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If you thought you missed having Obama in the White House before, you’re really going to miss him after you read this.
We all know POTUS 44 has a well-earned reputation of has become a humble, grounded guy, but he just took it to another level: Obama still hasn’t told any of his pals and family that he won the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize.
Wow! You’d need a microscope to find this guy’s ego!
In the nine years since receiving one of the most prestigious awardings in the world, Obama has remained coy and down to ground about his amazing accomplishment, stashing the vaunted medal in his bathroom closet under some towels that no one ever uses. Nobody would have faulted Barack if he had boasted a bit, either by letting foreign leaders comprise the award during Oval Office photo ops or casually wearing it to a White House press briefing and then saying, “Oh, this? Must have forgotten I was wearing the Nobel Peace Prize that I won, ” after being asked about it. But Obama is one guy who never lets hubris get the better of him.
Taking his humility to another level, Obama didn’t even alert Vice President Joe Biden that he was traveling to Stockholm to accept the award back in 2009 and instead claimed to be heading overseas to meet with the Swedish diplomat , not wanting Joe to think that he was fishing for compliments or a celebratory dinner. And when Michelle recently determined the awarding and asked Barack what it was, he deflected “members attention” by claiming it was just a little thing he got a few years back and it was not that big of a bargain.
Talk about being modest!
Barack Obama will go down not only as a great president but an exceptionally humble human being as well. He may be fairly self-effacing, but he still deserves a big round of clapping!
Back in 19 th-century Vienna, health official Ignaz Semmelweis came up with the insanely radical, outside-the-box suggestion that physicians should start washing their hands if they handled corpses before they assisted in births. Recognize, virtually 20 percent of births aided by male physicians at the time ended with the child, the mother, or both succumbing. In the face of such odds, you’d suppose “Wash your hands for half a minute. Worst-case scenario, you get clean hands” would be a fairly inoffensive suggestion.
The scientific community in Vienna was appalled that Semmelweis would even suggest that their hands were ever anything but perfect, and opposed back with some pretty insane statements. For instance, Charles Meigs countered Semmelweis’ modest proposal with the logic that since a gentleman’s hands “re always” clean, a medical doctor( who is also, by his very nature, a “gentleman”) didn’t need to cleanses them. Check and mate, buddy.
Semmelweis was removed from his position, and Viennese doctors continued killin’ folks with filthy thumbs for 21 more times( during which hour 14,518 women and children died from puerperal fever alone ), until Louis Pasteur was eventually able to convince them germs both existed and did not respect Gentleman Status.
Thereafter, Semmelweis was hailed as a hero and a genius. No waiting, he was committed to a mental institution and died of sepsis/ syphilis/ guard beatings( reports vary ).
Wash your hands. Here’s some soap . i > b>
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This is the story of a humankind who raged against the vagina and lost. A humankind whose erecting succumbed a thousand deaths, until all it had left was its God. But at its core, it’s the redemption narration of a humankind who ran from sexuality predator to sexuality predator for the Lord. If you have any pits on you, you already was well known that I’m talking about: pick-up artist and author Don Diebel.
It’s important to me that you know this is a real person , and not some wacky character I invented for an SNL audition. This humankind is an actual author who wrote real volumes. Here is how he appeared in the actual June 1990 issue of real publication Texas Monthly 😛 TAGEND
Coming into the 1980 s, Don Diebel’s only personality trait was sexuality. Whether he was out on the town or at home coyly gazing the panties off you from white overalls with no shirt or muscle tint, Don induced every interaction into penetration. You may look at his video and think, “This guy? He looks like a Before image in an Out Traveler control shampoo ad.” Sick burn, but don’t be clowned. He waged a four-decade crusade against unfilled orifices. Schemed Parenthood nurses would call him the Baba Yaga.
Don, a leading Texas pussy vagrant, started off with the noble goal of teaching others how to defraud strangers out of sexuality. It’s a induce that would devour and ultimately destroy him, but at the age 33, Don didn’t know any of this. He only knew two things, and both of them were titties. With his thick, wavy mane moving prematurely white — a totally-worth-it side effect of mustache journey friction — he wrote his first book on the thing he thought he did best: How To Pick Up Women In Discos .
Unfortunately, Don wasn’t as great with language as he was with nipple play. He wrote like a man who spent elementary school crushing ass instead of discovering sentence structure. He constructed love like a dream, but where reference is typed, his comma limply flopped into the wrong spots like a porn performer who lied on his resume. Don Diebel is first and foremost a devotee, and not at all any kind of second thing. No publisher wanted his manuscript.
To circumvent the literary world’s modesty and savour, Don started his own publishing corporation. The newly founded Gemini Pub Co’s first book, How To Pick Up Women In Discos , became an instant critical and fiscal failure. What happened? Well, Don Diebel is simply spell “pusy, ” and he writes like eight of his fingers are trapped in a butt. Politics likewise played a part. It’s easy to forget that women in 1980 had to file taxes as “female livestock or lipstick storage equipment, ” and they could still be arrested for removing the tuna from a Jell-O casserole recipe. Yet even during that age, Don’s book on “picking up” women was to be considered as sexist. So Diebel ricochetted back in 1982 with the more gently named THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN . It was pretty much the same book.
Don still had issues such as punctuation, grammar, and spelling, but you don’t buy a book like THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN because you have keen communication abilities. You buy it because your swollen balls were in the bookstore shrieking, “Aargh! Try anything! Heeelp! ” Here’s what’s crazy, though: This book is virtually criminally incorrect about how to approach women. Utilizing this book to your game is like adding anime rants and seven mouth sores to your play. If you’ve had sexuality fewer than 70 times, reading THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN legally restores your virginity. Let’s look at some excerpts( 1982 first edition ). All typos are Don’s.
The first chapter is mostly for fun. It describes the different types of women you’ll run into in the disco. Watch out for The Man-Hater! She’s a type of wildlife who only goes to singles saloons to induce mean faces at boys ask questions casual sex. You can skip most of this chapter, since if you use the techniques described in the book, you’ll find virtually all women fall into this category.
This section helps establish some of the rules for the ladies. If you build eye linked with Don Diebel, then great. Enjoy the moistest night of your life. And if you stimulate the mistake of not accepting his penis, the least you are able do is give honest but fair notes on what he and it could have done better.
Stay where you are, though, silent and alert. Don will have some questions and controversies, followed by several sex gives of reduced intimacy, such as “handjob” or “eat your ass.” Wait for him to fully complete his exit interview before going home. If you do remain in the fraternity, you taunt, return to Don often, and a little bit hornier if you don’t mind, for up to ten last chances. Don understands this can be inconvenient, but it’s what you signed up for when you brought a vagina with you outside.
So let me get this straight, Don. You expend your afternoons looking for the least interesting alcoholic in Houston’s Holiday Inn bars, and you’re willing to be slapped and humbled for the desperate, minuscule chance to destroy an already sad person’s marriage. And after years of this, you think, “I should write an advice book to aid others avoid this tragic life. Wait. No, the opposite.” This whole book is like getting recommendations from the world champion of diarrhea accelerate eating.
Judging by the advice he makes, Don deems a woman not taking a swaying at him to be a sexual conquest. His approach is to take the tact of a subway masturbator, blend it with the appeal of a subway masturbator, then remove all self-awareness. So yes, of course it seems like topless dancers are “easy lays” to him. When he talks to a woman in literally any other line of work, she calls the police before he says a second thing.
It’s important to note that Diebel thinks he devised trying to fuck strippers. This is gonna be a recurring topic in his volumes, along with another overlooked source of eligible bachelorettes 😛 TAGEND
With this level of relentless quest, I have to wonder how Don managed to stay single. I’d ask one of his former admirers about it, but this entering attains me belief I’d require a team of puppies and a spade to find one.
Women, this is going to sound like obvious advice when you are hear the views, but find yourself a human who can listing nine different swingers publications before he even gets to the mediocre ones.
Whether it’s Carl Sagan or Neil deGrasse Tyson, a good science communicator acquires ways to take complicated, expansive theories and translate them into conversational speech. Others, such as Don Diebel, might ramble for 57 words about untested neuroscience instead of recommending “Point at your dick? “
Shout out to 1982 ‘s Barbara, who managed to have the most uncomfortable line in a panty sniffer’s How To Date-Rape book. This was your chance to help people, and you really blew it, Barbara. I don’t know who you are I’m lecturing you, though. You’ve probably been dead 30 years, and your entire praise was just your bartender telling a coroner, “Yeah, I think that’s Britney.”
If a lady isn’t having a good time at a party where a man is leaning against a wall pointing at his dick, it’s probably because she’s sitting too far away to find. Move in close, wiggling your fingers around your genitals as necessary. If her eyesight is especially bad, here is how you say “I’M POINTING AT MY DICK” in Braille 😛 TAGEND
Haha wait, what? Fucking what , Don Diebel? This is a complete reversal of what you were saying last page. I’d hate to find out I became registered as a sex delinquent in 19 nations by following the advice of a guy who was so full of shit he couldn’t even retain his own wisdom straight. Oh, great. Now you’ve got me writing GOP slogans.
Well, yeah. Duh. I have a boner, Don , not a passion for sorcery.
Don Diebel, if masturbation fictions were forced by universal law to come true, we would all be hunky sleuths investigating erotic mysteries with Shannon Tweed. Every few hours, we would abruptly find ourselves buried in confusing heaps of our stepmother’s pantyhose. You can’t conjure things by fantasizing about them really hard. And if you are able, the least imaginative seventh-grader would reside the free time of every hot girl in the world. Don Diebel, listen. You can literally look down at your own lonely, unwelcome dick to know none of this is true, Don.
THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN continues like that for a while, going into great detail on how to hypnotize yourself has become still more seductive and offering beginner hygiene tips-off to avoid being a dealbreaker at orgies. The volume was, by any measure, a humiliating catastrophe. His eager, virgin dong still had more to teach, but fissures were starting to sort in Don Diebel’s fragile soul.
It had been eight years since the freeing of THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN , and the book simply became popular in one community: district attorney presenting proof in rape trials. But Don had an idea that could become his literary job around — an idea most people would call embarrassing. It was a pick-up artist volume written by a boy, but for, get this, ladies .
It’s worth noting that the two-time failed writer whose the recommendations on hitchhikers was “try to fuck them” was now describing himself on book jacket with “Don Diebel — World famous writer, writer, lecturer, dating consultant, Tv and radio personality, astrologer, has helped thousands of lonely nerves win at the game of adoration with his phenomenal best-sellers.”
FINDING MR. Right: A Woman’s Guide To Meeting Men was an ambitious project to take female victims and sexually aggressive disco creepings and swap their brains. If it worked, it would be the greatest breakthrough in free vagina since Donald Trump had a daughter. And if it didn’t, Don Diebel would just look like a lonely idiot whose greatest desire was to get away with sex crime — the exact thesis of his last book. Let’s see how things worked out. Once again, all typos and grammatical corrects have been respectfully left in.
The first section is mostly for fun. It describes the different types of men you’ll run across in the nightclub. Watch out for The Woman-Hater! He merely came here to get cranky when women offer him- hold on, this sounds route too familiar. Did he … no. No, he couldn’t have. There’s no way.
Oh, holy shit. This is … oh, holy shit . Don’s book on helping ladies find intrigue is just THE COMPLETE GUIDE TO MEETING WOMEN , word for word, with the genders switched. This madman actually knows so little about females that he thinks he can search-and-replace pronouns in a pussy-grabbing guidebook and it will work as woman’s guide to seeing desire. That’s … that’s the most sexist thing but likewise somehow the least sexist thing I’ve ever heard.
When I realized he rewrote the same volume( again ), simply with various pronouns, I envisioned, “OK, but he’s going to take out the section on banging hitchhikers, right? ” He fucking didn’t! All he did was add three convicts to assure the eager female reader that while “its dangerous”, she still has at least a 51 percentage possibility of living sex in her auto with a destitute drifter. But before you jump on that “golden possibility, ” daughters, keep in mind that these statistics are simply the casual speculation of a lonely human who “daydreams” of one day porking a hitchhiker. They are not official numbers from a census of freeway stabbing incidents.
If you’re luring junkie male strippers home with cocaine, you’re operating at the very highest level of seeing Mr. Right and Don Diebel can teach you no more. You started as a sad lady with a volume and an unused lap. Now you have a man who loves your cocaine and cares about your cocaine, but who needs to leave soon to scratch his balls on a birthday party. And he will remain faithful to you until the very instant a different person has cocaine. On behalf of all women and all persons who believe in true love, thank you, Don Diebel.
Maybe I didn’t give Don enough credit for his ability to adjust to feminine thinking. He made a few changes other than search-replacing the pronouns in his manual for beginner sexuality predators. For instance, in the male version of the book, the astrology segment was about tricking gullible women around your home to pretend to do astrology. In the female version, there’s a bit of astrology.
One chapter of the female version of his volume was four pages about where you can meet horny rich humen. This replaced a chapter for the men devoted to infiltrating swinger communities. He may not has become a smart man, but Don has been kicked out of enough debaucheries to know that females favor cash prizes to group sex.
When FINDING MR. Right: A Woman’s Guide To Meeting Men — the female reboot of the previous reboot of an unpublishable book — didn’t work out, Don knew he had to innovate. His keen brain, honed by years of seeing vulvas, belief: “What if there was a collection of pages that contained the names, locatings, and phone numbers of businesses !? ” He then published THE HOUSTON ENTERTAINMENT AND Dating GUIDE: WHERE TO GO AND WHAT TO DO FROM A TO Z
This joyless list of business hours and addresses contained 100 pages, eight grainy photos, and several short descriptions of what things like art galleries and senior citizen middles are as basic concepts. If “youre in” the Houston area in the early ‘9 0s and wished the Yellow Pages were harder to navigate and written by a debase, it made the perfect gift. Unfortunately, this was not a large enough group of people to attain the book a hit.
So after publishing one pick-up artist volume three different ways and one Houston Yellow Pages spec script, Don expended eight years coming up with his realest notion yet. It was a book about picking up chicks, but focusing on the only part he’d ever experienced: the opening line.
In 1999, at the age of 52, Don Diebel published 1001 Best Pick-Up Line: Sure-fire Opening Lines For Meeting, Attracting, and Seducing Women . On the book jacket, he described himself as “America’s# 1 Singles Expert and one of the nation’s contributing group of experts on dating and relationships.” He was back and doing what he did best: creating awkward situations between a handful of sad men and their volume store clerks, then nothing fucking close to anything else.
Fun fact: The volume was also published on CD-ROM, but instead of featuring a hot chick get seduced in a saloon, Don applied clip artwork of what seems to be a hospitality worker explaining to a passenger that his mother simply fell off the back of the cruise ship. A strange selection, and also one irrelevant to anything I’ll be discussing! Let’s take a look inside 😛 TAGEND
Women love honesty, but they also love mystery, which builds this a perfect line, because she will find this honesty very mysterious. And then you have her right where you want her, engaging in the sensual game of cat and rat that is seduction. She’s thinking, “Did this elderly boy genuinely fuck a breach into his blow-up doll, or does he have a poor sense of humor and no judgement? ” and you’re thinking, “LICK HER TOES, COWARD. NO, MOTHER, I MUSTN’T! LICK HER TOES, COWARD.”
At first this seems like innocent wordplay, but it’s much better. This line subliminally recreates that erotic help feeling that only exist between the moment you open a Valentine’s Day card from “childrens and” the moment you place it in the garbage. She will be overwhelmed with a sense of predictable, expected disappointment.
If you construct a robot to package toothpaste and it left the factory to get-up-and-go house to house tearing the teeth from every mouth it received, “its best” at its task than this line is at picking up women.
This one isn’t bad, Don, but the default setting human greeting seems a little bit obvious for a book promising “Sure-fire opening lines for fulfill, attracting, and seducing women” from “America’s# 1 Singles Expert.” This is kind of like including “milk” in a cookbook, or “none” in The Comprehensive Guide To Vaginas Don Diebel Has Actually Seen .
“Because if you are, your pizza, pastas, and zeal for life truly plumb my koopas. And lasagna? I’m sorry , no female has ever let me talk this long. I- aaaaaaahhhhh I’m! Is this? I-I’m CUMMMING !!!! “
This is such an amazing combination of stupid, confusing, and pathetic that I believe Don has given up trying to seduce dames and now he’s simply searching for the secret defraud code to turn off a woman’s nervous system. There is one good thing about this pick-up line, though: If the club is too noisy for her to hear you, you can communicate the exact same thing by sadly holding out a condom while your own pants fill with pis. Which, if I’m not mistaken, is the Diebel family crest.
This opening line can really move things along, but it simply “ve been working on” Alzheimer’s patients who are willing to have sex with “the mens” they think are their children.
No, she’s still not Italian, Don. Are you fucking stupid? Why did you write a book promising 1,001 conversation starters if the only nine honest dialogues you can have are about swingers publications? Don, when your pick-up lines are so dull you can’t remember them from earlier on the same fucking page of your own volume, how are they going to work on the real females laughing at the little mustache you grew to conceal your chimpanzee lips? How many times will you ask them if they’re Italian while they’re telling the bouncer you two are reeking their bar stools? A million dollars says the closest you’ve ever come to actual sex is when you find a pizza pocket in your swimming trunks. You miserable fuck, Don Diebel.
While she’s lubricating from your Laffy Taffy cleverness, follow this line up with “That counts! You all ensure! FIRST BASE FOR DIEBEL! Ow! Stop! OK, I’m leaving! I, HEY! I’m entitled to a phone call! I need to tell my mother I met a girl! “
Let’s imagine this in a best-case scenario. Let’s say this woman alone at the bar has no defenses against aggressive debases. Let’s say she believes there was a fart and that it wasn’t you, Don Diebel, the man committing local fart updates to strangers. Say she abandons her drinking and runs outside with the obvious debase screaming about farts. Does this seem reasonable, Don? Because we’re not done.
Don, you seem to think a woman’s mood is also possible manipulated with proposition and imperceptible body language. If that’s true-life, and we’re simply play the game now because it isn’t, wouldn’t it work in the opposite guidance? Don’t you think running up to her with a butt smelling emergency might undo the 40 seconds you expend trying to get her to be addressed by your dick? By your own science, you’ve implanted yourself in her subconscious as the bar-clearing fart guy, Don. And no one stairs out on their spouse with the bar-clearing fart guy.
Of course this guy has a feet thing. Jesus Christ, Don, at this point you might as well ask for her address and if it’s OK for you to keep any Maxi Pads she hurls out.
This isn’t how meeting people works or how licking people jobs. The nicest thing anyone has ever said about Don Diebel is this quote I wrote for the back of his next volume: “Don Diebel’s direct, slobbery approach to picking up females saves everyone time! Most sexual predators conceal their nighttime purposes behind allure until it’s far too late! “
You probably know this is the desperate act of a sex crook and wouldn’t study. If you did this one million times, you would determine zero boobs and be the least popular man in prison. “Its like” writing a volume on finance and suggesting, “Sell a stolen bike for $50 million!( Someone out there might actually do it. Billionaires are noted eccentrics .) ” And don’t fucking forget, Don Diebel wrote this when he was a 52 -year-old man. That’s virtually 40 its past puberty, and he still cannot even imagine what it would look like if a woman said two seconds thing to him.
There’s no way anyone is this bad with women. If you told me this book was a marketing strategy established by the pepper spray industry, I would feign I knew it all along.
Is that true, wives? Call the police for “no, ” and dry heave for a more comical “no.”
I’ve induced fun of a lot of the stuff in this volume, but this one is just good publish. It’s effective, too. Approaching a woman as if you have an emergency and then exposing you’re merely a horny imbecile works in any situation. For instance, if you’re at the DMV, say, “You crazy bitch, I know you took my feline! ” Then I await six, maybe seven beats, and finish, “…alog for big penis rubbers. Hi, are you Italian? Can Italians catch herpes on their feet? “
Let the record show: America’s# 1 Singles Expert indicates, in his chapter on daddy-themed pick-up lines , that you should tell a woman her dad builds you horny with a trumpet pun.
If hundreds of miracles simultaneously take place and you find yourself in a relationship with the woman you say this to, this opening line will torment her every moment. At night, she will lay awake remembering how you introduced yourself. She’ll think about it when you’re inside her. She’ll go onto pervert forums and trumpet subreddits, desperately looking for answers. “My lover said my father must play the cornet because he sure does build him horny. Please, what does it entail? ” You couldn’t say anything more hauntingly unappealing if you walked up to a stranger and asked to slide your cold hands into her tits.
Oh, come on . Fuck your frigid spirit, Don Diebel. You would lick a pit into an age-old shoe if you thought a female garbage collector touched it.
This book contains an entire section of Beavis And Butthead pick-up lines. Not similar in theme to Beavis And Butthead , but direct quotes and references to the cartoon. I don’t have a joke about that; I merely crave you to know it exists.
Don also included a chapter specifically about picking up topless dancers with lines like “What’s your real name? ” and, I swear to God this is a line in its entirety, “Show me your shrub ! b> ” He suggests saying, “Don’t you get tired of all these hornies humen with their brain between their legs? ” on the same page as, “Don’t you get tired of being around all these drunks and horny humankinds acting like a bunch of moronics? ” Most of the other lines are different ways you can shame her and her filthy job.
Don Diebel is utterly the lonely man in the strip saloon earnestly striving a human relationship. If you asked any stripper to list the cliches this type of boy says, she could write, word-for-word, Don Diebel’s chapter on picking up topless dancers. As he went into the year 2000, Don was a 53 -year-old man offering sex to sexuality laborers with all the allure of a cockroach feeding on Charlie Sheen’s blood. And things didn’t get much better in the next decade.
The 2000 s were a slow hour for Diebel’s publishing. His first five volumes were the dark fictions of a monster too sheepish to go through with a real abduct. He was a second penis on the only panda in a zoo — useless in ways too obvious and depressing to get into.
Dwell publication did an interview with him , not as a pick-up artist, but as a lamp expert. Apparently, they saw an article on his website about romantic lighting, and thought he “wouldve been” perfect expert to evaluation three modern lamps. Each of his evaluations were the incoherent ramblings of someone you would only describe as a non-lamp-expert, but that’s not important. What’s important is it revealed Don Diebel had a website , and it’s exactly what you’d expect.
It’s called Getgirls.com, and it sells sex cologne, intrigue cassettes, and his stupid goddamn books. And these are not products for presentable boys looking to enhance their desirability — Getgirls.com is altogether banking on you having several crippling emotional disorder and facial imperfections. His approach to women is 100 percent “You’re barely slime, so why not try groveling and titty-grabbing.” Here’s a screenshot 😛 TAGEND
Getgirls.com’s products are designed to turn reluctant women around sexuality partners, which is strange, because it’s the one thing the site’s creator has patently never done. It sells pheromone perfume for inventive rapists and hypnosis videotapes for horny magicians. But selling snake oil for inflatable-doll-scented penis wasn’t as successful as you might suppose, so Don tried one last time to write a volume on scoring babes. Let’s talking here 2009 ‘s 200 Guaranteed Behavior To Succeed With Wives: Everything You Need To Know On How To Meet, Date, And Attract Women .
This book is pathetic, yes, but not like the others. This one largely focuses on how to deal with the overwhelming depression that comes with being Don Diebel. It’s less a guide to crushing ass and more of a teach manual for a crisis hotline volunteer. The enters are self-help mantras like “Cure for the blues (# 10) ” and “How to be happy (# 14 ), ” which take up less than a whole page put together. And #30 is just “How to eat Italian meat, ” with got a couple of tips on table manners. But let me tell you about #29. Oh, holy shitting fuck, #29.
Imagine the erotic memoirs of a 62 -year-old virgin who never learned to write and still isn’t sure which of the blobs is the mons pubis. That’s what I’m about to show you. The 29 th Secured Way to Succeed with Women is called “My date from hell, ” and it’s an un-proofread account of Don Diebel’s greatest sex victory 😛 TAGEND
One of the reasons why Diebel’s pick-up lines are so bad is that half-naked females jump on him before he can practise them. And if you’re imagining none of this happened, which of these two scenarios are most likely?
A: A sad boy with a history of bad ethics falsifies an unverifiable and unlikely narrative in which he’s highly motivated to lie.
B: The hottest daughter, like, ever gets into a vehicle alone with a non-handsome elderly human as he’s trying to drive over sunbathers.
C: Oh, you weren’t expecting a C, ladies? It was to catch you off-guard so I could subliminally aim this sentence with three sexually charged terms penis, butt, penis. Hi, I’m Seanbaby, and I’ve read all of Don Diebel’s volumes. Show me your bush.
Assuming this date really happened( and aren’t we being cute ), Don offered to drive Hot Bikini Girl to his place. She concurred, but instead of a wild night of intrigue, they discovered Don left his bird-dog home alone with no water while he was cruising for hard bodies. It was comatose from dehydration. This means in an imaginary narrative wherein Diebel controls every detail, he nearly murders his own bird-dog and can’t close the deal with the loose stranger who came to his house for sexuality. But don’t give up yet. We’re not even close to done.
OK, so Don Diebel killed his bird-dog, but not before it get style more activity from his date than he did.
Despite the loss of his best friend, Don was still in the mood for love. Plainly, he had been able to drive back to the beach to find a substitution hot daughter, maybe even one who hadn’t watched a dog succumb on her own mouth that afternoon. But Diebel was going to finish what he started — he took the same girl to dinner, on a helicopter tour of the city, to a nightclub, and then to the wharf, his beloved dead friend still persisting on her breath.
None of the date was going well. She flirted with other humen, Don picked a fight with her, and she jumped into a pond and virtually died. “I was pissed, ” recollects Don. But you don’t get to be America’s# 1 Singles Expert by giving up easily. Don took the wet daughter he hated back to his house, where he planned to have meaningless sexuality mere feet from a purse of puppy food to go forever uneaten. Instead, this happens 😛 TAGEND
That was quite an adventure, right? It’s patently — OBVIOUSLY — not true, but all good lies have elements of fact in their own homes. So, Houston police, there’s a really good chance Don is describing the time he killed his dog, narcotic a woman, and threw her body in a pond. The only part of the story I 100 percentage believe is that Don couldn’t get laid even with the world’s sluttiest girl over the course of eight place changes.
Don reprinted this story on a self-help (!) website, and I actually promote speculative fiction devotees to go read it in its entirety: My Date From Hell. But do that subsequently, because we’re about to enter the 2010 s, the decade when Don Diebel truly lost his entire mind.
With the forgettable 200 Guaranteed Whatevers To Frustrate Your Erection behind him, Don had to reach deep into his vulva-haunted brain for an original idea. He didn’t find one. He wrote 100 Best Place To Take A Date , with notions like “miniature golf” and “pizza.” It was a dickless shadow of new ideas already written by thousands of history’s dumbest, least imaginative writers and made long obsolete by phone books. Diebel’s inspirations were as drained as the balls of a humankind who seductively screams “Show me your shrub! ” at topless dancers.
Fun Fact: This is the actual photocopy of 100 Best Place to Take a Date sent to me by Don Diebel. It came with a homemade label , no case, and an ad for a Cd on predominating pussy no longer in stock. Wait, out of stock? You’re an old man burning CD-ROMs in his apartment. How does that furnish chain get disrupted? Was there certain kinds of button dearth on your mouse? Did your assisted living nurse throw out the floppy disk that had dom_pu~ 1. wpd on it? This last one isn’t a gag but a real guess: did you get prohibited from Radio Shack for attempted rape? I guess my level is, Don Diebel isn’t good at anything .
Destroyed by the soul-crushing realization that he was out of ideas for seducing ladies, he gave up and wrote what might be the loneliest volume title since Single Player Rules for Fallout: The Board Game . Here it is 😛 TAGEND
Don Diebel was alone in a cosmo where ass no longer held meaning. The Easy Way To IMPROVE YOUR GOLF WITH S/ A GOLF HYPNOTISM took the same self-hypnosis nonsense Don was employing 35 years earlier to psych himself up for a poontang hunt and adapted it for golf. For health professionals chick hound, it was like ultimately becoming a dead husband’s lair into a sewing room. It was like tattooing DO NOT RESUSCITATE on your dick and asphyxiating it with a pillow. It was Don Diebel concluding that he would never discover if the Masters of the Universe Horde Slime Pit Playset actually did feel like a real-life blowjob. Diebel was fucking done.
No. Not yet. With a dusty coughing, Don Diebel’s groin rose from the tomb. There had to be one last thing he could try, one last light to cling to. And then Don realise the secret to pussy was right in front of him all along: the majesty of Jesus Christ. Or as he threw it in the intro to his next book 😛 TAGEND
This would sound a bit absurd coming from anyone else, but if Don Diebel is hearing another voice in his couch, it is impossible to be coming from Jesus Christ. Unfortunately, this idea God dedicated him for a volume sucked, and Don’s newfound lord and savior was an as bad editor. They say He’s infallible, but He couldn’t get through the second sentence of the introduction before “re missing a” this typo. Other philosophers have said this before me, but checkmate, all religion .
This book is desperate groveling on a cosmic, spiritual level. It is a whisper in the darkness pleading for someone, anyone to mail Don Diebel a butt to touch. It’s a humankind grumbling to the inventor of all things for giving ladies a option in their sexuality spouses. Let me prove you what I’m talking about 😛 TAGEND
Nothing is a more perfect Bible quote for Don Diebel’s dating life than one about staying strong in the face of rejection and getting assistance from your hand.
About a quarter of the book is Bible verses loosely relevant to abandonment and loneliness, but the majority of it is things like this, dating advice rewritten in the form of prayer. Don will call up Jesus and say things like, “Please help me make sure my body language is sexually suggestive and that I have an air of self-assured confidence because ladies adoration that. In your epithet I pray, Amen.” So in a manner that is, it’s a really sad Don Diebel typing out his prayers. In any other way, it’s a very confident pick-up veteran telling Jesus Himself how to score pussy.
You sad bitch. Your body language advice used to be “point at your dick.” Now it’s “pretend you’re comprising a guy’s hand? ” Don, you are 70 years old , and you’re still trolling nightclubs for ass? You can’t call any of your countless former buffs to see if their self-esteem is low enough to watch your partial erection flutter? I’m starting to think it was shortsighted to introduce yourself to every woman by offering to lick the pond sea off her feet.
As sad as this prayer is, it gets sadder. It’s reprinted one page afterward in the exact same section, word for word. At this level, Don has given up on Jesus sending him single women and would be fine with Jesus mailing him appropriate tools to cope with depression. Don, you’re a septuagenarian sex volume author who never learned where comma or penises move. How about you stop nagging Jesus for the impossible and thank Him for inspiring you to fill that puppet’s mouth with anal lubricant?
For decades, this humankind has destroyed every relationship he’s had by immediately checking if she’s the legendary girl who makes out free sexuality to everyone brave enough to ask. And here is what it led to: Don Diebel, after authoring ten volumes on scoring chicks, is praying Jesus for a girl in a prayer that sounds like it was written by a third-year third-grader. Failing isn’t a big enough term, and Hitlerfailure hasn’t been invented yet. Don’t feel sorry for Don, though. This is, without exception, the future every woman he’s satisfied starting in 1980 has cautioned him about. The tragic story of Don Diebel is only surprising because we’re not used to such obvious, twistless endings.
I’ve learned a lot by reading Don Diebel’s volumes. I’ve became aware that you can’t shove your nuts into the night and call it “meeting women.” Now and always, you have to treat women with respect, and loop your thumbs in your belt so your fingers point at your own dick, creating a subliminal message those confused drunk sluts can’t withstand. And if that doesn’t run, Plan B is Jesus.
Ladies, if you encounter a Don Diebel out there, here’s a link to some pepper spraying . i > b>
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What’s your worst-case sex scenario? Farting? Nah, that happens to everyone every single day they have sex.( RIGHT ?!?) How about bursting into tears? Or spontaneously peeing? No matter what it is, trust me, it’s lane more common than you think. Hopefully this information will make it slightly less mortifying next time.
If you’ve ever burst into tears in the middle of perfectly good sexuality — or even more alarming, had your collaborator do it — you’re not alone. Hell, simply look at the over 400,000 Google makes for the precise inquiry “crying during sex, “ featuring topics as diverse as “Why crying during sexuality is so good for you” and “My boyfriend started crying during sex.” Or you can go to Reddit and ask about it, then read through the 90-odd replies of people in the same boat.
It happens for all kinds of reasons, largely relating to every emotion being heightened while hormones are pumping through your torso. Yes, it happens to guys too, though good luck trying to find out how common it is.( I’ve merely hollered once during sex, and it wasn’t because I was emotionally overwhelmed so much as I knocked a TV on myself and it hurt like simply a surprise TV assault can .) Most of what you find in the male category is anecdotal, like this guy who says his orgasms are so cosmically potent that he gets all weepy. Other stories seem more plausible, like this guy finding that physical intimacy is his only chance to let those sensations out.
And then there’s the even more common post -sex crying, which in fact has a epithet: postcoital dysphoria( which does sound better than “jizz tears” ). One study depicted a whopping 46 percentage of the status of women suffer from PCD( if not outright crying, then at least some kind of extreme emotion or unrest ). It doesn’t appear they even asked the men, because of course all men’s sex experiences only involve demonstrating their development partners the most kickass 12 minutes of their life before leaving to fight international hitmen.4
About A Quarter Of Women Have Peed During Sex
Are you familiar with coital incontinence? Neither was I. But it refers to when women pee-pee during sex( if it happens to boys, it’s hard to find any evidence of it ). In one study, 24 percent of the status of women experienced it, with two-thirds being set off just by the act of sex alone, and the other third losing it upon orgasm. Also, you get nearly 700, 000 Google ensues for “peed during sex.”
Sometimes your insides can’t handle all that jostling around, and the bladder merely determined on abandon ship. Then you’re forced to ask Cosmo what happened after the fact. Numerous factors can cause this, such as muscle damage, various medical conditions like diabetes, a UTI, bladder spasms, and even stress during an orgasm. It’s a ponder everyone doesn’t piss during sex.
A popular subgenre of all the pee-related discourse is the debate over whether or not ladies pee when they ejaculate, which is still the subject of some disagreement. Incidentally, I used to watch a Canadian sex show when I was younger called The Sunday Night Sex Show With Sue Johannson . Sue Johannson was an elderly girl who would address any and every sexual situation with the utmost sincerity. She also once wore a chinstrap dildo on Conan’s Late Night with Tom Selleck and Paul “The Big Show” Wight, because she was above all else a well-rounded entertainer.
She assured me that there was a different fluid at play there, but not everyone agrees, and candidly, why does it matter? Are we trying to shame girls over this? Lord knows I can’t account for everything that squirts out of me from one moment to the next.3
Vomiting Is A Common Danger Of Oral Sex
Most of us want to keep vomit and sexuality at opposite sides of the gymnasium. Not everyone( God bless you, fetishists ), but vomit is generally links with something moving dreadfully wrong. And maybe that’s why no one ever strikes up conversations about oral-sex induced chuffing. But Google has nearly 500,000 ensues pop up when you search for it. It’s such a common issue that sexuality advice sites have articles like “How do I not throw up while I give oral? “ and “Let’s talk about when you’re devoting a jolt task and perhaps barf, “ amongst the thousands of other articles and questions on the topic.
It’s something you’ve likely never seen in a movie( again, unless you specifically searched for it ), but it’s dead simple biology. When you force something to the back of your throat, be it a delicious bratwurst or a schlong, you’re going to hit the sorcery gag reflex button, and out poppings lunch.
I recall an experience one night that was preceded by the drinking of several screwdrivers I had mixed myself to help lighten the feeling and get us both a little more loosen. My lady friend had enjoyed three, I envision, by the time we got down to brass tacks, and this is the part of the convict I fill with mundane details before tactfully avoiding the orange-juice-filled spate that soon followed. So I know it can happen, is my level, and also why people aren’t eager to talk about it. “Have you upchuck while suckin’ dick? ” is not a question you can easily bring into even the most intimate of sexuality surveys very easily.
So most of the articles online that dealing with this problem are anecdotal, personal narratives, or tips-off on how to avoid it, which essentially simmers down to either developing your gag reflex or not poking it in the first place, perhaps by putting your fist in between your craw and the base of that thing.2
Yes, Anal Can Make Poop Appear
Butt stuff is enjoying an unprecedented period of acceptance these days. Good for you, butts and stuff. But there are two serious panics holding it back: dread of pain and anxiety of the dreaded leakage, if the 5. two million outcomes for the purposes of our query are any indication. That includes the 88,000 that are for the specific search “poop during anal.”
In words of how common it is, hard numbers are difficult to come by, but it’s a common enough question that Women’s Health set up a helpful page about running afoul of a turd, and how to handle it .~ ATAGEND Elite Daily even compiled an anthology of ass-related mayhem to let you know you’re not alone.
There’s also helpful advice out there that often amounts to inducing sure you hose down the shed before enter, try not to do it after Taco Tuesday, and keep in head the dimensions of the mail slot before trying to army a package in there. What’s happening is the guy’s penis is, well, kind of scooping that material out. If you go deep enough, there’s a chance it will happen, because you’re having sex with a human and not a robot or anime girl. And if you didn’t know that the ass is where a lot of people store that sort of material, I’m glad I could help out.1
Sex Injuries Are Anything But Rare
When I was in high school, there was an infamous narrative in my group of friends about an acquaintance of ours who, in the midst of sex with his girlfriend, tore his foreskin asunder like a bodybuilder tearing a phone book in half. And we treated this like a story of someone encountering the Loch ness monster at a Denny’s — one in a million dicks. But it turns out sexual hurts are way more common than most of us recognize, with one in five people bonking their chiefs while boinking, 5 percent of people injuring themselves so badly that they had to take time off job, and 2 percent of people violating actual goddamned bones.
The most common sexuality harms seem to be typical stuff, like drawn muscles with back hurts and carpet smolders. A third of people admitted to some kind of injury, and 4 in ten policeman to injury their own property( averaging a pair hundred dollars in damage, so continue that in mind next time you try to have sex near your fine China ). And then we get into sex toys, which send a pair thousand people to the emergency room every year — or at least, that’s how many acknowledge it( yes, the 50 Shades franchised doubled the occurrence of those misfortunes ). Oh, and it’s estimated that about 11,000 Americans a year succumb during sexuality. So maybe you should rewrite your notion of a worst-case sexual scenario accordingly.
Ian Fortey has decided his rating with Saran wrap, and is free to peruse Twitter as the victor . i>
Please don’t ask what Fortey was doing with Saran Wrap . i > b>
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While Michael Hampton might have seemed like a normal kid, the 9-year-old student at Huntington Elementary lately demonstrated he was anything but. Michael get lane too fucking into his science programme yesterday, and let’s just say that everyone in his class got a little freaked out: This fourth-grader genuinely knows his lane around an owl pellet.
Jesus, kid. Maybe just cool it, okay? Severely, what the hell.
Not even two minutes after his educator passed them out, this little freak of nature had already rent into his owl pellet, removed over half of an intact rodent skeleton, and placed the bones onto his desk. Before his other classmates had even picked up their toothpicks and put on their gloves, Michael started using his bare hands to take a rat skull out and play with it, and then proceeded to show it to his totally silent partner and explain in graphic detail how the owl probably killed it and only partially digested it.
Next, Michael laid out every single rat bone on a white sheet of printer newspaper and labeled them all perfectly. Which … yikes, dude! Even when his teach came up to him and told him to start helping his classmates, all he did was go up to them and fucking brag about how one time he found one in his backyard with mole bones in it.
Michael, man, you gotta fucking cool it during the dissection division, yeah? Perhaps get a different pastime?
Well, there’s no way around it. While no one was surprised when Michael rooted through that owl pellet 10 hours faster than everybody else in his class, you’ve got to admit that it’s only not a great look. Here’s hoping that when the fetal pig dissection happens subsequently in the year, this child isn’t quite as knowledgeable!
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