rather, I will talk about how exceptionally fucking ugly Deleese Williams is.
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Mrs. Williams is in fact so ugly that she applied for the show Extreme Makeover on ABC. For those few of you who are unfamiliar (consider yourselves lucky) this show involves everything surgery and style can muster to make someone who was previously unattractive into someone who is marginally less hideous. That said, amongst all the heinously beastly people in the world (celebrity mom's excluded) one would have to assume that you would have to be near to the top of stack of painfully mirror shattering ugly to make it onto this show.
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Presumably Deleese Williams was

I know the picture is of fairly low quality, but the accompanying article makes a point of telling us that she has:

"[a] deformed jaw, crooked teeth, droopy eyes and tiny boobs"

If there is a moral to the story it is that in the end her "procedure" was going to take longer than the time frame allotted by the reality television program. Hence, her makeover was cancelled and she had to return to Texas (in her words) "as ugly as I left? I was supposed to come home pretty."

Well, she did not come home pretty. As a result, she is suing ABC. Amongst the claims:

• The network intentionally humiliated Deleese Williams
• The network broke its contract with Deleese by not making "payment" for the humiliation
• The network caused Deleese's sister to OD on pills booze and cocaine

Yep…that’s about it.

Oh, right. Did I forget to mention the Cocaine, booze, and pills. Yeah, that’s a central player. Apparently her sister was so distraught about the derogatory things she had said that she developed a Cocaine, booze and pills habit.

Now…that’s about it.

Ginandtacos.com didn't comment on it, but did anyone else notice a sense of sadness on the cultural left with Cardinal Ratzinger becoming Pope in April? I hate to pick on any one blog, but the excellent planned obsolescence had this odd moment of despair – "with the announcement of the accession of Benedict XVI. And I sat and cried in front of my television set, watching my relationship with the Church be severed once again.

"

I was actually quite happy. Not because I'm excited to see the old Pope's favorite right-wing henchman get the top job, but, by not picking someone from the third-world to usher in a new era of Catholicism, it was only a matter of time now until the Catholic Church became a matter of pure spectacle. Like any institution in its decline, half the fun is watching it kick and struggle. I knew this new guy was not going to try and save the church by running a saint factory (John Paul's grand total – 483 saints created, 1,345 people beatified; click here to see a timeline and get a sense of how fast he was churning out the new icons). My secret hope was, as Ratzinger was prefect of the position that used to be referred to as Holy Office of the Inquisition, I'd get to see a good ol' fashioned Inquisition in my lifetime.

And so it begins! Leaked to the New York Times today:

Investigators appointed by the Vatican have been instructed to review each of the 229 Roman Catholic seminaries in the United States for "evidence of homosexuality" and for faculty members who dissent from church teaching, according to a document prepared to guide the process. The Vatican document, given to The New York Times yesterday by a priest…Expectation for such a move rose this year with the election of Pope Benedict XVI, who has spoken of the need to "purify" the church…The seminary review, called an apostolic visitation, will send teams appointed by the Vatican to the 229 seminaries, which have more than 4,500 students. The last such review began about 25 years ago and took six years to complete.
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At each seminary, the visitors are to conduct confidential interviews with every faculty member and seminarian, as well as everyone who graduated in the last three years.

Among the other questions are these:

¶"Is the seminary free from the influences of New Age and eclectic spirituality?"

¶"Do the seminarians or faculty members have concerns about the moral life of those living in the institution? (This question must be answered)."

¶"Is there evidence of homosexuality in the seminary? (This question must be answered)."

A team is being assembled to weed out homosexuals and heresy in the Church! Awesome! One can almost imagine Bernard Gui questioning the kitchen staff in private, playing them off one another in a prisoner's dilemma, trying to find secret letters from long ago (or in these days, an old IM/email/browser history), and establishing Order through a full public confession (does Ratzinger read Foucault?).

Why is this urgent, you might ask? Well, because among your Opus Dei far right Catholics, it is common knowledge that (a) seminaries are under control of a "gay majority", (b) that this gay majority is causing the decline in priests, as it creates a hostile and liberal environment to study Christ, and (c) these homosexuals are behind the child abuse scandals.

For evidence that this is the worldview of that crowd, check no further than the amazon customer 'reviews' of Goodbye, Good Men : How Liberals Brought Corruption Into the Catholic Church, with it's talking points of

[the author] also makes it clear that homosexual behavior has been rampant, and largely ignored, on some seminary campuses. While his purpose is not to address the clergy sexual abuse scandal currently rocking the Church, the astute reader will wonder whether such behavior has contributed to the problem the Church is currently facing. Many observers tend to think that the two are related.

[different review] I used to think that a good Catholic fellow who believed and followed what the Church taught about such issues as abortion, contraception, homosexuality, the primacy of the Pope, transubstantiation, the immaculate conception, etc. would be a shoe-in for the priesthood…devout young men are being routinely TURNED AWAY from the seminaries for no other reason than that they hold and believe these eminently orthodox positions! Who are being accepted in their places? I think the current and growing scandal within the Catholic Church in America provides a clear-cut answer.

