The Truth About Turtle Penis
You will find many roads to terribleminds.
Maybe you found me through Twitter. Maybe caught one of my cross-links from Livejournal. Or Facebook? I go there. I link there. Sure. Facebook.
Or, could be you found this website through some particular search engine term.
My webstats track those. I look at them. And from time to time I post about it. Today, it’s time again. It’s time to talk about it. You and me, we need to sit down. Here. Have some oolong tea. The guards will pass it to you through this little Plexiglas window. No, no, don’t worry about that. It’s for my — erm, your safety. Plus, Plexiglas is the future. One day everything will be made of it! I’m just trying to be progressive here at terribleminds. It’s all Plexiglas and flying cars up in here.
Seriously, though. Sit in that chair. We really need to talk. Go over some things. You know? Like, for instance… ohhh, I dunno, the search terms you used getting here? Heck, I know, you were probably one of the upstanding folks who found this space by searching for something innocuous like, “learn how to write dialogue,” or, “scenes from The Wire.” But just in case. Just in case. We should maybe talk about… y’know, some of the other ways you maybe might have come here. Right? It’s okay. I know. You’re feeling woozy. I put something in the tea. A little extra “ooh” in the Oolong. Relax. Breathe. Zen. Don’t shit your pants — I mean, don’t relax that much. But give in to it. Shhhh.
Let’s talk. Y’know, as I unbuckle your pants. For comfort. For your comfort.
It took me a while, but now I understand. See, every day, I get… mm, one or two visitors coming here via the search term “turtle penis.” I did not at first understand why my site even came up in that regards, especially since this phenomenon predates the Eddy Webb “Penis” essay. Ah, but now I dig it. Once upon a time, I spoke about the weird things people eat, and in that post is the term “turtle penis. See, it’s because you can actually eat turtle penis, and were you headed to, say, a getemono bar in Japan, you might get like, turtle penis sashimi or turtle penis soup or… I dunno, candied turtle penis soda.
Thing is, the search term isn’t “turtle penis soup.” Or sashimi. Or soda.
It’s just “turtle penis.”
So, I gotta ask. Why are you looking up turtle penis? School project? Okay. Sure. Trying to gross out a wife or girlfriend? Hey, I can get behind that. I do that! Good times, good times. But, if I were to poke my face through the monitor and come out through the Intertubes on the other side of your monitor, I wouldn’t see a bottle of greasy hand lotion and a box of tissues, right? And a coiled belt on the desk? And turtle posters all over the walls? I’m just asking. I… wouldn’t see that, right? Help a guy out.
Every day, a secret war unfolds in the back alleys of terribleminds. The Avatar Porn Army rises from the tunnels, their lumpy nude bodies painted electric blue, homemade bows firing off arrows tipped in “alien venom” (really, it’s just hobo spit). They clash with the Proselytes of Pauley, those robe-clad emo-geek NCIS nerds, their hair tied off in Abby-style pigtails. It’s forensic tentacle porn. It’s Goth-freak tribal shamanism. It’s Pocahontas starring Mark Harmon.
People die. Bodies in the streets. Night after night.
No, what it is is a daily struggle of, “Who will win the Battle of the Search Terms?” One day, “avatar porn” nets the biggest views. The next day, it’s “Pauley Perrette.” Some searchers add words to the terms, and I count those, too — porn, nude, bondage, tentacles, rape, blue, free, pics, vagina, hot, tattoos, etc. Hell, someone actually searched for “freelance avatar porn.” Looking for a new career, maybe. I dunno.
If I tally the numbers day-to-day, I see that (to my surprise) Pauley is winning this war. I’m not yet willing to count Avatar out of the running though, as for the last week it’s held some solid numbers.
But I gotta tell you: I get fucktons of views from this. Hundreds of views a day, sometimes. Trust me, I don’t cherish these views. These are worthless views, the SEO equivalent of “empty calories.” I’m not courting these people with posts like this on the sly, wink wink, nudge nudge. They’re not coming here for my writing advice, my sardonic rage, my delicious blog nectar. They’re coming here to pudwhack to Pauley Perrette.
Though, were I to actually combine an Avatar image with a Pauley Perrette image — say, turning Abby into like, one of the sexy blue goat people — man, the views would probably crash the site. It’d be a perfect storm of weirdos. The fusion of those two fetishes could bring down the entire Internet.
Where Exactly To Insert Penis Into Girl?
Really? Is this the central mystery? This is what you search for in Google?
And further, you came here to answer that question?
God help you, son. God help you.
Hey, maybe he’s not looking for an answer so much as an opinion. Right? “Top Ten Places To Stick My Winky!” or something. “Number 10, between the toes! Number 9, the armpit! Number 8…” and so on. Though, were that the case, I’d think the search term would’ve been more like, “What’s the best place to insert my penis?” Right? (Oh, and hey search term dude. Don’t think I missed how poorly you phrased that question. Who are you, Governor Schwarzenegger? “Where exactly to insert penis into girl? Get to the choppah! It’s not a tumor! Hasta la vagina, baby!”)
(Sorry, I couldn’t help it.)
(I’m not proud.)
Just in case someone actually came here looking for an answer to this question, I’ll help.
I’ll offer my wisdom.
Dear 35-year-old-dude who hasn’t yet gone fishing in the love lagoon:
I get it, you have a handful of options when it comes to the placement of your wangledangle upon or within the female body. Let me just say: start with the vagina. It’s the best choice. I know. You’re thinking, “But it’s so obvious. It’s so pedestrian.” It’s like french fries, man. French fries might seem boring, right? But they’re fucking delicious. Nothing beats a good fry, am I right? Vagina’s the same way. It may seem the obvious way to go. It may seem a mundane choice — sure, it’s not as exciting as ear canal or whatever, but its the first best option. You’ll thank me.
And hey! You don’t have to stop there. If she gives you the thumbs-up, you can insert it into whatever cubbyhole she offers.
Read that again, by the way: “If she gives the thumbs-up.” The lady is the gatekeeper to all the PIZ (Penile Insertion Zones). She’s owns those. Not you. So be polite, and wait for the green light. You try to go on a red light, and that’s the kind of traffic violation that properly earns you a chemical castration. Got it? Good.
Chucky Wendig, Doctor Of Love
Did that help, 35-year-old-dude? I hope it did.
If you’re still confused, sir, might I recommend this instructional video on “Vajazzling,” by Our Friend, John Hornor Jacobs?
What the fuck is that?
“Boiling face Ouija board?”
I’m willing to believe that it’s like, a translation of what they called the “Paranormal Activity” movie in Japan or something.
Even still — how did it get you here?
What does it mean?
This shit will plague me. Maybe that’s the point. Maybe therein lies the horror. I’ll awaken at night and see a hypnagogic hallucination of the Boiling Face Ouija Board Man by my bedside, hunkered down, silent. He’ll clutch a Ouija board to his chest. His face will be a melting morass of third-degree burns, oozing onto the floor like candle wax erupted from popped blisters.
He’ll whisper: They are searching for me.
And then he’ll disappear.
But he’ll keep coming back. Oh, yes. Because that’s what Boiling Face Ouija Board man does. He’s a fucking dick, that guy. Just keeps on showing up. Night after night, until I am driven mad.
Now I’m all scared. Somebody hold me?
Because that’s what I want. Sure! In a post-apocalyptic fuckhole where everything is some shade of diseased mucus or iron oxide, where the land is plagued by nuclear scorpions and ghoul dudes and Murder Bots, what I need is a little pornography. Mmm. Super Mutants rocking the stripper pole! Hot, sexy ghoul-on-ghoul action! Nngh! Yeah. Come on down to the Brotherhood of Steel. Know what I’m saying? Steel? Steel? (*points to genitals*) Steel.
What’s most unfortunate here is how I can’t serve these people’s needs. They come here looking for Fallout Porn, and I just don’t have it available. They will be left sorely disappointed. Their sadness will be limitless.
Sorry, search term weirdos. Can’t help you. I just don’t have the droids you’re looking for.
Man, what? Is that a thing? Is that a thing you want? Or maybe it’s a thing of which you’re afraid?
If it’s the latter, okay. I mean, I guess that’s a guy fear, right? “Oh, man, my lady is preggo. If we go bang one out, my penis is going to hit the soft spot in the fetus-head and kill him. And if I ejaculate up in there, that little bastard is going to have to swim around in it for like, weeks. That’s not cool, man. Not cool.” It freaks some dudes out, so, fine. Maybe you came here to allay — or confirm — your suspicions. Then again, “splooge” is not exactly a medical term, and further, this ain’t WebMD. I’m not actually a doctor. I know, the lab coat and the shiny speculum maybe suggest that? But I just really dig the costume. And I use the speculum to crack nuts. I mean like, hazelnuts and walnuts. Get your mind of out of the gutter. Freak.
If it’s a thing you want —
Yeah, seriously, I don’t have it. I don’t have anything here that will help you. Go away. Get out of here. What does that even mean? Splooge in her womb? What? It’s hard to appall me, but you fuckers might just be doing it. Get out of here. I’ve got a shotgun loaded with rock salt. I will bury a load right in your ass.
…man, that doesn’t sound right.
Oh, what the fuck? Goddamnit. Really? Really? Snot? Licking? During sex? What? No. No! No.
You get the grumpy hedgehog in an eggcup. That’s what you get. That’s what you deserve.
I won’t even reward you with a discussion. Just get out of here. Just go. Leave. Shoo! We don’t have what you want. We don’t serve your kind here. How did you get here? Why? Why me? Why this place? It couldn’t have even been the Snot Boogie conversation from yesterday because this search term is days ago!
I cannot help you. You’re beyond my assistance. I can’t get this image out of my head thanks to you. It’s hurting my brain. It’s like a worm, boring its way to the heart of the apple. You ass. You asshole. I am comfortable with all manner of terrifying visuals, but snot? Licking? Banging? During? Mah! Fnah!
I can’t shake the thought out of my head!
Maybe I can drill it out.
Maybe I can use this Makita drill and just… bore the evil out. Trepanation! Right? That shit works! They still do that, yeah? It’s still an approved medical procedure? Seems like a sound, sane way of exorcising the evil spirits that have set up shop inside my head. Yes! Excellent!
Out, out, damned spot.
*drill meets bone*
*the smell of burning hair, scalded skull*
(EDIT: Don’t believe that this is a search term?)