Nevermind that there's no evidence that homosexuals abuse boys (is it assumed that all straight men abuse little girls?). Who knew that teaching a philosophy of the spirituality of persecution would lead to a place where people actively seek out the experience of persecution? Everyone who has been to Catholic School remembers a priest who was probably gay. The idea that he was/is acting on behalf a liberal/secular agenda of destroying the Church and molesting children could only be put forth by those who can't admit that something is rotten at the core. Their immediate reaction is to find the nearest minority group to scapegoat.

Best of luck with the interrogations.
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yahoo photo number one:

Two residents wade through chest-deep water after finding bread and soda from a local grocery store after Hurricane Katrina came through the area in New Orleans, Louisiana.

yahoo photo number two:

A young man walks through chest deep flood water after looting a grocery store in New Orleans on Tuesday, Aug. 30, 2005. Flood waters continue to rise in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina did extensive damage when it made landfall on Monday.

This one is too easy. I never knew "finding bread and soda from a local grocery store" could be made so innocuous or menacing based on the switching of one word and skin tone. For shame.

(shamelessly stolen from this quality livejournal)

This past weekend I had another close encounter with a cab driver, a situation that was exacerbated by my level of drunkenness. This brings the noteworthy stories that involve drunkenly dealing with a chicagoland cab driver to three. I would like to share these stories with you now.

DISCLAIMER: It is part of offical ginandtacos.com policy to not make this webpage into a livejournally diary of personal stories (current music – jade tree comp), but it is our policy to show the highs and, as will be apparent soon, lows of excessive gin and taco consumption. I hope you understand.

Jamaican Love Advice, February 2002.

Fellow ginandtacoer Erik Martin (who will be writing again shortly after his release from the Betty Ford clinic next week) and myself were drinking around the southwest burbs of Chicago. We had just seen an afternoon movie, whose name escapes me, and we wanted to spend the rest of the day bendering it up around the area.

Continue reading →

A9 Blockview maps.

Everyone, if you haven't already, check out a9's online map service. It's not as streamlined and user friendly as google maps, but it does offer a new feature for several cities.

Click on one of the cities listed, and then click on the map – you'll find a series of pictures in the bottom right corner.
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Keep playing with it, and you'll see that you can view images block to block across the city. It becomes addictive.

Google Talk

Google Talk appears to be offically open for business. As it's in beta-test, it requires a gmail account (yell in the comments if you need one) to register. It's compatible with AOL-IM (and many others), and features voip. I'm curious if the recent stock offering is part of a move to allow google talk to call into phone networks; we'll have to wait and see.

Hulk: Ultimate Destruction

Hulk: Ultimate Destruction, lives up to the hype (reviews here). Picture a sandbox world, like Grand Theft Auto, except you get to smash just about everything available. Run up the side of buildings and do a piledriver off the top, punt cars and use lightposts as javelins – the level of destructive creativity is amazing. The demo I played allowed you to take a car, rip it in half, and make metal gloves out of it. I've heard you can flatten a city bus and use it as a skateboard.
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Brilliant!

"But Mike," you say, "I'm too old, and too mature to play a video game. Especially one based, on all things, The Hulk. For shame." Lame, but understandable. Here's a quick highbrow beard that you can place around your enjoyment of this game, if you're the type that needs it – Thomas Pynchon's essay on the Luddite movement:

[Luddites] were bands of men, organized, masked, anonymous, whose object was to destroy machinery used mostly in the textile industry…[their] anger was not directed at the machines, not exactly. I like to think of it more as the controlled, martial-arts type anger of the dedicated Badass. There is a long folk history of this figure, the Badass. He is usually male, and while sometimes earning the quizzical tolerance of women, is almost universally admired by men for two basic virtues: he Is Bad, and he is Big.
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Bad meaning not morally evil, necessarily, more like able to work mischief on a large scale. What is important here is the amplifying of scale, the multiplication of effect….
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When times are hard, and we feel at the mercy of forces many times more powerful, don't we, in seeking some equalizer, turn, if only in imagination, in wish, to the Badass — the djinn, the golem, the hulk, the superhero — who will resist what otherwise would overwhelm us?

…[the novel Frankenstein] remains today more than well worth reading, for all the reasons we read novels, as well as for the much more limited question of its Luddite value: that is, for its attempt, through literary means which are nocturnal and deal in disguise, to deny the machine…To insist on the miraculous is to deny to the machine at least some of its claims on us, to assert the limited wish that living things, earthly and otherwise, may on occasion become Bad and Big enough to take part in transcendent doings. By this theory, for example, King Kong (?-1933) becomes your classic Luddite saint.

Before you point out that I'm advocating to "deny the machine" by playing a digitial simulacra of denial on a machine, all I can say is you were the one with the problem, and that Frankenstein was also printed on a press, and I can't even hear you as I'm riding a tractor-trailing symbol of capital-technocratic hegemony as if it were a skateboard: